A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)
To her astonishment, he released her. “I’m not acting the gentleman.”
“You don’t say.” She rubbed her wrist. He hadn’t hurt her, but the delicate skin tingled with his touch. She was getting heartily tired of arrogant males manhandling her.
Mr. Evans tilted his hat, becoming the man of the world instead of the impetuous suitor. “I’ll escort you to the vicarage.”
“You really mean to dog my footsteps?” she asked sourly. “You’ll drive us both mad.”
He extended his arm and his smile held secrets she resisted exploring. “I’m a big boy. I can bear it.”
“I’m not sure I can.” Reluctantly she accepted his arm. Surely it was her imagination that with the contact, warmth radiated through her.
“Soon you won’t even notice I’m around.”
How she wished that was true. But while she scorned his lack of principle, she remained aware of his every breath. It was like some horrible fairy-tale curse. And the only person likely to kiss her awake was this flirtatious rapscallion with questionable motives.
Heaven help her.
Chapter Sixteen
Early the next morning, Richard waited in his carriage. The sunlight lent scant warmth and he appreciated his greatcoat. Although the coat provided merciful little protection from Genevieve’s icy stare when she stepped into the stable yard.
“Mr. Evans—”
“Good morning, Miss Barrett. We’ll have a fine trip to Oxford.”
In salute, he touched the handle of his whip to his hat. Truly, she was a sight to behold. She’d made an effort with her appearance and the dark green velvet pelisse and bonnet with its green ribbons were fiendishly becoming. Her ensemble might be a few seasons out of date, but he couldn’t imagine anyone criticizing the way it clung to her impressive curves, nor how the rich color turned her creamy skin to living satin. Especially with annoyance tingeing her cheeks with pink.
“I’ll have a fine trip to Oxford,” she said sharply. “I asked Williams to have the gig ready.”
“Williams and I had a word last night.”
Her lips tightened. Richard found her temper arousing. Although, he had to admit, he couldn’t think of much about Genevieve that didn’t make him as hot as a geyser. Even when she and her father pursued some hopelessly abstruse argument about medieval history, Richard couldn’t help imagining how she’d feel under him.
“You had no right to countermand my orders.”
Richard set the brake, although his horses were too well trained to bolt. He leaped down and extended his gloved hand. “I’ll take you to Oxford.”
As expected, that raised her hackles. She turned toward the barn. “Williams will harness the gig.”
“Then I’ll follow. Won’t that feel rather silly?”
“In that case, I won’t go.”
“Suits me,” he told her retreating back, trim in its green velvet. “I can guard you more easily here.”
She stopped without turning. Her voice vibrated resentment. “You are the most irritating man, Mr. Evans.”
“I am indeed, Miss Barrett.” He was a lost case. Even calling her Miss Barrett put him in the mood for bed sport. Perhaps because it sounded so prim and decorous, when he’d seen her naked. Still, he didn’t want to bicker for the next ten miles. “Are you so set on winning the point that you’d delay your appointment?”
Slowly she turned and her lips curved in a triumphant smile. “It’s inappropriate for us to spend the day alone together.”
He smiled back. Rare enough that she smiled at him. He wouldn’t carp at the reasons behind it. “I’ve had a care for your reputation.”
As though he’d been listening—he probably had, if Richard knew anything about eleven-year-old boys—young George Garson rushed from the stables. He bowed breathlessly to Genevieve. “Good morning, Miss Barrett.” He jumped into the phaeton’s fold-down rear compartment. “I’m ready, Mr. Evans.”
“Where’s Sirius?” Surprise and exasperation warred in her face.
“Tied in the stables and not best pleased. But he can’t run all the way to Oxford and George has his seat.”