ts clear.
It was the work of three minutes to don her stylish topaz riding habit. Her clothes were the one item she'd always insisted lived up to her Anstruther-Wetherby background. She flicked the feather on her matching toque so that it draped rakishly over one temple, then headed for the door.
There was no one in the stable yard. Unperturbed, she entered the main stable. The stall walls were high; she couldn't see over them. The tack room was at the end-she stepped purposefully down the aisle.
A large hand reached out and hauled her into a stall.
"What…?" Warm steel encircled her. Honoria focused-and realized her danger. "Don't you dare kiss me-I'll scream if you do!"
"And who do you imagine will rescue you?"
Honoria blinked-and tried to think of the right answer.
"Anyway, you won't be able to scream while I'm kissing you."
She parted her lips and hauled in a deep breath.
By the time she realized that was not a wise move, it was too late-he'd taken full advantage. A vague notion of struggling wafted into her mind-then out, as heat, warmth and insidious pleasure burgeoned within her. His lips moved on hers, arrogantly confident; his tongue slid between in a deliciously languid caress, an unhurried caress that went on and on, until she was heated through. Honoria felt the fever rise-she tried to tell herself this was wrong-scandalously wrong-while every sense she possessed purred in appreciation.
She couldn't think or hear when he kissed her. She made that discovery when Devil finally raised his head; up until the instant his lips left hers, her mind had been thought-free, blissful in its vacancy. The sounds of the stable rushed in on her, compounding her breathlessness. Her bones had liquefied, yet she was still upright-then she realized it was due to him that she was so. He was holding her against himself; her toes only just touched the floor.
"Great heavens!" Blinking wildly, she lowered her heels to earth. Had she labeled him dangerous? He was lethal.
"Good morning, Honoria Prudence." His deep purr sent a shiver down her spine. "And where are you headed?"
"Ah…" Gazing, wide-eyed, into his too-knowing green eyes, Honoria marshaled her wits. "I was looking for a horse. Presumably you have more than one?"
"I believe there's a hoity, wilful mare that should suit. But where were you thinking of riding?"
"Oh-just out about the lanes." He was holding her too securely for her to pull away; she tried to ease back-his hold gave not an inch.
"You don't know this country-you'll get lost. You'll be safer riding with me."
Dispensing with all subtlety, Honoria reached behind her and tried to pry his arms loose. He chuckled and let her tug-all to no avail. Then he bent his head and feathered delicate kisses about her left ear.
Breathless, quite ridiculously flustered, Honoria glared. "Whoever called you Devil had the right of it!"
"Hully?"
Honoria blinked, directly into his eyes. "Mrs. Hull gave you your nickname?"
He grinned-devilishly. "She used to be my nursemaid. I was three when she christened me 'That Devil Cynster.'"
"You must have been a tyrant even then."
"I was."
A furious clearing of a throat spared Honoria the necessity of replying. Devil looked around, then released her, turning so he hid her from view. "What is it, Martin?"
"Sorry t'interrupt, Y'r Grace, but one of the flanges on the North Number One's split-Mister Kirby was a-wondering if you'd swing past that way. He was hoping you'd check the lay before he reset the blade."
The message made no sense to Honoria; she peered around Devil's shoulder. A workman, his cap in his hands, stood waiting in the aisle. She glanced up-and discovered his master's green gaze on her.
"Tell Kirby I'll be there within the half-hour."
"Yes, Y'r Grace." Martin hurried out.
Honoria straightened. "What was that about?"