Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

He tried to hold himself very still.

“Damn.”

The accent didn’t sound French.

“Damn, damn these cursed skirts. Mud makes them weigh more than a cannonball.”

No, definitely not French. Casting caution to the wind, Devlin slithered inside the tunnel.

A tiny trickle of light penetrated the gloom. He could just make out a smaller black opening between two slabs of charcoal gray stone.

The scuffling was growing louder, and in the next instant a head emerged from the opening.

“Anna.” It came out no louder than a breath of air.

She wriggled free of the stones and looked up.

Their eyes met.

“I love you,” he blurted out.

Her dirt-streaked face went through a series of odd contortions before wreathing a smile. “No, no, first you’re supposed to say, ‘However did you manage to escape from the dastardly villains?’ so I can tell you how clever I was.”

“Clearly I’ve no idea how to be a proper hero.” He reached out and clasped her hand. “I love you,” he repeated. “Now, however did you manage to escape from the dastardly villains?”

Anna pulled herself closer. “Kiss me first.”

“Gladly. But wouldn’t you rather we first get outside into the fresh air and sunlight?”

“Mmmm, no. This is more romantic,” answered Anna. “Though manacles and chains would add even more atmosphere.”

He curled his fingers around her wrists. “You have a wonderfully vivid imagination, but let’s confine dark dungeons and dangerous villains to your novels, shall we? I’ve had quite enough bloodcurdling excitement for one day.” His lips found hers. “Well, almost.”

Anna wasn’t sure how long their kiss lasted. A moment? An hour? An afternoon? Freeing a hand, she traced the line of his jaw and entangled her touch in the silky strands of his wind-tangled hair, wishing it would go on for an eternity.

His mouth was doing the most exquisitely erotic things to her earlobe. The aching bumps and scrapes on the rest of her body seemed to have melted away into a puddle of pleasure…

A shout suddenly pierced the sweet reverie.

“Hell.” Devlin lifted his lips, sounding just as dazed as she felt.

“Davenport! Davenport!” The bellowing was coming from just outside the hidden entrance. “Where the devil are you? The cistern—Dunbar has spotted them fleeing from the cistern. We must hurry!

“Come, we had better let him know you are safe,” murmured Devlin.

“Yes, of course.”

With a bit of scooting and squirming, they managed to emerge into the daylight.

“Anna is here!” he called.

McClellan hurried out from the trees, leading the three horses. “By the bones of St. Andrew, you are a sight for sore eyes, Miss Sloane.”

“Sore is rather an apt word,” said Anna, wincing as she flexed her bruised knee. “Scotland has rather a lot of rocks.”

“That,” said the baron, “is why we Scots are known for our flinty reserve.”

She smiled. The man was beginning to soften around the edges. A good sign, but if he wished to spend any more time around her sister, he had better be prepared for a hammer and chisel to pound away at that flint.