Guarding a Notorious Lady Read Free Page B

herself.
    He opened his mouth as if to say something, then paused, his eyes narrowing on her as he apparently weighed the words on the tip of his tongue.
    “What is it?” she whispered.
    He bent his head even closer, apparently so that no one else could overhear. Warmth spread from her head to her boots, and she felt her body tremble slightly. He was looking so intensely into her eyes that she blindly gripped the nearest shelf to brace herself for whatever it was he was about to say.
    I love you, Rosalind . I worship you, Rosalind . I followed you all the way to London just to tell you that you are my sun, my stars, my moonlit . . .
    “Apple tree.”
    Rosalind blinked. “What?”
    “Do you remember that day in the apple tree? I shal never forget it.” His voice was low, his slight Scot’s burr seeming to thrum through her. Having his silvery stare centered on her so unexpectedly and after so long fairly turned Rosalind’s mind to mush.
    “It was the first time I saw you.” He shook his head slowly, his intense look never softening. “I spotted you sitting in one of your brother’s apple trees in the walled orchard. I had no idea what you were doing up there. It took me a half a moment to realize you were spying on a man and woman enjoying a picnic luncheon on the lawn.”

    Oh, yes. Rosalind remembered that day. And she had arranged that picnic, too. In fact, she’d picked the menu herself and packed the basket as well. She had been helping a footman woo a scul ery maid for weeks. The girl had finally relented, agreeing to an outing. Within the weeks that had followed, the happy couple had married.
    But contrary to what Nicholas believed, she had not been spying on the lovers. She had been spying on Nicholas. He had just finished helping their groundskeeper burn a diseased tree on the border of their properties. Believing he’d been alone, Nicholas had slipped off his shirt and washed up over a tub of rainwater near the wall of the orchard. Fascinated, her eyes had lingered upon the flat plane of his stomach and muscled chest, the light trail of hair that circled his navel and disappeared in the band of his breeches.
    His skin had looked like the color of tea with two drops of cream—and just as warm and inviting. When he’d straightened, shaking the water out of his hair, she had thought he’d caught her eye. She had lurched back . . .
    “You tipped backwards and would have come crashing down, but by some miracle you hung on to the tree limb by the backs of your knees.” He shifted his weight. Lord, he smelled wonderful and warm.
    Light cologne and utterly masculine. “And there you swayed back and forth. The only thing that ended up falling to the ground was your bonnet.” Her skirts had flipped over her head, too. A flush of heat fanned through her upon realizing that Nicholas must have seen her unmentionables that day. She was just glad he didn’t reveal that particular fact.
    His eyes sparkled mischievously, but only briefly. It still managed to trip up her heart. Perhaps he was remembering that flipped skirt after all.
    She inhaled slowly, shakily, and rall ied her composure.
    “So this is”—he looked off in the distance briefly, then swung those eyes back to her—“at least the second time you’ve fall en off or out of something.” The corners of his mouth turned downward in a teasing manner that made her feel like she was a debutante again. “One would think you would have learned your lesson.”
    “To not climb trees,” she answered cheekily.
    He sighed, giving a nod to the next row. “Perhaps if you weren’t so preoccupied spying on people,” he said, a muscle twitching in his jaw, “and paid attention to yourself, you wouldn’t have fall en off the ladder.” All of a sudden, her mind seemed to awaken out of a blanket of fog. Her eyes narrowed on him. “You were deliberately blocking my view,” she accused in a sharp whisper, taking a step closer to him.
    “ A nd you are ever