Мериел Фуллер – Innocent's Champion (страница 13)
‘Would you let me pass, please? I have to be quick!’ Urgency plucked at her voice.
‘Who is going with you?’
She gave a quick shake of her head, dismissing his question. She would pretend she hadn’t heard him; the less this man knew about her domestic circumstances, the better. Hitching up her dark pink skirts, she climbed the flight of steps that served as a mounting block inside the stables and slid herself over, astride, on to the horse’s back. Her feet poked out from the bottom of her dress, and to her dismay, one of her leather slippers peeled off the back of her heel and plopped to the ground.
Moving into the shadows of the stable, Gilan bent down and picked it up, holding the pink leather between his fingers. Matilda eyed him warily.
‘I said, “who is going with you?”’ His voice held an edge of steel.
‘Can I have my slipper back, please?’ she asked, her voice petulant. The thin leather of her slipper looked incongruous against the muscled strength of his fingers, pinpoints of fire streaking out from the diamond cluster decorating the toe. She held out her hand, but realised, in shock, that he had grasped her ankle, clad in a silk stocking. He slipped the shoe back over her foot, the heat from his hand travelling up her leg, driving every muscle in her body to rigid alertness. The breath drove from her lungs, she couldn’t speak, or protest...
Fury rose at his outrageous manhandling. Alarmed by her own response to his touch, she kicked out, toes colliding with his chest. His fingers twisted swiftly, almost as if he anticipated her movement, crushing both foot and slipper against a solid wall of muscle, one big thumb pressed up into the tender skin of her sole, sending sparks of...of what? Of sheer pleasure, scything up her leg? She glared at him, astounded, and tugged her foot once more, to no avail.
‘Let go of me!’ she hissed down at him. ‘Your behaviour is unspeakable!’
‘Not until you tell me who is going with you.’
His head was on a level with her chest, his glinting hair inches from the spot where her hands grasped the reins. The urge to sift her fingers through those glimmering strands surged up within her; she smashed down the scandalous thoughts, wondering at her own sanity.
‘They’re all drunk to the world up there! Completely wasted.’
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