“IDON’T NEED YOUR PROTECTION,” she argued, though it certainly warmed her that he wanted to provide it. Confused her as well. “Why are you taking such an interest in me?” She gave him a pointed look. “What is yourrealobjective?”
He smiled, crossed to her chair, and leaned down. Placing one hand on either side of her, he murmured, “There’s no point in arguing, Francesca.” His face loomed inches from hers, and his nearness made it hard for her to concentrate.
Something about the way he looked at her unnerved her. His eyes had changed. There was more than harmless flirtation in them now.
She tried in vain to scoot away. “But, really, there’s no need...” Her voice trailed off as he put a finger to her lips.
“There’s every need,” he murmured.
She caught her breath as his fingers traced her top lip lightly. Tingles skittered through her body, all the way to her toes. He was close enough to kiss her. And—her heart sped up—helookedas though he wanted to kiss her.
“I’ll be so close to you,” he whispered, “that the only time you’ll escape me is when you sleep.”
His finger rested on the center of her bottom lip. He swiped it gently across her skin, and as he pulled away, she saw a smudge of chocolate on his skin. She watched, trembling, as he put the finger in his mouth and slowly licked it clean.
“And Francesca?”
“Yes.” At least that was the word she’d meant to form. She dragged her eyes back to his, breath coming fast.
“I might even find a way into your dreams.”
It took a moment after he leaned away, returning to the couch with a smug look, for the haze surrounding her to fade and conscious thought to return. Her lips tingled where his finger had skated across them. Her whole body vibrated. Aching for...something.
Lord, the way he’d licked the chocolate off his finger—his tongue swirling around the pad of his fingertip then moving slowly upward over the tip. She hadn’t been able to move, much less breathe.
Shestillcouldn’t breathe. She had to get away.
“I-I think I’ll take the fresh air,” she said when she trusted her voice again. She stood, and he was beside her.
“Where are we going?”
“We?” She turned to him and took an immediate step back. His mere presence overwhelmed her. Left her lightheaded. She had to get away from him, gather her thoughts, her defenses.
“Iwould go to the stable to see Thunder and then to check on my hospital.Alone, if you don’t mind.”
Not waiting for his argument, she whirled and started for the door. His hand, light but firm, on her elbow stopped her. Her pulse pattered in response. How she wished he would stop touching her!
“I thought I made myself clear a moment ago.” His voice was hard, and she glanced over her shoulder to see him glowering at her. For some reason, his fierce expression didn’t disconcert her as it usually did. She shook him off.
“You made yourself perfectly clear, Lord Winterbourne, but I prefer to be alone right now.”
“Then go to your room.” He took a step toward her. “Lie down. Read a book. Do needlepoint.” With each suggestion he leaned closer until she felt the heat of his chest pressing against her torso. She blushed but refused to step back.
“But if you mean to leave the house,” he continued, glaring down at her, “I would go with you.”
“Oh, this is too much!” She rose on her tiptoes and met him eye to eye. “I already have one puppy nipping at my heels. I don’t need another.”
“Puppy?” His eyes narrowed dangerously.
She gestured to the windows of the breakfast room and their view of the bright sunny park and rolling hillsides. “No one would attack me in the middle of the day, Lord Winterbourne.” But even as she said it, she felt a shudder of fear ripple through her. “And I’ll pass half a dozen people on my way to the stables,” she said, uncertain whether the words were intended to convince him or her.
“And it only takes one to grab you when no one else is looking and finish what he began last night.”
His words slammed into her. They were as hard as the look in his eyes. Once again, she felt a flash of fear, caught the flicker of an image—a man in black above her, his hands under her skirts—before she could suppress it.
She stiffened, pulled inward. She hated this. Hated the fear. Hated that she needed Winterbourne’s protection, that deep down she wanted it. She’d never wanted to need or want a man again. But right now she could barely contain her own apprehensions, much less counter Winterbourne’s, and more than anything she needed to feel the healing sun on her face and the rejuvenating nip of the wind on her cheeks.
She stepped away from him then, backing down and feeling defeated. “Very well. Come if you like.”
