“Do you really believe whoever sent them won’t try again?” the duchess asked.
The girl shot a panicked glance over at Seb. “But it wouldn’t be seemly for us to live under the same roof.”
“Who will know? It’s not as if you’ll be going out together in theton. Indulge me, child. I won’t rest easy until the threat to you is gone.”
The edge of desperation in the girl’s tone made Seb feel a lot better. Indeed, the more he thought about it, the more he realized this was the perfect opportunity to install the defiant chit under his own roof and discover exactly who she was and what she was about. Why was he even arguing?
“On second thoughts, I believe your plan has considerable merit, Dorothea.”
The girl looked at him in dawning horror. Seb suppressed a smile.
“I can protect her far better at the Tricorn than at Everleigh.”
“No!” She shot a desperate, pleading glance at the duchess. “Who will read the papers to you?”
“Oh, I’ll get one of the other servants to do it. And I have plenty of friends to visit in Oxfordshire. I won’t be bored.”
She beckoned Anya closer to the carriage, and Seb strained to hear their hushed conversation.
“I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you, my dear. You’re the granddaughter I never had.”
A suspicious sheen gathered in the dowager’s eyes, and Seb blinked in shock because Dorothea rarely allowed herself to exhibit anything as unseemly as emotions.
The girl sighed, then nodded. “As you wish.”
She shot a glance of pure dislike at him, as if this were somehow allhisfault, and his body throbbed in response. Anticipation poured through his veins at the forthcoming challenge. Oh, this was going to be fun.
He maneuvered Eclipse forward. “You’ll have to ride with me. Put your foot on mine and give me your hand.”
With a huff, she did as he instructed, and he hauled her up to sit sideways in front of him, her legs draped over his thigh. The feel of her slim body in his lap made his head spin. Eclipse sidled sideways in protest at the additional weight, but Seb controlled him easily with a squeeze of his knees.
The fur trim of her cloak tickled his throat as he put his arms around her waist. Her hair whipped across his cheek and the scent of her filled his nose. She smelled delicious, like jasmine and rain, and he suddenly felt like laughing aloud. He felt positively barbaric, like a Viking raider returning home with his prize.
He wheeled them in a wide circle as Dorothea sent them a cheery wave. “Do be careful, my dears. Send word as soon as you can!”
Seb kicked his heels to Eclipse’s flanks. The horse started forward and triumph surged through him. Anna Brown, Anya Ivanov—whatever she wanted to call herself—was at his mercy. She was lying to him. And he wouldn’t stop until he’d uncovered every secret she was guarding.
Chapter 11.
Anya’s head was spinning. How had she ended up galloping back toward London in the arms of this handsome, arrogant stranger? A man who’d dispatched two of his fellows with apparent ease and even less remorse.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been saved from one set of kidnappers only to be snatched away by another. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. And the dowager duchess, her dear friend, had sanctioned it.
No, that was unfair. The dowager hadn’t betrayed her secret, not even to her own kin. And there was logic behind the decision to ask Wolff to guard her. The man was a literal hero. He’d received numerous medals for his service during the wars against Napoleon, and his recent ennoblement had, according to the dowager, been awarded for some invaluable service he’d provided for the Prince of Wales.
He certainly knew how to handle a rifle. The skill it must have taken to shoot the man who’d been holdingher was astonishing. A wave of nausea rose up as she recalled the blood in the mud. She’d never seen a dead man before.
She was intensely aware of her captor. The wind was bitter, but his arms were strong and his warmth pressed against her side. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to absorb the sensation of simply being held. She hugged women—Elizaveta and Charlotte—all the time, but they were small and soft and sweetly perfumed. Being held in this man’s embrace was an entirely different experience. One that was, paradoxically, both comforting and nerve-wracking.
To distract herself from his proximity, she said, “You took a terrible risk shooting that man from horseback. What if I’d moved? You could have killed me, instead.”
Thatwould have put an end to Vasili’s scheming.
He gave an arrogant snort. “Unlikely. Thanks to Bonaparte, I’ve had plenty of practice in shooting from that distance. It was a calculated risk.”
Anya raised her brows at his supreme confidence, even as a twinge of envy assaulted her. If only she possessed such a deadly talent. Vasili would think twice about threatening her if she could shoot the tassel from his boots at fifty paces. Unfortunately, rifle shooting hadn’t been part of her extensive education. She’d never even fired a pistol.
She readjusted her position. It was uncomfortable on his lap, both physically and emotionally. The hood of her cloak had come down; her face was cold, but she could feel the heat of Wolff’s breath against her neck. She shivered with an unsettling awareness. Sidesaddle was no way to travel any great distance.
