Phaedra narrowed her eyes, then blinked. She hadn’t paid attention to him before, too distracted with her search, but she took notice now.
He wore a suit of evening clothes, as one would expect from a man about town, except he had stripped down to a white linen shirt, and his cravat had been disregarded as well. The opening of his shirt provided her a glimpse of his robust chest. He seemed wild, untamed, and yet he stood like a man accustomed to power.
His gaze, sharp as a blade, never left her. Not once.
Phaedra let out a slow breath.
Her attention shifted to his tousled hair.
Shehad done that.
She ought to be thankful she hadn’t ripped open his shirt! Come to think about it, the gossip rags always described the earl as a tightly contained man. After tonight, Phaedra was not so sure about that.
“Puck is here somewhere,” she said in the hope of distracting him. And herself. Where was that dratted cat when she needed it?
“Of course.”
Phaedra stilled. Did the man have to sound as if he was merely indulging a rambling woman?
“What other reason could I possibly have for being here?” she demanded before she thought better of it. “I saw Puck leap into your garden and came to retrieve him.”
“Animals wander. Ladies should not.”
“Puck is an Angora; he is not supposed to wander either. Neither does he care for strangers.” Phaedra thought his lips might have quirked up at the corners, but she couldn’t tell with certainty. “I, at least, have a reason for being out and about. What are you doing here?”
He arched a brow. “Besides the fact that I have every right to take a stroll in my garden, what do you imagine men do upon discovering a woman on their property in a state of dishabille?”
Phaedra glanced down at her attire and inwardly cursed. She’d forgotten she’d been about to turn in for the night. She wouldn’t be surprised if the man thought her to be a shameless seductress. After all, she hadn’t pushed him away when he’d kissed her. She had brought this entire situation on herself! She refused, however, to cower, and met the earl’s gaze head on.
“Since I am at fault for interrupting your evening, I shall forget everything that happened here tonight and take my leave.” She paused. “If Puck does cross your path and sharpens his claws on your flesh, I am not to be held responsible.”
He said not a word, but Phaedra could practically feel the amusement rolling off his body. She shot him a final look before hurrying to the side gate from which she’d entered. The chuckle that followed her both incensed and inflamed her.
Insufferable oaf.
But the man had been right. She should never have ventured onto his property. Not at night. And to think, for years she’d avoided the traps set by fortune-hunters only to be foiled by her own foolishness and whatever madness had beset her to kiss him back.
Phaedra had always thought of Deerhurst as nothing but an exemplary neighbor, unseen and unnoticed. She decided to reassess her opinion of him.
Roguish.
That seemed to describe the man of tonight perfectly. A problem, no matter how she looked at the matter. Whether good or bad, gentleman or scoundrel, Deerhurst had pulled the fabric of her world inside out with his untimely kiss. But she wouldn’t be swayed, no matter what. She hoped for the earl’s sake he didn’t come to seek trouble at her door. A rude awakening awaited him if he did. She was not the sort of woman to be forced into anything against her will. She’d fight him like an animal—tooth and nail.
Speaking of animals...
Just wherewasthat traitorous cat?
*
Daring. Fearless. Dangerouslytempting.
These were the words Marcus Lawson, The Earl of Deerhurst would use to describe Lady Phaedra as he watched her retreating, and they did not begin to do her justice. Neither did he mean to describe her in any sort of way.
He also hadn’t meant to kiss her.
When he spotted her through his bedchamber window, skulking in his garden, his first thought had been to draw the drapes. However, after a moment’s pause, curiosity had won out.
What was the woman doing in his courtyard?
