“We shall see.”
How much time had passed? Her body was starting to ache in protest at sitting still for so long. And her chin, her ear, and her nose were itching all at the same time.
“Just who did you send to my father? A snail?”
Rohan glanced at his pocket watch. “Something must not have—”
The steady sound of the front doorknocker echoed through the house.
Harriet’s ears perked up. “Leeds?” Her father?
Rohan’s brows drew together. “Would he knock so calmly?”
He would if he’s learned I’m here with you.
But Harriet decided not to enlighten her friend. Whatever came his way, it would serve the ruffian right, including her new matchmaking plan for making him fall in love against his will.
Though truthfully, she was almost certain she would do a disservice to any woman she might match with this beast. Whoever the woman,shewould have to be the one to tie Rohan down, or she might be trudged all over!
Rohan rose to his feet. “I shall go see who it is. Not a sound from you.”
Harriet rolled her eyes. “Are you mistaking me for arealkidnapping victim?”
He smirked. “Youarea real kidnapping victim.”
Red-mop ruffian.
She glared at his back as he strode from the room, straining her ears for any indication of who had arrived. A moment later, male voices filtered through the corridor to the drawing room. Faint, but discernible.
Had Leeds found her?
She shot her own smirk at the door Rohan had left through. Leeds was here. She knew it. Her scalp prickled with awareness. A curious thing, but a thing nonetheless.
This little scheme of Rohan’s—she was ready to put an end to this madness. She wanted to return home. Bathe with her husband. Cuddle in their bed.
The voices faded, followed by an unmistakable thud, then footsteps, and then a familiar voice called her name. So breathtakingly familiar.
“Harriet?” That gruff, gloriously male voice called.
“I’m here!” Harriet called out, her entire body brimming with excitement.
The door slammed open and Leeds filled the doorway. Large, striking, and all hers.
Lawd, she loved him.
“Damn it! I should have walloped that bastard harder!” He was at her side in three strides, kneeling before her. “Are you all right? Are you uncomfortable?”
“My nose is itching.”
His gaze lowered and he reached out to scratch the tip with a finger. “Here.”
“Up,” Harriet said, amused. “A bit to the left. Now my left eyebrow.”
“Why don’t I just untie you, love?” He started to work at the knot in one of the ropes.
She glanced beyond her husband. “Where is Rohan?”
“In the hall. He’s . . . resting.”
