shook his head. ‘They’re old, but no accident.’
She paced away. ‘If he’s to spend another night here, you will need to find a better way to make him secure.’
He glared at the woman. How long did they expect to keep him here? ‘Le Clere won’t pay you. He is not such a fool.’ He hoped.
‘I’ll find something.’ Ben’s voice sounded kindly, less harsh. ‘Up you get, lad. Sit over by the fence.’
Garrick rose to his feet. Silent and grim, Ben tied him to the fence with enough rope to shift his position. Tied up like a wild animal. Like one of his nightmares. He clenched and unclenched his hands, forcing himself to hold back the anger rising in his gullet. He took a deep breath. Then another. Control. Sooner or later they’d make a mistake.
Ben left them on foot, meaning he was headed for somewhere nearby. Were they in league with one of the local farmers? One of his tenants? An interesting and disturbing thought.
Forced into idleness, he watched the wench groom all three horses. The skin-tight breeches hugged the flair of her hips, and her slender thighs above riding boots were the stuff of pleasurable dreams. The full shirt and open waistcoat didn’t hide her narrow waist, but gave no impression of the size of her breasts. Those he’d felt, small and firm, when he’d kissed her.
He shifted, furious and uncomfortable at his body’s arousal. No doubt she knew how incredibly sensual she looked in her boy’s garb. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing he’d noticed. Instead, he closed his eyes to picture her face behind the mask, light eyes, certainly. But what colour hair lay beneath her ridiculous old-fashioned wig? Her eyebrows were fair. But her hair could be anything from red to gold. The sun warmed his skin. A bee bumbled by in a soft drone on air scented with grass and sweet clover.
Having finished with the horses, Eleanor decided to feed her prisoner before Martin returned and they left for the night. A platter of bread, cheese and pickles seemed a somewhat meagre offering for a man who must be used to the finest dining. On the way, she gathered up his now-dry clothes. The Marquess needed to get dressed. The sight of him sprawled on the grass like some Adonis really was too much, especially since he had fallen asleep, leaving her free to peek all she wanted. The way he had watched her from beneath half-lowered lids, while she groomed the horses, had made her feel hot and awkward. She’d been glad when he’d drifted off to sleep.
He looked so peaceful propped against the fence, his head lolling against a naked broad shoulder. Like an angel. A fallen one, with that sensual cast of his lips and the body of a heathen god. And there was just so much of him. Even stretched out on the grass, his male virility was overpowering.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
