wooden arms. ‘Why could you not have allowed me to climb into the seat myself?’ she asked in a breathless voice, aware of a pleasurable tremor that she could only believe was the result of his actions.
‘It was quicker my way,’ said Alex. ‘What of your stepbrother who lives in London?’
‘Oh, he never complains of being troubled with pirates,’ she said blandly.
‘How fortunate.’ And how suspicious, thought Alex.
Rosamund thought Master Nilsson’s mouth tightened as he dragged himself into the saddle and guessed she was not going to discover any more about pirates from him. Which was vexatious—there were conversations she had overheard that could have interested him.
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