Page 41 of A Stranger’s Promise

It had to be Captain Edwards.

“Devil take you!” She pummeled his chest with her fists. “Unhand me, you fool—

“There, there, lass,” rumbled a familiar deep voice. “Och, you’re even smaller than you look.”

Charlotte froze, torn between shock, relief—and anger. “Damnation! Have you lost your mind?” she demanded. “What gentleman snatches a lady off the street? I thought you—” She broke off.

Alistair chuckled and let the horse canter a few paces more before slowing the animal to a walk. His strong thighs shifted beneath her as he twisted her around, so she sat sideways across his lap.

He’d forgone the coat, vest, and cravat in favor of a loose, white, puff-sleeved shirt with a large green Cassilis plaid thrown over his broad shoulders.

He caught her chin with his thumb and tilted her head back toward his. “Where did such a wee thing like you learn to swear like a sailor?”

She squirmed, embarrassed. “It’s a detestable habit. My great-uncle was a navy man. He raised me as his own after my mother died. But I offer it as no excuse—”

Alistair chuckled. “I need no apology, lass. Far from it. I confess, I find you a damn sight more interesting than the ladies at Culzean, nattering behind their fans.”

The compliment made her heart skip a beat. “You would dash their hopes if they heard you say that, my lord.”

“Hopes?” His lips curved into a smile above his dimpled chin. “I’ve given them no such thing. Truth be told, I can’t tell you how many guests I even have—or half of their names.”

They shared a laugh.

His arm flexed about her waist and his expression grew serious. “Why are you walking alone?”

Charlotte shifted uneasily, too aware of the firm, muscular thighs beneath her bottom and the hardness of his chest pressed against her shoulder. Biting her lip in an effort to clear her thoughts, she replied, “Lady Cassilis sent me on an errand, my lord. She is in need of her rouge before luncheon is served.”

He brought his horse to a stop and stared down at her. His eyes darkened. “My name is Alistair,” he whispered. “Say it.”

Her stomach flipped and she managed a whispered, “I can scarcely call you that, my lord.”

His thick lashes lowered. “Why not? A lass who raps my knuckles with a spoon shouldn’t balk at addressing me by my given name.”

She blurted, “You were misbehaving.”

“Was I?” he teased.

The seductive timber of his voice made her shiver. It was time to direct the conversation to safer territory. Biting her bottom lip yet again, she began, “It is my duty—”

“If you bite your lip one more time, Charlotte, I will not be held accountable for my actions,” he warned.

She started, unable to look away from the raw hunger in his eyes. Her breath quickened as his arm tightened around her waist.

Neither moved.

A gull cawed in the skies overhead. The wind rustled through the trees, bringing with it the rich scent of damp earth and wet leaves.

The pounding of horses’ hooves on the moist ground broke into the moment.

The realization that the horsemen were already upon them struck them both at the same time, and they turned their heads in unison to face the newcomers.

Nicholas arrived in a jingle of bits and creaking leather, three other riders in tow. The distinct twinkle in his blue eyes announced he’d just witnessed their near kiss and seen it for exactly what it was.

“A good day to you.” He grinned. “We’re out for a bit of hawking, my dear fellow. Care to join us?”

“Not at all,” Alistair answered mildly. “Please, as you were.” He backed his horse off the road and waved them on with an impatient hand.

Nicholas laughed, nodded farewell with an even wider grin, and trotted his horse down the road, his companions falling in line behind him. As the last horseman passed, Charlotte stiffened.