Worth Any Price (Bow Street Runners #3)(8)

She was rigid in his hold, her breath coming in gasps. "Let go of me," she said, prying at his arms. "Why the devil did you do that?"

"You were going to fall."

"I was not! I was perfectly fine until you rushed at me and nearly knocked me over-"

"Your heel is caught in the hem of your skirts."

Moving cautiously, she lifted her foot and perceived that he was correct. "So it is," she said shortly.

Having rescued people from every conceivable situation, Nick was accustomed to receiving at least a perfunctory show of gratitude. "Aren't you going to thank me for saving you?"

"I have excellent reflexes. I could have saved myself."

Nick let out an incredulous laugh, both annoyed and fascinated by her stubbornness. "If it weren't for me, you would have broken your little neck."

"I assure you, sir, that this so-called rescue was entirely unnecessary. However, since it is obvious that you are going to persist...thank you. Now please take your hands from me." Her tone rendered the words devoid of appreciation.

Nick grinned, appreciating the fearlessness of her manner, despite the fact that her heart was pounding wildly against the inside of his wrist. Carefully he loosened his arm and helped her to turn by slow degrees. She wobbled a little and dug her fingers into his coat sleeves in a spasm of anxiety. "I've got you," he said steadily.

She faced him, and they both froze as their gazes locked. Nick forgot the wall beneath his feet. It seemed as if they were poised in midair, in a blue wash of moonlight that made everything look unreal. Recognition shot through him like a bolt of lightning. Incredibly, he found himself staring into the features that had almost become more familiar to him than his own.

Charlotte.

"I've got you," he repeated with a faint smile.

CHAPTER 3

"Sit," the stranger told Lottie, his huge hands closing around her shoulders and pushing her down. She obeyed carefully, lowering herself to the wall with her legs dangling. The man swung to the ground, landing lightly from the six-foot drop. He held up his arms for her. Lottie hesitated as a cold fist seemed to squeeze around her heart. Every instinct warned her not to jump into his arms. He looked like a predator waiting to snatch her.

"Come," he murmured. The moon struck glints of jolting blue in his eyes.

Reluctantly Lottie leaned forward with her arms outstretched. As she repelled from the stone surface, her hands settled on his shoulders, and he took hold of her waist. He tempered her descent with an ease that betrayed immense physical strength. His hands lingered at her waist, assuring her balance before he released her.

Standing with him on the ground, Lottie was struck by his size. The stranger was unusually tall, with broad shoulders, and big feet and hands. Although he was well dressed, wearing the new cut of coat with long lapels, and loose-tailored trousers, his dark hair had been cut unfashionably short, and his face was clean shaven. That was unusual among the elegant crowd at Stony Cross Park. Stylish gentlemen let their hair grow over their collars, and sported side-whiskers and moustaches. This man didn't even have a wisp of a goatee to soften the obdurate line of his jaw.

He indicated the wall with a jerk of his head. "Why were you standing up there?"

For a moment Lottie couldn't speak as she stared up into his handsome face. Nature had been spendthrift with this man, bestowing him with bold, princely features and eyes as blue and intense as the heart of midnight. The cynicism in those eyes was a fascinating contrast to the touch of humor that lurked at the corners of his wide mouth. He looked to be about thirty-the time in a man's life when he surrendered the last vestiges of callowness and came fully into his maturity. No doubt women of all ages were instantly enthralled by him.

Gathering her wits, she managed to answer him. "I enjoy the view."

"You could obtain the same view from the safety of a window."

A faint smile touched her lips. "The view is far more rewarding when there is some risk involved."

He grinned suddenly, as if he understood exactly what she meant. His roguish smile was dazzling, nearly causing her heart to stop. Lottie couldn't stop staring at him. It seemed that there was something important and unspoken in the air, as if they had once met but she had forgotten the occasion.

"Who are you, sir?" she asked. "I haven't seen you here before."

"Perhaps I'm your guardian angel."

"You don't look very angelic to me," she replied skeptically, making him laugh.

He bowed and introduced himself. "Lord Sydney, at your service."

Lottie responded with a curtsy. "Miss Miller. I am employed as a companion to the dowager countess." She gave him an openly speculative glance. "The guest list for Lord Westcliff's house parties is quite exclusive. How did you manage to get an invitation?"

"The earl was kind enough to offer his hospitality on the recommendation of a mutual friend."

"Have you come to hunt?" she asked. "Is that why you are here?"

"Yes," he said with a puzzling, ironic edge to his tone. "I hunt."

A burst of music came from the direction of the al fresco party, and they both glanced toward the back gardens. "I came to have a look at the horses," Sydney said. "Forgive me for intruding on your privacy."