The Earl & the Pickpocket by Helen Dickson

Author:Helen Dickson [Dickson, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he said in a conciliatory tone as he assisted her up the steps of the coach.

With her chin raised belligerently, Edwina didn’t comment. She ignored him as he seated himself across from her and regarded her in bland silence. His jaw was taut, his mouth drawn into a ruthless, forbidding line. His utter lack of concern only added to her outrage. Her temper rolled restlessly, and her mind festered with a growing resentment for every mile that took her further away from London, although the closer she came to her destination and the confrontation with Uncle Henry, the faster her thoughts churned in fretful turmoil. Though she avoided meeting Adam’s eyes, she was vividly aware of the clean, fresh scent of his cologne. But where he was concerned she disregarded him altogether, remaining detached and erecting a freezing wall of silence to achieve that end.

Leaning back into the comfort of the upholstery, Adam calmly studied the slim, cool features opposite. He made no attempt to break the wall of icy silence Edwina had built to insulate herself from him. But he could feel her anger.

The coach was travelling along a tree-lined road, and he gazed at her in leisurely contemplation, watching the dappled shade play across her translucent skin. She was lovely and demure in her lace-trimmed cream and green gown—cool and virginal and stunningly arousing. In such close proximity in the confines of the coach he could feel himself responding. He smiled inwardly, never ceasing to be astounded by the way she affected him. His intention to play out his hand with patience would be no easy matter before the tumult of his passions.

The coach jolted and, drawn from her reverie, Edwina glanced at him. At first she found nothing more intimidating than a slightly perplexed and thoughtful frown on his face, but then she flushed hotly as the blue eyes met hers boldly and without wavering. Feeling somewhat becalmed within the seclusion and comfort of the coach, she experienced a sense of dissatisfaction at the knowledge of what he was doing.

Again she focused her gaze on the passing scenery, and only the rumble of the wheels and the thud of the horses’ hoofs covered the silence. Just when she thought she could endure the tense atmosphere in the coach no longer, after four hours’ travelling she saw the familiar turrets and tall chimneys of Oakwood Hall.

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