Page 23 of Not a Fine Gentleman

His expression turned searching. “What are you afraid of?”

She sputtered. “It would be undignified—”

“That’s not the reason.”

She could not meet his intensely probing stare. When was the last time she couldn’t look someone in the eye? She’d always prided herself on her courage, her ability to take command in any situation, but this constable turned her inside out. It must be the strain of the recent events—one disaster after another would take a toll on even the most stalwart individual.

He held out both hands in a placating manner. “I will simply carry you as if we are the happily wedded husband and wife we’ve been playing.”

Still, she hesitated, all the while the throbbing in her feet growing.

“Or we can stand out here until the other passengers arrive and all the rooms are taken. Would you prefer to sleep under a hedgerow?”

She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Very well. You may carry me.”

“Very reasonable of you.” His tone implied just the opposite.

He scooped her up in his arms, not throwing her over his shoulder as she suspected he might. His muscles flexed, a testament to his true strength. Hennessy had always been fit—toned from gentlemanly actives such as riding, fencing, boxing, and hunting. The constable’s muscles no doubt came from the physical labor of his station. Perhaps a few benefits arose from hard labor.

He glanced at her. “Is this so bad?”

By way of answer, she lifted her chin. He huffed a silent laugh. She turned her head away. As Jackson carried her, she felt very small. Vulnerable. Feminine.

His eyes slid to hers. Only inches away, each color in his irises became visible. Not simply dark blue, but a mixture of grey and green flecks bordered by a silvery-blue ring became apparent. The depth of shade and different colors in his eyes gave her pause. They were more complex than she’d supposed. Perhaps the man was also more complex.

It mattered not. He had the manners of a stable hand. More importantly, she wanted nothing to do with men for a very long time. Maybe never. Perhaps she and Rachel could live together and enjoy their freedom from masculine entanglements and have only each other for company. Of course, that must wait until her name could be cleared and the killer apprehended.

Jackson’s lips parted, drawing her attention. So close. All she had to do was move her head a few inches, and they would touch. Oh, to be kissed again. She’d once loved kissing. How long had it been? A very deep, very feminine part of her ached for that sweet contact, the feeling of being wanted. Desired. Cherished. In a way that Hennessy had never made her feel.

A fantasy.

Jackson’s breathing changed, and he shifted her in his arms. His gaze lowered to her mouth. Tension crackled between them, and her lips tingled.

“Are you afraid I’ll take advantage of you, Margaret?” he whispered. “Or are you afraid I won’t?”

His question thinned whatever spell he’d wrapped around her. “Don’t you dare. As you know, I’m fully capable of warding off unwanted advances.”

“How are you at warding off wanted advances?” His teasing toyed with feelings she’d suppressed for years.

She turned her head away. “I wouldn’t know.”