'No.' The single word, uttered quietly and decisively, brought her up short. Eyes narrowing, she glared up at him; he towered, without apology, over her. 'There is no reason whatever for you to be involved.'
Her eyes, normally so peacefully lucent, spat sparks. 'This was
He held her irate gaze. 'You are not a mere cipher-'
'Good!' With a terse nod, she swung back to the Heath. 'I'll help you watch Bletchley then.'
Weaving back to avoid decapitation by her parasol, Demon swore beneath his breath. Falling back half a step, he glared at her back, her hips, the round swells of her bottom, as she stood, stubbornly intransigent, her back to him. 'Flick-'
'Look! He's heading off.'
Glancing up, Demon saw Bletchley quit his position by the oak and amble, with a less-than-convincing show of idleness, toward one of the neighboring stables. Glancing at Flick, already on her toes, about to step out in Bletchley's wake, Demon hesitated, then his eyes narrowed and his lips curved. 'As you're so determined to help…'
Stepping to her right, he caught her hand and set it on his sleeve, anchoring her close-very close-to his side.
Blinking wildly, she looked up. 'What do you mean?' Her voice was gratifyingly breathless.
'If you want to help me watch Bletchley, then you'll have to help provide our disguise.' He raised his brows at her. 'Just keep that parasol to the side, and as far as possible, keep your face turned to me.'
'But how am I to watch Bletchley?'
He strolled; she was forced to stroll beside him. A smile of definite intent on his face, he looked down at her. 'You don't need to watch him for us to follow him, but we need to see who he's meeting.'
One swift glance ahead verified that Bletchley was heading behind the stable, which, from the horses Demon could see on the Heath, would almost certainly be empty. With Flick's not-exactly-willing assistance, he put his mind to creating a tableau of a couple entirely engrossed with each other, of no possible consequence to Bletchley.
Trapped by his gaze, by the hard palm that held her fingers immobile on his sleeve, by the strength, the power, he so effortlessly wielded, Flick struggled to preserve a facade of normalcy, to slow her breathing and steady her heart. To relax her stiff spine and stroll with passable grace-grace enough to match the reprobate beside her.
The glances he shot ahead, tracking Bletchley, were reassuring, confirming that his intent was indeed to follow the villain and witness any meeting behind the stable. His intent
'Who do you think he's meeting?' she whispered. Her lungs were still not functioning properly.
'I've no idea.' He looked down at her, his heavy lids half obscuring his eyes. His voice had sunk to a deep purr. 'Just pray it's a member of the syndicate.'
His tone and his sleepy expression were disconcerting, of no help at all in reestablishing her equanimity.
Demon looked up. Bletchley had halted at the corner of the stable. As he watched, Bletchley's gaze swept the throng, then fixed on them. Smoothly, unhurriedly, a wolfish smile curving his lips, he looked down, into Flick's wide eyes. 'Smile,' he instructed. She did, weakly. His own smile deepening, he raised his free hand; with the back of his knuckles he brushed her cheek.
Her breath caught-she skittered back and blushed; effortlessly, his smile very evident, he drew her back.
'I'm only teasing,' he murmured. 'It's just play.'
'I know,' Flick assured him, her heart beating frantically. Unfortunately, he was playing a game with which she was unfamiliar. She tried her best to relax, to smile easily, teasingly, back.
From beneath his lashes, Demon glanced ahead; Bletchley was no longer looking their way. After one last scan of the Heath, he turned and lumbered around the building, out of sight.
Flick's eyes widened; she immediately stepped out. He hauled her up short, pulling her to his side. 'No.' She looked up, ready to glare; he leaned closer-nearer-so the ebb and flow of their interaction looked like a seductive game. 'We don't know,' he murmured, his lips close by her temple, 'who he's meeting and where they are. They might be behind us.'
'Oh.' Obedient to his pressure on her arm, Flick, a smile on her lips, steeled herself and leaned against him, her shoulder and upper arm nestling into the warmth of his chest. Then, with the same sweet, inane smile, she eased away as they continued to stroll.
After a moment-after she'd caught her breath-she looked up, into his smiling eyes. 'What are you planning to do?'
His lips quirked, very definitely teasing. 'Join Bletchley and his friend, of course.'
They'd reached the corner of the stable; without pause, Demon continued on, not hugging the shadow of the wall as Bletchley had but strolling on and past, into the clear area behind the stable bounded by a railing fence.
As soon as they had cleared the corner, Flick looked ahead. Demon released her elbow, slid his arm about her waist, drew her against him and kissed her.
She nearly dropped her parasol.
'
Wits reeling, she hauled in a breath. 'But-'
'No buts. Just follow my lead and we'll be able to hear everything-and see it all, too.' Setting her on her feet, shielded by her open parasol, presently pointed, rather waveringly, at Bletchley, his eyes searched hers, then he added, his voice deep and low, 'If you won't behave, I'll have to distract you some more.'
She stared at him. Then she cleared her throat. 'What do you want me to do?'
'Concentrate on me as if you aren't even aware Bletchley and friend exist.'
She kept her gaze glued to his face. 'Has his friend arrived?' She hadn't been able to see before he'd kissed her.
'Not yet, but I think someone's drifting this way.' Righting her parasol, Demon smiled down at her; his hand resting lightly at her waist, he turned her. Gazes locked, they strolled on, apparently aimlessly.
Bletchley had halted midway along the back of the stable, clearly waiting for someone to join him. From the corner of her eye, Flick saw him frown at them. Demon bent his head and blew in her ear; she squirmed and giggled, entirely spontaneously.
Naturally, he did it again.
With no option but to throw herself into their deception, she giggled and wriggled and squirmed. Laughing, Demon caught her more closely to him, then with a flourish, he whirled her, twirled her-they stopped with him leaning against the railing fence, her before him. His eyes glowed wickedly; his smile was distinctly devilish.
Flick caught her breath on a gasp, a perfectly natural, silly smile on her lips. 'What next?' she whispered.
Screened from Bletchley by her parasol, Demon looked down into her eyes. 'Put your hand on my shoulder, stretch up and kiss me.'
She blinked at him; he raised his brows innocently, the expression in his eyes anything but. 'You've done it before.'
She had, but that had been different. He'd started it. Still… it hadn't been difficult.
Fleetingly frowning at him, she placed her free hand on his broad shoulder and stretched up on her toes. Even so, he had to lower his head-balanced precariously on the very tips of her toes, she
She kissed him-just a simple, gentle kiss. When she went to draw back, his hands firmed, one spanning her waist, the other closing about her fingers gripping her parasol. He held her steady as his lips closed over
