The driver gave them another glance and frowned as though he didn’t believe Brandon but then a quick nod and Brandon hopped into the carriage before the man could change his mind. “Triple if you hurry,” he called out and then snapped the door shut.
There, he settled Emily onto his lap.
She was still out, her body limp against his, her lashes resting on her pale cheeks.
He skimmed a thumb over her high cheekbone, her breath warm against his palm.
Without much thought, he traced the curve of her jaw, the delicate column of her neck, her brow, the shell of her ear.
She was so lovely, there in his arms.
His breath caught as his tiredness fled, his limbs gaining back their strength.
Her eyes fluttered open, her lashes like the wings of a butterfly as large brown eyes met his.
“Emily,” he breathed as he stared down at her.
“Where am I?” she asked, trying to push up. He could feel the weakness in her limbs.
“A hack. On your way back home.”
“You saved me,” she said, giving up and settling against him. “Again.”
He couldn’t hold the next words back. “I’ll always save you.” Except he almost hadn’t. Except he’d hardly saved her at all. His actions had caused her far more trouble than they had peace.
She smiled then, soft and sweet and relaxed as she snuggled against him. “Why?”
The word was gently whispered on an almost-sleepy sigh, but it struck him like lightning. Why indeed? “Because,” he said, clearing his throat. As much of the truth as he could reveal seemed the only appropriate answer. “I owe what I have in life to your father. He was more of a father to me than my own in many ways.’
“Oh,” she said, this time lifting her head and pushing up into an awkward sitting position. “I see. That makes sense.” Her voice had lost its dreamy quality, going flat. Had his answer disappointed?
He wanted to pull her back against his chest, cradle her in his arms. He wished to hold her close and whisper…what? He shook his head. He was exiled, in danger from the men he’d been hunting, and she was even more vulnerable than he. Now was not the time to wax poetic. Besides, if she’d known how he’d pulled Ewan away…
She scooted across the hack, taking the seat across from him, their knees still touching. “Thank you,” she said, leaning forward. “For saving me. I’m sure my father is now forever in your debt, as am I.”
He swallowed, clenching his hands to keep from touching her face again. “You’re welcome.”
“May I ask...do I look atrocious?”
“You look beautiful. As always.”
A blush stained her cheeks then. It was the sort of pink that made him think of roses in summer. He closed his eyes. He was about to make a fool of himself. What was it about this woman? He hadn’t dallied with any female in such a long time. Was that the problem? He’d been so focused on his future, on restoring his name and then solving this mystery. For a moment he considered after…when all those goals were met. Would he marry? Have children?
But he opened his eyes again, looking at Emily. Now was not the time to become this distracted. He hadn’t actually achieved anything yet. But he also had to confess that this attraction was specific to her.
And it was most unwanted. He had an agenda, and she was dividing his loyalties, making him question his plan. His actions.
“I appreciate those kind words, but I don’t want my sisters to worry too much. Tell me…” She lifted her hands to her head. “Should I undo my hair? Do I have any tears in my dress? Noticeable bruises?”
His jaw clenched. She was worried about her sisters now? But that was one of the things he liked about her. In a world that had been so harsh, she was kind and caring.
And she was right. Her hair was a lovely mess.
“Come here,” he said without explanation, and to his astonishment she obeyed.
She squeezed next to him on the seat. He ignored the ripple of pleasure that coursed through him as her hip pressed to his.
He lifted a hand and gently massaged her scalp at its base, finding hair pins and pulling them out one by one. The act was intimate in a way even tupping a woman was not and his body hardened in response.
Emily’s tresses were even silkier than he’d imagined, and he nearly groaned with pleasure as he worked. Her hair tumbled down her back in sections and with each piece, he forgot why he needed to keep her at a distance. What was more important than the light floral scent of her hair?
He’d be free soon. Back in the good graces of the crown, unfettered from these thieves.
Brandon pulled the last pin from her locks and she gave her head a tiny shake sending ripples down the long locks of hair. He wished to run his fingers through the length and let them slide through his hands. Hell, he wished he could bury his face into the mass of it.
Then he’d kiss the column of her neck.
But she lifted her hands to begin braiding the mass of hair and the position thrust her breasts forward. Now, he forgot all about her hair as his gaze fixated on her chest, the narrowing of her waist, the curve of her back.
Bloody hell. How had he stayed away from this woman for so long?
His manhood was thickening and lengthening. Shouldn’t he be too tired for that sort of excitement?
He gripped his thighs to keep his hands to himself.
Because if he lifted them, all his resolve would melt away.
And he couldn’t allow that to happen. Not with her. How did a man touch a woman he’d wronged?
There was an energy in the air that Emily could feel like a physical touch.
Dishonor’s hands had been exquisitely gentle, his breath warm, the heat from his body seeping
