Bought: Damsel in Distress. Lucy King
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on for? Summoning every ounce of strength she possessed, she wrenched her eyes away from Luke’s. And blinked in astonishment. Everyone was moving. The ceremony was over? Already? That look must have frozen them in time. And that flash of white must have been the new Mrs Thomas Green gliding back down the aisle. Nice to know Luke didn’t, after all, have the power to send her into a swoon.
But the dramatic change in his demeanour was odd. From tense and edgy to carnal and predatory. It wasn’t normal. Before she could analyse this any further, Luke took her arm, clamped her against him, and starting pushing them through the crush of people in the aisle.
‘Would you like to go in the car, or shall we walk?’ he asked when they finally managed to get out of the church.
‘Let’s walk,’ she replied. ‘It’s not far, and I love the smell of Provence in summer.’
Luke’s gaze slid down her body. ‘Will you be able to walk in those shoes?’
‘Nope. But I won’t have to.’ She pulled a pair of sparkly flats out of her bag.
‘Practical,’ said Luke, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto his nose.
‘Not a fan of blisters,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘Can I borrow you?’
Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed his arm and quickly switched shoes. When she was back on her feet, sandals dangling from one hand, there was no reason for her other hand to still be on his arm. But for some strange reason she was reluctant to let him go. He was so warm and hard under her fingers, and she had to force herself to break the contact before her hand started doing something inappropriate—like creeping up his arm to his shoulder, to see if his muscles were as defined as she remembered.
Reluctantly she dropped her hand and lifted her face to smile her thanks. Without the added height of her heels, Luke towered over her. Now that she thought about it, yesterday she’d been wearing three-inch wedges and earlier today the sandals. She hadn’t realised quite how tall and broad he really was. It made her feel dainty and feminine—which, at a generously proportioned five foot seven, didn’t happen often.
‘Let me take your shoes,’ he offered.
She was hit by an image of those big hands holding her delicate shoes, and maybe offering to put them back on when they arrived at the château, his fingers circling her ankle, trailing up over her calf...She swallowed and blinked rapidly. ‘They wouldn’t suit you.’
A hint of a smile curved his mouth and he took her shoes gently from her. ‘Ready?’
‘Lead on.’
She brushed down her skirt and checked herself for dust, and then looked up to find him watching her, his expression dark and serious, the sunglasses lending him a sinister air. ‘What?’ she asked, her heart thumping. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Very wrong.’ His voice had softened, deepened, and it slithered over her like silk.
‘Do I have lavender in my hair?’ Her hands flew up to check. ‘Fluff on my dress?’
He gave his head a quick shake, hooked a finger under the bridge of his sunglasses to slide them off and took a slow step towards her.
Emily’s mouth dried at the look in his eye.
‘It’s occurred to me that I’ve been somewhat remiss,’ he said.
‘You have?’ she said, her voice suddenly hoarse.
‘Mmm-hmm. I forgot to kiss you hello earlier. That wasn’t very gallant.’
‘It wasn’t,’ she agreed breathlessly, backing up against the tree and lifting her chin.
‘But fortunately easily remedied.’ Luke placed his hands either side of her head and leisurely scanned her face, as if deciding where to begin.
Emily’s heart raced and she began to fizz with anticipation. His head came down, blotting out the sun. Her mouth tingled. But at the last minute he turned his head a fraction and his lips brushed her cheek. He stopped and drew back an inch, leaving her screaming inside with frustration.
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