A Much Compromised Lady by Shannon Donnelly Page A

back to him.
“You have nothing I want. Go home, gaujo . Before someone
takes your pretty horse, or takes a dislike to your pretty
face.”
    His smile widened to something warm and
dangerously charming, and the green of his eyes deepened as wicked
humor sparked there. She stiffened against that fascination he wove
with so little effort.
    “Pretty? You do say the most extraordinary
things. I cannot recall anyone ever calling me pretty. Devilish,
certainly. Remarkably good-looking has been mentioned by a few.
Handsome is not often noted, but then handsome is as handsome does,
and I so rarely do anything that is handsome by anyone.”
    His Gypsy stood there, glaring at him as if
she wished she still had her hand wrapped around his pistol. And
his fatigue, the disgust of the dust on his person, and displeasure
with her for being so difficult to find—he had now lost his
favorite hat to a low slung branch for her—vanished. He found a
rare delight in how she always surprised him. And in how she took
his breath.
    The setting sun cast golden light onto her
skin, warming it as had the firelight the last time he had seen
her. She wore a blue dress, high-waisted, but cut low and with a
brightly patterned scarf tucked around her neck. He would have
preferred to see her in less, but the dress nicely outlined the
swell of her breasts and fell softly over the sweet curve of her
hip.
    With her dark hair pulled up into a careless
knot, she made a tempting sight. He was glad now he had pushed on,
forging a path through that impossible bramble of woods.
    “Come, where is your curiosity?” he asked,
determined to lure her into conversation. “If not about the
package, then why not ask how I found you?”
    She lifted one shoulder, and he thought how
delicious that movement would be if she were wearing nothing at
all. Her sharp voice brought him back to the moment. “Why should I
ask? So you may brag, and show how clever you are? Well, how clever
is it to find your way and lose your hat?”
    Stung by her comment, his lips thinned as he
pressed them tight. It was not so much the reminder of his lost hat
that bothered him. It was that she had just laid bare the exact
reason why he had wanted her to ask—he had wanted her to think him
clever. He had wanted it enough, in fact, that he had taken this
hunt quite personally, coming himself rather than sending someone
to simply fetch her to him. He had wanted her to see just what he
could do.
    Unaccustomed to having anyone see though to
his motives so well, he was not certain he cared for it. It left
him feeling curiously...well, not quite vulnerable, but certainly
far more exposed than he liked.
    For a moment, he toyed with giving into the
impulse to simply do what he wished, which was to drop his package
and drag her into his arms. It would serve her well for pulling a
tiger’s tail. But he had ridden miles, following nearly impossible
Gypsy signs left in branches and rock for other Gypsies, and had
paid an extravagant sum for such knowledge from others of her
vagabond tribe. He had had his servants seeking information of her
that he could follow. He was hungry, tired, and he had spent the
last two restless weeks dreaming of a proper seduction.
    And she was not, he thought firmly, going to
pull this out of his control by rousing his temper. This game
required expert finesse, not brute strength which any oaf could
muster.
    Besides, he had gone to all this effort
because she had seemed to be an original. He ought to be please she
was that—and much more.
    So he smiled and said, “Very well, I won’t
tell you .” At least not until you beg it of me. “Now, do you
want your package, or shall I just take it with me and depart? I
should mention, however, that there is more here than you expect. I
am at least a clever enough fellow to know when I owe a lady an
apology.”
    Her eyebrows arched with surprise, but her
dark eyes remained wary as a cornered vixen’s. However, he knew
when he had