Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord by Sarah MacLean Page B

decided.”
    “What is decided?”
    “We shall come to Townsend Park this afternoon—tomorrow at the latest. I hesitate not to escort you home, frankly. I should like to ensure that, should you become distracted, you have someone there to save you from runaway horses.”
    She blushed again as she realized he was teasing her. “You exaggerate, sir. I would have been quite all right.”
    His expression grew serious. “No, Lady Isabel, you would not have been. You would have been killed.”
    “Nonsense.”
    His eyes narrowed on her. “I can see that you are a difficult sort.”
    “I am not!” She considered his words. “At least, no more difficult than most ladies.”
    “I do appreciate your honesty; however, most ladies would have thanked me for saving their lives by now.”
    “I—” She stopped, uncertain of how to respond. Was he teasing her?
    “No, no,” he said, interrupting whatever silly string of words she was about to speak. “Do not say anything now. It shall just seem as though I forced you into expressing your gratitude.”
    He was definitely teasing her.
    He leaned close. “You may thank me another time.”
    Isabel did not like the way the low, dark promise in his voice made her stomach tumble.
    Before she could reply, he had turned to greet his friend and take the reins of the large gray horse. Turning back, he said, “Lady Isabel, may I introduce my friend and companion, Durukhan?”
    The man was immense up close, nearly as tall as the black stallion that stood at his shoulder. Isabel offered her hand, and he executed a perfect bow.
    “Mr. Durukhan,” she said. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
    He straightened, his curiosity evident. “The pleasure is entirely mine.”
    Looking into the man’s dark eyes, she felt compelled to explain. “Lord Nicholas—he was gracious enough to—push me out of the way of”—she waved one hand in the direction of the long disappeared cart—“some horses.”
    “Was he?” A look passed between the two men that she could not read.
    It was gone in a flash as St. John changed the subject. “Lady Isabel has invited us to visit her collection of antiquities, Rock.”
    “Ah,” Rock said, considering Isabel. “Are we leaving now?”
    Isabel’s heart began to pound as she imagined these two men arriving unexpectedly on the steps of Minerva House. “No!” she said, far too loudly.
    The men looked to each other, then to her. Isabel gave a nervous laugh. “I have much to do here in town. And much to do at home. And the collection is not ready for you. After all, I did not expect you to be here. You were a sign, remember?”
    Shut up, Isabel. You sound like a ninny.
    He gave a small smile that made her stomach flip in a not altogether unpleasant way. “And you were not prepared for a sign.”
    “Precisely!” She paused. “At any rate, I am certain you understand.”
    St. John nodded. “Indeed. You have much to do.”
    “Quite.” She ignored the amused gleam in his eyes, patting at her hair nervously before looking about for her bonnet. It had settled several yards away after flying from her grasp during their collision. She strode toward it—as well as one could stride with a throbbing ankle—and retrieved it, turning back to the two men who were staring after her.
    If she weren’t so uneasy, she would have been amused by their dumbfounded looks.
    Instead, she backed away from the two imposing men, “So you see, Lord Nicholas, I cannot begin to show you the antiquities now … but tomorrow … tomorrow sounds fine. In the afternoon? Three o’clock?”
    He dipped his head in assent. “Tomorrow it is.”
    “Tomorrow afternoon,” she repeated.
    “Fair enough.”
    “Excellent. I shall—look forward to it.” With a too-bright smile and a too-eager nod, Isabel turned and hurried away, leaving the pair behind.
    After a few long moments, Rock turned to Nick, who was still staring after her. “We are not waiting until tomorrow, are we?