Page 35 of Outrageous

Of course he’d had lots of practice, hadn’t he? Plenty of lovers—just thinking the word lover made her body tighten—so it was understandable that such wicked behavior failed to even register with him. So here he was, acting normal: which was to say, being his usual irritating, smug, arrogant, and gorgeous self.

“We’re not going to go back to being hostile to one another, are we?” He cocked his head, his tone gently cajoling.

She scowled at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I take it that’s a yes.” He smirked, as if her hostility amused him.

Men will use your anger to control you.

Eva stiffened at the memory of Mia’s words.

Visel was watching her with detached interest, the way he might study an ant that had picked up a crumb too large for it to carry, wondering what would happen next.

“Of course not.” Eva forced her body to relax, lowered her arms, and smiled: it was the hardest thing she’d ever done. But the look of surprise on his handsome face was worth it.

Consummate rake that he was, his recovery was swift; his eyelids lowered and his lips pulled up on one side. “I’m pleased to hear it. Since we have all this enforced intimacy, we might as well put it to good use.” He smiled at whatever expression—probably shock—he saw on her face. “Not that way, darling. Not yet.”

Eva whipped her head away from him, furious at her face, which she knew would be flaming. Instead, she stared out the window at the morning—which looked more like dusk, but at least the leaden sky hadn’t yet opened up. That was too bad—a clear sky meant the border grew closer and closer with each hour. Eva forcibly shoved the thought from her mind.

A huge yawn distorted her face; she was so tired.

“Didn’t you sleep well last night? Were you up late . . . reading?”

She could hear the humor in his voice but refused to take the bait. Besides, she was just too tired to think of a suitably crushing setdown. She could hardly keep her eyes open. Maybe she would close them. Just for a minute.

Eva was falling, falling, falling—

“Oof ! Wha—”

“I’ve got you.” Warm, strong arms closed around her and lifted her.

Eva scrambled to sit upright on the carriage seat, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes.

“Where—”

“Only about five miles from the last inn.”

He sounded disgusted and Eva peered out the window—at first she’d thought it was night, but now saw it was torrents of rain that had blocked out the light.

“My goodness—what time is it?”

“Almost ten. You slept for over three hours. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone sleep so soundly in a carriage.”

Eva heard the amusement in his voice. “I can sleep anywhere. When do you think we will get there? To the border,” she clarified, as if she could mean anywhere else.

“Not in this lifetime at our current pace,” he muttered, as if to himself. “I don’t know. I told the postboys we would keep going until the usual hour.” He waved a hand toward the window. “And now this.”

Which was when Eva realized the carriage was moving so slowly it might as well have been standing still. “I think I just saw a snail pass us,” she said, and then yawned.

He snorted, unamused. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Does this road go all the way to Gretna Green?”

“We aren’t going to Gretna.”

Eva frowned. “Where are we going?”

“Coldstream, where there’s a place called the Bridge Inn,” he said shortly, turning toward the window and giving her his sharp, achingly perfect profile.