She relaxed. "You won't tell Papa anyway."
He frowned; his eyes narrowed. "Are you so sure you're prepared to risk it?"
She was, but this didn't seem a wise time to admit it. "I'll be careful." She would have moved on again, but he was in the way.
"'Careful.' " His features hardened. "Someone tries to kill you and you talk of being careful? I should tell your father and have him lock you in your room."
"Nonsense! We can't be absolutely certain it was the murderer who shot at me."
"Who else? And don't say it was a hunter."
"There's no reason for the murderer to kill me!"
"He must think there is." He searched her face. "This thing you know must identify him."
"Well, it doesn't." She didn't try to hide her chagrin. "I thought at first it might, but I can't see how it can, not now."
"It doesn't matter whether it identifies him or not, only that he believes it might. That's enough to put you in danger." As he said the words, Lucifer felt their weight-for the first time fully realized their truth. She was in danger. Real, acute danger. She could be killed by the same killer who'd taken Horatio from him.
He drew a tight breath. "You have a choice. Either you can promise me you won't set foot outside the Grange except on urgent matters, and then only with a male escort, or we can go inside right now and speak with your father and lay all the pertinent details before him."
For once, she allowed her irritation to show. "This is ridiculous. You are not my keeper."
He stared down at her, and let that point lie.
"I'm going inside."
He didn't move.
She glared, then darted out-
He wrapped an arm around her waist, swung her back to the hedge, then trapped her against it. He looked into her smoldering eyes. "You are not safe." He'd meant from the murderer, but it suddenly occurred to him that he was speaking literally. He lowered his head. "You're a woman-the murderer's a man." He breathed the words along her cheek, his lips tracing down to her jaw. Her scent rose, wreathed his senses-and ensnared him.
Muscles bunched, locked. The temptation to taste her rose within him, more compelling than ever before. On the hedge beside her shoulder, his fist clenched as he fought the urge-and won.
He was a man, too. In the heat of the moment, he'd overlooked that fact. Steeling himself, tightening his reins, he tensed to draw back.
"Kiss me."
The words were a whisper in the dark, a soft plea so unexpected he felt stunned. Raising his head, he looked at her face, unsure he'd heard aright.
His jacket had been open; her hands had come to rest on his shirt-clad chest. Now they slid to his sides, gripping, urging him nearer.
"Kiss me again." He saw her lips move as she stretched up; they touched his jaw. "Kiss me like before… just once more…"
She didn't have to ask a fourth time, but it wouldn't be just one kiss. Bending his head, capturing her lips, he assumed she knew that, that her last words were simply part of her entreaty. He wanted to kiss her a million times, over and over again. He'd never get tired of her taste, of the sweet, innocent, trusting way she yielded her lips, her mouth.
She did it again and captured his senses. He fell into the kiss, into her.
He was ravenous.
The springy hedge was soft enough to press her into. He did; the feel of her supple body taut against his inflamed his need. Her hands slid further, searching, then spreading over his back. She clung and he kissed her more deeply. His hunger exploded. She arched against him, instinctively offering, and then she kissed him back.
She was still new to the game, enough so to distract him. He took the time to coax, to tease, to tutor, until, lips melded, tongues tangling, they were satisfied with the depth of the shared intimacy.
It wasn't enough-not for him.
It wasn't enough for Phyllida, either. When he ventured nothing more but simply remained, a hot, vibrant, intensely exciting male all but wrapped around her in the dark, she presumed it was her turn to take the lead. Sliding her hands around from his back, savoring the hard muscles, the tension she felt invest them as she stroked, she searched and found the buttons of his shirt. Quickly, she worked her way up, sliding the small buttons from their moorings, all the while kissing him, taking him in, then returning his hot caresses with heated caresses of her own.