The American Bride - By Karla Darcy Page 0,42

them with the edge of her skirts. As Julian strode toward her, her heart thumped inside her breast.

"Topping good day for a stroll, eh?"

Cara risked a glance up at Wilton's sun-bronzed face. As she felt the impact of his sharp brown eyes she devoutly wished she had fallen into a swoon.

"Yes, Lord Wilton," Cara answered. "I was just out for a bit of fresh air."

"I see, Miss Farraday," Julian drawled. "And behind your back? Some wildflowers perhaps?"

She ground her teeth in frustration. Momentarily she debated holding her ground until he left. However, one look at the determined set of Julian's jaw, disabused her of the idea that he might leave her in peace. Like a child presenting a surprise gift, Cara held out the cast iron trap. At the narrowed gaze in Julian's eyes, Cara found herself blushing in confusion.

"I - I tripped over it," she stammered.

Taking in the drops of blood on her skirt Julian found his heart quickening in concern. He ignored the trap and placed his hands on the embarrassed girl's shoulders.

"Are you hurt?" Julian's voice held a caressing tone as his hands massaged her shoulders.

As he tipped her face up toward his, a shiver coursed through Cara's body and she felt the heat of his hands through the material of her dress.

"No. No. I just bruised my ankle," Cara exclaimed in a shaky voice. "It's nothing."

"Let me have a look at it," Julian barked, kneeling on the leafy ground.

"Please, Lord Wilton. It's fine." Cara's face flamed with embarrassment and mortification.

"Your foot, Miss Farraday, if you please."

Knowing there was no way to put off the inevitable, Cara raised the hem of her skirt. There, beside her feet, lay the bloodied bodies of the rabbits. Her humiliation was so great that she could only stare blankly at the trees in front of her.

"Busy day, Miss Farraday?" Julian asked.

A groan was his only answer. Cara raised her injured foot for his inspection. Julian sucked in his breath as he noted the angry bruise on the swollen ankle. His fingers were gentle as he tested the bones for any further damage. He placed her foot on the ground and stood up, towering over the dainty governess.

"Come," he said. "Tyrr can carry us both."

"Thank you very much, Lord Wilton," Cara ground out in frustration. "But I would prefer walking. The exercise will keep my ankle from stiffening up."

Cara limped back to the path where the great hunter stood waiting. The horse tossed his head as Julian reached for the reins. He vaulted easily into the saddle, staring down at the disheveled girl beside the trail. Before she could protest further he leaned sideways and scooped her up, placing her on the stallion in front of him.

"Miss Farraday, you are the most stubborn woman I have ever had the misfortune to come across." There was a trace of hurt puzzlement in his tone as he looked down at the girl. "You can not find me so repulsive that you would refuse my assistance."

"It is not fitting, Lord Wilton," Cara answered primly.

Snorting in disgust at her missish ways, Julian nudged Tyrr in a gentle walk toward the Hall. Cara kept her backbone ramrod straight, avoiding as well as she could any contact with Julian. She dug her hands into Tyrr's mane to keep herself from bumping against her companion's chest but remained agonizingly conscious of their intimate position. Each time her shoulder grazed his hard muscled body, Cara felt scorched by the heat. It took all of her will power not to nestle into the curve of Julian's body, succumbing to the physical draw of his personality.

Wilton hummed under his breath apparently unaware of the turmoil going on in the girl. However he too was conscious of the presence of tension between them. He was possessed with a maddening desire to crush the girl against his chest, caressing her until she relaxed in his arms. Shaking his head to clear it of his lustful thoughts, Julian breathed in the fresh summer air. His brows drew down in bafflement and he inhaled again. Looking down at the girl holding herself so aloof, he took in again the bloodstains on her dress. As the smell of gin once again rose to assail his nostrils, Julian nodded in understanding.

"Your pardon, Miss Farraday, but do you generally start drinking gin so early in the day?"

Eyes flying open at the amused tone of voice, Cara summoned as much dignity as she could and snapped back her answer.

"I did