She stared at the horse’s neck in front of her, damp and rank with sweat, and hoped she wasn’t that unfortunate.
Felicity glanced down. A pair of arms encased her.
Could it be? Adrenaline dumped into her veins, making her feel tingly all over. Had she done it?
She was sideways on a saddle, curled into someone’s arms. Someone’s strong arms.
Her heart gave a sharp kick in her chest.
Her eyes grazed down further, at the very masculine legs cradling her. They were encased in tight, muted blue, green, and yellow plaid. Weird.
But kind of . . . hot.
Slowly, she turned her head. Her neck was stiff and her eyes dry. Forget that.
All she knew was that the chest she leaned into was manly. She was being swept away on a horse. She’d made a wish on a star and was being swept away. Just like in a romance novel!
Had Livvie set this up? If so, she was going to thank her aunt for this fantasy for the rest of her life.
She turned. Velvet was soft along her cheek. Velvet, the color of brandy.
Ooh! On the romance covers, their shirts are always open. Will his shirt be open?
Slowly she lifted her chin. A dozen tiny buttons marched up the broad, flat plane of the man’s belly and chest. A collar rested just below his throat, its points draping long and loose.
A strong chin. Dark stubble on a strong chin.
Oh God, oh God.
The man holding her looked down, and time stopped.
Hazel eyes pinned her. They were steady and bright, the color of his velvet jacket.
Thick waves of chestnut brown hair rested over his collar. Just then the wind tousled it from his brow. A high brow framing . . .
Oh my. So handsome.
His features were fine, chiseled into clear skin.
Felicity felt a zing, like a single firework crackling through her belly.
“You’re awake.” His voice was low, accented.
Felicity let her head sink back, relaxing onto his arm. She felt a big, stupid grin spread like molasses over her face.
His brows furrowed as he contemplated her. Still she couldn’t wipe the dumb smile from her face.
“Are you still drunk, lass?”
Lass. He called me lass!
“Let’s hope not,” she murmured. Exhaling something like a dreamy sigh, she nuzzled into his arms.
How strange, though. Were they somehow at the Renaissance Faire, in Golden Gate Park? Nothing really looked familiar.
Hmmm. She studied him. Ren faire guy. Made sense. His accent could use a little work, though. But, man, he was hot. She could play along.
Something struck her, and she glanced around. There were no roads. “Where are we?”