Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,47

had been a kiss of lust—hers and his. At least she knew the truth of the matter now. No more silly girlhood fantasies for her. She had to keep her mind on the task—the treasure hunt—and on learning why he was suddenly being so nice to her—almost flirting, it seemed.

She cleared her throat to ensure she sounded neither breathless nor husky, and then she said, “I’m certain there are scores of ladies who would be more than happy to teach you all the rules of Society you need to know to swim along like the most capable of fish.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, buttoning his coat, which made him look even more dashing. “But I don’t want any lass but ye to teach me.”

“What are you doing?” she demanded, shaking the scavenger list she clutched in her hand at him.

“Carrying on a conversation,” he said in a vexingly imperturbable manner.

“I mean,” she replied, her temper rising as she seethed, “what. Are. You. Doing? I am not a prize to be won!”

His eyes glinted at her with a look that jolted her heart. “Are ye certain, lass?”

Before she could sort out what he might have meant by that question, Lady Barrowe’s voice rang through the air.

“Your Grace! Lady Guinevere!” She came into view with Kilgore strolling behind her at a leisurely pace. They stopped, looking quite the odd pair. Guinevere bit her lip to keep from smiling as Kilgore shot her a pleading look and cut his eyes at the countess. She still could not believe that Lilias had talked her mother into pairing with Kilgore, but that was exactly what her friend had done. Guinevere half suspected that Lilias had taken seriously Vivian’s mutterings about the two of them needing to keep an eye on Guinevere. As if she, the founder of the Society of Ladies Against Rogues, needed her own members watching her!

“Why have the two of you not begun?” the countess asked at the edge of the garden, the official starting point of the scavenger hunt.

“Trouble getting on?” Kilgore suggested with a smirk.

Beside Guinevere, Asher stiffened. “We were formulating a plan,” he replied. “We’re off now.”

Before Guinevere could agree or disagree, he grabbed her by the elbow and started tugging her toward the pebbled path that led to the wooden door to a series of walled gardens, where the guests could search. Lilias’s family had renowned gardens, as well as succession houses, and as Asher led Guinevere away from the center of the largest formal garden and into the rose garden, the tantalizing scent of the blooming roses swirled around them.

“Carrington, release me,” she demanded several times, but it was not until they were both through the next wooden door that Asher did as she had asked. Then he turned from her, offering her a fine view of his broad back, and something gave a very distinct click.

Her jaw dropped open as he faced her once more, looking as tempting as that blasted apple had no doubt looked to Eve. Guinevere snapped her jaw shut when amusement danced in his eyes. “Did you just lock the door?” she asked.

“I did, and if ye will pardon me.”

He did not wait for her answer, the blasted man. He used his long legs to close the distance to the other side of the garden in astonishing speed, and he closed the only other door that led into the rose garden. And with the soft click of yet another lock, one that meant no one could get in or out without his allowing it, her pulse spiked.

Not in fear. No, that would have been too reasonable a reaction for her. Her pulse increased in anticipation. Yearning. Remembrance. Her lips could feel the press of his upon hers already, and her toes curled in response. Memories rose to the surface. His heat washing over her. His firm hand upon her low back. “Why did you just lock us in here?”

His gaze caressed her, making her breath catch. “I wish to talk to ye.”

“Asher.” She gave her muddled head a shake. “I mean, Carrington, you must unlock the door. If anyone happens upon the entrances, finds them locked, and discovers us in here, alone, I will be ruined.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I assure ye that is not my plan.”

And yet his ravenous look belied his words. She gasped. Not at him but at herself and the thrill his desirous gaze shot through her. She had to get control of herself. He could play