Hisguidance and protection.
But the only thing Miss Millicent wanted from him was to see him repeatedly mortified.
“Damn fool,” he muttered.
“I heard that,” Millie called from behind.
The devil. She was gaining on him,andhe’d come to another fork.
He’d been through the maze several times before. However, the fading light rendered the topiary’s familiar features grotesque. Bushes shaped over centuries to serve as a diverting pastime now appeared ominously gnarled. Various statues transformed into pale ghosts huddling against dark branches. And Millicent, just a few steps behind, became less young lady than Deity of Vengeance intent on snatching him away to the underworld.
He caught a flash of her skirts through the twisted branches. Quickly, he made his choice. He rounded yet another bend and came face to face with a wall of coniferous needles—a dead end.
Damnation. Asquith was on his own. Neville could not escape the harpy now.
“Ha!” Millicent crowed. “I knew you’d lose your way!”
He scowled into the branches. “Just like I knew you, Lenora, and Nettie were up to something nefarious!”
The only “reply” Neville heard was a strange, scratching noise, followed by a whoosh of feathers and a deep caw. He turned just as Millicent screeched. She threw herself from the raven’s path, landing against his chest with a breath-stealing thud.
Neville stilled, caught between the primal instinct to hold and protect a lady in need, and the defensive impulse to thrust away a threat.
To him, at least, Millicent Wainwrightwasthreat personified.
The head tucked under his chin might as well have been a knife to his throat, her generous curves a cudgel. And the heavenly, feminine scent assaulting his nostrils was certainly an airborne poison. If he kept her close a moment longer, all three would be his death.
A slow death, too. Death by the agony of want.
She doesn’t even like you. Correction.She hates you.
Just a few moments ago, she’d made her disdain clear.
“Why is it,” he’d asked Millie, “you always appear to be up to something?”
“What you perceive as ‘up to something,’ Little Lordling, is, in fact, the exercise of wit and imagination,” she’d answered, smiling sweetly. “Two things beyond your experience.”
How bitter a barb!
And the young lady who’d uttered it could only have one possible reason for remaining so close to him now—to humiliate him anew by teasing him into a reaction. Well, he refused to give her the satisfaction of another moment’s hesitation, let alone any of the scoffing triumph she’d likely express if he indulged his urge to wrap her into a closer embrace.
He hadsomepride left, after all.
He grasped her shoulders and thrust her away.
Her sharp intake of breath sliced through his gut. Backing away, she covered herself with her arms, looking as bereft as he felt.
Which only made him angrier.
“Take Care, Miss Millicent,” he forced. “And take yourself back inside this instant. If you do, I will never mention your…your reckless, forward, inconsider—”
“You’ve made your point,” she interrupted stiffly. “No need to trouble your tiny mind for yet another synonym.”
He caught a flash of white petticoat as she turned. Her footsteps faded as she wended her way out of the maze withouta single pause. She, apparently, did not have to correct her path, but made her way directly to the egress, as sure of herself and her contempt as always.
He closed his eyes.
His arms ached. His chest still burned with her heat. His legs were heavy.Weary. He sank until seated, propped his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head. The air was cooler down near the ground, the scent heavy with earthen decay.