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tried to look scornful, but that wasn t easy when the sight of Westcliff s lean, athletic body had brought
another unnerving quiver to the pit of her stomach. Daisy had been right it would be difficult, if not
impossible, to find a younger man who could rival Westcliff s virile strength.
Still holding Lillian s gaze, Westcliff pushed slowly away from the paddock fence and approached.
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Tensing, Lillian held her ground. She was tall for a woman, which made them nearly of a height, but
West-cliff still had a good three inches on her, and he outweighed her by at least five stone. Her nerves
tingled with awareness as she stared into his eyes, which were a shade of brown so intense that they
appeared to be black.
His voice was deep, textured like gravel wrapped in velvet.  You should tuck your elbows in.
Having expected criticism, Lillian was caught off-guard.  What?
The earl s thick lashes lowered slightly as he glanced down at the bat that was gripped in her right hand.
 Tuck your elbows in. You ll have more control over the bat if you decrease the arc of the swing.
Lillian scowled.  Is there any subject that you re not an expert on?
A glint of amusement appeared in the earl s dark eyes. He appeared to consider the question
thoughtfully.  I can t whistle, he finally said.  And my aim with a trebuchet is poor. Other than that& 
The earl lifted his hands in a helpless gesture, as if he was at a loss to come up with another activity at
which he was less than proficient.
 What s a trebuchet? Lillian asked.  And what do you mean, you can t whistle? Everyone can whistle.
Westcliff formed his lips into a perfectly round pucker and let out a soundless puff of air. They were
standing so close that Lillian felt the soft touch of his breath against her forehead, stirring a few silken
filaments of hair that had adhered to her damp skin. She blinked in surprise, her gaze falling to his mouth,
and then to the open neck of his shirt, where his bronzed skin looked smooth and very warm.
 See? & Nothing. I ve tried for years.
Bemused, Lillian thought of advising him to blow harder, and to press the tip of his tongue against the
bottom row of his teeth& but somehow the thought of uttering a sentence with the word  tongue in it to
Westcliff seemed impossible. Instead she stared at him blankly and jumped a little as he reached out to
her shoulders and turned her gently to face Arthur. The boy was standing several yards away with the
forgotten rounders ball in his hand, watching the earl with an expression of awe mingled with dread.
Wondering if Westcliff was going to reprimand the boys for allowing her and Daisy to play, Lillian said
uneasily,  Arthur and the others it wasn t their fault I made them let us into the game 
 I don t doubt it, the earl said over her shoulder.  You probably gave them no chance to refuse.
 You re not going to punish them?
 For playing rounders on their off-time? Hardly. Removing his coat, Westcliff tossed it to the ground.
He turned to the catcher, who was hovering nearby, and said,  Jim, be a good lad and help field a few
balls.
 Yes, milord! The boy ran in a flash to the empty space on the west side of the green beyond the
sanctuary posts.
 What are you doing? Lillian asked as Westcliff stood behind her.
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 I m correcting your swing, came his even reply.  Lift the bat, Miss Bowman.
She turned to look at him skeptically, and he smiled, his eyes gleaming with challenge.
 This should be interesting, Lillian muttered. Taking up a batter s stance, she glanced across the field at
Daisy, whose face was flushed and eyes over-bright in the effort to suppress a burst of laughter.  My
swing is perfectly fine, Lillian grumbled, uncomfortably aware of the earl s body just behind hers. Her
eyes widened as she felt his hands slide to her elbows, pushing them into a more compact position. As his
husky murmur brushed her ears, her excited nerves seemed to catch fire, and she felt a flush spreading
over her face and neck, as well as other body parts that, as far as she knew, there were no names for. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]