Free Guarding a Notorious Lady by Olivia Parker Page A

that would bring him to Hyde Park and closer to the Devine residence, he told himself he was only a man. A man attracted to his charge.
    He hadn’t wanted to hurt her last night, but maybe it would do the proud lassie a wee bit of good to be brought down a peg or two.
    However, his mind kept replaying the way her shoulders had lowered, the way she’d twisted her hands in the folds of her gown, when he had passed her by.
    She hadn’t stood alone for long, however. Some gangly, young lad had approached her, and, after gracefully accepting his offer, she’d allowed him to twirl her enthusiastically around the ball room floor.
    She had smiled graciously, all infallible politeness.
    He had gone to bed last night, his mind replaying the events of the evening: the look of open interest gracing her features when Gabriel had introduced them, the way his blood had surged at the sight of her kneeling on the floor between his legs, the smell of her. And once Nicholas had managed to fall asleep, she’d haunted his dreams. In his uninhibited imaginings, it was he who had swept her up into the dance.
    He had clutched her tightly to him, his fingers sliding roughly through her hair. He had bent down and plundered her rosebud mouth until she’d surrendered and sunk into him for support and more of his kiss.
    Right there in the middle of the ball room for everyone to see.
    He had woken sheathed in sweat, the sheets twisted in his hands. It surprised him that just the idea of this particular woman engaged so intimately with him in the dance was enough to set his blood to an immediate boil.
    Aye, it was wise of him not to dance with her. After that dream, he wasn’t so sure that he would have held her respectfully nor kept the secrets of his mind so easily hidden.
    Especially from her brother.
    And Nicholas wanted Gabriel to know she was safe with him, from him .
    Her brother placed his rare trust in him. As Gabriel’s friend, Nicholas had to uphold a certain code of conduct. And that included keeping his eyes, hands, and mouth from roving over Gabriel’s sister.
    “Pardon,” Nicholas muttered to a group of ladies as he stepped around their meandering gait in order to pass them.
    They lifted their noses at his words. He sighed. So lofty and unforgiving. Perhaps they’d heard about his choice of attire the other night and feared he was indeed a real-life Scottish beastie.
    Smothering a grin, he strode onward through Hyde Park, aiming for Grosvenor Square and Devine Mansion.
    The decision to walk was made in part by a stubborn horse who was proving to be the biggest, hairiest bairn when it came to the distractions of the city, and partly because it wasn’t that far from his rented town house.
    Accustomed to much more strenuous exercise in the country, it was really just a small trek to their home, and he needn’t fight with the congestion of the streets either.
    Was it really midmorning already? It felt as if he had just left Devine Mansion.
    He pulled out his pocket watch. “Twelve o’clock.” Well, it was some ten hours ago.
    City hours for the ton were vastly different. As they attended ball after ball, partygoers kept “town hours”—sleeping until noon, some of them. He hoped Tristan was awake or, at least, home.
    He needed to speak with the lad. He needed to tell him that he’d be watching the back of the house this evening.
    Upon leaving Devine Mansion late the night before, Nicholas had been about to mount his jittery horse when he’d noticed the redheaded man—the same man from outside the bookshop. He’d been standing near a shadowed row between houses across the lane.
    Nicholas had approached the man and shouted a greeting.
    Well, to be honest, it had been less a greeting and more specifically, “What the hell are you doing over there?” Subtlety was never his forte.
    The man had run. Nicholas had chased him for half a block before the stranger had become winded and able to run no more. Reaching him, Nicholas