Free How I Married a Marquess by Anna Harrington Page B

unexpected wildness in his eyes, the sudden panic that seized him.
    Her throat tightened with panic of her own. “Thomas?”
    Forcing deep breaths of air into his lungs, he squeezed his eyes shut as if physically pained. His pale face darkened, and he muttered a sharp curse as he raked a trembling hand through his hair, the other one still pressed against his side. His entire body shook. Violently.
    “That was just my brothers,” she explained quietly, feeling the need to say something— anything —to fill the awkward space between them. “The shooting match, remember? You said you’d been there.”
    “I know,” he bit out, then cursed again.
    She stared, unable to slow the frightened pounding of her heart. His reaction was so unexpected, so odd . He’d seen the shooting match himself and knew they’d be firing off pistols all day. But he’d reacted like a man terrified. And trapped.
    “Are you all right?” Her gaze lowered to his side and the hand still pressed there. With a concerned frown, she reached for his arm—
    “Don’t!” He jerked away with a scowl, then savagely rubbed at his wrists even as he continued to take deep, harsh breaths. “I’m fine,” he snapped.
    Rawness edged his voice, and the icy blue eyes, which just moments before had looked on her with heated desire, now flashed a warning to leave him alone and keep her distance.
    Even as her own heart raced, she forced herself to breathe slowly and stand there calmly. For his sake. But if she’d had any sense, she would have fled. Just hitched up her skirts and run toward the house, not giving him any lingering thoughts except to wonder how much distance she could put between them. He was dangerous, far too keen for her safety, and oh so magnetic— everything about him screamed frantically at her that she should leave him be.
    Except that she knew he needed her.
    She slowly reached for him again.
    This time he didn’t stop her. With her eyes steadily holding his gaze, she closed her fingers over his, careful to avoid his wrists. She moved toward him, one deliberate step at a time, and closed the distance he’d created when he shoved her away. Her hand slid down into his palm, their fingers interlocking in a caress that was somehow even more intimate than the press of his mouth on her bare throat had been just moments before. The fierce beat of his pulse coursed through him and pounded into her. After a few minutes, his shaking ebbed.
    She lifted her free hand to brush a lock of black hair from his forehead. Slowly she rose up on tiptoe to touch her lips reassuringly to his, the entire time holding his hand, his fingers laced tightly through hers.
    “Thomas,” she whispered, attempting to chase away the wildness in him and pull him back to the moment. “It’s all right. We’re safe.”
    “I’m fine,” he insisted again, but this time much less harshly and much more like the confident man she’d met last night. The same man who’d pulled her into the tack room this morning and kissed her so ferociously before the gunfire shook him. “Your brothers startled me, that’s all.”
    “They do that quite often to people,” she acknowledged quietly, and somehow kept her disbelief of his words from registering on her face. Oh, his reaction had been so much more than simply being startled! He had panicked. Even now she sensed the hesitation in him, an anxious unease as if he didn’t trust himself not to fall into another fit. But she respected his unspoken desire that she not press and stepped back.
    “Whose idea was it to give loaded weapons to those three?” he grumbled.
    She relaxed, knowing then that he would be all right. “Well, it was either guns or swords,” she informed him, finally feeling certain he was calm enough that she could release his hand and button up her coat. “At least with pistols they have to stop to reload occasionally.”
    When she looked up at him, he seemed perfectly normal again, perfectly at ease.