Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard Read Online Free PDF Page B

but right now the teacup town might be the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.
    The big horse lifted its noble head, scenting the breeze. St. George tightened his grip on her and urged the animal into a canter.
    Vivien clutched the arm of steel wrapped around her waist. Relief that they had cleared the woods rushed through her, but she still hadn’t forgotten the question she’d been about to ask, and she had a vague, vexing sense that her savior had deliberately cut her off. She had no idea why but she had every intention of finding out.
    If they didn’t get killed or recaptured first.

Chapter Four
    The canter across the fields had been free of danger—although Vivian’s bottom had not taken kindly to the jouncing—and they rode to the edge of the tiny hamlet. There, beneath a massive oak, waited a travelling coach and four horses, almost hidden in the deep shadows cast by the arching branches of the mighty tree.
    As St. George brought them to a gentle stop, a form detached itself from the obscured outlines of the carriage and moved forward to greet them. It resolved into the shape of a man, one of average height but with an impressive breadth of shoulder. He wore a slouchy hat pulled low over his brow and a greatcoat that swept down past the top of his boots. Drifting silently forward, he took the bridle of St. George’s horse, holding the beast steady for their dismount.
    Vivien was pondering how best to maintain her dignity while scrambling from her immodest perch when St. George tightened his hold on her, swept his leg over the animal’s neck, and smoothly carried them both to the ground in a flowing drop. She gulped down a startled shriek—though Vivien made a point of never shrieking—as St. George set her carefully on her feet.
    Her abused toes curled into the frigid dirt and she staggered. His big hands wrapped around her waist. “Have a care, my lady. We don’t want you taking a nasty tumble.”
    Her flaring temper served as a welcome respite from the fear that constantly hovered on the edge of reason. She was cold, exhausted, still fighting remnants of the laudanum, and heartily sick of being afraid.
    Shoving the pathetic remains of her once-stylish coiffure out of her eyes, she glared up into his handsome, impassive features. “Perhaps if you gave me warning before flinging me about like a sack of potatoes I wouldn’t need to be so careful.”
    For a few moments he stared at her with the same bemused look as when she’d snapped at him after stubbing her toes. As suddenly as it had flared up, her irrational anger faded, and Vivien began to feel rather foolish.
    After several seconds of uncomfortable silence, St. George’s mouth twitched as he tried and failed to repress a smile. “Forgive me, Lady Vivien. It was not my intention to discomfort you.”
    In the dim glow of the carriage lamps, his eyes gleamed. He was laughing at her, when there was nothing even slightly amusing about their situation.
    Not that she could entirely blame him. She was acting like a ninny and she knew it. Yes, she’d been kidnapped, mauled by thugs, and dumped in a smuggler’s cave, but that hardly excused her demented behavior. Events were certainly looking up, but her rescue wasn’t over. Until she had reached the safety of her bedroom in the family mansion in Berkeley Square, with the brawniest footman in her brother’s household standing guard, Vivien couldn’t afford to succumb to the vapors.
    Besides, nothing excused her rudeness to the man who had saved her life.
    She forced herself to meet his still-amused gaze. “Forgive me, sir. I had no cause to scold you. I cannot think what led me to do so.”
    His smile was warm and unexpected, and so charming that Vivien’s breath caught in her throat.
    “No apology is necessary, my lady. It’s a wonder you’re still standing on your own two feet, given what you’ve been through.”
    “Yes,” she replied faintly, staring up at him.
    She couldn’t move,