“ "You." She spat the word out, even as she tugged at her ties in a futile gesture. It seemed they were made to withstand all efforts to undo them. "What are you doing here? You live in the wilds of Dartmoor." If Philippe was the last man she wished to see, the man who had spoken ran a very close second. Goose bumps ran up her spine. It would be difficult to separate her degree of discomfort over each by a hairs breath for both worried and confused her. Caleb Jefferies, Lord Haytor, the other m...an she would have been happy never to set eyes on again stood beside her. She looked from one immobile face to the other. Double trouble it seemed. The tingle of arousal she had felt was firmly squashed; the time for those intriguing ideas and actions was long gone. This was a time for action. She pushed her foot back hard and had the satisfaction of hearing a muffled yelp from Philippe. Good, though 'tis a pity I couldn't reach his bollocks. She swung the same foot in a swift arc, letting it lift and angle towards Caleb.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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