A Matchmaker's Match Read Online Free Page B

you really here?”
    He smiled. “To the best of my knowledge. But what-”
    “I slipped and my foot got caught.” She flushed. “I know it was foolish. Papa would have scolded me. He always cautioned me against clambering about ruins alone.”
    “A wise man,” the earl observed, moving closer. “Let me get this stone off your foot.” He lifted it easily and set it to one side.
    Psyche sighed. “Thank you. That feels much better.”
    He tested her ankle, his fingers gentle. “We really should get that boot off. In case your foot swells.”
    “Yes, I suppose so.”
    He straddled her legs, his broad back to her. “Can you brace yourself with your other foot?”
    “I—” To do what he suggested she would have to plant her other foot directly on the seat of his immaculate inexpressibles.
    He glanced back over his shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”
    The blood rushed to her face. “I-- Your-”
    “Just put your boot where it will do the most good.” He grinned. “And count yourself fortunate. Few people get such an opportunity.”
    She decided to take him at his word and set her good foot firmly on the seat of his breeches. “Ready.”
    “All right. I’m going to make it quick. It’ll probably cause you some pain, but to go slow would only drag it out.”
    She nodded. What sort did he think she was? Lady Bluestocking would not cry out. That kind of carrying on was for frailer females. She braced herself against the rocks. “I’m ready.”
    True to his word, he was quick. The boot came off with a jerk and she fell back among the stones, not quite able to contain a little whimper.
    He turned to her at once, his eyes full of concern. “I’m dreadfully sorry, but leaving your boot on would have made it much worse. And cutting one off can be tricky business.”
    She moistened her dry lips. “I—I am fine. Thank you for your help.”
    To prove she was fine she started to get up, to show him she could do so quite easily, but the world, unfortunately, refused to stand still. Indeed, it commenced spinning in dizzying circles and then, quite to her astonishment, the ground came rushing up to meet her.
    In that last second before the darkness hit she felt the earl’s strong arms closing around her. She was conscious of the smell of leather and his pomade. And then there was nothing.
    She opened her eyes to find herself lying in his arms. For the briefest second she fought the temptation to close her eyes again, to savor the moment.
    He frowned in concern. “Lady Psyche, are you in much pain?”
    “I—” She struggled to sit erect, terribly conscious of his arms around her. “I am not in pain.” She frowned. “Well, perhaps just a little. But I am frightfully dizzy. The result of my fall, no doubt.” She hesitated. “Perhaps you could help me to my horse?”
    He raised a dark eyebrow. “And have you fall off him into my arms? I think not. You might injure yourself further.”
    “But . . .” Actually the prospect of falling into his arms did not seem at all daunting. Why must the man have such a bewitching smile?
    “No buts,” he continued. “I would be remiss in my duty if I allowed such a thing.”
    She looked at him in bewilderment. “But then how shall I get back to the house?”
    He gazed directly into her eyes. “You must ride with me, of course.”
    Her heart began to pound in mad confusion. “With you?”
    “Yes.” His smile was tender. “I shall lift you into the saddle first, then swing up behind you. But you must call out immediately if you feel faint. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, but . . .”
    “Good. I shall carry you out to the horses then and we’ll be on our way.”
    “There’s no need to carry me,” she protested. “I mean, I can lean on your arm.”
    “Perhaps,” he said. “But I prefer not to take that risk.”
    “I am not a small woman,” Psyche began, painfully aware of the impropriety of being carried. And by such a man, by a man who already made her