A Stranger's Kiss

a moment she sat too stunned to move or do anything to stop him. Then, he tucked it behind her ear and while she was still trying to gather her scattered wits he moved swiftly to capture her chin, tilting it upwards, leaving her mouth at his mercy.
    ‘You’re late, my darling,’ he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. Shaken by this dashing, if unexpected response to her appeal for help, she began to protest. Then he smiled and the words died in her throat. ‘But I forgive you.’
    He lied. There was nothing forgiving about the kiss he demanded as a forfeit for his protection. Tara knew the instant his lips claimed hers that this was no ‘stage’ kiss to fool her pursuer. Whoever this man was, whatever he was, he had never done anything by halves.
    For a moment she was stiff, unyielding in his arms but, infinitely assured, he teased her lips apart, exciting a response, a flicker of pleasure that in an instant flamed into desire. She found herself responding to his unexpected embrace with a warmth that sent the blood fizzing through her veins and would, if she’d had time to think about it, have shocked her.
    ‘Tara!’ The petulant voice in her ear had become insistent, recalling her to some semblance of where she was and what she was doing. She had no immediate wish to re-enter the real world, wanting to linger a little while longer wherever it was that his kiss had taken her but slowly lifted heavy lids that would have much preferred to stay closed. For an endless moment his eyes blazed into hers, holding her as much captive as his arm about her waist. Then his mouth curved in a knowing little smile and Tara gasped and turned away to blot out what she saw in his face. She had enjoyed every moment of that kiss and he knew it.
    She pushed against the dark cloth of his jacket but made no impression on the hard wall of his chest. It seemed forever before he took pity on her and turned away, directing his attention instead to the man hovering beside them.
    ‘Tara is having dinner with me. If you wish to speak to her you’ll have to make an appointment for some other time,’ he said. Clearly he was a man who expected to be obeyed without question, he made his point without any drama. Her pursuer blinked and started as if he had only just noticed she was not alone, so single-minded had been his concentration on his quarry.
    ‘Why won’t you come back, Tara?’ he demanded. ‘You know how much I need you.’ His tall, slight figure bundled up in a damp raincoat looked oddly tragic and despite everything Tara felt a touch of guilt as he turned to leave. Then he rounded on her. ‘Don’t think I’ll give up,’ he said, with unexpected defiance and she jumped.
    The door swung shut and reluctantly, deeply embarrassed by the results of the uncharacteristic impetuosity that had driven her into a stranger’s arms, she turned to face him.
    ‘Why did you do that?’ she asked, shakily.
    ‘I wasn’t quite sure what was expected, but I thought I had better be convincing.’ He raised one questioning brow. ‘Was I, do you think?’
    She ignored the question. He already knew the answer. ‘Your presence would have been enough,’ she managed.
    ‘Would it?’ His eyes were teasing now. ‘You should have said.’
    ‘You didn’t give me a chance,’ she protested, finally regaining control of her vocal cords, if not her hectic pulse.
    ‘I apologise if I didn’t meet the required standard as your “... parfit gentil knyght.” It’s not a role I’ve had too much experience in playing.’
    ‘You’re not a knight of any description,’ she snapped, then appalled by her own bad manners she coloured. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m really very grateful for your intervention.’
    She knew she should offer an explanation to her deliverer and beat a hasty retreat. Thanks were hardly necessary. He had already claimed his reward, and she was quite certain from the amusement lighting the depths of his eyes that he had derived considerable entertainment at her expense.
    But retreat, she found, was not that simple. She tried to move, anxious to effect a dignified withdrawal with all possible speed, but his hand was still about her waist, his grip deceptively firm.
    She offered a cool smile and tried again.
    ‘Thank you for your...’ — she swallowed as his eyebrows rose — ‘...your help,’ she finished quickly. ‘I’m sorry to have been such a nuisance. It was—’
    ‘There’s no need to