Читать книгу The Last de Burgh - Deborah Simmons, Deborah Simmons - Страница 3

Her name was uttered with such anguish that it took her a moment to recognise the speaker as Lord de Burgh.

Emery’s eyes flew open, relief swamping her at the knowledge that he had returned unharmed. For once she looked eagerly to his face, welcoming his gaze. But his dark head was bent over her body, and just as Emery would have spoken he put his hands upon her.

Stunned, Emery could do nothing except lie prone as she felt him check for injuries. Although she had performed the same service for Gerard, this man was not her brother. And the feel of his warm hands as they ran up and down her legs, gently probing for breaks, made Emery forget her aches and pains and all else.

Closing her eyes, she groaned as warmth filled her, along with a strange sort of yearning. Had she struck her head? That would account for her sudden inability to think clearly. Or was she dreaming? She knew only that she wanted him to continue, even though her very identity hung in the balance.