‘We climb down together, or not at all. You cannot answer my questions with a broken neck.’
He felt her tense beneath him. ‘You are wasting your time, Captain, for I will never answer your questions, no matter how many times you ask them. I would rather take my chances here on this rock face.’
Dammartin understood then why Mademoiselle Mallington had run. The lavender scent of her hair drifted up to fill his nose. ‘And if I tell you there will be no questions tonight, will you come down then?’
Another silence, as if she were contemplating his words, reaching a decision, just a few moments, but time enough for his awareness of the soft curves moulded against him to grow.
She gave a reluctant nod of the head.
They stood like two spoons nestled together, the entire length of their bodies touching. And it was not anger at her escape, or the jubilation of her recapture of which Dammartin was thinking; it was not even the difficulty of the descent they had no choice but to make. For the first time, Dammartin saw Josie not as Mallington’s daughter, but as a woman, and a woman that stirred his blood.
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