“Saddlebags?”

She turned toward him, although her gaze did not meet his eyes. She seemed rather green, and he worried as to just how upset she was. “I have selected two horses from the stables that will transport us more efficiently than the carriage,” she said. Her cool, emotionless voice reassured him—and yet, there was a wind-colored silence in her eyes, like a sky over moorlands, that made him believe she might one day cast aside reason and run into the wilds, dragging everyone else behind her until the world was a wrecked heart.

The thought should have terrified him. It certainly should have convinced him to bind her wrists, put her in a carriage, and transport her immediately to secure premises. But apparently some other part of his anatomy had overriden the authority of his brain—namely (and less naughtily than one might be thinking), his heart. He wanted her to be good. He wanted her to be trustworthy.

Hell, he just wanted her.

Would she kiss with that same secret storminess? Or would she be polite, her mouth closed, her inhibitions making a defense he’d have to work at with his lips and teeth and tongue until she was melting in his arms? How soon could he find out?

Not now, certainly. She looked really rather distressed indeed.

“Cecilia, I’m sorry.” He made a helpless step toward her. “I should not have taken such liberties with the conversation.”

“Apology accepted,” she replied. “And kindly address me as Miss Bathingsway—er, Bassethwing—”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She lifted her chin in fine Darlington style—and possibly Brontë style too; God, what a thought. But Ned wasn’t fooled, noticing the shadows beneath her eyes. And then it occurred to him what actually was the problem, and he almost laughed.

“No headache?” he asked. “No thirst?”

“No,” she replied. “Which is to say, my head does seem to be possessed by shrieking dervishes, and those dervishes are letting off fireworks, but it is of no consequence. As for thirst, I have had some tea this morning. Also some water. And a little juice. And when I came back in from the stables, I took another cup of tea from the breakfast buffet, along with a glass of lemon water. I remain only a little parched, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I see.” He repressed what threatened to be a very dangerous grin should she see it. “So, no nausea or dizziness, then?”

“None. Why do you ask? I will mention, though, while I think of it, that this town must be set on unstable ground. Have you noticed the way the floors shift when you walk on them? And the walls keep tilting.”

“I’m not certain that you should be riding a horse today. Why don’t we take the carriage? I’ll drive.”

“I assure you I am in excellent health,” she replied. And tipped abruptly to starboard.

“Oh dear,” he said, catching her. “You seem to have a hangover.”

“Nonsense,” she said, pulling away. He watched the world spin in her eyes for a moment before she sagged again. He put an arm around her once more. “I’ve been poisoned!” she declared, glaring at him with black suspicion.