““The exotic fragrance was hers, too. Incense. Goddess scent. 'Mr. Carsington, you must speak to me,' she said. He'd rather not speak. He'd rather stay exactly where he was, pillowed against her soft bosom and inhaling her scent while she gently stroked his cheek. 'Mr. Carsington.' The hand left off stroking to pat his cheek, with growing impatience. Remembering the lady had a short temper, he knew the gentle pats would shortly escalate to slaps. He opened his eyes and met her green gaze, where anxiety mingled with vexation. 'Where am I?' he said, though he knew the answer perfectly well. It was a delaying tactic. Her bosom made a perfect pillow. He did not want to leave it. 'On the floor of Anaz's storeroom,' she said. 'You seem to have fainted.' 'Fainted?' he echoed incredulously. 'I was knocked in the head. I ought to know. It's happened often enough.' 'That would explain a great deal,' she said. She started to rise. Aware she would have no compunction about letting his poor, battered head thump to the floor, he quickly sat up.””
