As Phoebe stood, the stranger caught her hand. A ripple of warmth ran through her.
“I thought I should introduce myself to you.”
“I’m not sure you should,” she blurted out, trying to remove her hand from his and failing.
“Why not?” he asked, puzzled.
“Because I know you are a criminal.”
The man frowned. “And how did you come to that conclusion, Madam?”
“We are in Cornwall, Sir. Home to smugglers too numerous to count. You’ve been shot. It had to be a dispute over whatever you brought back from France. Frankly, I don’t want to know what goods you smuggled or who might want you dead. The fact that you are in my home is bad enough. If I don’t know your name and learn nothing about you, then when you leave I won’t be able to tell anyone in authority about you.”
“You think whoever shot me will come looking for me?” he asked.
She jerked hard and freed her hand. “I don’t care. I am a simple widow who was only trying to help a stranger in distress. I will do my best to see you healed and then I want you gone, Sir. Is that understood?”
He gave her a brilliant smile. “I see. Well, you’re going to have to call me something while I’m here.” The man thought a moment. “Why not … Andrew?”
She was appalled. “I cannot call you by your first name!”
The smuggler gave her a lazy smile. “Who said it was my first name?”
“Oh. Mr. Andrew. I’m sorry. I’m a bit flustered.”
He grinned. “It must a little bit disconcerting, having a naked smuggler in your bed.”
Phoebe’s jaw dropped. So, he was a smuggler. Admitting it to her. She shook her head, trying to rein in her wild emotions.
“I shall be back, Mr. Andrew. Then I’ll see to your shoulder.”
She grabbed the tray and left the room, irritated at the chuckling she heard.
*Excerpt coming soon!
*Excerpt coming soon!
*Excerpt coming soon!
*Excerpt coming soon!