"I am not used to walking on such unsteady ground," she declared, loftily. "I am afraid the roots will snag my ankles." Tristan eyed her from beneath the lock of hair that had loosened itself from the strip of leather that caught his dark locks behind his head. "I would be honored to help you, my lady," he growled, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips as he reached out his hand to hers. "I am sure you would, you filthy animal," she said tightly. In two steps, both men were upon her, eyes blazing. "You are wrong about the filthy bit, my lady," Byrn growled low, his eyes raking across her chest. "But you are correct about us being animals." ***** When Cordelia Wainwright took it in her head to do something, it was a well-known fact that nothing could stop her. In fact, she prided herself on the tales of her stubbornness. If the bankers, and solicitors and merchants around Devon-on-Highwater wanted to believe the widow Wainwright was difficult to deal with, well then it just made it easier for her to get what she wanted.
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