Page 7 of Five Nights with a Rakish Duke
“He develops… fixations,” he answered with a mock shudder, as though horrified at the idea. “The Earl of Shrewsbury is well known for pursuing one lady for a while and then moving onto another after a few months. I hope he did not get far with his current fixation,” he said, gesturing toward her. Penelope frowned, wondering why her godmother had not told her about that particular piece of gossip.
“If you are fishing for information, you can stop right there,” she huffed. She turned and tried to walk away, but her walk became a hobble. “Ow,” she moaned at the pain. The wasp had stung her right at the join between her calf and the back of her knee, making walking quite painful indeed.
“All right, look, I know I hardly have the best or most proper of manners at times, but I am truly worried about you here, even if I am not expressing it very well.” The stranger walked in front of her, cutting her off before she could get any further. “How is the sting?”
Penelope rested her weight on one leg as she stared at the grey-eyed man in surprise. He appeared to be honest with a genuine gaze rather than the sultry smile he had adopted before. That apparent care and concern for her made her surprisingly honest.
“Sore,” she accepted eventually.
“Then please, come, sit,” he said, beckoning her toward a stone bench that was placed on the far side of the terrace. When she hobbled forward and winced at the pain, he offered a hand to her. She stared at the hand with worry. “Ha! You look as though I have offered you a dead frog or something equally odious.”
“I may not know who you are, Sir, but I can tell easily enough you are a…”
“A…?” he prompted her on with a humored smile.
“A rake,” she answered. Many other men would have been offended at her being outspoken or so accusatory, but this stranger laughed.
“For my sins, I cannot deny it,” he said, taking another step toward her, still holding out his hand. “Some ladies think me quite the dangerous man.”
“Dangerous? Why?” she asked, feeling strangely intrigued by the idea.
“Because I can make a lady want to risk her honor.”
“Oh! The pride,” she said, scoffing as she attempted to hobble past him without taking his hand, but the pain made her stop pretty quickly.
“Have no fear, Madam, I merely make ladies feel… desired; that is the danger I bring.”
His words made her snap her gaze back toward him.
Desired?She couldn’t help wondering what it felt like. In answer to her silent question, he smiled at her, and his eyes dropped down again, looking at her gown rather than her face. She knew she should have made some smart comment and backed away from him, but she could not. She was too busy thinking of what that lingering gaze meant.
“I have no wish to be desired, so once again, Sir, I will ask you to lift your eyes,” she said, waving a hand at him.
“Everyone wants to be desired, Madam,” he said and winked at her. Her mouth went dry at the wink. She couldn’t stop her mind from wandering to situations. This gentleman was certainly smooth in his conversation and well-practiced at seducing a woman. She wondered, if she let down her guard, what else could he do?
“I am beginning to see what you meant about you being a danger to young ladies.” Her words made him laugh.
“I give you my word, on this occasion, I simply want to check that you are well, and that the sting has no chance of infection.” He wiggled his hand in her direction to take. When she bit her lip, reluctant, he smiled a little more. “I promise that if I am forward at all, it will only be because you have given me encouragement.”
“Rest assured, I will give you no such encouragement,” she said and took his hand. The strength of his hand in hers was quite alarming and strangely thrilling. Where she was delicate and petite, he was strong with a broad hand encasing her palm. As he led her toward the stone bench, she looked up, letting her gaze trace the other signs of his strength as well. The tailcoat molded perfectly to his shoulders and upper arms, showing the broadness there and the strength in the biceps.
What am I doing?She cursed herself and lowered her gaze back down, angered to be attracted to the rake. He helped her down onto the bench and knelt in front of her, dirtying his trousers with grass stains.
“I highly doubt you are kneeling on the ground to propose, so care to tell me why you are down there?” she asked with a smirk as she stretched out her leg, testing the pain of the sting.
“I like the way you speak, Madam,” he said with a mischievous smile. “You are bolder than many other ladies I’ve met.” The words startled her. She was outspoken, which often earned her Margaret’s anger, but she had never been praised for it before, least of all by a stranger.
“I hope you are not trying to charm me again,” she said warningly, holding up a finger in reprimand.
“I have promised to behave, yet I already fear I will not hold onto my promise,” he said, lifting up his hands in innocence.
“Then you can stand again right now,” she commanded, yet there was no feeling to her words. He was looking at her in such a way that made her long to know what he did with other ladies when he got them alone. Would he kiss them? He must be a good kisser to be so confident in his charm. Perhaps it would bring her more excitement than the Earl of Shrewsbury’s near kiss…
“I am down on my knees in order to inspect the injury.” He reached for the skirt of her gown. She immediately snapped her legs away, making the pain ricochet through her body, and she grimaced.
“I am hardly going to let you touch me in such a way!” she complained, watching as he laughed.
“I am doing it from a medical perspective only,” he said, his tone sincere as he gazed at her.
