Page 24 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
She was climbing another hill, sweat pouring down her back. Suddenly, she reached the top of it. She gasped. Before her lay a large, beautiful lake teeming with bird life. Two majestic swans circled on the water, dipping their heads into it, alongside a family of ducks.
Catherine grinned, hiking up the skirt of her gown and skipping down the side of the hill towards the lake, suddenly feeling as carefree as a child. It was so peaceful and so isolated. Surely, shewould be safe to take off her slippers and dip her toes into it? It would besodivine on such a hot day.
She reached the edge of the lake, just about to take off her slippers, when she stopped, her heart thudding. She could faintly hear splashing in the distance.
Tiptoeing along the edge of the lake, she peered around a large rock. Her eyes widened. No, it wasn’t possible.
She looked again. Her heart was hammering now. A man was swimming, making long, clean strokes through the water. And now, he was making his way towards the edge. He stood up, shaking his hair so that droplets of water glistened in the air.
Her heart stopped. It was her husband. It was the Duke.
She froze, watching him. He was bare-chested, wearing only his white britches. Her eyes took in his wide, muscular chest, with a smattering of dark hair leading down to his firm, washboard flat abdomen. The dark hair started to thicken a little at the top of his britches.
Catherine’s eyes widened. His britches were saturated, clinging to his firm legs, accentuating the bulge in the middle. For some reason, she couldn’t take her eyes off it. She felt a flush rise to her chest, neck, and head, coating her in a fresh layer of sweat.
She forced herself to tear her eyes away from his body, focusing on his head. His dark hair was saturated with water, turning intoslight curls. She watched him reach for a towel lying on the edge of the water, casually drying his hair before bringing it down and drying his chest with slow circular strokes.
Catherine felt mesmerized by the movement, watching him dry himself. She couldn’t have moved if she tried…
Suddenly, he looked towards her. Their eyes met. Too late, she tried to scramble away. He grinned at her.
“Catherine,” he called, beckoning her over. “Come and join me! The water is heavenly.”
Catherine gulped in air, feeling rather like a fish out of water, flapping feebly on the bank.
“Oh, no,” she called in an awkward voice, her heart hammering in her chest. “I do not wish to disturb you.”
“You are not disturbing me,” he said, slowly walking towards her. He was still toweling himself lazily. “I do not mind.” He beckoned her over again. “Come here.”
Her face was so flushed now that she knew she probably looked like a giant beetroot. It was so embarrassing. He had caught her gawking at him like a silly schoolgirl.
She took a deep breath, trying to gather her dignity.
“The water looks positively inviting,” she relented in a loud, falsely polite voice which echoed across the lake. It was a wonder the birds didn’t take flight. “But I must not linger. I took a wrong turn, you see, on my way back to the estate…”
“Sometimes the wrong turn can be the most fortuitous one,” he countered, grinning, his white teeth glinting in the sunlight as he lazily dried his neck. “Why do you not take another and find out?”
Catherine gaped at him. He was grinning at her, standing there brazenly, still bare-chested with his britches clinging to his legs. She forced her gaze upwards again. Why did her eyes keep straying to that area?
“You should have some privacy,” she called, trying to give him a jaunty wave. “I shall see you back at the house.”
She turned away abruptly, desperately scrambling over the rock, trying to get away from him. She pretended not to hear his low laugh as she fled.
Her heart was hammering, feeling like it was about to explode in her chest. She huffed to herself as she stumbled back through the woods. Did he always swim half-clothed in this lake?
But then, she smiled to herself. She knew she would have done exactly the same thing if she could.
Chapter Twelve
“Iam glad you managed to find your way home today,” the Duke drawled, gazing at Catherine steadily over his glass of brandy, crossing his legs. “I was slightly worried you might end up on the other side of the hill and halfway to London.”
Catherine raised her chin, her heart beating hard, looking at him. It was the first time she had seen him since their encounter at the lake today. She had managed to avoid him for the rest of the day, going in the opposite direction if she heard his voice or footsteps, making quite a few hasty retreats. She felt rather like the mouse must feel when trying to evade the cat.
But she couldn’t avoid him forever, of course. They were the only two people rattling around this huge house—apart from the servants. Mrs. Gray had told her he was expecting her for a pre-dinner drink in the parlor at five sharp. The housekeeper’s firm tone told her it wasn’t a request.
And so now here Catherine was, sipping her brandy, a drink she had never much cared for, trying to make polite conversation with her husband across the room while ignoring the burning look in his eyes whenever he addressed her.
“You should not have worried,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink. She placed it down on a side table. “I am very good with directions. I was never in danger of becoming lost.”
