Page 51 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
Madeleine bit her lip.
His fingers tapped his empty glass on the table next to him. A groan slipped free from him as he lifted his head.
“Madeleine,” he called softly.
His dark mahogany hair was disheveled around his face, his eyes hooded as they locked on her.
“You are hurt,” she said quietly, looking at his injuries, tryingnotto look so blatantly at the hardened muscle rippling through his body.
Her mouth watered, and she swallowed.
“A little bit,” he told her. “It is nothing. I am not often a fighter, but I can hold my own. Tonight forced me to be no more than a thug.”
He groaned as he began to move but Madeleine rushed forward.
“Let me help you,” she said quickly. “Do not struggle alone.”
“I am not wounded,” he muttered as he stood up.
“No, of course not,” she quipped, arching an eyebrow. “You merely groan like an elderly gentleman trying to retrieve his cane.”
His lips twitched despite himself. “I assure you, I am perfectly capable.”
“And I assure you, your pride is getting in the way of practicality,” she shot back. “If you collapse in a heap, I shall have to explain to the servants why a great oaf of a man is sprawled across the floor. Save us both the embarrassment.”
He let out a huff, “I amnotgoing to collapse,” he said like a child.
“You are insufferably stubborn,” she countered, stepping closer. “Now stop being difficult and let me help, or I shall call forreinforcements—and trust me, Mrs. Turner won’t be as discreet as I am.”
With a defeated sigh, he relented. “Fine. But only because I dread the reinforcements.”
“Wise decision,” she replied with a smile, slipping under his arm to steady him.
He leaned on her lightly as she guided him up the short staircase and to the landing of their chambers.
Quickly herding him inside, she set him to lean back against the desk.
“Do not move,” she instructed before ducking into the bathroom.
She filled up a round, porcelain basin with water, and picked up a small towel before returning. Alexander had slipped his shirt off completely, waiting for her in nothing but his breeches and boots.
She stumbled for a second, sloshing the water around, before clearing her throat. Her face burned as she tried not to look at the expanse of skin on display so confidently.
Alexander watched her as if he knew what she tamped down.
Madeleine set the items down next to him on the desk. This close, he was intoxicating. A thin layer of sweat sheened on his skin, and she had the odd urge to run her fingers over his stomach, wondering if those muscles would clench beneath her touch.
“Is this what I had to do for you to let me into your chambers?” Alexander teased as she dunked the towel in the basin, soaking it before wringing it out.
She ignored him, rolling her eyes, but she blushed deeply. Instead of answering, she set about cleaning the blood, tender when she reached the wounds, and light when she cleaned over bruises.
As she focused her gaze intently on the injuries, trying to notice how he barely flinched beneath her touch, she could feel him watching her.
The weight of his gaze unnerved her. It made her hands shake.
She ran the towel up the column of his neck, and he closed his eyes. His shoulders stopped being so tense for a moment.
“You are very good at this,” he commented, his voice rough.
