Page 47 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
His hand pulled away from hers, having been beneath her fingertips without her realizing.
She gave him a weak smile.
“What happened?” Veronica asked.
“I brought you back here,” the Duke said. “We were in the garden… and you lost consciousness. It is a hot day. I believe one of the maids went to fetch you some lemonade but had not brought it back before you fainted.”
“Oh,” she murmured, blinking up at the ceiling.
Mortification burrowed in her, flushing her face once again in a hot wave so intense she thought she might faint once again.
“That is… most unfortunate.”
“It is only that due to your fainting you did not prove your point,” he told her, and she was not sure if there was a hint of a smile on his lips.
She squinted, unable to tell.
“I am sure my point was excellent,” she muttered, closing her eyes, but she opened them moments later, frowning. “You say you brought me up here?”
“Yes,” he answered, clearing his throat. “You… Well, you fell in my arms.”
Veronica stared down at her bed coverings in humiliation. It was not enough to have fainted but into her husband’s arms? The very husband who despised her presence?
“Your Grace, I am sor?—”
“Do not apologize,” he told her quickly. “It is no matter.”
She still could not stop blushing. “I am still rather warm.”
“Perhaps you overdid it in the sun, trying to prove yourself helpful to our staff.”
“I told you that I merely wanted you to call the manor your own without worrying about it,” she muttered, fanning herself with her hand.
The towel had lost some of its coolness now, having been on her warm skin.
He did not answer her, only gazed at her. And it was only in trying to distract herself from his gaze that she noticed she was in her chemise.
A flood of warmth went through her, spreading through her neck and chest.
“I only did it to help you keep cool,” the Duke said, his words sharp but firm.
Yet there was a pinch to his brows that betrayed his worry. “Your dress is right there.”
He gestured to the armchair in the corner of her room where her pale blue gown she had been gardening in was laid out.
She had a brief flash of envisioning the Duke stripping her of her dress, and she blushed harder. Perhaps she might faint once again.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Are you still feeling faint?”
“A little.”
“Here,” he said, picking up a glass of water from her beside and pressing it to her lips.
Their eyes met over the rim, and she thought she could see his eyes tracking the movement of a water droplet that slipped down her lip and her chin, sliding down her neck.
In her mind, he leaned in to kiss it from her.
