Page 12 of A Duke Changes Everything
“I got up on my own.” The lady huffed out an irritated sigh. “I can get down on my own.”
“I’m sure that’s what your cat thought too.”
More glares. A cool jade glower from the cat. Gold fury from the tree-climbing female. “I. Can. Manage.”
She couldn’t. Not unless she possessed the power of flight or suddenly sprouted much longer legs than the shapely limbs above his head. He climbed another step on the ladder.
A little growl echoed down when he lifted a hand. But it wasn’t the cat. The creature now assessed him with bland indifference from the crook of her mistress’s arm.
“You are,” the tree climber grumbled as she planted her free hand in his, “a decidedly stubborn man.”
Yet even as she made the declaration, she gave him her weight and made no further protest when he placed his hands around the very soft, very warm curve of her waist.
Nick held tight until she planted a boot on the top ladder rung.
She looked back at him. He expected more chastisement or revulsion at glimpsing his freakish eyes and broken face. Instead, she stared, cheeks flushed, as he slid his hands down her legs to steady her.
“Here. Take Millicent.” As gently as if the cat were made of spun glass, the young woman adjusted the creature in her arms and aimed the feline toward Nick’s head.
“If I take her and you fall, I won’t be able to catch you.” Of course, he’d do his damnedest. For a moment, he let himself imagine how the lady’s heat and softness would feel on top of him. But he did as she bid and retrieved the feline.
“It’s all right,” he murmured to the cat, giving her soft orange-and-white fur a few strokes.
“Now move down,” the lady commanded, “so I can descend.”
Nick took a single long step off the ladder, attempting not to jostle the cat too much. As insurance, she’d sunk ten tiny needle-sharp claws into his arm. But even that agony didn’t distract him from appreciating the plump swell of the young lady’s backside as she climbed down. He also noted that her hair was a wild tangle, her shirt was littered with bits of bark, and her boots were sorely in need of a polish.
She dusted her hands on her breeches before turning to face him. “I’ll take Millic—” Her voice cut off on a strangled gurgle.
Ah, finally. The horror. He wondered which sort she’d be. Would she faint dead away, dash off, or simply do her best to pretend the sight of him didn’t turn her stomach?
“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t recognize you.”
“You must have known my father.” Nick didn’t think he was acquainted with the tree-climbing woman, so it was the similarity to Talbot Lyon she must have seen in his face.
Yet when she swept a strand of hair behind her ear, a memory danced at the edge of his mind. There had been a girl on the estate when he was a boy. A servant’s daughter he’d never been allowed to speak to. The child had possessed unruly chestnut hair and a giggle that carried all the way up to where he spent hours suffering lessons with his tutor in the nursery.
When he moved close to get a better look, Miss Thorne’s eyes widened. She swallowed hard, muscles working along the pale stretch of her throat.
“Yes, Your Grace. I knew your father.”
God, that honorific grated on him. “I’m looking for Mr. Thomas Thorne. Do you know where I can find him?”
Her expression changed instantly, from unease to wide-eyed panic. But she reined her emotions in quickly and squared her shoulders.
“I suspect you’re looking for me. My name is Thomasina Thorne. My father has been dead for two years.”
Nick frowned.
The lady bit her lower lip and fixed her gaze on a spot over his shoulder, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes.
“My condolences, Miss Thorne. But that makes this letter rather curious.” He retrieved the missive from his pocket, unfolding the note with the Tremayne crest andThomas Thorne, Estate Stewardengraved at the top.
Her blush deepened from pink to scarlet. “I used my father’s stationery.”
She’d done more than that. “You signed his name.”
Miss Thorne came closer and pried the cat from his arms. The beast took some cajoling, and Nick felt each pinprick sting as her claws detached from his skin. He also felt the sweep of Miss Thorne’s hands as she petted the creature, inadvertently stroking his arm.
