Page 56 of Duke of Emeralds
She snorted. “Is that likely?”
He looked at her, and for a moment, his expression softened. “Not likely. But I suppose ye understand something of wanting to be alone with your thoughts.”
She did. Too well. She dried his hand with a linen towel then set about wrapping it with a strip of clean muslin she found in the cabinet below the basin.
As she worked, he asked, “Was it my boxing that woke ye?”
Hester shook her head. “I could not sleep. Too many thoughts.” Then, after a moment, she added, “I did hear sounds… on my first night here. I thought at the time…”
He cocked a brow, and the corner of his mouth curved slyly. “Thought what, Hester?”
She looked away, mortified. “It is silly.”
“I expect to hear it, wife.”
“I…”
He waited.
Then she let out in a rush, “I thought perhaps you were a werewolf.”
He gaped at her then burst into laughter so loud it echoed down the empty hallway. She tried to silence him. “It is not funny! Nancy told me—well… she said there were rumors?—”
He wiped a tear from his eye, still laughing. “Let me see if I have this straight. First ye think I fathered a secret child, and now ye think me a wolfman?”
She groaned. “You are impossible.”
He grinned then sobered. “Ye know, I would not have minded if the rumors were true. It would be a sight easier than most of the things I am required to be.”
She looked at him, really looked, and saw a trace of sadness beneath the humor.
“I am sorry, Thomas. About the child. I should have trusted you.”
He shrugged. “Ye did what was right for the child. I respect that.” Then, more lightly, “And as for the wolf thing—I promise never to bite. Unless asked.”
She laughed, surprised by how much she meant it.
He leaned closer, his voice low. “You know ye’ve just broken your own rule, Hester.”
She blinked, puzzled.
“The no-visiting-after-dark rule,” he explained. “Ye’re the one who made it.”
She said, “Well, you’re the one who left the candle burning.”
He glanced down at her, then, in a move so swift she nearly missed it, braced one arm against the wall behind her, caging her in. She tensed, but he only smiled, his eyes gleaming in the half-light.
“Are ye afraid?” he asked.
“Not at all,” she lied.
He leaned in, so close she could see the tiny scars on his cheek, the way his beard softened at the edges, and the flecks of blue in his eyes. She was acutely aware of her own breathing and heartbeat.
“Ye look like you’re about to bolt, Duchess.”
She met his gaze, refusing to flinch. “I would if I thought it would help.”
He laughed then, softer than before, “Ye surprise me.”
