Page 36 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
For a moment, Adam simply lay there, stunned by the absurdity of it. The firmness of the ground beneath him, the cool bite of a stray leaf against his cheek, and the faint, joy-ridden notes of Charlene’s laughter pierced the haze of his shock. He turned his head, her bright face now just inches away, framed in wild strands of hair and specks of leaves.
“You’ve really mastered the art of the bolero,” she teased, her voice light but just low enough to unsettle him.
Adam exhaled, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself. “And you’ve mastered falling,” he replied, though he didn’t move to rise just yet. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to.
His eyes met hers just for an instant, wide with surprise as she put her arms in the air and let herself fall into the massive pile of leaves behind. For one fleeting second, time seemed to linger, suspended in her trust, in the unshaken bond of her laughter even as she fell. And then the weight inside him came crashing down—an unfamiliar, undeniable pull that made it hard to breathe, even harder to think.
“I give up!” her voice came from the leaf pile.
Where did she fall? The weight in Adam’s arms vanished before he could register what was happening. He looked up first, expecting to see her still there, her smile lit by the amber glow of the rising sun. But she wasn’t. She was already gone. His breath hitched as his gaze snapped downward.
There she was, a tangle of skirts and curls half buried in a cascade of damp leaves. The rich brown of her pelisse blended with the autumn debris, her laughter spilling out in soft, breathless bursts that caught him unprepared. His boots slipped on the uneven ground as he tried to step forward, the sudden give beneath him stealing his balance.
“Charlene?” he called, his voice breaking through the thick morning mist. He spun around, only to find himself staring at an unsettling emptiness. The pile of leaves—once towering and triumphant—had swallowed her whole. He stared, heart hammering, the cold biting down his spine. “Charlene!”
A faint cough rose from the jumbled pile.
He exhaled sharply, relief flooding him in a heady rush. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, hands tearing through the leaves in a frenzy. Each swipe brought crunching sounds, the earthy scent of dampened foliage twisting into the foggy air.
“Hold on, hold on, I’m coming,” he muttered, fingers brushing deeper into the clinging dampness. It smelled like rain-soaked earth, like the dying flames of autumn, like something ancient and alive all at once. The cool air masked his breathing, turning it into fleeting clouds of mist, but all he could hear was the dry shuffling of leaves until finally—finally—his hands found her.
The sight was almost his undoing. She lay there, half-buried, her petticoat bunched and askew like the petals of a flowering carnation, her legs exposed to the morning air, pale and graceful as though they belonged to a porcelain doll rather than the woman who moments ago had been airborne. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, rapid breaths. Her cheeks were flushed, burned with warmth betraying the chill around them. Wisps of brown curls clung against her brow and leaves clung stubbornly to the curves of her hair. Her lips parted, expelling quick wisps of steam that mingled with the fog.
And she was smiling at him.
Minx!
He groaned, brushing a hand over his face before leaning forward to clear the rebellious leaves still stuck to her hair. His fingers threaded carefully, and as they pushed damp strandsfrom her brow, he realized how close she was. Too close. His hand froze before he brushed one more stray leaf from her cheek. It was soft, impossibly soft, and so warm he withdrew his touch like it burned. But his throat was dry, and everything about Charlene—her breath hitching, the color blooming in her skin, the line of her exposed calf—had him pinned.
“You’re a sight,” he said, his voice rasping, barely audible over the crunching as he finished unearthing her. “Are you hurt? Do I even need to ask?”
Charlene looked up at him through thick lashes, her voice high but colored with amusement. “This is quite fun.” She shifted awkwardly, her skirts tangling around her hips as she tried to brush herself off, but she had fallen on her back like a turtle that couldn’t turn around—not with a petticoat of that size.
Not with such gorgeous lean legs.
Not on my watch.
“Here, stop moving—I’ve got it,” Adam said quickly, his words tumbling out as he reached to fix her skirts, only to snatch his hands back. His neck heated under his cravat, imagining how improper—how utterly mad—this all was. But then there she was again, laughing softly, unbothered. She was gorgeous, so stunning it made his heart clap unsteadily against his ribcage.
She caught him mid-thought, her fingers brushing his, her touch so light he barely felt it. “Adam,” she murmured, her voice teasing yet quiet enough to undo him entirely. “You’ve gone redder than the maple leaves.”
He opened his mouth, but words failed.
The surrounding air thickened, though whether from the cold fog or the twining heat low in his belly, he couldn’t tell. Her petticoat was still improperly shifted, and her skin, pale and smooth as winter’s first morning, seemed to sear its imprint forever onto his… let’s call it memory. He darted his gaze backto her flushed cheeks, yet still—somewhere lower, the tension burned, too raw and too sharp.
Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing—quick and uneven—and that damned flushing color in her cheeks only spread. Every breathless puff from her lips mingled in the air until Adam thought he felt steam in places he shouldn’t.
The world narrowed to only her for a moment—the tangles of hair and leaves like a misplaced crown, the breath escaping her lips, the faint smile pulling at her mouth. “You should’ve caught me,” she teased, though her tone was lighter than it could rightly be considering her state.
“I—” His mouth worked before some deeply buried fragment of composure found him. “I did catch you,” he replied lamely, jerking his chin toward the leaves. “Sort of.”
“Was that before you slipped and fell?”
“You pulled me!”
Charlene laughed again, tossing him a wicked smile despite her thoroughly disheveled state. “If this was catching me, I’d hate to see what missing looks like.”
For a reckless heartbeat, he wanted to lean closer, to say something equally sharp, something that would make her laugh again.
