Page 40 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
“And you forgive them.”
“Hell, no. I punch them.”
His laughter rang out, filling the street, echoing between the buildings, creating a sense of relief in him that he hadn’t felt in a good long while. “You are a remarkable woman, Gillie Trewlove.”
“Not really,” she said, smiling. “But I keep my promises. If I promise a punch is what you’ll get if you misbehave, a punch is what you’ll get.”
He wondered what she might promise him if he kissed her. But based on what they’d seen indoors a few minutes earlier, why would any woman ever want to be touched by a man? The sting of envy pricked him as he imagined another man being granted the right to touch her intimately. And if she’d never had a gent, he felt a need to reassure her.
“What they were pantomiming in there—it was exaggerated into something crude and unappetizing. What actually transpires between a man and a woman...” Dear God, he thought he might be blushing. He cleared his throat. “It can be quite remarkable.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Odd that he had no wish for her to keep it in mind with anyone other than him.
He seemed preoccupied as they traveled back to the Mermaid in his coach. He’d spoken very little since his laughter had floated on the air and circled about her. She’d liked the sound of it: deep, rich, and full.
She wondered if he’d laughed more before he’d been abandoned at the church, before he’d begun his quest to find this woman who obviously didn’t appreciate him. It made no sense that a woman would find him lacking.
Earlier, when he’d touched her cheek and then her hair, the way his gaze had wandered over her face before meeting her eyes and dropping to her lips had led her to believe he might kiss her. She wouldn’t have objected, even as she knew it wasn’t a proper thing to do when he was searching for the woman he was to marry. But the lady wasn’t about, might never be found, so where was the harm in giving in to a whisper of temptation?
She nearly scoffed aloud. How many women had thought the same only to find the whisper turning into a roaring shout and nine months later a crying babe? Best to keep every part of her person tightly locked up.
When the coach came to a halt in the mews, he opened the door and climbed out, not waiting for the other fellow, then reached back in and offered his gloved hand. She put hers in it, quivering slightly when his fingers closed tightly around hers as he handed her down.
“Do you need to go into the tavern?” he asked.
“No. It’s closed and I trust Roger to have locked it up properly for the night.”
“I thought his name was Jolly Roger.”
“I don’t think I can call him that any longer now that I know he’s so jolly because of the things he’s doing with my cook in the cellar.”
He chuckled. “Tonight seemed to be a night for discovering a good bit of naughtiness.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t find her.”
“The odds weren’t in our favor. Perhaps we’ll have more luck tomorrow.”
“You’re going to keep searching.”
“Yes. I know it probably makes me appear the fool, but I have to know she’s well, and if at all possible, return her to her brother.”
Not a fool, she wanted to say, but quite possibly a man who didn’t realize he did indeed love the woman. Or perhaps he was merely a very decent sort.
“I’ll see you to your door,” he said.
“You don’t need to be climbing the stairs with that leg. I can see my way up.”
“I’ll watch you go, make certain you get safely inside.”
She nodded. “Tomorrow then?”
“If that is agreeable to you.”
“After midday.”
“Good night, Gillie.”
