Page 68 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
“Your thigh—”
“Is well on the mend. I’m disappointed you haven’t noticed I have barely any limp at all. Go on with you.”
“You’re a stubborn duke.” Still, up she went, with him following one step behind. When she reached the landing, she once again turned to him, standing only slightly higher than he because he hadn’t taken that final step. “I always sit here for a while to absorb the quiet. Would you care to join me?”
The only light came from distant streetlamps, but still she saw his flash of a smile. “I would indeed.”
She quickly lowered herself to the landing, her feet supported on a lower step, and waited as he worked his way down until he was sitting beside her, their hips and thighs touching because the stairs were quite narrow. Placing her hands between her knees, squeezing, she closed her eyes, dropped back her head, and inhaled deeply, letting the tension slip away. “My favorite moment of the night,” she said on a long sigh.
“Watching you, I would have sworn you loved working in the tavern.”
Opening her eyes, she gave a little shrug. “I do. Truly. It’s only that there’s so much noise—people talking, laughing, glasses hitting the table, or sometimes hitting the floor, orders shouted—some nights I feel as though my soul is being pummeled. A dress shop would have been quieter, but I haven’t a talent for creating patterns or doing fine stitchery.”
“You did well enough stitching up the holes in my clothing.”
“Well enough will not bring a seamstress loyal clientele.”
“I suppose not. Your clientele seems quite loyal.”
“For some it’s a place of refuge from the harshness in their life.” She squeezed her knees even tighter, until her hands ached. “I’m surprised Polly didn’t offer to take you home with her.”
“She did, but I wasn’t interested.”
Snapping her head around, she couldn’t imagine it. Polly was all bouncing energy, ample bosom, and wide hips. She gave a man something solid to hold onto. “Why not?”
His bare hand came up and cradled her chin, his thumb stroking the curve of her cheek all the way down to the corner of her mouth. “Because she doesn’t intrigue me. You do.”
She’d never had any trouble breathing out here, but suddenly the wisps of fog rolling in threatened to take away all the air. “You might be more fuddled than I thought.”
“I’m hardly fuddled at all.”
“I’d expected to have to haul you out and to your carriage.”
“I’m not one to imbibe to excess—well, except when my bride runs off. Then I seem to lose my ability to think clearly. However, I have ceased to curse my idiocy. Because of it, I became acquainted with you.”
As well as some of the more scandalous members of her family. “What were you and my brothers laughing about?”
“They were telling me about a little girl who used to chase after them, always caught them. She was so fast, people thought she was a lad. You mentioned you wore your brothers’ clothing until you were older. Is that the reason you bind your breasts? Because you’re not comfortable being seen as a woman?”
“My mum always told me I needed to hide the things men fancied. Otherwise they wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“You don’t have to hide anything about yourself. Not anymore.”
“It’s a habit now.”
“Habits can be broken. You deserve undergarments of silk, satin, and lace.”
She furrowed her brow. “You think of my undergarments?”
“I think of youinundergarments. I would purchase you some if I didn’t think you’d toss them in the rubbish bin.”
He made her wish that, at that very moment, she wore something provocative beneath her clothing, something he might take pleasure in removing. She shouldn’t want him to divest her of her attire—and yet she did. She licked her lips. He moved his thumb over so it rested against the center of her mouth.
“You did that when you were feeding me broth. Drove me mad to watch that little tongue dart out.”
“You ordered me to stop.”
“Because I was in danger of embarrassing myself. One thing that makes you so intriguing, Gillie, is that you are so unaware of your ability to drive a man to distraction. I have no other woman in my life to whom I must remain loyal, which means I am at liberty, if you are willing, to do this.”
