Nora felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks as she realized who sent the note and why. She had somewhat expected the duke to have forgotten her request, and after three days of not seeing or receiving any word from him, her assumption seemed to be a reasonable one.
But it would seem her impulsiveness had paid off more than she expected it to.
“Is it a gentleman caller, Miss? You seem rather excited,” the maid teased.
Nora snorted instinctively at the thought of Godric being one of her suitors, but then she couldn’t help but the sense of loss that threatened to overwhelm her.
“If only,” she muttered a tad to honestly. “I have an appointment with a friend shortly, so I will be leaving soon. Can you prepare me something comfortable to wear? I believe we will be moving around a lot, and I do not want to wear anything that might get torn or stained.”
“Of course, Miss,” the maid curtsied and wandered off.
Nora sighed as she held the note up to her face again, admiring the elegant writing and gentle gleam of blue ink on the piece of paper.
She was accepting that she felt… something for the duke. Most of it was because of how he touched her, how his words easily sank into her mind and freed her from the bothersome thoughts of her reality.
And a few nights ago, he had claimed her as his. His to protect. His to torture. His to punish.
Oh, how she wanted it all. It was growing increasingly difficult to get through her days without thinking of him, without spending countless hours daydreaming of the passionate moments they had shared.
She did not know what he thought of them — of her, even, but surely there had to be more to their relationship than spite and anger?
She had grown to miss him, to worry, even, when he was not there. She was getting increasingly frustrated with herself for utterly forgetting that he had been nothing but a nuisance to her.
But how could she recall her anger when he had touched her so gently that night was, he had staked his claim on her? How could she retain all the spite she had cultivated when the simple brush of his skin against hers reduced her insides to a puddle?
It was so easy for him to affect her greatly and more often than not, she had no way to stand against his moves. Or rather, she did not want to do so.
“Your clothes are ready, Miss,” the maid returned to inform her minutes later.
“All right,” Nora lifted her chin. “I might as well get ready to be on my way.”
After changing her clothes, she set out to meet him at her brother’s estate, a mix nervousness and anticipation rolling about within her.
She knocked at the door, and the butler let her in with his usual bemused expression, informing her that the duke was waiting for her in the sunroom.
As Nora approached the room, she realized that she had not thought about her brother recently and a pang of guilt struck her in the chest. She wondered how he was doing, if his travels were as enjoyable as he had hoped they would be when he planned them.
She missed him a lot, as he was her confidant and closest friend, but she was still somewhat grateful he had not been presented to witness all that had transpired between her and the duke.
When she reached the sunroom, she took a deep breath and knocked after she exhaled
“Come in,” Godric answered gruffly.
Nora turned the knob and pushed the door open, frowning as she noticed there was something different about the room almost immediately.
Godric stood right in the center of it, dressed more causally than she had ever seen him, yet he still looked quite handsome still. Nora blinked, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” she greeted, her voice sounding softer than she had intended it to be.
Godric watched her silently for a moment, then he beckoned her closer.
“Good afternoon. I did not expect you to come,” he admitted in the same tone she had used.
Nora started to step closer to him, but when she stumbled, her eyes darted downward, and her brows furrowed in confusion.
“Are these… blankets? And cushions?””
