He was trying to be stern, she realized, but he was also being… nice. He was injured, and he was tired, but he wasn’t rubbing her mistake in her face and he’d helped her wash her hair anyway. She frowned. His poor eye had mostly swollen shut and the cheek below it was already turning purple.
“You’re a good person, Stone Spencer.” Her mouth moved slower than she expected it to.
He topped off her glass and then tilted the bottle into his mouth, his sinewy throat moving as he swallowed.
A week ago, she would have found such manners annoying. But it would show poor manners to chastise someone who had saved her from a lifetime of marriage to an arrogant villain of a duke.
Truth be told, she didn’t know what she would have done if Westerley hadn’t sent him after her. “Sto-o-o-ne. Spensssssser.” She said his name through lips that had begun to feel numb.
“I may be a good person but not good enough.” He turned away, wiping his mouth with his shirtsleeve.
But that didn’t’ make sense. “Not good enough for who?”For me? He’d never cared one wit for her opinion before.
“Oh, him? Don’t worry aboutMisterSpencer.” He had raised his voice to a falsetto pitch. “He’s just my brother’s friend—a second son, mind you—MisterSpencer. Not even a lord.” She winced at the reminder. Even if It was a poor impression of her and even if she had been joking when she’d made the introduction.
But it had not been well done of her.
Before she could apologize, the floor shifted, causing her to grasp the table. Was the room darker than it had been a moment ago? The air had grown warmer, fuzzy… heavy.
“Do you want the chair?” Ironically, it was he who realized he was sitting in the presence of a lady.
“Oh, no. You keep it. You’re the one who’s injured.” Not wanting to sit on the bed in her soiled gown, she dropped to the floor at his feet. “My legs feel like melted chocolate. Does that always happen when you drink whisky? My brother never mentioned it.” She stared up at him, frowning. “I wouldn’t think such a marriage would be legal. I mean, how is that possible if the bride says shedoesn’t… or shewon’t?It certainly wouldn’t be fair. Why would a lady not be allowed to have a say in her future?”
“You—more than most—ought to realize the power a duke wields. The only way it wouldn’t be legal is if you were already married.” Stone downed another swallow, his firm lips wrapping around the mouth of the bottle. Lips that were a dusty pink and firm… She stared at him after he lowered it. His bottom lip was plumper than the top, which had the slightest cupid’s bow in the center. What would it feel like to kissStone Spencer?
She forced her gaze to return to the glass in her hand and then cleared her throat, which suddenly felt thicker than it had a moment before.
“It doesn’t burn as much now. No wonder Charley enjoys it so much. I honestly didn’t understand how a person could be so excited about seeing distilleries. I’ll have to try her American whiskey when I get home.” Unfortunately, thinking of her brother and home reminded her of the reparations she’d face when this was over.
That was, so long as she and Stone evaded Culpepper successfully.
“American whiskey is sweeter.” Stone’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“Culpepper couldn’t force me to marry him if I was already married?”
“No.”
“If he does happen to find us, we can tell him that we’re already married—to one another. We shouldn’t have to hide out like a couple of thieves.” Another swallow of liquid goodness had her licking her lips. “We can go out. We’ll act like newlyweds—let everyone believe I am your wife. Yes. Yes. That’s all we need to do.”
Stone stroked the thick stubble on his chin. “It’s not aterribleidea.” And then he pinned his gaze on her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He’d done that before, and it always made her uncomfortable.
“Trying to figure you out.”
“By looking at me? Do you think you can read my mind?” She stared back at him just as intently. She wished she could read his mind, but like his name, he might as well have been made of granite.
“You’d be surprised.” But then he glanced at the door. “You’ll be quick about making your selections? What about the cat?”
Archie was curled into a ball and looking quite content in the center of the soft mattress. “No reason to bother him.” Tabetha scrambled to stand before Stone could change his mind, but it wasn’t as simple a task as she’d imagined.
Thinking Stone’s knees would make for sturdy leverage, she placed her hands on them and made a clumsy attempt to push herself up. Long strands of her damp hair fell forward. “I’ll need pins for my hair as well. Did I mention that already? Why is everything spinning?” Halfway to standing, she paused, her head dropped forward, and she stared at his lap.
“Not so fast, duchess.” He halted her. “Take a moment.”
His voice rumbled, vibrating near her ear. The warmth of his breath drew her gaze to his mouth, and once she was staring at those lips, she couldn’t seem to drag it away from them. Just above that perfect cupid’s bow, prickly hairs made up the beginning of a mustache, working their way around his mouth, thickening as they spread to his cheek and jaw. Whisky shined on his lips, making them look curiously sweet. She had the oddest urge to lean forward and lick them.
“I’m not a duchess,” she said.
