“You’re tightening it. Turn here.” Collette pushed his hands away from the strip of linen, and when he obeyed, she went to work on the knot herself.
His face was but a few inches from hers. What she’d thought had been a shadow was actually light brown whiskers, and she itched to brush her fingertips over them to see if they would feel as scratchy as they looked. His breath was minty, from the comfit, but his scent was also woodsy and spicy and more than a little intoxicating.
She required a good deal of willpower to keep herself focused on the knot.
“Bloody thing is strangling me.”
“Are all dukes as ill-mannered as you?” The question escaped before she could think better of it.
“Are all first-year teachers as impertinent as you?”
“As I’m the only first-year teacher of my acquaintance, I’m afraid I cannot answer that.” She could almost slip her finger beneath the coil that she hoped would loosen the knot. “But if I were to guess, I would say most likely not.”
“It was a rhetorical question.”
“Whereas mine was not. Aha!” The knot began to relax. She tugged and then drew the fabric through the loop she’d loosened.
“More than likely, most dukes are perceived as being ill-mannered.” He surprised her by providing an answer. “Especially when dealing with impertinent teachers.”
Collette scoffed even as she contemplated retying the fabric and giving it a not-at-all gentle tug. Instead, she unwound it, exposing his neck and the base of his throat.
Noticing the shadows and smooth skin there, Collette blinked, struck by the intimacy of it.
“That should help.” She dropped her hands and leaned away from him, her own throat feeling unusually constricted.
And still, she couldn’t keep herself from watching his hands as he rubbed the skin along his jaw and stretched. When his gaze landed on the walls, he closed his eyes and inhaled before opening them to stare at her again. “Tell me more about your sisters.”
Collette didn’t have to think very hard to find things to tell him about two of her favorite people in the world.
“Diana loves to dance. She’s married now and her husband has made arrangements for her to have formal instruction. I should have been surprised, really, that she married the marquess. Even if he is so much older. She’s not quite twenty.”
“And you are…?”
“Two and twenty. You are considerably older than Fiona. How old are you?”
He chuckled but answered her anyway. “Seven and twenty.”
“Do you get on well with your brother? And yes, I realize it’s an impertinent question but…” She shrugged. “We could be here for hours. What else are we to discuss?”
His jaw ticked, and his nostrils flared. Oh, drat. She shouldn’t have mentioned their circumstances. “Do you see your brother often? Does he resent you? I thought Chase would resent us when we first met but he’s been like a guardian angel since our father died.”
“Why did he keep you a secret then?” His voice sounded tighter but still refined.
“To protect his mother’s sensibilities. She is… somewhat high-strung. Was your brother’s existence ever kept secret from you?”
“God, no.” But he didn’t expand on his answer. Instead, he startled her by bursting off the stair to pound on the door again. Collette jumped and covered her ears.
His blows were loud enough that if anyone was anywhere in the building, they would hear them. “Hello!” he bellowed. “Open up! At once!”
After he’d spent another sixty or so seconds expending his frustrations, he bowed his head and pressed it against the door.
A heavy sadness weighed on Collette’s shoulders as she watched him give up. Seeing such a terribly proud human so defeated and vulnerable felt wrong.
The deliberate rise and fall of his shoulders gave away his struggle to maintain control.
Collette jumped when he landed one last blow to the door—this time using his forehead rather than his fist.
“At the risk of sounding impertinent again, Your Grace, bashing your brains against it isn’t going to help this situation.”
