He took a step beside her, looking around for a chaperone who might be wary of his presence, but none appeared. She looked rather familiar, but he couldn’t place her. Likely a daughter of one of his peers.
He’d been avoiding most young women her age, however, as so many had been pushed his way as of late. After a few too many near misses with overzealous ladies who thought a stolen moment alone with him would become a lifetime of marriage, he had decided the best course for now was to avoid them all.
“No sword,” she was whispering to herself, and he leaned in, intrigued. “The Judgment of Paris, The Abduction of Helen, or The Summons to War, perhaps?”
She was standing on her toes now, peering up at the litany of tapestries that covered the wall from floor to ceiling.
With a shake of her head, she walked to the corner of the room, finding a small ladder, and brought it to the middle, stepping up to the top rung to look around the room. Asher could only watch her, transfixed at the intensity of her every action.
“There,” she said, smiling as she leaned forward — so far forward that her foot slipped, and her hands waved in the air for a moment before she righted herself. “Hector’s Departure,” she said in satisfaction. “But the number…” she tapped her finger against her lips again for a moment, before she reached for something in a pocket of those voluminous skirts… and then, before either of them could properly prepare for it, she did exactly what Asher had been worried about — she pitched right off the side of the step.
Just in time and thanks to reflexes honed from years of being up to no good, Asher stepped forward and caught her seconds before she was about to hit the floor.
Her eyes were closed, her breath held, until she must have realized that she had not fallen nor suffered any injuries, and she opened them slowly, cautiously, widening them dramatically when she saw his face in front of hers, his arms wrapped around her back.
Asher realized he was likely holding her a moment too long, but he was rather enjoying the feel of her in his arms.
It had been far too long since he had been so close to a woman — ever since he had inherited this cursed dukedom, in fact — and he was instantly soothed by her soft curves and sweet scent.
She must have been aware that he was taking advantage of the moment, for she pushed him away and quickly scrambled backwards, as awkward and uncomfortable as it was.
And then she whacked him with her notebook.
It wasn’t hard, not causing Asher to do much more than flinch, but still, he stared at her in astonishment.
“What was that for?”
“For putting your hands on me!”
“Putting my hands on you?” he returned incredulously. “I just saved you!”
“Saved me?” she scoffed. “I merely stepped off the ladder.”
“You did not. You fell because you were distracted.”
“I wasnotdistracted.”
“You were. You were reaching for something in your pocket.”
She frowned for a moment before recognition dawned. “Oh yes. My pencil.”
“What were you going to do with that?”
“Solve the riddle, of course,” she said with a grin that could have lit up the room. It moved something within Asher’s chest, and he realized it was jealousy that she could feel such joy.
Joy that he hadn’t felt forever.
He stared at her, realization falling over him, even though he didn’t let himself fully believe it.
“Areyouthe one solving the riddles every day?”
“I am,” she said, although there was some caution in her tone. She watched him, waiting for his reaction.
“I don’t believe it,” he said before thinking.
It was the wrong thing to say.
Her gaze darkened, captivating hazel eyes narrowing at him.
