She fought the urge to smile.
Sitting straighter in her chair, she squared her chin and looked him in the eye. “No need to apologize. Where I’m from, people do a lot worse to trespassers. As far as starving me, I didn’t even think about food, so you not offering it shouldn’t matter.”
The look he gave her could’ve stripped the paint off a bridge. Apparently, he didn’t take kindly to having his apologies held so lightly. Millie stood and placed her hand along the duke’s well-muscled arm.
Damn. She really should stop appreciating his physical attributes, but she couldn’t help it. He looked so hot when he was trying not to roar at her.
“She is being quite gracious to you, Logan. If I were in her shoes, I would have called down the wrath of Heaven upon your head,” Millie admitted.
Haven coughed to hide a laugh as the duke’s fleeting expression read, “been there, done that.”
Millie leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. His face softened, and a wide, brilliant smile appeared.
Startled, she almost sighed at the warmth that invaded her core. When he smiled, it was like a mallet to her brain. Had there always been twinkling lights around him?
She frowned.
Millie, unaffected by her nephew’s smile, commanded, “Do sit, Logan. Our necks will never recover from having to look up at you so.”
He sat, his large frame almost crowding his dear aunt off the chaise. She smiled up at him, nudged in under his arm, and gave him a gentle pat on the knee. The hard angles of his face transformed as he gazed down. There was love there.
So, he isn’t a complete jerk after all.
Haven stiffened when his voice, deep, rich, and prodding, broke through the delirious haze. “Miss Edwards, I realize we began badly.”
Understatement.
“I would appreciate if you shared whatever you know regarding the theft of my sheep.”
She quirked an eyebrow at his polite, yet pushy phrasing. “What do I call you?”
He offered a slight bow. “You may address me as Your Grace.”
She wouldnotsnort. “Well,Your Grace, as I told you this morning, I have no idea what happened to your sheep. One minute I was somewhere else, and the next I was in your pasture.”
“You have no idea how you got there?” He flexed his fingers against his thigh, but Millie placed a soothing hand upon them.
“I didn’t say that; I said I didn’t know what happened to your sheep.”
“Semantics, Miss Edwards.” His cold eyes hurled icy daggers.
She waved her hand. “Fine, what happened to your sheep is a mystery to me, but I might have an idea of how I got here.” She sighed and her breath lodged in her throat.
“Do tell us, my dear. Where are you from?” Millie’s gentle voice pushed back some of the painful anxiousness filling her gut.
She closed her eyes and prayed the world wouldn’t explode. She licked her dry lips. “Your assumption about me being an American is correct. Iamfrom America. I was born in the small town of Winterhaven, about one hundred miles outside Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.”
“We’ve heard of Philadelphia. Rather a lot of political things occurred there.” Millie interjected with intelligence.
“Yes, you’re right.”
Lots more things have happened there in the two hundred fifty years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
The duke’s shoulders tensed, and he frowned. “Yes, but how did you gethere?”
“Well, you asked mewhereI’m from, but the better question iswhen.” She dove in with both feet, hoping the murky waters weren’t shark infested.
The confused, yet curious expressions of her audience prompted her to continue.
