She breathed deep, and nearly moaned when the warm sun peaked through the trees and kissed her cheek.
The birds chirped, and the breeze carried the sweet scent of peonies.
Smiling, Millie said, “Now, about this morning. I’ve arranged for Chef to pack a picnic lunch. You’ll need something to eat after your tour of the grounds.” Looking past Haven, she asked, “Isn’t that right, my dear?”
Standing in the doorway the duke looked weary, annoyed, and drop dead sexy. Dear God. The man was built flawlessly, and Haven couldn’t stop her appreciation of him. In the bright morning sun, his dark blond hair shown like shining crown, and his freshly shaven face looked cut from the covers of historical romance novels. So much perfection couldn’t be real. Then again, all he had to do to ruin the image was to glower—or open his mouth—and since meeting her, he hadn’t stopped doing either.
A flash of surprise flit over his face, and he hesitated at the doorway, his expression brooding, but uncertain. He stepped onto the terrace and made his way to where she and Millie sat beneath a lilac tree.
He bowed and replied, “Yes, of course, Aunt.” His gaze slid to Haven. “It is a pleasure to see you well this morning, Miss Edwards.” His regard slid along her face, down to the hands in her lap, and finally to the healing gash over her eye. He flinched. “I am also glad to see the wound is healing nicely. I do apologize for the incident, and hope it doesn’t leave a mark.” As if she cared about something as easy to conceal as a scar. Make-up worked wonders on everything from blackheads to birthmarks.
Dammit. My makeup is in my gym bag.
Before she could reply, Conners appeared with a tray holding a single folded piece of paper. The duke scanned it. “Our tour will have to wait for another day, I’m afraid. I am needed at the vicarage. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.” He didn’t look sorry at all. The devil looked positively relieved he didn’t have to endure her presence on a daylong tour of his own estate. She didn’t care who took her, or if she went alone, which was honestly what she preferred. All she cared about was getting her bag back, but she did feel a twinge of disappointment.
Shewantedto spend time with him?
Hell no!
Maybe.
She shrugged and picked invisible lint from her dress. “No need to worry about me,Your Grace, I can find my own way, I’m sure.”
Chapter Nineteen
Miss Edwards’ voiced carried sugar, but her eyes carried poison.
Damn. She was as easy to read as a children’s book, but she didn’t conjure up images of erecting towers with blocks in the nursery. Looking as she did, sitting so primly in her snugly fit morning dress, she looked fresh and luscious, and she brought to mind a different kind of erection altogether. Her hair swept up from her neck and piled atop her head, leaving her creamy neck exposed and begging for kisses. Her breasts, while confined to an ill-fitting, tight bodice, were high, perfectly round, and begging for his touch.
He tensed, fighting his arousal.
How could this woman, this total stranger, incite such deep, dangerous desire?
He used his anger as a splash of cold water. “I must insist you stay here until I am available to take you to the south pasture.”
Tensing for Miss Edwards’ reply, he was grateful when Millie raised her hand to silence her. Miss Edwards’ eyes narrowed, but she seemed chastened rather than upset. “When are you expected at the vicarage?”
Puzzled, he answered, “After luncheon. Why?”
She nodded. “Good, you’ll have plenty of time to escort Miss Edwards to retrieve her bag and still be able to make your meeting with the vicar.”
He knew when he’d been outmaneuvered, and rather than look like an utter ass and refuse, he met her gaze.
“Well, it’s settled. Please be ready within the half hour. We’ll depart as soon as the carriage can be readied.”
He nearly growled when he caught the blatant challenge spelled out on her face. She did nothing to hide her expression, and took it one-step further by arching her eyebrow and quirking one side of her plush, succulent mouth.
Straightening his shoulders, he met her gaze, daring her to look away.
When she only stared back, her expression willful, he almost smiled. Almost. For someone who’d experienced much hardship over the last two days, she certainly had spirit.
Bowing, he held her stare, turned, and left through the terrace door, almost missing the mischievous delight fluttering over his aunt’s face.
Carriages weren’t ascomfortable as they looked in the movies.
Besides the rocking motion, and the lack of shock absorption, the seat needed a few extra feet in length. Not a simpering miss who shied away from the proximity of a well-built and beautiful man, she acknowledged that the duke was too large, too intimidating, and far too delicious a treat. He was impossible to ignore, even though he tried to make it easier for her to do so. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the manor.
When he handed her up into the open carriage, he’d dropped his hands from her like she’d been cloaked in burning acid. Well, he might not have appreciated the close contact, but she’d admit she’d been rattled. How in the hell did a single moment of his hands on hers turn her insides to warm, sloshing Cream of Wheat?
