“No man can measure up to a good book.” I covered a yawn.
Marlow watched me with a curious look on his face, our feet pattering together on the dirt path. “I’ve kept you up far too late. I apologize.”
I glanced sideways at him. “There he goes again. As though I couldn’t have left earlier if I’d wanted to.”
Marlow huffed. “Heis trying to be kind. But perhapsheis out of practice and could use a little grace.”
I smiled. He was right. Clearly, I was tired. And irritable. And completely overwhelmed with this man. A little grace—couldn’t we all use a little grace?
“Forgive me. Perhaps I am being too critical.”
He bowed his head, thoughtful. “I know I can seem a little ... forceful at times. But I only mean to make you feel comfortable, to say that you are welcome here, and free to do as you please, whenever you please, however you wish. Because I want you to be happy here.” His eyes watched mine. His hand touched the lightest pressure on my arm. “I do not aim to control you, Georgiana. I only aim to please you.”
I swallowed hard, my body still, save for the drumming in my chest. No man had ever spoken so generously to me before. Never cared so much for my happiness.
His hand trailed down my arm, brushing against my little finger before dropping.
I wasn’t sure what to do or say. Should I continue on to the house? Would he follow me? A chill in the air seeped through my robe and dress. “Th-thank you.”
“You’re cold.” He started to shrug out of his robe. Underneath, he wore only a thin shirt and waistcoat with trousers. He’d surely freeze. Not to mention the picture I’d make inhisrobe.
“No, no.” I stepped back. I couldn’t take the Duke of Marlow’s robe. “We are almost returned. If we just—”
“Georgiana. Take my robe. You are cold.”
Reason warred with comfort in my mind. I wanted it—though I most certainly should not—but not because of the cold. “It’s too intimate a gesture, even for a friend.”
“Any gentlemen would offer his coat,” he argued. “How is this any different?”
“Sir Ronald never did.”
“Well, that”—he started to laugh, but it quickly turned frustrated—“just confirms to me that the man is an utter dolt. On this subject, I will not hear your arguments. It is taking all my patience to hear them this evening as it is.”
“I cannot.” I stepped back again. Perhaps I could make it to the door before he did. Then again, I had this wretched candle in my hand.
Marlow lifted one brow. “Don’t you dare run.”
I smirked.
Then I bolted.
I made it all of three bounds before he had me with onearm, both our candles held high. Mine flew with the force, extinguished, and broke in two.
“Drat it all,” I murmured under my breath as a line of smoke dissolved in the air.
“Language, Miss Wood,” he teased at my ear. “Gads, youarefreezing.”
Gently, he wrapped his thick robe around my shoulders. Oranges and musk and leather.
Instant warmth.
“Better?” His gaze softened as I pulled the robe close.
I felt more than better, but I would never admit it. “Without a flame, I am dependent on you now. Happy?”
“Yes.” He grinned. Then he held out his arm.
I groaned. I shouldn’t. How silly could a girl be in one night? I had already grown too close with the duke since staying with him, and tonight had made everything worse. For I did not dislike him anymore. I did not think him a horrible beast of a man. Yes, he was rude. Yes, he could be callous and unfeeling and forceful.
