CHAPTER5
A DUKE AWAKENS IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE
Amoment earlier
Andrew knew something was different the moment he realized he was in a bed and was wearing clothes. He never wore so much as a nightshirt unless it was the middle of winter and the fireplace couldn’t warm his bedchamber.
The sound of voices was also unusual. On most mornings, Pruitt’s voice would be urging him awake. If it wasn’t his insistent words, then the incessant chirping of birds beyond his window was usually enough to wake the dead, at least in the spring.
Keeping his eyes closed, he concentrated on the conversation and had to resist the urge to wince at realizinghewas the topic.
Pruitt was lamenting his past, another man was making suggestions, and a woman hovered nearby. The scent of her light parfum, floral and citrusy, reminded him of his mother. Especially when she leaned close and kissed him on the forehead.
Mother.
He knew she wasn’t, though. This one had the voice of an angel and a touch just as soft, smoothing through his hair and along the side of his head.
There was something familiar about her.
Angel.
Making angels. In the snow.
Sure the men had departed the room, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times in an effort to focus his gaze on the woman who sat not three feet away.
The thought of seeing her every day had the oddest sensations coursing through his body. To wake up and have her be the first thing he saw would certainly be an excellent way to start the day.
Her attention wasn’t on him, though, but rather on the pages of a book. A French book, with a title he struggled to interpret. Once he had, a grin formed on his lips. Either she didn’t realize what she was reading, or she did, and she wasn’t quite the innocent English miss he had imagined.
All at once, he knew they had been together. Outside. In the snow.
Lord Stonely’s daughter.
Angelika.
He didn’t intend to make a sound. Didn’t intend to interrupt her reading. But his breath hitched, and she glanced up from the book.
“Your Grace!” she said in an excited whisper. She closed the book and placed it on the nightstand. “Are you feeling better?”
Andrew blinked a few times and attempted to sit up, but she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve had a shock. It’s best you don’t make any sudden moves,” she warned.
He relaxed back into the pillow, his gaze darting about before he once again focused on her. “Where am I?”
“In one of the guest bedchambers. In Stonefield Manor.”
He ran a hand over his face and grimaced. “I suppose I went down like a sack of rocks,” he murmured.
Angelika shook her head. “Actually, you fell back and made a perfect snow angel,” she countered. “Most people can’t fall straight back like that. They bend in the middle halfway down, or they twist about because they don’t trust the snow to be soft enough.”
“I am quite sure I wasn’t conscious when I hit the ground,” he murmured, not trying to hide his embarrassment. He really wished he could have managed to make it to wherever she was taking him without panicking. Just once in his adult life, he would have liked to have overcome his fear and do something different.
Angelika angled her head to one side. “Do you think you could sip some broth? I had Bronson bring a cup. It should still be warm.” Before he could respond, she turned and retrieved the mug from the nightstand.
Andrew watched her for a moment before his attention turned to the book she had been reading. Furrowing a brow, he lifted his head and squinted, pretending to read the title on the spine. He raised a brow. “Practicing your French? Or... something else?” he asked. The barest hint of a grin accompanied his query.
Her eyes rounding in shock, Angelika swallowed. “Oh. Uh.” She offered the mug to him as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “I thought to improve my French reading skills. The topic is of course unfamiliar to me.”
He grinned as he took a sip of the broth. “Has it helped? With your French?” He adored seeing how her cheeks reddened with her embarrassment.
