“And the river? The oak?”
“We discovered it in the early part of the summer.” It had become the best part of this summer, up until this afternoon.
She sniffed lightly, her gaze now resting on the hair above his temple. “I never bothered learning the names of the lords and ladies at the house party, because I was so rarely here. I definitely had nae interest in kenning the name of the duke Lady Dumpkins was so determined to throw at her young ladies.”
Throw atthem? He rather felt they’d been thrown athim.
Dear Lord, Athena was alady. She wasn’t the daughter of a local merchant, she was anearl’sdaughter—alady. His brain kept circling back to that fact, apparently unable to come to terms with it. She was the daughter of a laird.
And only a few hours ago, his cock had been in her mouth.
Just the memory caused an improper stirring in his trousers, and he tightened his jaw to try to keep himself from revealing the way she affected him.
Why? You never cared before.
That’s because “before” was just the two of them, or them and their sons, stretched out in the shade on a summer afternoon. Not waltzing mechanically around a ballroom for all to see.
She was alady, and she’d been acting like a doxy. He’d been about to make herhisdoxy.
Damnation.
The rest of the waltz was just as rigid and awkward as the first moments, and Cash couldn’t help but compare the woman in his arms now to the woman he’d held that afternoon. Although this dance barely counted, since she was doing everything in her power not to touch him, and he found himself disappointed by how stiff she was.
Even stiffer than him, if that were possible.
The thought did little to cheer him, and as soon as the musicians began their final flourish, he pulled her to a stop. Even though he stepped away from her, she was still staring resolutely at his left ear. Her cheeks were flushed—not with desire or excitement, he guessed, but with anger—but her breathing was measured, as if she were trying to maintain control.
She hadn’t been trying to maintain control at The Sword and Sheath?—
Stop it. It’ll do no good to relive.
Despite his best intentions, he couldn’t help but study the way her hair was pulled back in a simple bun, unlike the fancy coiffures Amanda used to prefer. It made Athena seem veryladylike, very proper.
Not at all like the woman he’d come to appreciate.
He much preferred her with that glorious red hair down around her shoulders.
As if she could sense his thoughts, her angry gaze snapped to his, then away once more. “Yer Grace,” she said rigidly, reaching for her skirts as if she might offer him a curtsey.
But he couldn’t let her leavenow. He couldn’t walk away from this ballroom, from Dumpkins, as he’d intended. Not with all the things left unsaid between them.
“Lady Athena,” he blurted, much too loudly. “Would you consent to a walk?”
He offered his arm before she could think of an excuse, and he saw her glance to the edge of the room where the Earl and Countess were watching. The older woman looked positively giddy with delight, and Cash assumed it was because he—as the duke—had never expressed an interest in any of her young ladies beyond the perfunctory dance.
But there was nothing perfunctory about this offer.
Too bad it wasn’t the offer he’dplannedon making.
Athena hesitated, then placed her hand atop his arm once more. And once more, her touch was as light as a butterfly’s, making it clear she had no interest in physical contact with him.
She’d very much wanted physical contact before she’d known his full name, hadn’t she?
“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” he said blandly, planning to use that as an opening to invite her out to the garden.
Of course she understood.
“Aye,” she agreed stiffly. “Yer Grace.”
