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Miss Dawson didn’t need anyone but herself. And for some reason Rafe found that incredibly alluring.

8

Theo

After the horses were settled in their stalls, Theo and the Duke hurried into her cottage. The rain was coming down in buckets. And that wasn’t a hyperbole. She’d thought she was drenched from the gallop to her dwelling, but that short walk from the barn to her front door did her in. She looked like she’d taken a dip in her favorite pond, the one by the waterfall and the secret cave.

A shiver wracked her frame. She was chilled to the bloody bone. Her teeth chattered as she made her way through her small entry hall and went straight to her hearth. The main living space was a large, open room. She had a small seating area to the right, and a well-worn leather couch before the fireplace, blanketed on each side by upholstered armchairs. Her writing desk was up against a wall, with piles of books and ledgers dotting every surface possible. Organized chaos, as she liked to think of it.

To the left was the kitchen. Pots and pans and herbs filled the walls around the large range and sink. Shelves she’d hung herself held jars and crockery. She had a worktable she used both for prepping and to eat at. Just outside the back door was a scullery and her garden, and a little ways after that was her privy. A small hall at the rear of the room led to the master bedroom and the small room she’d occupied as a child. The cottage was modest, but it suited her needs.

It was home.

She knelt before her hearth, quickly pulling off her gloves and tossing them onto the stone. Then she opened the flue and started stacking her kindling inside the fireplace.

“I can do that.”

She fought a smile. Her words thrown back at her. “I have a process,” she said over her shoulder. She tossed in some wood shavings and larger wood pieces, then grabbed her tinderbox. “Can you bring the armchairs over here? We’ll hang our things over them to dry.”

She coaxed the wood to flame and started adding the first layer of coal. A thump came from her right, a second one following not long after.

Once small flames danced over the slowly reddening coals, she stood. She shrugged out of her greatcoat and draped it over a chair. Good Lord, it was as heavy as a sack of potatoes with how waterlogged it was. The Duke had already divested himself of his and was now working on the buttons of his riding coat.

He caught her gaze, fingers continuing their task. There was something in his steely grey eyes, a question, one he was waiting for her to answer. She had a feeling she knew what the question was. She began working her own riding coat’s buttons. But when it came to pulling the thing off, it was as though the wet material had glued itself to her skin.

His Grace jerked his chin toward her coat. “I help you with yours, you with mine?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to find an excuse to undress me, Your Grace.”

His eyes sharpened. “Can it not be both? Because I very much want to undress you, Miss Dawson.” His husky words skated over her skin, and she prided herself on holding back the reaction they elicited.

She stepped forward and held out her hand. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he gripped her cuff, bare fingers drifting over her wrist. He tugged, and she pulled her arm free. He slowly spun her until her back was to him. He gently peeled the coat from her, his soft breath dusting over her ear. A wash of gooseflesh rose on her skin.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing firmly against her back, as he reached for her other cuff. His jaw hovered just above her ear, and it took every ounce of strength she had not to lean into him. His free hand came to rest on her stomach, and her eyes fluttered shut. Just like the other day in the barn. His fingers tightened, and he tugged off her remaining sleeve.

Then he stepped away. Leaving her cold for an entirely different reason than the freezing downpour.

She let out a slow breath. Keep your head, Theo. She was going to do this. She was going to take him up on his offer. But everything was happening on her terms.

He draped the garment next to her greatcoat, then turned to face her. Waited. Those irises, just as dark as the storm outside, just as dangerous, watched her. Dared her.

She stepped forward and gently took his hand. She turned it over in her palm. It was so much larger than hers. And Theo didn’t have small hands. But where her fingers were slender… She swallowed hard. He possessed such thick fingers.

Her fingertips trailed over the underside of his palm until she reached his wrist. She gripped his cuff with two hands and glanced up at him. “I have a feeling your coat won’t be as easy. It’s sure to be a tight fit for a man your size.”

His eyes flashed just like lightning streaking across the sky. “I have no doubt you’ll be able to handle it, Miss Dawson.”

Oh dear.

“So…” she said, cursing herself for how husky her voice came out. She gave the coat an experimental tug. It didn’t budge. All right, this would require muscle. She firmed up her grip, the Duke braced himself, and then she gave it a hard yank. He managed to wriggle his arm loose. His gaze, which she was avoiding, burned into her skin as he shook off the back of his coat. She gripped his other cuff. “I signed your contract.” She tugged; this one slipped free much more easily.

His sharp breath had her attention flying to his, and she almost missed it. Almost missed the shock that gave way to relief. She frowned as she laid his coat over the armchair. Relief? Like she was some sort of balm? Like it would have pained him if she’d refused him? She couldn’t quite wrap her head around that.

“Did you have any amendments?”

She shrugged out of her waistcoat. “Possibly. I’d like to discuss. If there’s anything either of us comes up with, we’ll amend the document.”

When she turned back around, he was already tugging his lawn shirt from his trousers, waistcoat and cravat gone. “You undress fast,” she said dumbly.