Page 41 of A Heart Disguised 1

As I shifted, I became acutely aware that while my jacket preserved some modesty, my legs were now on full display. The cream-colored breeches, clinging to my slender limbs like a second skin, left little to the imagination. A blush crept up my neck as I realized just how exposed I was.

I could feel the duke’s gaze on me, his golden eyes lingering on my mud-splattered limbs. A flutter of panic rose in my chest. Surely he couldn’t tell I was male from this, could he? But as I chanced a glance at him, I saw something in his expression that looked suspiciously like… appreciation?

The thought sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with my sodden state. I quickly averted my eyes, focusing instead on the ruined remains of my riding habit. “I don’t suppose there’s any saving this outfit,” I muttered, more to myself than to the duke.

His deep chuckle made me look up. “I’m afraid not, little dove. Though I must say, you wear mud rather charmingly.”

I felt my face heat up even more. Was he… flirting? Surely not. He must be mocking me. Yes, that had to be it.

“I’ll fetch the horses,” the duke said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Try not to find any more trouble while I’m gone, little dove.”

As he strode off, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. But trouble, it seemed, had other plans for me.

A soft whimper caught my attention, and I turned to see a small wolf cub lying in the underbrush, its leg bent at an unnatural angle. Without thinking, I rushed over, my heart clenching at the sight of the poor creature’s pain.

“Oh, you poor thing,” I cooed, kneeling beside the cub. It looked up at me with wide, frightened eyes, and I felt a surge of protective instinct wash over me.

Glancing around to ensure the duke was still occupied with the horses, I gently placed my hands on the cub’s injured leg. I closed my eyes, focusing on the warm tingle of healing magic that always seemed to dance just out of reach.

“Come on,” I muttered, willing the magic to cooperate. “Just this once, don’t be stubborn.”

I thought of all the times my father had scoffed at my “parlor trick” magic, how Henry and Gavin had laughed when I couldn’t conjure more than a spark. But here, now, with this innocent creature in pain, none of that mattered. I poured all my concentration into the task, imagining the cub’s leg mending, the pain fading away.

To my surprise and relief, I felt the familiar warmth flow through my hands. It started as a gentle trickle, then grew stronger, like a stream swelling after the spring thaw. The cub’s whimpers subsided, and I opened my eyes to see its leg straightening, the wound knitting closed before my very eyes.

A sense of wonder filled me. As the cub tentatively stood, testing its newly healed leg, I felt a surge of pride and joy.

“Impressive,” a deep voice said from behind me.

I jumped, nearly falling back into the mud. The duke stood there, both horses’ reins in hand, watching me with an unreadable expression. How long had he been there? How much had he seen?

“Your Grace! I… I was just…” I stammered, searching for an explanation that didn’t involve admitting to magic. My mind raced, trying to concoct a plausible story. Perhaps I could claim I was simply petting the cub? But no, he’d clearly seen the healing.

“Healing,” he finished for me, his tone matter-of-fact. “And quite skillfully, I might add. Such magic is rare and valuable, dove. You should be proud of your gift.”

I blinked, stunned. Of all the reactions I’d expected, this wasn’t one of them. “Proud? But… it’s weak. Useless, really. At least, that’s what my father and brothers always said.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, years of internalized shame bubbling to the surface.

The duke’s expression darkened for a moment, a flash of something that looked almost like anger crossing his features before softening. “They are mistaken,” he said firmly. “What youjust did was far from weak or useless. With proper training, your gift could become truly formidable. I shall find you a teacher to help you improve your skills.”

A warm glow of pleasure bloomed in my chest at his words. It spread through me, chasing away the chill of the mud and the lingering echoes of my family’s dismissal. “Really? You’d do that for me?” I asked, hardly daring to believe it.

His lips curved into a small smile that made my heart skip a beat. “Of course. Your talent is too precious to be left undeveloped.”

The cub, seemingly sensing that the danger had passed, nuzzled against my hand before bounding off into the underbrush. I watched it go, a sense of accomplishment filling me.

“Now,” the duke said, drawing my attention back to him, “we should return to the castle. I don’t want you catching a chill from all this mud and water.”

Before I could protest, he lifted me onto his stallion’s back with ease, his strong hands gripping my waist. I let out a small squeak of surprise, my hands automatically grasping the saddle horn.

The duke smoothly mounted behind me, his chest pressing against my back, solid and warm. I felt my heart begin to race anew, acutely aware of every point of contact between us. His arms came around me to grasp the reins, effectively caging me in his embrace.

“Comfortable?” he murmured, his breath tickling my ear.

I nodded mutely, not trusting my voice. The proximity was intoxicating, sending my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the warmth of his body seeping through my sodden clothes.

As we set off toward the castle, I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. Despite the mud, the embarrassment,and the near-disasters, I realized I was feeling… happy. Truly, genuinely happy. The duke’s words of praise and encouragement echoed in my mind, a balm to years of self-doubt.

The scenery passed by in a blur of green and gold, the morning sun now high in the sky. I barely noticed it, too caught up in the sensation of riding with the duke. Every small movement, every slight adjustment of his posture sent a thrill through me.

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