Page 77 of A Duchess Disciplined

She laughed. “I do not believe that. You have done many things to me that prove you are not respectable,” Catherine whispered. “Shall I list them for you?”

“That is wholly unnecessary.”

Catherine rose and dusted her skirts. Mischief gleamed in her eyes, and that sent a fissure of worry tracing along the path of his spine. “Catherine,” he said warningly.

“I may be myself in private,” she replied. “That was our agreement, and a respectable man would not go back on his word.”

William inhaled deeply and shook his head. He had to admit that she could argue well when she felt so inclined. If she was a man, she very wellmightmake a fine solicitor. “Remember that the children are watching,” William said. “I do not want you to do anything which they might seek to replicate at their peril.”

“You just said that you climbed trees frequently in your youth, and you appear to be whole and hale,” Catherine said smugly. “Why do you assume that something catastrophic would happen ifwealso chose to climb a tree? Women’s bones are no weaker than men’s are.”

“As far as you know,” William said. “Are you a surgeon?”

“Areyou?”

Hester and Hannah had left their place by the hedges and instead wandered to the lake. They began their own circuit around the path, just as Catherine and William had before them. William glanced at his sisters over his shoulder. While he and Catherine had set a slow, meandering pace walking around the lake, Hannah and Hester did not walk constantly. Every few feet, they would halt and pause to gaze at a bird or a butterfly or some blooming flower.

“I am going to climb the tree,” Catherine declared, her face set in determination.

“In that gown?” William asked, casting a doubtful glance at her attire.

“Of course. I can hardly climb the tree without clothes,” she said, “and you have already graciously offered to purchase new gowns for me. If this one is damaged beyond repair, it will be easily replaced.”

Catherine grinned and jauntily skipped over the path. As she approached the tree, William’s heartbeat quickened. He knew that Catherine was right. There was no particular reason to worry about her, but he found that he did. He considered demanding that she not climb and asserting his rights as her husband, but with a sigh, William forced himself to remain silent.

He stood slowly and joined her at the tree. Catherine considered the large oak, balling up the skirts of her gown in her hands. It was terribly unseemly, and William found that his loins stirred at the sight of her slender, white thighs that were exposed. He ached to take her by the waist with one hand and to trace his fingers along the inside of her thighs with his other hand. William’s breath hitched.

Catherine had managed to hitch her skirts up and held them with one hand. With the other, she grasped a low-hanging branch.

“Careful,” William said, his chest tightening.

“I will be,” she replied, amused. “You need not worry about me.”

Hedid, though. How could he not when Catherine was so stubborn?

She placed a slipper-clad foot against the bark of the tree and carefully heaved herself up. Catherine pressed herself tightly against the trunk of the tree, managing to use the oak to keep her skirts pulled up. She reached out and, in a quick, fluid motion, pulled herself up and onto the lowest branch of the tree. Seated primly there, Catherine grinned at him.

“See?” she asked. “No harm done.”

William smiled grimly. “What about my poor heart?”

“It seems as though it is still beating,” Catherine replied. “You cannot be wounded too terribly.”

William leaned against the tree and tipped his head up, his gaze sweeping over her. Catherine had not quite fixed her skirts, and they gathered awkwardly about her thighs. Chips of bark and leaf-litter dotted the hem of her skirts, and William spied a green stain by her thigh. The gown was not ruined beyond repair, but he suspected that the laundress might be terribly displeased.

“Fine,” he said. “It was only a minor injury, and I am pleased to see that you are not wounded at all.”

She grinned brightly. “I thought I might have forgotten how to climb, but it seems that my fears were for naught.”

“Indeed.”

She shifted further along the branch and glanced about her. After a heartbeat, she carefully edged herself up. William’s pulse jumped once again. “Careful,” he growled.

“I am being careful,” she said.

She wrapped her arms over the next branch and pulled herself up. The two branches had been rather close together, and the climb had not been especially dangerous. Still, he feared that she might make some error and fall. William was nearby. He told himself that he would catch her. It would not be difficult.

Catherine sat on the branch, and William let out a puff of air. “You are conspiring to kill me,” he said.

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