Page 15 of The Duke's Improper Bride
“Well, I feel sorry for anyone you deem worthy of fighting fair with.”
With a sigh, she sat back, reclining her head as she stared up at the ceiling. She lowered her eyelids, giving in to the gentle rocking motion as the carriage worked its way over the road to Esslemont Abbey. It wouldn’t be long now, another ten minutes perhaps. It would have been quicker to walk, but forced to say it, she wouldn’t admit her present company was lacking.
“Dinner was delicious,” he said from across the carriage.
She nodded, unsure if he could see.
“But I’m not sure I could stand another minute of Mr. Rockwood arguing with your father over taxes.”
The laughter started low in her belly, and just like in the garden, it raced up her body and exploded. She wrapped her arms around herself and laughed, only laughing harder as Mr. Barnes joined in the merry chorus.
Though sleep pulled at her body, though she had had a horrible evening, and though Stuart had finally revealed his true intentions, Nora laughed. She laughed and felt as though she had somehow shaken off the invisible chains that had buried her deep to suffocate on her own anger.
For one blissful moment as she locked eyes with Mr. Barnes, she was the woman she had been born to be—the one who spoke freely and without fear, the one who owned her presence at the dining table instead of remaining invisible out of comfort and habit.
The laughter slowly died between them, the two now leaning forward, their eyes locked.
“Thank you,” she whispered, “for seeing me home.”
“Of course. May I?” he asked, gesturing toward her head. “You’ve something…”
She held her breath as his fingers brushed over her hair, untangling something from it.
“I’m only a stranger, Miss MacAllen. I don’t expect to be here long.” He removed a small twig from her hair, his voice remaining soft as his eyes met hers, “I can promise I’m a fair fighter, but you should know, I’m not looking for a fight.”
“A friend then?” She cursed the night for robbing her of seeing the green of his eyes fully. Being with Mr. Barnes was a bit like being home, like climbing up her mountains.
That mouth of his, that charming hint of a smile teasing the corner of his lips. She was a wicked woman for wishing it, but heaven above did she find herself curious what kissing him would be like. Something deep within told her it wouldn’t be like kissing Stuart.
It made her want to try it all the more.
But she was an engaged woman. Her heart might be broken from what she discovered this evening, she wouldn’t break the promise she had made. Let Stuart be the dobber, she would still have her honor.
“A friend.”
Nora certainly was in need of friendship. Could friends kiss? Could she remain friends with someone she wanted to kiss?
He leaned forward, their noses all but touching. He smelled of rich red wine and leather and oil paint. She tilted her head, inhaling as his nearness all but consumed her. She closed her eyes, picturing his lips approaching hers and his hand ready to support her head.
The door clicked open.
The fresh, cool air poured in as Mr. Barnes grabbed his cane and removed himself from the carriage. He held out his hand toward her. “Home, I believe.”
Of course, how foolish. Mr. Barnes hadn’t taken her home so they could kiss. What had she expected? Mr. Barnes wouldn’t kiss her, and she shouldn’t be thinking of kissing him.
The brash air was rough against her warmed cheeks as she peeled back the blanket and stretched her legs to exit the carriage. He had been kind to her, and she had spoken without care for once in a very long time.
That would be enough.
Yet her dress fell open, her leg peeking out from beneath the large rip in the seam. She glanced from it to Mr. Barnes, who quickly looked away. Nora bit back a smile.
He had been looking, and she had wanted him to. Maybe hehadthought of kissing her?
Her hand slipped into his warm palm, his long fingers folding over hers as she jumped from the carriage, supported by his strength.
Just one moment longer, she thought, relishing his touch. One more moment of feeling as if she were worthy of being touched, even out of politeness.
Their eyes met and she flashed a quick smile, slipping her hand free.
