Page 87 of The Texan Duke
Only then did she glance behind her to see Lara standing at the windows clapping excitedly for her husband. If Elsbeth had been married to one of the men in the contest, she would’ve been on the front line of spectators. At the conclusion, she would’ve raced across the snowy lawn and hugged him. If nothing else, she would have helped him on with his coat.
Regardless of what anyone thought, she began to walk toward Connor.
He was thanking the stableboy who had thrown the targets as well as the footman who had rotated the guns.
She waited until he was finished, picked up his coat, and held it out for him.
“You don’t want to compound your injury by getting pneumonia, too, Your Grace.”
“What did you tell her?”
She knew, immediately, what he meant. Heat traveled through her, but it wasn’t a sensation of embarrassment as much as acute awareness. She wondered if she should tell him the truth or simply attempt to change the subject and deflect his curiosity.
“I told her she was being ridiculous,” she said, giving him the truth.
“Was she?”
The heat intensified.
He moved to put on his coat and made a face, a small almost-infinitesimal grimace. His shoulder was paining him. Silly man.
She helped him ease his arm into the sleeve of his coat, then found herself patting the lapel, and, as if he were hers to protect, began buttoning the coat, getting to the second button before she realized what she was doing. She dropped her hands and stepped back, looking up at him.
“Was it worth it?” she asked, glancing at the tables and the dwindling crowd.
“Oh, yes, it was worth it,” he said. “Now I know that Felix was capable of shooting me.”
She glanced up at him, surprised. “Is that why you did it?”
“That, and to shut him up.”
They smiled at each other.
“You used your left arm,” she said.
He nodded. “After I was wounded in the war, I was put right back into combat. It was either learn to shoot with my left arm or be defenseless.”
She reached up and patted his lapel again, needing to touch him.
“Was she being ridiculous, Elsbeth?”
“Does it matter?”
“More than you know.”
She didn’t say anything. Her mind would not work. She couldn’t think of a thing to say to him. No quip, or rejoinder. Nothing witty came to mind.
“If there was no one here,” he said, “I would kiss you again.”
Now she most definitely couldn’t think. But her imagination wouldn’t cease. She would take a step forward, place her hands flat on his coated chest, and look up at him with her heart in her eyes. He would bend his head and gently place his mouth on hers.
She blinked, banishing that image with difficulty.
She forced herself to take a step away, heading back to Mrs. Ferguson so quickly that her departure might be categorized as an escape.
Connor watched as Felix gave instructions to the footmen, handed someone else the guns, and proceeded to bask in the glory of being the winner of their match.
The longer he was at Bealadair, the more Connor was certain he’d made the right decision. The sooner the house and the land were sold, the better.
