Page 60 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
How could she be so relaxed? His blood ran hot and his body hardened once more at the sight of the sensual woman sprawled on the cushions in front of him.
‘I hope you know where you are going, Your Grace,’ she said with a mischievous laugh that tugged at something inside him. Like a call to some wildness.
Recklessness struggling to be free.
‘Xavier, please, Countess,’ he said.
‘Then you may call me Barbara,’ she said softly.
‘I know exactly where I am going, Barbara.’ At least he was pretty sure he would recognise the little landing stage at the bottom of the garden of the cottage he had visited earlier.
There could not be too many places along the bank with a willow tree hanging over the water and with ato letsign nailed to it.
If he recalled correctly, there were about eight houses along the river between the cottage and the Andersons’ house.
The moon picked up a willow trailing fronds into the water. He pushed the boat towards it and was pleased to see the sign he had nailed up barely an hour or so previously.
‘Here we are.’ He tied up to the little platform.
‘Where is “here”?’ she asked, taking his hand and coming easily to her feet despite the rocking of the boat.
He helped her up onto the rather decrepit landing stage. He wished now he had organised its repair, but his previous tenant had not been interested in boating.
‘A cottage I own.’
‘Oh? Who lives here?’
He pointed to the sign. ‘No one. It is vacant.’
Would she balk at this bold move? He was beginning to think he had lost his mind.
‘How lovely.’ She threw her arms around his neck. ‘What a clever duke you are.’
The rickety platform shifted beneath their feet.
‘Oops,’ she said, clutching at him and laughing.
He laughed too, like an idiot boy on an adventure. An illicit adventure.
He helped her up the bank. It was damnably dark in this garden. Fortunately, the cottage was a good deal closer to the river than the Anderson mansion. He held her hand and they followed the pale moonlit shapes of the flagstone path leading to the terrace.
‘Wait here,’ he whispered. Why he was whispering he wasn’t sure, but it felt as if speaking too loudly might break the spell.
Swiftly, he made his way around to the front of the house by way of the side alley.
He banged his knee against somesort of structure. Right. The back gate. He swallowed a curse and slowed down. She wasn’t going anywhere.
He felt his way along the wall to the front door and opened it.
The entrance hall was pitch-black, but he had no trouble locating the lamp he’d snuffed out earlier and relighting it.
Now able to see his way clearly, he soon had the French doors unlocked and left the lamp on a table while he went outside.
She was standing at the edge of the terrace, looking down to the water reflecting the pale silver of the moon. Moonlight glinted in her hair and made the skin of her bare arms look translucent, like a painting of a Roman goddess.
‘What a pretty view,’ she said, glancing at him as he came up beside her.
He put his arms around her from behind and with his chin on her shoulder looked out at the view. He had no words to describe how he felt at that moment.
