Page 1 of Crash Landing
Chapter One
Gull Hall
Weymouth, England
August 1819
“Isn’t this anintriguing turn of events,” Trajan Aubrey, the newly installed Duke of Weymouth, remarked while studying the pair of legs dangling from the leafy cover of a majestic oak tree on his property. The tree was among several comprising a small woodland separating his property from that of his neighbor, Lord Everleigh Frampton, a man who had risen quite rapidly in political circles of late and was viewed by some as prime minister material.
But the lovely pair of legs now before him had nothing to do Frampton or politics, and all to do with his bird-watching nemesis, Lady Florence Newton, a bluestocking who did her utmost to hide a body that could drop a man to his knees in lustful desire.
Not him, of course. He was impervious to her charms…for the most part.
In truth, he did not know what to think of her other than she was one of the few people ever able to outwit him on a regular basis. And that, he had to admit, rankled him to no end.
“Florence, is that you?”
“Aubrey? I don’t believe it.Ugh. What are you doing here?” Florence began to wriggle and twist her lithe body in an attempt to tug the gown over her legs, which remained indecently exposed.
He grinned, knowing he should not be enjoying her predicament as enthusiastically as he was, nor should he be studying those shapelylimbs so avidly. But how could any man with an ounce of sense turn away when she was giving him a delightful glimpse of those exquisite legs? Her every movement was making matters worse for herself. The gown, an ugly brown muslin that he decided was quite unfashionable, now rode up her thighs because the hem was well and truly caught on the protuberance of a branch and would not budge without tearing the fabric, which was not easily torn because it was a very sturdy fabric. She might need a knife to cut it free.
“Stop, Florence,” he cautioned her before she gave him an unimpeded view of her pert, rounded bottom. He dared not think what else she might inadvertently expose, but the mere thought of it was making him sweat.
It was already too hot this morning, almost no wind whipping off the cove waters to offer a cooling reprieve. Even the shade provided by the canopy of trees did little good. For this reason he was merely wearing a work shirt and trousers, having forsaken his cravat, waistcoat, and jacket for this more practical attire. “I’ll climb up there and help you.”
“No! I can do it myself.”
Stubborn chit.
“That branch is about to crack and you are going to fall. Stop being obstinate and allow me to help.”
“I am not going to—” Florence shrieked as, true to his prediction, the branch on which she had been dangling suddenly snapped, sending her tumbling out of the tree and crash landing atop him.
He yelped as she struck him full in the chest, and the impact sent him reeling backward.
Served him right, fool that he was.
Instead of darting out of the way and leaving her to the bruises and ankle sprains she was certain to receive, he had played the hero and flung himself forward to catch her. Not only did he catch her, but he’d had to twist his body awkwardly in order to ensure she landed atophim rather than under him, where the weight ofhisbody landing onhersmight have crushed her.
That mistake now had him breathlessly knocked to the ground, stunned for a full minute as twinges ran up his side and a wicked spasm coursed unrelentingly along his back.
“Blast it, Florence,” he said upon regaining his voice. “What were you doing up there?”
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.” Which was clearly a lie, but he was not going to give her the satisfaction, even though she appeared genuinely concerned and gave his cheek a light caress. “I always enjoy having the stuffing knocked out of me while twigs and pebbles poke holes in my arse.”
“Why are you being so unpleasant? I did not ask you to save me…but thank you. You were quite heroic and magnificent,” she said with a sincerity that melted his irritation.
She took another moment to regain her breath, but could not manage to roll off him just yet. Trying to rise proved too difficult for her, and he worried that she might have truly been hurt in the fall.
“Take another moment,” he said, allowing her to remain perched atop him. “You took a bad tumble. Does anything feel broken?”
“No, I’ll be all right in a moment. You cushioned my fall.”
In truth, he did not mind her using him as a makeshift mattress until she recovered.
However, it did pose a little difficulty, as the entire length of her was stretched across the entire length of him, making it impossible to ignore the sensations aroused by this impertinent little nuisance who should not be affecting him at all.
