Page 2 of Crash Landing
But who could ignore her hips? Or her fine legs. Or those pert, yet surprisingly ample, breasts that rested on his chest as though he were some convenient shelf upon which to place assorted sundry items.
Not that he minded the slight weight of her on him.
In truth, her body fit his with remarkable perfection.
He grunted to acknowledge her gratitude in his cushioning her fall.
Her mouth was dangerously close to his as she studied him. “Have I maimed you for life?”
“No. I’ll recover,” he said, managing a small smile. “You’re awfully heavy for a little thing.”
She laughed, taking no insult at the comment.
He liked the melodic lilt of her laughter. He also liked the graceful curve of her lips.
It would take nothing for him to lean forward and capture her mouth in a kiss.
Wait. No.
Why would he ever want to kiss her?
“What are you doing here, Florence? Why aren’t you in London menacing the unsuspecting populace?”
She blushed and averted her gaze a moment before returning her attention to him. “Would you believe me if I told you I was on holiday here because this Dorset seacoast has the best bird watching in the entire south of England?”
“No, I would not. We established that you were a fake bird watcher last year.”
“I am not a fake,” she insisted. “I am still chairwoman of the Lower Bramble Ladies’ Ornithological Society.”
“And yet you would not know a cormorant from a kittiwake.” He held her fast when she attempted to wriggle off him. “Tell me what you were really doing perched up in that tree, other than delightfully baring the lower half of your body to my inspection?”
“A gentleman would have averted his gaze.” She frowned at him when he remained silent. “Are you going to hold me hostage until I confess?”
“Yes.” He did not bother to point outshewas the one who had settled atophim, and only then had he bothered to wrap his arms around her. “And where are your spectacles?”
“Oh.” She stopped trying to push herself off him and let out a breath. “They’re probably crushed now. I had them in the pocket of my gown.”
He stared at her, noting the striking flecks of dark amber within her emerald eyes. They even sparkled like gemstones, or perhaps that sparkling effect on those deep green pools was merely a trick of the sunlight beating down on them through the silvery canopy of leaves. “I knew those spectacles were fake, too. Why pretend you needed them?”
“Because I do not want people to notice me. How am I to go about my discreet investigations if everyone is watching me?”
“Who are you investigating now? Not me, I hope.”
“No, Aubrey. Nothing to do with you.” She was still pressed atop him, stretched quite comfortably, and apparently resigned to remaining in that position for a while. She folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin on them while studying him.
He had not been jesting about the twigs and pebbles that were not only digging into his arse but into his back, as well. Still, he was loath to move out from under Florence before he got his answers. “If it’s nothing to do with me, then what are you doing on my property?”
“This is your property?” She frowned again, as though confused. “Does it not belong to the Duke of Weymouth?”
“Yes, it does. You are looking at the new duke. Three weeks to the day since I inherited the title.”
“From your father? Who must have inherited it fairly recently himself from the old duke.” She inhaled lightly. “Oh, Aubrey. I am so sorry. My condolences. I know you and your father were quite close.”
“Thank you, Florence. We were. He only held the title for a few months, and was too ill to do much with it. The added responsibilities were too much for him. I had to take over management of the Weymouth properties along with our Lothmere holdings.”
“That is quite a burdensome task.”
He shrugged. “I am managing.”
