Page 3 of The Duke of Kisses
“My father always told me I was a featherbrain.”
“Well, that sounds rather rude. Also, I find that hard to believe—that you’re a featherbrain, I mean.” He said this with utmost certainty. “Although, you did wander far from home in a snowstorm.”
“It wasn’t snowing then, and I was trying to save a rabbit.” She exhaled. “I’m afraid I’m terribly softhearted when it comes to animals. My father also told me I was far too kind. Once, he made me abandon a litter of puppies after their mother died.”
David gasped. “That’s atrocious.”
She nodded, glad for his support. “Yes, but I sneaked back out to where they were and rescued them anyway. One of the neighbors had a dog who was almost finished nursing her pups, and she was more than glad to adopt the four little babies. Ironically, my father took one of those dogs several months later, never realizing it was one he’d left for dead.” She shook her head. “He loved that dog more than any of us, I think.”
“What an astounding tale. I would say you have a kind heart, not soft. There’s a difference, I think.”
She swung her gaze to his. “Do you?”
“I do.”
They stared at each other a moment before she nearly tripped over a rock. He caught her, his free hand clasping her hand while he gripped her arm. “All right?”
“I’m also rather clumsy.”
“Then allow me to assist you over the stream, though I gather you made it across by yourself earlier.”
They’d arrived at the slender but swift-moving brook. “It was a miracle, really.”
He laughed, then withdrew his arm from hers. “I’ll go first and help you.” He leapt over the water with ease, and she decided she could watch him do that a thousand times. In her mind’s eye, she would.
He held his hand out to her. “Ready?”
She clasped his appendage, and he brought her over the stream with a fluid grace she didn’t possess on her own. “I’ll wager you’re a fine dancer,” she said.
He grimaced. “Barely passable, I’m afraid.”
She grinned at him. “I’m adisaster.”
His eyes gleamed as he chuckled. “You’re atreasure, Frances.”
Heat rose in her face, but she suspected her cheeks were red from the cold and was relieved he couldn’t see her blush.
He tucked her arm over his once more and they started on their way, keeping up their rapid pace. “Do you often get lost?” he asked.
Only when she struck off in a new direction and then only sometimes. Snowstorms were particularly helpful if one wanted to lose one’s way. “No, but then I just left home for the first time less than six months ago.” She wished she hadn’t revealed that much. But he was so easy to talk to.
“You’re new to your employment, then?”
“Yes. What are you doing out in the middle of a snowstorm?” she asked, hoping to divert the conversation away from herself lest she bore him with the story of her life.
“I was just taking a walk. Then I saw you running up the hill, and I was curious.”
“So you followed me?”
“Guilty.” But the look he cast in her direction didn’t reflect even a tinge of regret.
She was glad and more than a little…tantalized. “Well, I suppose I must be grateful since without your help, I would be lost and cold.”
“But dry. I can’t imagine you would have fallen without my intervention.” Now she detected a dash of remorse.
“That’s a nice theory,” she said wryly, “but I did tell you I was clumsy.”
“I suppose we’ll never know,” he mused. “Come, let’s move a bit faster, or we’ll both be soaked to the skin.”
