Page 24 of A Virgin for the Beastly Duke

“I did not see you there!” she called breathlessly, struggling to stand. She began to trudge toward him but slipped again. This time, he decided to rescue her. Cato could be as careless as he was large.

Taking hold of her arms, he pulled her up, her body pressing against his. Harry’s blood pounded in his veins, and his groin began to swell. His gaze found her soft lips, his temptation growing. Time seemed to slow down. It was becoming increasingly difficult to resist her.

One of his arms found the small of her back and settled there, and she shivered. “The water is cold,” he whispered, drawing her closer and inciting another shiver from her. He would be most pleased if those shivers were because of her desire for him.

Harry could not remove his eyes from her lips, and he imagined what they would taste like, certain it was a taste that would make him hunger for more.

“Cato led me here,” she said. “I did not know there was a lovely stream hereabouts.”

He used to play in these waters when he was younger, but he did not tell her that, for there was a whole lot else on his mind. And she would certainly notice if he were to release her.

“We should return to the castle so you can be free of your sodden clothes. I do not want you to catch a fever,” he said, truly concerned about her.

“Oh, is that so?” she chuckled, then gasped when he swept her up into his arms. “Harry, what are you doing?”

“Carrying you back home,” he murmured. The exertion should ease his hunger and hide the evidence. “Come Cato.” The dog immediately followed them at the order.

Lander’s brows shot up the moment he opened the door and saw them wet and covered in mud. A passing footman stopped and bowed, looking amused. Harry was sure he would repeat what he had seen to the other staff, and they would draw from the tale several inferences.

“Have Cato bathed and dried,” he ordered as he climbed the stairs. He took her up to her bedchamber and set her down at the door. “I wish to speak to you when you have changed,” he said. Bridget nodded and opened the door. Once she was inside, he went to his chambers to change his clothes.

He found her in her sitting room afterward, a book on her lap, and a tray on the table in front of her with tea and some biscuits. Without thinking, he reached for a biscuit and bit into it.

Bridget picked up a cup, poured some tea into it, and handed it to him.

“Thank you,” he murmured, sitting in a chair adjacent to hers. His first sip revealed the tea to be one he was not accustomed to, the mint and lemon flavors surprisingly warming him.

“You wanted to speak to me?” she asked.

“Yes.” He set his tea down and regarded her. “I learned of what occurred at the village yesterday.”

Her face colored slightly. “I wanted to tell you, but the only times I saw you were at mealtimes. Forgive me.”

“It is my fault. I should not have allowed you to go without me.”

“I am sure you had a very good reason,” she said, looking down at the closed book on her lap. She might find his reason foolish had he told her, however. “I am doing what I can to help the villagers,” he added, wishing to reassure her.

“I understand, Harry. There are some matters that cannot be so easily controlled, but so long as one puts in the effort, it shall be well in time.”

He tilted his head and regarded her with a smile, happy she was not harshly judging him. “Are you a philosopher?”

“Perhaps I am,” she returned slyly. “Mr. Belmont was a great help, too,” she added, and he smiled.

“He is a good man.”

“How long have you known each other?” she asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“Seven years,” he answered. “Since I was three and twenty.” She chuckled, and he asked. “Does my age amuse you?”

“My imagination amuses me. I thought you were an old man before I came to Grayfield.”

“And what do you think now?” Harry knew he should not have asked her that question but he had been unable to help himself. He braced himself for the answer that would surely wound him.

She flushed. “I think you are very handsome, Harry.”

He wanted to believe her but he could not. “And you are too kind,” he said, accepting her compliment but never keeping it. To do so would send him into a delusion that he might not be able to free himself of. An unpleasant memory began to surface, and he picked up his tea, determined to drive it away. Still, it came, and suddenly, he was transported back to a time when his father first beheld his face after his return from Salamanca. The man had staggered backward, and his eyes had bulged from his face. Harry would never forget the words his father had said to him then.

“I have been thinking of hosting a ball,” she said, drawing him out of the prison of his memories, and his eye immediately went to her face. “Not now, of course,” she quickly qualified. “After some parts of the castle have been redecorated. Perhaps in the autumn.”

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