The Duke Can Go to the Devil (16 page)

“Now turn your hands and push the air away.”

They continued on for a few minutes, rolling through the moves the way storm clouds roll through the sky. He didn't do every move perfectly, but he was genuinely trying. It meant more to her than it probably should have. She wanted to think all of this was for her, but it was most likely simply his gentleman etiquette getting the best of him. God forbid he insult a person and not make amends.

Still, after a while, it really didn't matter what his motivations were. She liked having him there. She liked watching the way those long limbs of his worked through the sequences, slow and meticulous in his execution.

It started to drizzle, but she ignored it and he didn't complain. Imagine that—he wasn't afraid to let a little rain dampen that well-groomed hair of his. With her own tresses secured in braids around the crown of her head, the moisture wouldn't bother her.

As they completed the stretches, she straightened and offered him a small smile. “Very nice. I think we are ready for the first sequence.”

Once again he nodded. It was such an odd experience, having him be so malleable to her instruction. More than a little heady, in fact.

Refocusing on the routine, she showed him the beginning position, then slowly worked through the whole move. “Be sure to breathe slowly and deeply, drawing the air fully in and pushing it back out again. Normally, this is where one clears one's mind, letting go of the stress and clutter of their day.”

Instead of immediately complying, he tilted his head slightly to the side and said, “Do you often find yourself under stress?”

She paused, taken off guard by the question. “Sometimes. It was very stressful moving here. I looked more like those around me than ever before, yet I've never felt so out of place. And then there's my aunt,” she said, a fleeting, wry smile lifting her lips.

“Yes, I know how well you get on with her.” He crossed his arms loosely, his expression pensive. “Why do the two of you have so much contention?”

Why, indeed. She pressed her lips together, not even sure how to answer that question. “She lives her life
within very defined boundaries,” she said at last. “Everything about me is outside of those lines. I imagine she's embarrassed to be related to me.”

That much had been clear within the first day of her arrival. Every word from her mouth was disparaging of something: May's clothes, her manners, her vocabulary. She'd been on a mission ever since to attempt to corral her wayward niece into her definition of acceptable.

He nodded slowly, appearing to ponder her answer. “Why, then, did she agree to bring you into her home? She had to have known about your unusual upbringing.”

May shrugged. “I imagine because my father asked her to.”

She hadn't given the topic much thought. It was a very dark time, when she'd discovered his plans. She'd felt angry, hurt, but most of all betrayed. Her family had always been a unit: her father, mother, and her. First her mother died, and then her father had abandoned her against her wishes with an aunt she barely knew.

It still stung. May could hardly wait to wrap her arms around her father when he finally returned, but she still wanted to give him a piece of her mind.

“Nevertheless, it had to be a significant sacrifice for her.” William lifted his chin, thoughtful. “I've known your aunt for years, albeit peripherally, but she always seemed to be a good woman. It's hard to imagine her being so difficult for the sake of being difficult.”

She scowled. She wasn't in the mood to be told of her aunt's virtues. She especially wasn't in the mood to be thinking about her now, during the time of day when she was completely free of the woman. Why would he even bring it up?

Pinning him with a narrowed gaze, she said, “If your
reason for coming out here was to lecture me on my aunt, you may turn around and leave right now.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Simply thinking aloud. It wasn't my intention to upset you.” Lowering his hands, he shook his head. “Believe it or not, I dislike the thought of you feeling distressed or upset. You've been through much, and you deserve contentment.”

The wind went right out of her righteous sails. There was just enough exasperation in his voice to lend credence to his words. “Why would you care one way or the other? Why bring me here at all, in fact?” She gestured vaguely around them, encompassing the estate as a whole.

His home, his sanctuary. Why invite someone so clearly at odds with his beliefs? Did he view her as a challenge? Entertainment? Someone to be pitied? He sure as hell didn't seem to view her as a woman.

His hands hooked on to his hips as he gave a little shrug. “You are one of a kind, May. You have a talent for holding my attention, whether I like it or not.”

One of a kind.
She liked that, though she wasn't as sure about the second part of his answer. “That doesn't sound very flattering,” she said with a wry laugh. “Am I the squeaky wheel then? Just bothersome enough to make it impossible to ignore?”

He ran a hand over his hair, pushing the dark, damp tresses from his forehead. “More like a candle in a darkened room.”

Oh.
There he went again, surprising her. The comparison was a nice one and she rather liked the image it elicited. Still, she didn't want to appear overly sentimental about it. That wasn't the sort of relationship they had.
Raising a teasing brow, she said, “So, I'm useful when wanted, annoying when not?”

He nodded decisively, knowing he had effectively defused the tension. “Yes, that was exactly what I was saying. And did you know, your other talent is twisting words? It's really quite diabolical.”

“Oh, he believes I have
two
talents. Where will the compliments end?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “And at least one more. You have a talent for making people laugh. Speaking of which, my brother and sister seemed to delight in the time you spent with them yesterday, and for that I am grateful.”

That one caught her off guard. “How did you know that?”

“I went up to see them when I returned to the house. Instead of the somberness I expected, I was greeted with two irreverently giggling children and one terrible excuse for an elephant.”

He had seen that? A flash of self-consciousness zipped through her as she tried to remember if she'd done something embarrassing. Well, more embarrassing than impersonating an elephant. He already knew she wasn't a lady, so it shouldn't have been too great a shock.

She set her hands to her hips, not quite sure whether to laugh or chide him. “Well, I didn't see you stepping in to offer a better one. And by the way, didn't you just reprimand the children for spying? Not one to lead by example, I see.”

“They were having a wonderful time, and I didn't want to interrupt.” He glanced to the grass for a moment before looking back up to her. “I did want to say thank
you, however. You are a good person, and I'm glad you are here.”

Warmth flooded her chest. Wasn't he just full of surprises this morning? That was effusive praise indeed coming from someone of his high standards. Her heart lifted at the knowledge that he really did appreciate her in all of her unconventional glory. Her smile was small and sincere as she met his amber gaze. “I'm glad I'm here as well. I like your siblings.” She paused, then decided to be completely honest. “And I rather like you.”

He didn't mock her for saying so. He simply returned her smile briefly before straightening. “Shall we continue? I fear the rain won't hold off much longer.”

Yes. Good. Back to business.

Resolutely steering her mind away from the giddy feeling in her chest, she drew a deep, cleansing breath and nodded. “Right. I believe I had been saying that one would normally clear their mind at this point, but for now, we'll just be focusing on the moves themselves.”

She forged on, showing him the proper positioning, all the while struggling to draw her mind away from their exchange. It at least explained why he was here this morning. It was also revealing. She would have thought he'd be disapproving of her silliness. Was there even more whimsy within that proper dukish heart of his than she even realized?

She transitioned into another position, waiting for him to copy her. The move was a little more complicated than the others, and while he mimicked her hand motions well enough, his feet were all wrong. She stepped forward to correct him.

“Be very deliberate when you move your feet. Heel, then toe. And when you bend, your knees should never
go over your toes. Good. Now imagine you are holding an invisible ball as you pivot into the next position.”

This elicited a wry smile. “Imagination is not my strong suit.”

“Oh? You'd never know that, were you to speak to your siblings.” She gave him a little wink, letting him wonder about what exactly they had told her. “Step back to your left foot, heel first.”

Even as he followed her command, he raised a brow in her direction. “You can't believe a word they say. I don't think I want to know what they told you to convince you to come up to the nursery and play.”

“Trust me, they were the best company to be had in the house.” That was the God's honest truth. Evaluating his position, she said, “Sink down into the stance again, then pivot on your right toes.”

His center of gravity was clearly off, and she tapped his arm to stop him. “Go back to the position before. Good. Now this time, when you pivot, on your toes follow it up with a pivot of your waist. Like this.” She went slowly through the move, exaggerating the movement of her middle. “Try again.”

Still, he couldn't quite get the right movement. It was as though his torso was glued to his hips. “You can't be that inflexible,” she teased, stepping forward to place her hands on either side of his shoulders in order to guide him through it.

As soon as her bare fingers touched the damp lawn of his shirt, she knew it was a mistake. She could feel the warmth of his body, feel the tension of his muscles. The fabric was so fine, she might as well have been touching his skin directly. She swallowed. It was an incredibly tempting thought.

Her gaze flickered to his. He was watching her,
holding completely still. For once, he wasn't Mr. Propriety. It was as though he was waiting to see what she would do. Her pulse soared at the thought. Would he stop her if she leaned forward for a kiss? Would he allow her to lift up on her toes and press her mouth to his? Her fingers slid around the firm curve of his shoulders, testing him.

As if summoned specifically to thwart her, the skies opened up then, pouring down cold rain hard enough to make them both squint against the splashes. Damn it all, that would be her luck. Despite the downpour, she hated to release him, to lose the feel of his warm body beneath her questing fingertips and, perhaps more to the point, his willingness to allow it. But the rain was cold and relentless, and he was already looking off toward the nearest refuge. Sighing, she pulled away so that she could shield her face from the onslaught.

“Come on,” he said, holding his hand out to her. “We can take shelter in the folly.”

Nodding, she slipped her bare hand into his and hurried forward at his side. The rain was absolutely torrential, far and away the heaviest storm she'd seen since she'd been in the country. She cursed it with every step they took, frustrated to have lost the moment of intimacy.

By they time they reached the relative dryness of the open-air building, both of them were fairly soaked. She reluctantly released the warmth of his hand and shook off her arms. Water rained down, but the silk clung to her despite her efforts to loosen it.

William ran both hands through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. It rebelled against his attempts to tame it, curling up at the ends. He looked more disheveled than she'd ever seen him. It was a very, very good look for him, as far as she was concerned. It
reminded her of her little daydream with him standing on the beach with tousled, sun-kissed hair.

His shirt, bless it, lay damply against his skin, hinting at the contours beneath the fabric. Blowing out a breath, he set his hands to his buckskin-clad hips and smiled. “I'm not sure Mother Nature approves of me divesting myself of my jacket.”

She gave an unladylike snort. “Actually, I think it was an endorsement.” She was only half teasing. He had never looked so virile or approachable. So attainable. Gone was the polished duke, and in his place was a real man.

His smile dimmed a little while his eyes seemed to darken. “Regardless, I think the lesson has been learned.” His gaze flitted down her figure before darting back up. “Perhaps I should fetch our jackets. I wouldn't want you to catch your death.”

And just like that, the duke was back. Sighing, she gave him a wry grin. “They'll be far more soaked than us by now. Besides, this is naught but a gentle rain. You should have seen some of the monsoons I've been through.” She shook her head, thinking of the days and weeks of rain that had seemed to go on forever. “Sometimes, during the rainy season, you begin to dream about what it would feel like to be dry again.”

“And yet you miss it there.” His words held a hint of bafflement, as though it was a concept he couldn't quite comprehend.

Glancing heavenward, she blew out a long sigh. “I do. Very much.” She rubbed her hands over her arms idly, more for comfort than because of any chill.

“Are you cold?” Without waiting for her to answer, he stepped closer and set his hands to her upper arms. The warmth was immediate, and she allowed herself to lean into it. The smell of sandalwood flooded her senses, and it was all she could do not to close her eyes and draw a deep breath.

“You're surprisingly warm,” she murmured, unwilling to admit that she wasn't terribly cold. Not when it would result in the loss of the delicious feel of his hands upon her. The dancing of her heart seemed to make it hard to breathe correctly.