The Bachelor Earl - Darcy Burke Page 0,44

slid over her. “I see. How nice.”

Was he flirting with her? Fanny had next to no experience with that. Mr. Duckworth had tried such nonsense with her, but his efforts always seemed far more...lascivious. She would forever thank her sister from saving her from certain doom. Without Ivy inviting her to come live at Stour’s Edge, Fanny would have undoubtedly found herself the next Mrs. Duckworth. The third, in fact.

Best to just let this gentleman know she wasn’t the sort of woman he might think. “I’m afraid I’m not adept at flirting, nor do I have any interest.”

“Was I flirting?” He moved closer. “I didn’t intend. But I never do, and then a beautiful woman happens across my path and I simply can’t help myself.” His lips curved into an arresting smile.

Fanny’s breath caught. He was the most handsome person she’d ever clapped eyes on. And he was looking at her as if he maybe thought the same thing about her.

Except, he’d just said he flirts with all beautiful women, which meant this wasn’t a singular event for him, as it was for her. And really, she wasn’t beautiful. Far from it. She had freckles and her lips were too full, as her mother was fond of pointing out. “You’re definitely flirting,” she said warily.

“And you are on your guard. As you should be. You’re a bit far from Stour’s Edge, however. Are you certain that is where you are from?”

He doubted her? Actually, perhaps it was best that he did. This was a scandalous encounter, and it would behoove her to keep it from becoming known. Which meant she couldn’t tell anyone about it, and she didn’t want him telling anyone about it either.

“I think I’ll just be on my way.” She turned from him and started down the hill. She made it about twenty feet before she stopped and frowned. She had absolutely no idea where she was going. Blast it all.

“Are you lost?”

The question came from far too close behind her, and she jumped. She quickly turned and backed up at the same time, moving quickly and without care for her location near the top of the hill. Just enough snow had accumulated that she slipped.

And tumbled down the hill.

She landed in a heap at the bottom, her eyes closed and her body smarting from rolling over a few times on the way down.

“Hellfire!”

The proximity of his deep voice made her open her eyes. The concerned, yet still unbelievably handsome, face of the stranger hovered over hers.

“Are you all right?” he demanded, his gaze darkening to the color of iron.

Fanny moved her fingers and toes. “I think so.” Her backside stung most of all, and she was acutely aware of the frigid temperature of the ground beneath her. “It’s quite cold down here.”

He knelt beside her, but quickly clasped her waist and pulled her to stand, rising to his feet in front of her. “Better?”

And now she was acutely aware of his hands on her and the delicious, almost entirely foreign sensation of being held.

She quite liked it.

“Yes,” she said rather breathlessly, realizing she sounded like a ninnyhammer and not caring in the slightest.

“I insist on seeing you home.” He looked up at the sky as the snow seemed to be falling in larger flakes than it had just five minutes before. “Where is that?”

She was cold and now wet, and for some reason she felt safe with him. “Stour’s Edge.”

He gave a firm nod then wrapped her arm over his. “We’ll walk briskly. If you can.”

She nodded then wiped at the dirt and grass that seemed to cover her cloak. He helped her, his hand moving over her hip and then her backside. The moment he made that contact, their gazes connected.

“Sorry,” he murmured before averting his gaze.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, a hundred questions tumbling through her head and an equal amount of sensations coursing through her body.

He glanced over at her, a snowflake landing on his dark lashes and melting almost immediately. “I know we haven’t been properly introduced, but it seems we should take care of that.”

“It’s a bit scandalous, isn’t it?”

“No more so than my caressing your backside.”

Caressing. Oh dear. Those hundred sensations doubled.

“I’m Frances.” She decided it was best to just keep things simple. He didn’t need to know she was Fanny Snowden, sister-in-law to the Duke of Clare.

“I’m David.”

“Pleased to meet you David.” For all she knew he was a footman at a neighboring estate. She doubted