How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,24
wild flowers. She doubted they were his. She drew a deep breath, ready to endure his anger.
He turned to face her and smiled. “Good morning. How do you contrive to look more beautiful each time I see you?”
This amiable, light-hearted flirting took her by complete surprise. Was it some cruel joke?
“I d-don’t,” she stammered.
“Then it must be nature.” He bowed and picked the flowers up from the table. “I brought you these, though I wasn’t quite sure of the etiquette in the circumstances.”
She lifted her chin. “Because we quarrelled?”
His eyebrow flew up. “Did we? I meant the circumstances of you being a lady of birth, rather than a lady of the stage.”
Since he still held them out to her, she took them automatically. “Thank you.” She laid them down again on the same table. “I imagine you have given many such to ladies of the stage.”
“And of birth,” he said tranquilly. “Although I can promise I have never given anyone anything as exquisite as this.” He indicated the beribboned box.
She didn’t move. “I cannot accept gifts from Your Grace. It would not be proper.”
He considered her. “Can this really be the girl who sat beside me on a tree branch, throwing apples at my carriage?”
“No,” she retorted. “We are agreed I have grown up.”
“Then indulge me. As a friend of your family, I surely have a right to make you a birthday gift.”
She hesitated, even glanced around for Hammy who, most improperly, had not accompanied her into the room.
Then she untied the ribbon and removed the lid from the box. Slowly, she lifted out the alabaster sculpture within. It was the mischievous child.
She raised her gaze to his and found his eyes gleaming with laughter. It was an effort not to answer with a spontaneous smile of her own.
“I thought you would like it,” he said.
“I do. And you are most kind.”
“I am, for I admit I would like it as my own. But it should be yours. I daresay you even know the sculptor.”
“I do,” she managed.
“He is very talented.”
“Yes, she is.”
He let out a crack of laughter that almost undid her.
Abruptly, she turned, pacing away from him. “Why do you make me gifts? Are you not disgusted with me?”
For a moment, he was silent. She even wondered if he had gone. And then he spoke so close behind her that she jumped. “How could I be disgusted by a kiss like that?”
Her cheeks burned, but she forced herself to turn and face him. “If not by the kiss, then by the motive behind it. I led you on.”
“To win a game, I know. To make me propose, so that you could reject me.”
It made her ashamed to hear, but she held his gaze bravely. “Exactly.”
He smiled. “Then play on, my dear Sarah, for you have not yet won.”
Her eyes widened with incomprehension.
He leaned closer, so close she could smell his soap, the faint scent of coffee on his breath. “I did not ask you to marry me.”
“You kissed me!” she said indignantly.
His lips quirked. “You cannot be so naïve as to believe a kiss means marriage. Besides, you are underage. In theory, I should first ask your father’s permission to pay my addresses to you.”
“Why don’t you ask him if you may kiss me?” she retorted. “That is a conversation I would like to hear!”
He grinned. “I’ll bet you would. But marriage is, by nature, a public business. Kissing is a much more private affair.”
She glared at him, and tried to snatch back her hand when he took it in his. His fingers loosened at once, and perversely, she chose to leave it there.
“Come, Sarah,” he said softly. “Admit the game has been fun, and let us finish it with a wager.”
“A wager?” she repeated, thrown. “For what?”
“For the sculpture.” He jerked his head toward the table. “You may keep it and win all honors if I ask you to marry me before I leave Whitmore. But if you kiss me before then, you must give me back the statue.”
Butterflies soared in her stomach, dissipating the nervous knot that had gathered there. “Why?” she asked suspiciously.
He smiled. “Fun, of course.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.
The touch of his mouth burned, arousing. She struggled for something witty to say and found nothing.
He released her. “Now, I must go. James has found some people to help us dig.”
“Dig?” she repeated. She thought she must be going mad.
“For Viking treasure. Feel free to come and