My Darling Duke

“I can easily believe it is your eyesight that is sorely compromised.”

With a grunt, he pushed himself to his elbows and closed his eyes. His jaw clenched against the pain he must be feeling, but he did not ask for her help. Frustration bit at her, and she wanted to shout that she did not pity him but quite admired his fortitude, yet she knew he would reject such assurances.

Kitty swung herself into an elegant sitting pose and watched as he grunted and heaved himself into the same. She stood, walked over to the wheelchair, and rolled it over to him. She expected to see anger in the gaze staring up at her, but instead there was warm amusement. It flustered her, and she walked around the chair and held out her hand.

“You are determined to help me, hmm?”

“I daresay it equals your desire to not ask for it.”

She held out her hand; he grasped it and tugged her to him so she tumbled onto the floor into his lap. With a pained groan, he fell back and she sprawled over him, quite inelegantly. Her face was pressed to his chest, one of her legs draped across his thighs. Kitty was practically lying on top of the duke, and the shock of the position froze her for several moments.

A choked noise, which suspiciously sounded like laughter, came from his chest.

“I cannot find anything humorous in the situation,” she gasped, trying to scramble off him, pressing her palms flat against his chest and rearing upward.

An exaggerated moan of agony slipped from him. “Dear God, Miss Danvers, pray do not move.”

“Good heavens! I am hurting you,” Kitty cried and remained still atop him. “I’ll be gentler,” she breathed, trying to reassure him. Except with each minute shift atop him, another overly long groan came from him, and Kitty found herself unable to

move for fear of hurting him. “I am going to ease toward your left side; please remain still and—”

A perfunctory knock sounded, and with a gasp, she turned her head to the door. It opened and the housekeeper bustled inside. “Your Grace, I—”

She gaped at them, and then to Kitty’s astonishment the most delighted smile creased the woman’s face and she clapped her hands together twice in her excitement, for it was certainly not alarm at a witnessed impropriety. Without another word, the housekeeper turned and hurried away, closing the door behind her.

“Why, I cannot credit it!” Kitty gasped.

She snapped her gaze to the man beneath her and stilled. His eyes were glowing with something wicked. “You wretched tease, you are in no pain! And your servants are in serious need of correction!”

Ignoring his laughter, she pushed herself off his body, uncaring her knees went perilously close to his man’s part. Kitty stood, fisted a hand on her hip, and sent him a glare that promised retribution, before storming away and out of the library.

She did not make it far before she paused and pressed a hand over her mouth, stifling her laugh.

The odious man.

She hurried back and gently eased the door open. He was in the wheeled chair, clasping the edges in a white-knuckled grip, bracing against whatever pain ravaged his body.

Understanding dawned, and her throat burned. Alexander had not wanted her to witness this pain…that he possibly saw as weakness.

His head was tipped back against the headrest, and his chest rose and fell rapidly as he conquered the pain. She made her way over to him, uncaring he would want her gone, desperate to offer some comfort.

She stepped behind him, and the eyes that had been shut and lifted to the ceiling snapped open.

“You came back,” he grunted, his lips tightening.

She brushed a damp tendril of hair from his forehead with acute tenderness. “I came back.”

He stared at her, and she wished he would voice the questions in his gaze. Perhaps then clarity would come to her heart and she would understand the feelings growing for him. She leaned down. “I forgot my book.”

Appreciation lit in his eyes, but the pain lingered.

“I’ll sing for you,” she offered.

“Dear God, no, I am already in enough agony.”

Kitty gasped in outrage and started to sing. He shrugged in mock resignation, as if he would just have to bear it. But upon his lips a smile curved, the hand that had gripped the chair loosened, and the frown that had split his brows disappeared.

An odd sense of happiness and belonging burst inside her when he started to laugh, realizing the song was about a young lady who ended up strangling a duke while he slept.