What if I interest you forever, Alexander?
How hungry he’d looked at her question. How frightened, as if she offered him a hope that could be ripped away.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky took on a darker cast. It was barely noon yet it appeared to be late evening. Kitty placed the book on the bed, then selected a shawl from the armoire and made her way from the chamber. Perhaps she needed a more diverting novel to engage her thoughts. She passed a few servants in the hallway, who bobbed and smiled at her. The longcase clock on the landing chimed. She entered the library and let the heavy oak door close behind her. It took a while to understand the sight before her.
“Your Grace?” Kitty questioned sharply.
He was sprawled on his back on the floor, his legs spread open, his hands behind his head. Kitty couldn’t determine if his repose on the carpeted floor had been chosen on purpose or if he had taken a fall. His chair was several feet away by the fire, and he was in the center of the room, with four thick leather-bound books scattered around him.
“Shall I summon your manservant?” she asked tentatively.
He grunted a reply that she missed. Worried that he might be hurt, she spun around and gripped the doorknob. A book slammed into the door above the handle. She whirled toward him. “Alexander!”
“Summon no one,” he growled irritably. “I shall be able to move soon.”
She marched over to him. “You threw a book at me, Your Grace.”
“At the door, Miss Danvers. At the door. I was quite confident it would not hit you or else I would not have risked it. Now stop shooting daggers at me with your eyes.”
This was said with wry amusement, but in the gaze that peered at her, she spied discomfort and a simmering anger. That slow brew of emotions she could hardly understand had her stomach fluttering in nervousness.
The duke was not pleased she’d come upon him in this vulnerable state.
She removed the shawl and let it drop onto the sofa, then glanced around the library. “I came to borrow a book.”
“Did you now?”
How cutting his tone sounded.
She paused, hesitating for a moment or two, and then said, “I was dreadfully bored holed up in my room. The constant rain is ghastly, and I daresay you are a poor host. I am not at all surprised you receive little to no visitors.”
His lips twisted in a cynical smile. “You are not my guest.”
She folded her arms and scowled. “I’m not?”
“You are my captive,” he said repressively.
“You are the most provoking creature I’ve ever encountered!”
Kitty lay down on the carpet beside him. She mimicked his posture by lacing her fingers together and placing them behind her head. They did not speak for several moments, and Kitty was acutely conscious that if she shifted ever so slightly, her shoes might brush his.
Acting on the impulse, she inched her booted feet over and nudged his shin. “So, you fell,” she finally murmured.
“So, I fell.”
Her heart squeezed at the dry flatness in his tone.
“How long have you been lying here?”
“You ask too many questions.”
“You are boorish whenever you are embarrassed.”
He grunted, and her lips twitched. “Would you like me to summon Hoyt or one of the other servants now?”
“No.”
“Whyever not?”