The Duke I'm Going to Marry(40)

Dillie heard the snap of twigs and rustle of bushes as Charles came to his senses and ran off.

“Odious man,” Dillie muttered after him.

Ian turned to face her. It was too dark to see his rage, but she sensed it. “Damn it, Dillie,” he said, the words coming out as more of a groan than a shout. In truth, he wasn’t shouting at her at all. “What were you doing out here alone with Ealing?”

She cast him a weak smile, though she doubted he could see it in the darkness. “Obviously, I was doing my best to fight him off. He lured me out here on the pretense of searching for Lady Mary. I don’t suppose she was ever out here. I feel so stupid.” She heard the gentle trickle of water in the fountain and the soft breeze dancing through the leaves. She heard Ian’s quiet breaths as he brushed a stray curl behind her ear.

“Did he hurt you?” There was something achingly sweet in the way Ian touched her. Then the moon slipped out from behind a cloud and she saw the concern etched in his handsome face.

She felt her eyes well with tears and knew she was about to cry. She struggled to keep those tears from streaming down her cheeks. “Only with his words. I’m fine. Truly. I ought to have realized that he only wanted me for my trust fund.”

Ian took her trembling hands in his, holding them gently against his chest. His heart was beating calmly, not pounding or racing as hers was. “He didn’t mean it, Dillie. He was hurt and not expecting to be rebuffed. Now that Mary’s free to marry again, she’s taken a closer look at the Ealing fortune that Charles will soon inherit. Probably didn’t like that he was interested in you, so she did her best to undermine your courtship. He might have seen through her lies had he been sober.”

“He’s horrid. He ought to have known better. How could he believe her? How could he think I was that sort of girl? I’m going to hit him again when I see him.”

Ian let out a soft laugh. “You’ll only break your hand. He isn’t worth the effort.”

“I suppose not. Still, he made me feel dirty.” She shuddered. “But you were wonderful. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“You would have managed to extricate yourself,” he said, his manner still gentle. He smelled of sandalwood and a hint of spice, not at all stale or pungent. “I just made certain it happened sooner.”

She eased away to sit on the stone rim of the fountain. She was still trembling and needed to hold onto something hard and firm. Just not Ian. He felt too good. She wasn’t certain she’d ever let go of him. She wanted to breathe him in. She wanted to feel his warm skin against her palms. Instead, she gripped the hard stone. “This has been an awful night for you. I’m sorry I made it worse.”

He eased his large frame beside her. “You didn’t. I felt like hitting something. You gave me the opportunity. I ought to be thanking you.”

She shook her head and laughed.

He took her hands back in his and held them loosely. “You’re cold. I’ll walk you back inside.”

She took a deep breath. “I think I need another moment. Do you mind?”

“Take as long as you wish.”

He kept hold of her hands, lightly rubbing them to keep them warm. However, he maintained a loose grip. It was his way of showing her that she could pull away at any time. Unlike Charles, he had no intention of forcing her to do anything she didn’t wish to do.

He was being Good Ian again.

Good Ian was dangerous.

Good Ian made her want to be very, very bad. Only with Ian, of course. It wouldn’t be fun to be bad with anyone else.

“Charles is bigger and stronger than I realized, but I wasn’t afraid of him. I was thinking of Lily and how she must have felt when she was abducted, carried out of London, and held captive by a man she’d always considered a friend. Her ordeal lasted for several days. Mine lasted less than a minute, yet I’m still shaking.”

Her eyes began to water again. “Lily kept her wits about her, escaped some very dangerous ruffians.” She took a ragged breath. “I know it happened almost a year ago, but it feels like yesterday. She was the one in danger, but look at me. An inebriated lout tries to kiss me, and I can’t stop trembling. I think I’m about to cry. I’m such a ninny.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Then what am I? Other than a bank account to be courted by an amiable clunch who, it turns out, is not so amiable after all?” She drew another ragged breath. “I ought to be disappointed, but in truth, I’m relieved. I’ve never felt anything for him. Try as I might, I couldn’t summon up the least bit of excitement.” She rested her head against Ian’s shoulder. He felt warm and inviting. “I think I’m doomed to be a spinster.”