The Heart of a Duke(43)

“What do you think I am doing? He is not budging.” He grunted as he yanked harder, the wooden rod arching in a half moon. “It is caught on something. Rooted.”

“Fish do not put down roots.”

“Tell that to this one,” he muttered, leaning back. “His friends are helping him, holding him back. Fish are smart, they swim in schools.”

Her gaze was glued to the line, but at his banal jest, she glanced up in surprise. It was a mistake, for his eyes danced with laughter and she feared she diagnosed the throbbing pain in her chest. Feared it was her heart being wrenched in two.

His smile faded, his eyes shifting back to the rod. “Ah, why don’t you give me a hand? Even things out?”

His words shattered her immobility, though she hesitated before placing her gloved hands over his, adding her strength.

“Now it is fair game,” he said, grinning.

He retreated a few steps and she stayed with him, frowning as the line refused to break the surface. “What . . .” Her question ended in a screech, for suddenly the line broke free with an explosive splash of water.

The tension abruptly released like a popped cork and Daniel lost his balance, stumbling backward.

Involuntarily she sought to assist him as his arm circled her waist.

His knees backed into the overturned trunk, and the next thing she knew, she was tumbling over the makeshift bench.

She cried out, vaguely aware of Daniel catching her against his side as they landed with a thud that knocked the wind from her. Daniel’s body cushioned her fall, as much as a rock-solid muscular chest could soften anything.

Daniel grunted as her elbow connected with his stomach and she ended up sprawled half on him, half beside him. Mortified at the feel of his body intimately aligned with hers, the heat of him seeping through her riding habit, she quickly rolled to the side, too winded to speak or sidle farther away. She hoped the fall had knocked some sense into her.

“Who’s idea was this?” Daniel groaned.

“You never could catch anything.”

Rather than take offense at her comments as Edmund might have, his laughter vibrated through her side in a delicious ripple.

He turned his head to face her, and his proximity stole what little breath she had managed to draw. Good lord, he was handsome. She wanted to reach out and press her finger into that enticing cleft in his chin.

“I caught you,” he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek.

It was then she realized it was not a branch digging into her back but Daniel’s arm, and he was slowly drawing her closer.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“Reeling you in.”

His arms were like iron bands, her body now sprawled on top of his, one of her legs intimately tucked between his.

“Let go of me!” She squirmed, then stilled when his grip tightened at her movements. The shock of his body beneath hers, a sturdy muscular wall of strength, had her hesitating, for her hips were intimately pressed to his. Mortified, she shoved at his chest, but found it immovable.

Her eyes widened when he lifted his head to sniff at her neck, as if she were a puppy dog. “What are you doing?” She arched away.

“Rosemary and mint.” He sounded pleased.

A calloused finger skimmed the curve of her cheek. She stared into his mesmerizing eyes. She was so close she could see the rim of black circling his irises, feel each breath he drew gently lifting her, savor his arms, strong and cradling her to him. Holding her. If only she could stay there for just a little while longer.

When Daniel’s fingers moved from her cheek to her lips in a featherlight touch, it brought her back to her senses. Her voice shook as she spoke. “You must stop. This is not proper.”

“And you are always proper?”

The husky cadence sent shivers down her spine and goose bumps rising on her arms. It took all her willpower to ignore them, for the answer was yes. Despite her desperately wishing it was no. She wished to be that girl who first met Daniel, reckless, daring, and so very improper. To lean low and press her lips to his as she had done that fateful day. To touch him as her heart yearned to do.

But it was not to be.

She was the dutiful daughter of an earl. She was proper, dependable, and responsible.

And she was marrying his brother.

She twisted away, the tear in her heart widening, her vision blurring. “I cannot. Please. I cannot,” she cried, planting her hands on his chest and scrambling to her feet. She swiped at a blinding strand of her hair that had tumbled loose in her fall, securing it behind her ear. “I have to go. I have to go now.” She cursed the breaking hitch in her voice.

“Julia, wait,” he called, leaping to his feet. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I apologize. Please, if I promise to behave and keep my distance, please stay.”