by Tessa Bowen
“Yes, quite.”
He watched the girl intently as she kicked off her shoes and rolled up her tattered jeans. Her thin white tank top did little to conceal her body. It rolled up over her stomach as she dove for the birdy. She tripped and went down, howling with riotous laughter as Charlotte leapt on top of her. The girls rolled together on the grass, pinching and poking each other. Her threadbare jeans had slouched down low and a pair of very bright polka dot underwear peeked out of over the top of her waistband.
“Charlotte will stain her dress rolling around on the grass like that.”
The Duke hardly noticed the Baroness’s silken caress on his wrist. “Stains on dresses are the least of my worries.”
“Let’s go upstairs for a bit, my pet. You look very much as though you need to unwind.”
“Not now.”
She dropped her hand from his arm and pouted prettily. “I’ve never known you to turn me down. What’s gotten into you?”
“It’s the middle of the day,” he snapped.
“That certainly never stopped you before.”
Trevor grumbled in annoyance and called across the lawn. “Come along, Charlotte. No more cavorting. It’s time for lunch.”
Charlotte ran toward her father, taking the hand he held out to her. He threw a stern look over his shoulder at his unlikely house guest before heading into the house. Izzy snatched up her sneakers and brushed the grass from her bottom.
“You are quite good at this, aren’t you, Miss De Luca?” the Baroness commented.
“What do you mean?”
“Getting him to notice you—you are quite good at it.”
“Notice me?”
“He notices you in the way a man notices a woman.”
Izzy let out a loud snort. “Are you kidding me, the guy hates me.”
“All this quarreling and sparring, it’s the dance of seduction, is it not?”
“Oh yeah, I’m a real seductress.”
“You know you’ll have to share him, don’t you?”
“Share him! Are you nuts, lady? That guy wouldn’t touch me if I was the last chick on Earth. He doesn’t even see me as a chick. He thinks I look like a boy.”
“He can’t take his eyes off you.”
Izzy pulled on her hooded sweatshirt with a yank. “That’s because he is totally disgusted by me, it’s probably like staring at a car accident. You know, you can’t stop looking at it even though it’s totally gross.”
“You could be very attractive if you tried. You have awfully good bones.”
“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t even know what that means.”
“Just so long as you realize you are one of many. We all wait on line to spend an hour with him. He’s that good.”
Izzy adopted the tone of an outraged upper class Englishwoman as she brushed past the baroness. “I’m suuuuuuuure I don’t know what you meeeeeeeean!”
“Wait a minute, Isabel. I think we have gotten off on the wrong foot. There is no reason we can’t be friends.”
“It would be raaaaaaaaaaather civilized.”
Abigail laughed with delight. “Oh, you do have us down pat, don’t you?”
Izzy laughed a little too. Her gaze drifted over the beautiful woman. What would it feel like to have it all, long legs, a perfect body and face—an hour with him?
“You must excuse me for acting a bit territorial. Trevor and I have known each other since we were children.”
“He probably wore a friggin’ suit in the cradle.”
“I know Trevor can be quite stuffy and cantankerous at times—”
Trevor. She gets to call him Trevor.
“—but you see, when he is in an agreeable mood, he can make you feel as though you are the only woman in the universe. I’m one of many too, waiting for the same thing—a chance to spend some time alone with him.”
“Well, I’ve spent some time alone with him and it was like being roasted alive over a slow flame. That guy is a friggin’ nightmare.”
The spirited young American flounced into the house.
“Good bones is not all she has,” the Baroness muttered under her breath.
Chapter Six
Izzy placed her hand in Sir Archibald’s cool palm. She felt tiny standing in the center of the massive ball room.
“I’m going to lead you in a simple waltz, Miss De Luca.”
“Okay, but get ready to have the tops of your shoes all scuffed up when I step on ’em.”
He began to lead her in a simple swaying motion. “We will start slow, until you get the hang of it.”
“He wants you to teach me, so I won’t look like a total friggin’ spazz at the ball, right?”
“His Grace just wants you to be comfortable.”
“Ha! Comfortable, yeah right. He sure cares a lot about appearances, doesn’t he?”
“His Grace has lots of attention on him when he goes out into the world. At this point in his life, he prefers the slower pace of the country. Here, he can let his guard down and relax.”
“Relax! That guy could never relax. He has a stick shoved so far up his—” Izzy snapped her mouth shut when the old secretary went ashen. “Okay, Archie, show me your moves.”
Archie cleared his throat. “To start, the gentleman places his hand at the lady’s waist.”
“Sir Archibald! Are you getting fresh?”
He blushed and guided her free hand to his shoulder. “Form is everything, Miss De Luca. Stand tall and proud.”
Izzy sucked in a great, big breath and puffed her cheeks out, trying to look very important.
“Oh, Miss De Luca, you are such a prankster,” he chastised. “We will never get through this.”
“Okay, I’ll stop goofing around.”
“The waltz is the backbone of ballroom dancing. Mastering the box-step is crucial. “Now, count with me. One, two, three. One, two, three…”
“…one, two, three. One, two, three,” Izzy repeated, staring down at his feet.
“All distance is traveled on the first beat and the next two beats are done in place.”
“Hey, I’m floating!”
“Waltzing is very much like floating. You are doing very well and I’m an old scarecrow. His Grace is a fine dancer. You will be as light as a feather in his arms tomorrow night.”
“This is pretty fun.”
“Now, we will go a bit faster—”
“What’s this music? I like it.”
“Strauss, a personal favorite of mine.”
“And I haven’t stepped on your toes once.”
“You are doing splendidly.”
“Let’s go faster, Archie!”
“Oh, Miss De Luca, I am a feeble, old man! My bones will shatter.”
“No, they won’t. Come on!”
Izzy led Sir Archibald in a riotous march. He was going faster than he had ever thought possible and remarkably, the pain in his left hip did not seem to bother him at all. His cane was halfway across the room and it didn’t seem to matter at all.
“Oh, Miss De Luca! You make me feel thirty again—or at least fifty!”
Izzy’s wild laughter echoed throughout the cavernous room. Rare sounds of delight reverberated through the house, bringing the Duke out of his study. Trevor followed the sounds of feminine mirth until he came upon a most surprising scene. He leaned in the doorway and watched with bemusement as the American troublemaker tossed the old secretary around the ballroom.
Her face was split wide open as she laughed with delight. Sir Archibald had joined in as well and was giggling like a school girl. Trevor wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Sir Archibald laugh like that before. The girl was up on her tiptoes, whirling and twirling. Her little brown legs worked hard, but not as hard as Archie’s. She was wearing one of her awful t-shirts and short skirt combinations, her sneakers having been kicked off and tossed in the corner. She always seemed to be half-dressed, this silly girl, and barefoot. Trevor wondered how she found clothes small enough to
fit her.
Junior elf department.
Archibald caught sight of the Duke as Strauss’s Blue Danube came to an end. The old man stopped so abruptly that Izzy slammed right into him. Clinging to his arm, she peered over Archie’s shoulder. The Duke watched them from the doorway, arms crossed. Silence fell in the room.
“Oh, oh—party’s over,” Izzy muttered under her breath.
He unfolded his long, lean body and moved toward them. He was dressed more casually today in dark grey cords and a black sweater. Izzy fought to catch her breath as he approached and suddenly Archibald wished his cane wasn’t such a long way off.
The Duke raised an eyebrow at his secretary. “You are positively giddy, old boy.”
“I was taking Miss De Luca on a turn. Or rather she was taking me on one—Your Grace. She was doing quite well.”
“Well, she hasn’t broken any windows and the chandelier still seems to be bolted down tight.”
Archie wiped his bald head with a handkerchief. “Miss De Luca is a lively partner, Your Grace.”
“That’s one way of putting it (if you consider tornadoes lively, that is). You will have to slow your pace down tomorrow night, Miss De Luca. It wouldn’t be proper to go shooting about the room like a cannonball.”
Izzy gave him one of her signature eye rolls.
“Perhaps, you two should take a turn, Your Grace,” Sir Archibald suggested.
The next song started up. The Duke held up his arms. “Shall we give it a go?”
Oh, crap. I’ll go all jelly-legged if he touches me.
“Um…okay.”
“Will you promise to be gentle with me—or shall I go change into a helmet and a pair of knee pads?”
The heat of his touch scorched her through her thin t-shirt as his hand came around her waist. His scent suffused her senses and her head started to spin. She stared at her feet as he led her in a slow waltz.
Crap. Crap. Crap. Why does he have to smell so good?
“You will have to look at me, Miss De Luca. It will help to keep you centered.”
Anxiously, she raised her eyes from the floor. Bright morning light shot in through the windows. His eyes were a pale, icy blue today—a stark contrast to the darkness of his lashes—dark lashes tipped with gold dust and mixed with threads of copper. He must have sold his soul to the Devil for those eyelashes and that jawline—crisp, square, ever so masculine…
She tore her eyes away from him with a frustrated groan. “Arghhhh, I can’t friggin’ look at you!”
“Why ever not?”
“You are too good looking! It totally throws me off.”
“Don’t start with that again,” he snapped.
“It’s so unfair,” she said bitterly.
“Perhaps I should maim myself so we can bloody get on with it. Shall I boil my face in oil—or go at my nose with a cheese grater? Would that make you happy?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Relax your arms and follow my lead. Mind your posture; your slouching is very unbecoming. You will be wearing a dress tomorrow, which will help you move in a more feminine fashion. But you must stand up straight or you will look like a child playing dress up.”
The music rushed in her ears. Her limbs were frozen and her feet felt as though they were made of lead. She had been weightless with Sir Archibald, now her body felt like it was imprisoned in a vice grip. She stumbled forward, coming down on the toe of one of his fine Italian loafers.
The Duke’s arms froze in midair. “Why are you bungling?”
“I told you, you make me too nervous!”
“You were doing fine with Archie, just a minute ago?” he bit out crossly.
“He doesn’t look like you and he doesn’t act like you.”
“Pull yourself together, will you?”
“You are doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Acting like a total a-hole!”
“Bloody hell,” he hissed. “I’ll have to put a piece of tape over your mouth tomorrow night. Archie, turn that bloody music off.”
“If you want to get people to do what you want—you have to be nice—like Archie.”
“You must learn the steps,” he said tightly. “You only have a day to get it right.”
Archibald scurried to do the Duke’s bidding. “Fear not, Your Grace. Miss De Luca and I have all morning to practice—”
“Stop being a control freak,” Izzy interjected. “Just let me be myself. You can’t make me into something I’m not. I already told you I’ll wear a stupid dress tomorrow night. And I won’t chew gum.”
“I think it’s best if you do chew gum,” he railed at her. “In fact, I beseech you to chew a wad so gigantic that you will be rendered speechless. Every other word out of your bloody mouth is a curse word.”
“So friggin’ what? God, you are like the worst boss ever.”
“Why must you be so difficult?”
“You think anyone who does not agree with you is being ‘difficult’. You have a house full of servants who you order around like they’re slaves. Why can’t you talk to people like they are human beings? I won’t bow and scrape to you. We don’t have princes in America, you know?”
“I’m not a bloody prince.”
“Stop acting like one then!”
The Duke recoiled as though she had slapped him. He turned to his secretary in bewilderment. Sir Archibald’s hands began to shake. In that moment, the old man looked so pathetic that the Duke felt a little ashamed of himself. Perhaps, it was time to take pity on the both of them.
He set his jaw and drew a deep breath. “Right, that’s it. We are going for a ride.”
“A what?”
“I’m taking you for a ride, I said.”
The old secretary practically looked like he would weep for joy. “What a marvelous idea, Your Grace!”
“A ride where?” Izzy asked. “To the train station? Should I pack my bags?”
“His Grace wishes to show you the estate, Miss De Luca. It is as vast as it is beautiful.”
“Follow me,” the Duke ordered.
Izzy’s lip curled as she trailed behind him in her bare feet. “I don’t wanna go anywhere with you. You’re the biggest nightmare of the century.”
The Duke ignored her gibe. “You will need to dress in proper clothes; a jacket—long pants and boots.”
“I’ll see to it, Your Grace,” the butler said, materializing as if by magic.
“Have her ready in ten minutes. I’ll be waiting out front.”
TEN MINUTES LATER, Izzy stood on the front steps dressed in a sweater, tall rubber boots and a jacket. The jacket was much too large for her and the sleeves hung almost to her knees.
She gaped at the Duke who sat astride a large chestnut-colored horse. “We are going on a horse!”
“Naturally.”
“I thought we were going in a car—I’ve never been on a horse before.”
He drew back in the saddle. “You’re joking, of course?”
“No, sorry to shock you, but I didn’t have a pet pony when I was a little girl.”
“Well, there is a first time for everything. Riding a horse is one of the most rewarding experiences a person can have. It is high time you have your first equine encounter. Come along.”
“You want me to get up there with you? No way.”
“I thought you were braver than that,” he challenged. “Frightened of a horse—I mean really.”
“That thing is huge. How do I even get up there?”
“Just give me your hand and put your foot in the stirrup. When I pull you into the saddle, throw your leg over him (if it can reach all the way, that is). Perhaps I should have had them saddle up one of the spaniels.”
“Hardy friggin’ har.” Cautiously, she moved down the steps to stand in front of horse and rider. The animal looked even more gigantic up close. “I don’t know—that is waaaaay up there…”
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said
in a surprisingly gentle tone. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
Isabel met his piercing gaze. He was using his persuasive magnetism to put her in a trance. She put her small hand in his and yelped as he lifted her up onto the horse. The Duke’s arms came around her as he took up the reins. His rich voice sounded close to her ear, washing over her in a velvety caress.
“Reach out and stroke his mane. He is a sweet fellow. Go on, give him a pat. He’ll like it very much.”
The russet mane of the horse felt silky against her fingers. She wondered if he purposefully rode a horse that had the same color hair as he did, so he would look extra dashing when he sat astride it.
Probably.
“Lean against me.”
Izzy tucked her chin low into the collar of the jacket. She melted into the cradle of his chest.
Holy Crap. The Devil Duke is taking me on a horsey ride.
The Duke dug in his heels. “Hold on.”
Izzy screeched as the animal lurched forward. She gripped the Duke’s thighs, flopping against his broad chest as the scenery whizzed by. They moved through the trees and across the lawn, racing across the softly, rolling meadow. A herd of sheep scattered in every direction, making way as they charged by.
The Duke slowed the pace as they circled the pond. The horse moved at a sedate clip now. Izzy was out of breath with excitement. Her blood ran hot in her veins and her heart skipped a crazy beat. A refreshing layer of dew moistened her face and the air was clean and crisp. His strong arms supported her. She relaxed against him and drank in the beauty around her. In the distance, she made out an old stone bridge with a brook babbling beneath it. They came to a grove of mighty oaks—the rolling hills peeked through the mesh of branches and leaves.
Trevor dismounted, looking up at her. She was breathing hard and her cheeks were flushed with color. Her eyes were round as saucers and her mouth hung open a bit.
For once the little twit has nothing to say.
He held out his arms for her but she was too stunned to move. She cried out in surprise when he snatched her from the saddle. Trevor enjoyed hearing that little sound escape from her throat (almost like a mouse squeaking).