Then he walked away, and she watched him until he disappeared from sight. What did Mr. Collins want from her? And not only him but Penny as well. Even the staff seemed to watch Kitty with an unexplained air of expectancy.
She continued her walk to the lake, and once there, she lingered by the bank, watching the duke rowing lazily atop the waters. Kitty was afforded an opportunity to study him at her leisure and couldn’t help noting how alone he seemed. Surely there must be some connection, she mused, for he paused, seemingly took a steadying breath, and then shifted his regard to her.
She lifted her hand in a wave, and from where Kitty stood, she saw a small curve to his lips.
Relief darted through her when he used the oars and turned the boat toward her. He stopped only a few feet from her, the muscles of his arms working as he angled the boat so the bow gently tapped the banking. Then he released the oars, resting his arms casually atop his thighs, and stared at her.
His cerulean blue eyes were so empty and distant, her heart ached. Kitty did not flinch from his regard but held it with a lift to her chin. “Have you been ignoring me, Your Grace?”
“Good afternoon, Katherine,” he finally said.
“Ah…so no walls up today. I anticipated ‘Miss Danvers’ from your lips.”
His eyes lost their cold, rather cynical expression, warming with humor…and desire.
She was surely too practical, and had too much common sense, to be beguiled by a smile, yet her heart fluttered madly at the sensual curve of his mouth. A sweet twisting ache stirred in her belly, and her heart quickened. “Would you like some company in your boat? I have a book,” she offered impulsively.
“Yes.”
Kitty would have been considerably disappointed if he’d refused.
Alexander stood, rocking the boat, and held out his hand. With caution, she stepped forward and reached for him.
“Jump,” he said, his eyes alight with amusement.
Kitty glanced at the space between the boat and the embankment with a scowl. “And if I should fall in?”
?
??I’ll not allow it.”
And without hesitation, she jumped, trusting him to help her safely into the boat, which rocked far too precariously when she landed. With a soft grunt, he steadied her, then assisted her in sitting down on the thwart. His touch muddied her thoughts and made her warm all over. “Do you row often?” she asked, a bit too breathlessly.
“There are times the walls of the castle feel…cold and oppressing, when the memories torment,” he said mildly.
“And you come here…” She glanced around at the wide-open waters, the graceful weeping willow trees in the distance.
“And I come here.”
He sat directly in front of her, collected the oars, and started to row. They stayed like that, in this silence that felt so peaceful. Kitty lifted her face to where the rays of the sun valiantly attempted to peek through swollen clouds. After a while, she withdrew the small leather book from her pocket and decided to start from the beginning, in the event he’d not read The Legend of Sleepy Hollow before.
She started reading, changing her voice at times to reflect the different characters who appeared in the story. Several minutes passed before she paused, glancing up. The duke was staring at her. A ripple of warmth shivered through Kitty’s heart at the tender regard in his gaze.
“You read beautifully,” he murmured.
“Thank you. I do so often for my sisters and mother. And Papa, too, when…when he was alive.” She cleared her throat. “Shall I continue?”
“Please,” he murmured, pushing the oars forward, then clawing them back with powerful grace. The muscles rippling under his shirt quickened her pulse alarmingly, and she looked away, hating the blush rising in her cheeks.
She read, and he rowed, his face slightly tipped to the warmth and beauty of the sun.
Kitty peeked at him over the pages at times, wanting to be a part of the peace he seemed to exude. The scarred section of his face seemed to pull taut over the elegant ridge of his cheekbone, and in the midst of it, an icy radiance appeared to emit from the duke. How odd that he found such enjoyment in loneliness. Or was it that he was too enmeshed with the state?
A surreal sensation gripped her, and she wondered if she would ever completely know the man before her. Even now, there was a terrible air of isolation about him.
Closing the book gently, she rested it on a small basket on the floor of the boat. She noted the apples and sandwiches tucked neatly in. “Does it matter to you at all that I am here…in this boat with you?” she asked softly.
He stopped rowing. The eyes that peered at her were unfathomable. He reached for her, his fingers tracing the lines of her cheekbones and jaw.