“Can you not?” he asked softly. “Then you have more sense than I could have hoped. Now, I think it best if I get out of the bath and put on a linen towel so we might have a more precise conversation. Or do you prefer to stare?”
Her cheeks suddenly blossomed red.
He could tell even in the darkness. He did not wish to make her feel embarrassed, and he’d linger all damned night in the tub if need be. But surely she did not wish to stand beside the tub with his entire form bared to her as she spilled out her tale of woe?
She whipped away. “Yes, of course, please get out of the water,” she said, then she shook her head which caused her hood to fall, revealing russet hair that glinted with red in the firelight. “Wait, no,” she protested. “I have you at a disadvantage there. Stay. I do not want you to be able to suddenly grab me and force me to your—”
“Will?” He put in.
She gave a tight nod, her shoulders squared.
He wanted to be offended. He’d be a fool to be. She was showing more good sense. Though her presence in his chamber alone at night either bespoke great foolishness or desperation.
He was fairly certain which she was possessed of.
“Dear girl, I have not forced someone to my will ever,” he assured. “That is not my line. I have no desire to hurt you. I promise you that.”
A muscle in her cheek tightened. “You have already hurt me, but I cannot blame you for it,” she countered.
“Then why are you here?” he queried.
A pained laugh slipped past her lips. “Because I need help.”
“Bloody hell, I’ve done it, haven’t I?”
“What?” She demanded. “Are you—”
“I am not making fun,” he announced, wanting to calm her ire. “I am merely lamenting the fact that I thought I had taken care of one problem only to create another. That is the way of the world though. Since you do not wish me to stand, come closer. Our current positions make this a most awkward tête-à-tête.”
She stared at him as if he had lost his wits. Perhaps he had. But if he had, it had been many years ago.
She intrigued him, and he would not let her go until he knew the depth of the damage he’d caused by aiding his friend Tom and his new wife.
“You do not seem a shrinking miss,” he observed. “But if one of those men was your brother, then you know none of them were good men.”
Her eyes narrowed. “No, my brother was not a good man. He was shallow, unkind, selfish, and no doubt wished someone harm, which means… thatyouare a good man.”
“Why in God’s name would you say that?” he demanded, shocked, nearly slipping into the tub as far as he could go. But he held himself steady.
She notched up her chin a degree as she admitted, “Because you called my brother out on the field of honor to take care of the Earl of Glenbroch’s wife.”
He stared at her, stunned. She was onhisside?
“Did you not?” She challenged before she shuddered. “The shame that had been done to her… it was appalling. You are chivalrous. You are like the knights of old. You stood up against a villain, and you called him out. Unlike all the other cowards of the ton, you shot my brother and forced him to run away.”
“I didn’t force him to run away,” he said quietly. “He did that of his own accord. He was terrified that I was going to kill him on or off the dueling field.”
“And would you have?” she asked, her gloved hands curling into fists.
“Yes,” he replied honestly. “If necessary, but I preferred to just shoot him in the leg. It’s more efficient to make people afraid than to actually kill them. Too much bloody explaining even as a duke, don’t you know, when you kill a person.”
“I do not know,” she confessed. “I will make note of it.”
“Good.” He studied her, more and more intrigued by her presence and her view of him and his actions. “Were you considering killing someone?”
“Not yet,” she replied, a russet brow arching.
He chortled. He couldn’t help himself. “You have an interesting spirit,” he said.