She snorted. “Gertie doesn’t want to marryyou. No offense.”
“None taken,” he said faintly, then changed his mind. “All offense taken. Why attend the Debutante Derby if she doesn’t want to marry me?”
“She didn’tknowshe didn’t want to until she met you.”
Now he should definitely be taking offense.
Instead, all he could do was rejoice. For now at least, there was nothing to stop Cynthia from kissing him.
He wrapped his arms about her midsection.
She laced her fingers behind his neck. “You scare Gertie. But you don’t scare me.”
“Nothing does, I suspect.” He suckled her bottom lip. “You scare the devil out of me.”
She grinned. “Good.”
That was the last word spoken for several long minutes as Alexander kissed her with all of the hunger he’d kept locked deep inside.
He wished more than anything that he and Cynthia Louise could have more than stolen kisses.
But he was a duke, and despite her opinion on the matter, dukes were not always able to do as they pleased.
Chapter 9
Cynthia Louise stood atop the snow-covered peak behind Marlowe Castle and flung her arms open wide.
Thiswas the panorama she’d been craving. Snow in every direction. Rolling fields of evergreens to the left, red-roofed cottages of Cressmouth to the right, and directly in front of her... the perfect spot to slide down the mountain on skis.
Blast it all, she should have brought them along, just in case her scouting adventure bore fruit. Although the slightly less steep section just beside it was often used for sledding, that wasn’t the only criteria for a ski hill. She’d needed to ascertain the depth and consistency of the snow, and ensure it stretched over the entire area.
Luckily for her, a snowstorm earlier that month had set things up nicely. The difficult part was going to be convincing Gertie to come with her. Every time the earl took the extended family on holiday to Norway, Gertie had stayed resolutely indoors drinking chocolate rather than strap on what she referred to as “death sticks.”
Seeing Cynthia bed-bound in leg tractiontwiceover the years hadn’t helped matters. No matter how much Cynthia tried to explain that the danger didn’t come from the skis, but rather the riskiness of the tricks attempted by the rider.
Tricks were optional! Gertie could just coast! Cynthia would be right there!
Such arguments hadn’t swayed Gertie in the least.
Indeed, it was a comment by Gertie’s father that wrought the magic. Once he’d married the last chit off, said the earl, he was ridding the manor ofalltheir paraphernalia—from the pianoforte to the skis.
Nothing made a prospect more enticing than the daunting realization one might never have such an opportunity again.
Tomorrow, Cynthia decided. Tomorrow, she would convince Gertie.
Today was forCynthia’sfreedom.
She flung her arms out wide.
It wasn’t just that she treasured these unstructured moments above all else. “Gadding about,” as her uncle called it, allowed her to bump into old friends or wander into new adventures.
And now, it also allowed her to avoid the Duke of Nottingvale.
Alexander.
Her cheeks heated.
Sneaking off to explore the village’s festivities alone allowed her to avoidAlexander.
