Page 89 of His Duchess to Remember

Goodness…

When he was not near her, it was easy to forget just how tall and powerful he was. It did not help the flush of her skin to notice that he had returned to his former uniform of a white shirt and his kilt, the teasing shape of his muscular chest and the sight of his bare calves drawing her eye quite against her will.

“Should I brace myself?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling through her.

“Pardon?”

“For whatever ye want to speak to me about,” he said. “Is the Dower House too close? I ken there’s a house nearby that I could buy, if it is.”

She blinked. “What? No, no, that is not… The Dower House is sufficiently far enough.” She gathered herself as quickly as she could, struggling to ignore the frantic thud of her heart. “Although it is a matter of distance.”

“What do ye mean?” He pulled on the front of his shirt, unsticking it from his broad chest.

Fishing with a child had its perils, and being splashed was clearly one of them, the white of his shirt having turned almost transparent. Translucent, certainly.

She forced herself to keep her eyes up. “An invitation came just now, from an acquaintance of mine. She has a country residence in Dorset. Rather beautiful, right there on the cliffs. It is, however, quite far, and there would be a requirement to stay at her home.”

Wishing she had something to fan herself with, she waited patiently for his reply. Instead of speaking, he just gazed into her eyes, his brow slightly furrowed as if he was the one waiting for her to speak.

At last, with the ghost of a smile, he asked, “Are ye asking me to come with ye, lass?”

“What?” She squinted up at him… and realized she had not actually asked. “Oh, well… most of society are aware that you are in England, here at Huntfield. There might be some raised eyebrows if I were to attend without you. Not to mention, there will probably be gentlemen there who would be interested in meeting you, to speak of business. It might be of great benefit to you if you were seeking new associates and investments.”

She did not know where that had come from. She had no idea who would be at Selina’s ball, though her husband would likely be a valuable associate.

Malcolm chuckled, his eyes bright. “If ye want me to escort ye, all ye have to do is ask. Ye don’t need to make up excuses.”

“I am not,” she protested, her cheeks feverishly hot. “I am not keen to see my name in the scandal sheets, that is all. Society talks. It is what they love to do more than anything. But if it would be too much of an inconvenience, then perhaps it is better if we do not attend. Yes, it likely is too much, and it will mean being away from Simon for too long.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t go,” he told her, with that maddening smile of his.

A smile that she had thought belonged only to the amnesiac version of him.

“I’ve never been to Dorset,” he continued, taking a step closer. “And I wouldn’t mind seeing the sea, though I’d wager yer English coast is nothing compared to Scotland.”

“Actually, it is incredibly beautiful,” she remarked, flustered.

He moved closer still. “Och, well, how can I refuse then? I’ll have to see it for myself.”

His hand reached for her, and all the breath abandoned her lungs. Wide-eyed, she stared up at him as his fingertips brushed her hair, just above her ear.

She was about to ask what he was doing when he pulled his hand back, a slightly yellowed leaf pinched between his fingers.

“Seems the forest wants to adorn ye,” he said, as he blew the leaf from his hand. “Can’t say I blame it.”

Octavia gulped. What is he doing? Why is he saying such things?

“I will not make you attend,” she said thickly, “but I must reply very soon, as we shall need to leave in two days. So, do let me know your opinion.”

He smiled. “Ye can write to tell her we’ll be there.”

“You… wish to join me?”

“Why would I nae? Like ye said, I wouldn’t want any raised eyebrows or gossip. Nae for the wrong reasons, at least,” he replied, and she almost choked on her own shock.

What did he mean by that? What were the ‘right’ reasons for gossip? She stared at him in confusion, almost certain that her husband, who had been so quiet and respectful of her peace for the last few days, was… flirting with her.

And I am about to travel alone to a ball with him, to stay with him in Dorset? If it were not for the little thrill that shivered through her, she might have abandoned the idea altogether.