Page 100 of How Not to Marry a Duke

Performing surgery on a pig was no easy task. At two hundred pounds, they used a cart to transport the pig inside. Henry was strong, and Warwick struggled to hold the animal down on the kitchen table. The only reason he could restrain the pig was due to its weakened state.

He assisted any way he could, by handing Adeline clean cloths, hot water from a kettle, and items from her suture kit. Thankfully, the arrow hadn’t gone through the pig and she’d carefully removed it. She’d given the animal herbs for pain as she’d worked, and the pig had finally ceased thrashing when she’d finished with the last stitch. Henry’s raspy breathing filled the room.

Adeline washed her hands in a basin and wiped her brow with a cotton cloth. “We can move him to his outdoor pen. I’ll need to watch him for infection.”

Warwick lifted the pig onto the bed of the cart and wheeled him outside, then transferred him to a fresh bed of hay. Once they were back inside the cottage, he studied her face. “You did the best you could.”

She bit her bottom lip. “If I hadn’t been distracted, I would have seen Henry escape and he wouldn’t have been harmed by a hunter.”

“You cannot live by ‘what ifs.’ And you must not blame yourself for another’s trespass.”

“Thank you for all you did today,” she said.

He opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace. “There is no need to thank me.”

She rested her head on his chest. “Yes, there is. The first time you stepped onto my property, Henry barreled into you and hurt your arm, remember?”

It seemed ages ago.

“And he trespassed into your home, too,” she said.

Warwick rested his chin upon her head and smiled. “Ah, I remember. He has a fondness for my pillows.”

She laughed and looked up at him. He couldn’t help himself. He dipped his head and kissed her, gently, tenderly, as if she were precious china. She kissed him back and rested her hand on his chest, her fingers curling into him, holding him. In an instant the kiss changed. He cupped her jaw, eased her head back, and explored the recesses of her mouth. Her kittenish moan and the feel of her soft curves pressing against his hard ones were enough to ignite an instantaneous fire in his blood.

His trousers pulled obscenely tight across his loins. He wanted to crush her against him and taste her lips and kiss her lush breasts. He imagined lifting her skirts to touch the smooth skin of her inner thighs. Lust vied with tenderness in a heady combination. He wrestled for control. She’d just experienced a trauma, and only a cad would take advantage.

He lifted his head and gazed down at her and knew he’d never forget the way she looked at that moment. Unmistakable passion burned in her blue eyes. Her lips glistened from his kisses and a lustrous lock of midnight hair escaped from her pins and rested between her breasts.

The front door opened and closed. Adeline’s blue eyes widened, and her lips parted in surprise. Warwick released her and took a step back.

“Adeline!” a woman’s voice sounded from the vestibule. “I found a grapevine on my way to the village. The leaves are tender and perfect to stuff with meat and rice.” Hasmik stopped short in the entrance of the parlor. “Your Grace.” She glanced at the smear of blood on Adeline’s apron and her lips dipped downward. “What happened?”

“There was an accident. A hunter shot Henry,” Adeline said.

“Henry?”

“Yes. He’s resting in his pen after I surgically removed the arrow. His Grace assisted.”

Hasmik’s gaze pivoted to Warwick. “I see.”

Warwick reached for his coat, which he’d tossed on the back of an armchair, and slipped it on. “I’ll leave you two ladies to look after Henry. If you need me, summon me at once.” He bowed on his way out.

Chapter Nineteen

Adeline shifted the basket of herbs from one arm to the other as she raised the knocker. Nelson led her to the door of the duke’s study and knocked.

“What is it?”

“You have a visitor, Your Grace. Lady Adeline.” The butler opened the door and she stepped inside.

“Adeline. Is it Henry?” Warwick’s brow creased and he stood from behind the desk.

“No. Henry’s fine and resting in his pen.”

He grinned. “Good to hear.”

She couldn’t help but notice the tingle of excitement she felt at the sight of his handsome face creased in a smile. Her heart thudded once, then settled back to its natural rhythm. She glanced at the papers on the surface of his blotter and noticed sketches of the lawn cutter he’d been working on. Had he made progress? Her interest was piqued. She still believed his “progress” was not always desirable, but she also understood his reasons for pursuing the invention. How different she felt from the first day she’d visited his workshop. She set the basket on the desk.