Page 6 of Never Love a Duke

To see Gabriel get walloped in the face had been a highlight of her day. Perhaps her entire week. Oh certainly, she felt terrible for the delight it had given her, but she really could feel no differently. After all, the man had nearly ruined her heart, not to mention her reputation. He had it coming. And since she wasn’t one to go around punching people, she was only too elated to have someone else—albeit accidentally—do it for her.

Despite the dull throb still in her ankle, her smile persisted. Perusing the books in candlelight, Mirabelle dragged her finger along the spines. So many delectable titles to read, so little time. If she were to pile up all the books she wanted to read, she could climb them all the way up to Heaven. Perhaps reading enough of them would give her a taste of the place, all the same.

Ah…there on one of the higher shelves, she caught a glimpse of one of the titles she’d been looking for. If anyone should have this book, she thought Alex might be the one, considering his liberal views on women. It was a bit high on the shelf, but of course she would find a way to get it. The same way she did everything in life when called upon. She had been the one to chaperone both of her cousins. She had been the one to rescue a dear friend from destitution. She had been the one to form the spinster sisterhood. She had even been the one to direct everyone amidst the chaos today. Without hesitation, she knew how to rely on herself, regardless of how much it depleted her.

It took but a second to retrieve the rolling ladder and position it for her to begin her ascent. Totally worth it to ignore the pain in her ankle. There. Yes. It was the book she’d been looking for. She reached up on tiptoe to snatch it from the shelf only to feel her ankle twinge and give out on her.

Her fingers grasped at the spine only to have the book tumble toward the ground. No amount of books could hold her steady as she felt the shift in her own gravity and fell backward.

“Oommpf!” She landed against something much softer—and taller—than the ground.

“I’ve got you,” his melodic and all too familiar voice lulled into her ear.

She wanted to squirm away from him. Upon principle. The man was a cad. Had kissed her, made a promise she didn’t ask for, and had become a ghost. Only to turn up with an inexplicable animosity toward her. Let the man be damned.

“I’m fine,” she said to him, not for the first time today.

Setting her down lightly, he replied, “I’m sure you are.”

“I am.” Why she needed to repeat herself was a mystery.

“You always are.”

And of course that was the moment her foot betrayed her. “Ow,” she whimpered softly for no other reason than she couldn’t hold it all in.

“All of this for a book?” he mocked her. “I should have guessed.”

“If you please,” she ignored his comment and motioned to the sofa, “I’ll have my book and—” She stopped herself. No. If nothing else happened this evening, she did not want him to pick up that book and hand it to her. No. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Drat.

The scene was all too familiar. Him on bended knee. The book in his hand. The darkness. Glimmering candlelight.

“Never say you’re still reading this.” He tapped on the cover of the Memoirs of Emma Courtney.

“I’m not still reading it. I’m simply reading it.” Again. She murmured to herself.

“You must be quite the devoted fan.” She only answered him with a scowl.

“I’ll have my book, please.”

Like a petulant child, he held out the book for a split second only to pull it back. “Perhaps not.”

“Perhaps I should call in another man who needs his shoulder set so he can pop you in the face.”

Gabriel grimaced, but not before she thought she detected a fraction of a smirk. “I’d rather not be punched for a third time for a good deed. At least not quite so closely together.”

“Three?” It was Mirabelle’s turn to grin.

“Don’t look so pleased about it.”

“Can’t say as I’m not pleased about it.”

“Really?” He stalked toward her. “You enjoy watching innocent men being punished?” The teasing tone took on a sharp edge. “Sounds fitting,” he murmured acerbically.

“Innocent?” she scoffed. “You deem yourself innocent?”

“More so than you.”