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“I’m not going to comment on that. Or how you would have looked more like a fool with how you got the book in the first place.”
“Don’t remind me. My body is still hurting.” Dorothy looked up at him. “What about you? Are you alright?”
“I’m a little sore, but nothing I can’t handle.” Dashwood gave her a smile and held up his hand, wiggling his fingers. “I’m sure nothing’s broken.”
Dorothy tried not to look at his hand and his long fingers. God, even his hand was making her heart flutter. Hoping he couldn’t see she was blushing, Dorothy held out her hand.
“Can I have the candlestick back? I would like to retire now.”
“Maybe I should escort you.”
“What?”
“It’s very dark out there. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Dorothy folded her arms.
“I think I can manage it. I got down here on my own, didn’t I?”
“Even so …”
“Just stop it, Dashwood. Leave me be, will you?”
Dashwood stared at her, his eyes drifting over her face. He didn’t look any further, as if he was taking everything on her face and putting it in his memory. Dorothy knew she should be snatching the candlestick and walking away, but she couldn’t. Something about him had her rooted to the spot.
And, much to her shock, she wanted him to touch her. After everything she had heard from Lady Marcia and her own opinions about him, now she wanted him to touch her. She must have hit her head in the fall.
He wasn’t going to give her the candlestick without a fight, it appeared. Dorothy sighed and stepped around him. Maybe she could find another book to distract her while attempting to fall asleep.
“What are you doing down here, anyway?” she asked as she headed to the nearest bookcase. “Were you unable to sleep as well?”
“I was actually returning a book.”
“Oh? I didn’t think you knew how to read.”
Dashwood winced and rubbed his chest.
“Ouch. You know how to wound me.”
“Well, you wounded me with your comments.” Dorothy tossed her hair over her shoulder as she inspected the shelves. “Even though we never met, your actions were painful towards me. And all you can say about it is if you knew I was attractive, we might be married by now? Really?”
Dashwood sighed. He sounded resigned.
“I do apologise for the way that came out. It was worded wrong.”
“How did you mean to word it, then?”
“I … I’m not sure.”
Dorothy didn’t believe that. He meant it as he said it. She should be leaving him alone, not caring if she had a light to get back to the stairs. But instead of running away, Dorothy found herself wanting to stay. Lady Marcia’s words were still in her head, indicating they should never be anywhere near each other, especially alone.
And yet she stayed. She really must have hit her head in the fall.
“Listen, Dorothy …” She heard him moving closer, but she didn’t turn around. “I do apologise for how things worked out between us. I behaved like a spoiled brat, and that was bad of me. You didn’t deserve that. The only person I was looking out for was myself.”
He did sound genuine this time. Dorothy could feel herself almost forgiving him. What was wrong with her? Just his presence left her floundering and unable to get a coherent sentence strung together. Was it because he was handsome and showing her attention? Or was it something else?
Dorothy knew she was moving into dangerous territory. This was not a good idea at all to stay. Why couldn’t she move?
