Chapter 10

Marian turned on her heel and stalked off, walking blindly back to the house, barely even aware of where she was going, such was her outrage.

She didn't know where it had come from. Until the moment when Andrew had made that ridiculous comment about following his "orders," she'd been fully on his side. She'd even felt sorry for him, his story having touched her deeply.

The loss of a mother, she knew, was a hard thing to bear. To have lost a mother and a beloved sister at the hands of his own father, though — and to then have been blamed for the tragedy…. Well. She could not even imagine what that must have been like for the Duke. She did not want to imagine it.

She could see, though, how it had affected him. Her heart had gone out to this handsome, broken man, who seemed to her to be as much a prisoner in this place as she was. As they'd walked together, she had wanted so badly to help him. She had even felt briefly glad she was here to help stave off his loneliness.

Briefly.

But then he'd told her she must obey his orders. And suddenly all of the anger she'd felt over the past two days had come bubbling up inside of her until she could no longer contain it.

"How dare you?" she hissed furiously as he caught up with her, his long legs carrying him far more easily up the slope which led to the house than hers had. "How dare you treat me like this when I have done absolutely nothing to deserve it?"

She expected anger from him, but to her surprise, when she whirled around to face him once more, she saw only amusement in his dark blue eyes.

"You have done nothing to deserve imprisonment, no," he said, chuckling, "But if you carry on speaking to me like this, you might find yourself regretting it."

Marian could not believe what she was hearing.

Is he really laughing at me? Does he find this situation amusing?

"Are you threatening me, Your Grace?"

She spoke with as much fury as she could muster, but Andrew simply smiled, apparently unperturbed by her outrage.

"Simply stating a fact," he replied. "You can bluster all you like, my sweet, but I could pick you up and carry you like a bag of rice to wherever I want you."

"A… a bag of rice? Now you wish to insult me, too, I see."

She tossed her hair, and resumed her walk, Andrew easily keeping pace with her.

"As much as I admire your spirit," he said, "you must see that the fact you are but half my size is going to make it very difficult to make good on your promise to disobey my orders. Although I must confess, I would very much like to see you try."

"I might be short," Marian retorted, refusing to look round at him, "but I can throw a mean punch. You just mark my words."

This time, the Duke could not control his laughter.

"I'm sorry," he said, when he finally stopped. "But the idea of you throwing a punch. It's —"

Marian could not resist a glance in his direction, wondering what kind of insult he was about to come up with next.

"Well, it's adorable," he said at last, wiping his eyes.

"Adorable?"

Marian wanted very much to continue to be offended, but she was taken aback by his words. And this hill was far steeper than it had seemed to be when she'd walked down it earlier this morning which meant it was already proving difficult for her to keep up the fast pace she had set out with.

Still, keep it up she would. She would not let him see any weakness in her, so she gritted her teeth and walked on, a thin film of sweat appearing on her brow.

"Are you tired?" Andrew asked, his voice closer than she had imagined. No matter how fast she walked, she just could not seem to throw him off. Probably because he had been correct in his observation that he was twice her size.

"No," she replied determinedly. "No, I am not."

"You're certain about that, are you?" The Duke stepped closer, so he could see her face more clearly. "Only, this ground is very steep. I should really have had that seen to at some point. Then again, it's never been a problem before. Why, I carried my sister up this hill many times, and she was far heavier than you are. Or so I would assume, at least. I won't be able to tell for sure until I try."

He looked at her appraisingly, and Marian felt a thrill run through her that she could not entirely attribute to the chill of the day.

"Then it is a good job I shall not allow you to try, Your Grace," she said shortly, marching forward with renewed determination.

It was the worst thing she could have chosen to say to him, and she knew it.

Why do I go out of my way to provoke him, so? Anyone would think I actually wanted him to touch me?

"Is that so?"

With a low chuckle, Andrew easily matched her stride, then, in one easy movement, picked her up and flung her over his shoulder before continuing on his way as if nothing had happened.

Marian, finding herself upside down, her long hair reaching almost to the ground as she hung over his shoulder, gasped in shock.

If she were to be honest, she would admit that she rather welcomed the rest, for the walk uphill had become tiresome. But she was too proud to admit any such thing — or not to him, at least.

"Oh, no, you don't!" she shrieked, recovering herself. "Put me down immediately."

But Andrew simply laughed again and continued walking.

It's so like him to want to laugh only when he torments me.

In vain, Marian drummed her fists against his broad back, her legs kicking at the air as she struggled to get him to release his grip. Andrew, however, simply held her tighter, easily preventing her from escape, until at last Marian realized there was little she could do but submit to the indignity of being carried up the hill like a sack of coal.

Feeling her relax against him, Andrew swung her down from his shoulder until he carried her in his arms. The position was far more comfortable, and Marian found herself resting her head against his chest, enjoying the security of his strong arms around her body.

Am I imagining things, or is he carrying me thus rather longer than is necessary? And am I allowing it when I should, by rights, be fighting my way out of his arms?

Andrew carried her all the way to a door at the back of the house, where he — somewhat reluctantly, it seemed — placed her carefully back on her feet.

For a moment, they stood facing each other, both suddenly awkward and not knowing what to say.

"You're a perfect beast," Marian said at last in an attempt at dignity.

"I'm flattered that you find me perfect in one respect, at least," Andrew returned, grinning.

Marian resisted the urge to stamp her foot like a child.

"If you think me a beast, however," Andrew continued before she could respond, "am I to suppose you will refuse my invitation to join me for dinner tonight?"

Marian looked up at him with suspicion.

"Is this another of your orders that I must obey, Your Grace?" she asked boldly.

"Simply an invitation," the Duke replied evenly. "You may turn it down if you wish, of course. I happen to know that Rose has been cooking all morning, however," he went on. "The scents from the kitchen have been most mouthwatering. But if you would rather take some broth on a tray in your chamber, then as you wish."

He shrugged as if it was of no consequence to him whether Marian accepted his invitation or not, but something in the set of his shoulders as he waited for her response told her otherwise.

Perhaps he's just lonely. Perhaps that's all it is. Or… perhaps he might actually want to spend some time with me?

She felt her cheeks redden as she recalled what had happened the last time she had spent time alone with the Duke over food. But she had told him, it must never happen again, and he had made no argument — a fact that had left her feeling oddly deflated.

Under the circumstances, Marian supposed there was no reason she should not say yes to dinner. She had to eat, after all. And she must admit, Rose really was an excellent cook.

"I should hate for Rose's efforts to go to waste," she said at last, making her mind up. "So, thank you, Your Grace. I accept."

"Excellent," Andrew said briskly. "Then it is agreed. First, though, there is another matter to attend to."

"Another matter? What do you mean?"

She looked up at him, curious in spite of herself.

"First," said Andrew, grinning in a way that made him look suddenly boyish, "we're going skating."