Chapter 8

Andrew woke early the next morning and lay in bed, watching as the sun rose through the open drapes in his room.

It had been another restless night, his head filled with thoughts of Marian and the kiss they had shared in the study — a kiss that had turned out to be far more exciting to him than he could possibly have imagined.

Andrew had known Marian was beautiful, of course; it would have been impossible not to have noticed it. He had known too, however, that she was also young, and likely inexperienced, and assumed that kissing her might prove the ideal way to get her out of his head, once and for all — to rid himself of these constant thoughts of her that had been tormenting him since she had arrived.

What was it Gregory said? That she had got under my skin? Well, Gregory was right. And I had thought that kissing her might be a way to get her back out.

But it hadn't worked because Marian had kissed him back with a passion that was quite unexpected — and utterly intoxicating. Instead of scratching the itch that had troubled him and leaving him free to get on with his life — such as it was — he now found the itch was even worse. He smiled to himself, remembering the defiant lift of her chin and the way she had almost dared him to kiss her.

But no, I can't think like this. I can't let this go any further for her sake as well as for mine.

Andrew threw back the covers and swung his legs out of the bed, determined to think about her no more, for it could come to no good; he knew that. If he continued to get closer to Marian, he would start to care for her. And his current situation in life left him in no position to care for anyone, let alone a woman like her.

Especially not a woman like her.

He dressed quickly, splashed his face with water to wake himself up, then left the room, in search of Rose and breakfast.

I'll take it in my study on a tray. That way I won't have to risk seeing her again.

But it was too late. As he turned a corner towards the stairs, there she was, right in front of him.

Damnation.

She was wearing a pale green gown which he recognized with a start as one of his sister's. Her long brown curls fell almost to her waist — Andrew supposed she had been unable to put it up without the help of her maid — and there was a slight flush to her cheeks as if she had been hurrying.

Or thinking of me, perhaps?

Andrew tried not to think about the way the dress, which looked a little too small for her, clung to her body, showing off her slim waist and the curve of her hips. Instead, he kept his eyes firmly on her lovely face, nodding tersely as she wished her good morning.

"Good morning, Your Grace."

Marian stepped forward as if to walk past him down the stairs, but Andrew put out a hand to stop her. In spite of his earlier resolution to avoid so much as seeing her, he suddenly wanted to keep her here just a little longer — to have her to himself without the presence of the servants.

"I trust you slept well?" he said stiffly, searching for a suitable subject of conversation.

He was woefully out of practice with this kind of thing. It had been so long since he tried to converse with anyone but the servants — and Gregory, from time to time.

"Is your chamber comfortable?" he went on. "If there's anything you need —"

He stopped short, seeing the impatience in her eyes.

"Can we not do this?" she asked quietly, raising her eyes to his.

"Do what?" Andrew was confused. He was becoming used to being confused when Marian was in the room.

"Make uncomfortable small talk? I think we're a little past that, don't you? And I could never abide small talk in any case."

Andrew grinned in spite of himself.

"I'm not too fond of it myself as it happens," he admitted ruefully. "But if we don't make polite chit-chat about nothing, just as society dictates we should, then what are we to talk about? Other than —?"

"Not that either," said Marian quickly. "Assuming you're referring to… to what happened in your study last night, that is?"

She blushed. It had taken a great deal of nerve for her to bring up the subject of the kiss, he knew. It was written all over her face. He wanted to reassure her that he wouldn't speak of anything that made her uncomfortable, but at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder what else she might say if he just gave her the opportunity.

"Indeed," he said nodding. "Unless, of course, there's something you wish to say about it?"

He leaned lazily against a doorframe, awaiting her answer. Marian eyed him warily then her chin lifted in that defiant way of hers that was already becoming familiar to him.

"There is, as it happens," she replied, looking him boldly in the eye. "I wanted… I wanted to say that we should not dwell on it."

"We shouldn't?" He raised an eyebrow then waited for her to proceed.

"No. I'm sure… I'm sure such things happen all the time to a man such as you," she explained, her gaze wavering slightly. "Why, it must have meant nothing at all to you."

She paused as if giving him an opportunity to contradict her, and when he did not, she continued in a rush.

"So, that being the case," she continued, sounding a little less certain than before, "I propose we simply forget it ever happened. We know that it will never happen again, and so we'll simply go our separate ways and never speak of it."

Andrew looked at her for a moment then took a step towards her, noting the way her breathing seemed to speed up at his approach. It got faster still as he placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her face towards his.

Exquisite. Just exquisite.

Marian's eyes widened as she looked up at him. For a moment, the temptation to kiss her again was almost too much for the Duke. The memory of the previous night suddenly assailed him. The way her eyes had fluttered closed, her long lashes sweeping her cheeks. The feel of her soft lips against his…

How am I to resist such temptation?

But he had to resist. Marian had made her wishes quite clear to him, and in spite of his reputation, Andrew was too much of a gentleman not to take her at her word. Or to at least pretend to.

"It's a pity," he said softly, running a finger over her bottom lip, "to think that it can never be repeated. But your wish is my command. Will you accompany me to breakfast?"

He let her go, stepping abruptly away from her. Marian's face registered confusion then, unless he was very much mistaken, something that looked a lot like disappointment. Andrew was suddenly very glad indeed that he'd changed his mind about taking his breakfast in the study.

He extended his arm, intending to escort her downstairs, but to his surprise, Marian shook her head.

"No thank you," she said firmly, backing away from him. "I have… I have things I must do."

Then without another word, she turned and hurried away from him, going who knew where. Andrew could not imagine what business she could possibly have in his home, but he knew better than to chase after her.

She's embarrassed, I suppose. I must try to make it up to her.

He watched until she disappeared from view at the end of the long corridor then he turned and made his way downstairs, going past the breakfast room he'd used yesterday and straight to the kitchen where he found Ben warming himself by the fire while Rose busied herself at the stove. Ben jumped to his feet at the sight of the Duke, and Rose almost dropped the spoon she was holding in her surprise at seeing him in her kitchen.

"I need your help, both of you," Andrew said without preamble. "What do either of you know about preparing a nice dinner?"

Later that morning, Andrew finally found Marian in the music room, tinkering with the keys of the pianoforte.

"You need to have this tuned," she said without turning around. "It sounds as if no one's touched it in years."

"No one has," Andrew admitted, stepping into the room. "This room was my sister's domain. I'm not sure anyone's even opened the door since she… since she…"

He could not bring himself to go on and was grateful to find that Marian didn't press him on the matter. She turned back to the piano, her elegant fingers trailing over the keys as Andrew looked curiously around the room.

He had not been lying when he said the room — like the piano itself — had not been touched since his family were murdered. Few rooms in the house had. For years now, Andrew had more or less confined himself to his study, often falling asleep in his chair by the fire instead of going to his chamber.

Last night, however, he had slept in a bed, and today, he had managed to step inside his sister's beloved music room without being incapacitated by the pain of her loss as would previously have been the case. This was, he suspected, at least partly due to the presence of the woman before him. And as he watched her attempt to tease a tune out of the long-neglected instrument, he found himself suddenly eager to test himself further by visiting other parts of the property.

Starting with the grounds.

"Come," he demanded, offering Marian his arm once more. "Walk with me."

Marian eyed him warily then stood up and came towards him as if being pulled to him by an invisible thread. As she placed her hand on his arm, Andrew looked down at her, enjoying the faint whiff of the floral scent she wore.

Lilies. She smells like lilies.

He smiled at her, feeling suddenly lighter than he had in years.

"Let's go outside," he said.