Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

" Y ou could have been killed!" Max roared, pacing back and forth in front of the drawing room fireplace. "I tolerated your antics when they were harmless, but I will not tolerate this. What were you thinking?"

Caroline sat penitently on the settee, wrapped in no fewer than four blankets that Max had acquired for her, with the troublesome cat asleep in her lap. She stroked the beautiful, silky-coated creature to comfort herself, shuddering at the angry volume of her husband's voice. She had never seen him like this before.

"The poor thing was crying out," she said quietly. "It did not know how to get down by itself. I could not just leave it there."

Max swept both hands through his golden hair, turning his gaze up to the ceiling as though the heavens might grant him some additional patience. "You are a duchess, not a wild woman. You could have asked anyone to help you, and they would have done it. Even if they were not certain of their climbing ability, someone could have fetched me. A ladder would not have gone amiss!"

"You were asleep, and I did not want to wake you."

She was not oblivious to the idiocy of what she had done, but she had not been thinking when she had started up the tree to save the poor cat. She had heard it, worried for it, and the next thing she knew, she was tying her skirts up around her legs and climbing to its rescue.

"It was… reckless, Caroline!" he barked, shaking his head. "I know I have accused you of such behavior before, but I have never meant it as I do now. You could have been severely hurt, and we are miles from the nearest physician. Mercy, I do not know what I would do if anything befell you! What if you had died, Caroline? What if you had broken every limb?"

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, concentrating on every slow stroke of her palm against the cat's smooth fur. "I suppose I thought it must be easy," she replied, grimacing. "You climbed it to get that apple, and that was so much higher than where the cat was. I… did not know that I would struggle."

"Have you ever climbed a tree before?" he shot back.

She nodded. "There is a beautiful old cedar at Westyork. When I was younger, I climbed it all the time. I would sit there for hours, in truth. My brother would fret, but I would always prove to him that I was perfectly fine. Now, he and Phoebe sit there in the summertime."

"A cedar and an apple tree are very different," Max muttered. "And your brother was right to fret. I cannot believe you thought that was a wise thing to do. The cat would have come down of its own accord; I have no doubt about that."

"It sounded hurt," Caroline protested quietly, though the creature seemed perfectly unharmed and content now. A trickster, but a beautiful one.

Max turned to face her, his broad chest heaving with every strained breath. "Mrs. Whitlock is still shaking, and I would not be surprised if she now follows you wherever you go like a shadow. You will have no one to blame but yourself for the constant escort after a performance like that. Goodness, I might even insist upon it!"

It slowly dawned on her that Max was not angry at all. Not in the usual sense. He was shouting and ranting, that was true, but his demeanor was as rigid as someone who had just endured a potent shock. His frantic breaths, too. And where fury should have been blazing in his eyes, there was a watery gleam akin to relief instead. Worry had put the fire in his voice, not rage.

Why am I so desperate to defend myself then?

It struck her as odd that she was trying to frame what had happened as a simple mistake when, in truth, it had been reckless and foolish. Denying that was only going to frustrate Max further or make him think she was completely idiotic.

"I am sorry," she said in earnest. "You are quite right—it was a silly thing for me to do. I should have woken you or asked someone else to help me. I do not know why I did not. That is not an excuse—I truly do not know why I did not enlist the assistance of another. I am trying to think of a reason, but I have nothing. I just… acted without a thought, and I have worried people, and I am so very sorry."

Max stared at her as if he was waiting for a joke, but as the moments passed, his body began to relax. His breathing slowed, his shoulders sagged, and he padded over to the settee, sitting down at her side.

To her surprise, he took hold of her hand and held it tightly. "Promise me that you will not do anything so foolish again. Promise me that you will try to think before you act. I need you to be more careful from now on."

His hand was warm, his palms rough with callouses. He had nice hands, masculine hands, which made her own feel very small and dainty. Indeed, she was so transfixed by her hand in his that she did not realize for a while that she was not wearing her gloves. And when she did realize, she found she did not care; she rather liked the way his skin felt against hers, the rough against the smooth, the warmth against the chill of her, heating her up.

The cat stirred, cracking open one yellow eye to look disdainfully at Max.

"You need not glare at me like that, little beast," Max said, a smile playing on his lips. "If you want even a morsel of the chicken in the kitchens, I suggest you be more civil."

The cat perked up and stretched out its long, flexible body, digging its claws into Max's muscular thigh. Max did not flinch or scold the creature, as Caroline might have expected, but reached down and scratched the cat between the ears.

It flopped down in purring satisfaction, draping itself across the pair.

"A fickle heart." Max chuckled. "But you still have not given me your word, Caroline."

She blinked, forgetting that she was supposed to answer him. She had been too invested in watching the sweet moment between the feline and the duke, marveling at the way the cat had just melted into him. She had always thought that most animals were excellent judges of character, particularly cats and dogs, and if this one could trust Max immediately, that was certainly something to contemplate.

"I promise I will not climb any more trees without someone waiting below with a tarpaulin to catch me," she replied, testing the waters of his mood.

He raised an eyebrow. "This is no moment for jests, Caroline."

"So, why are you almost smiling?"

He sighed, but that smile crept through regardless. "I need you to assure me that you will be more thoughtful of what you do."

"I promise," she said, strangely pleased that he had not yet let go of her hand.

He closed his eyes as though a great peace had washed over him, and when he opened them again, he nodded down at the troublesome cat. "And what, pray tell, are we to do with this nuisance? If it is friendly with horses, the stablemaster might be keen to have a new mouser."

"The stablemaster?" Caroline's heart broke a little. "Oh…"

"You have another idea?"

Caroline flashed him a nervous smile. "Well, I thought that, perhaps, I might keep it as a companion. If you fall asleep at your writing desk again, at least I will have someone to keep me entertained at dinner."

"Ouch," he said, smirking.

"I meant no offense," she urged. "But it is as good a reason as any to keep this little creature for myself."

Max smoothed his other hand over the cat's head, the purring intensifying. "Mrs. Whitlock may take leave of her senses if there is a cat at the dinner table, devouring good partridge like a furry king, but I have no argument." He smiled at the creature. "You may keep it on the sole proviso that if it should climb the apple tree again, you do not , under any circumstances, attempt to get it down again."

Shocked and delighted, Caroline threw her arms around him before she could pause to think if it was reckless or not. She hugged him tightly, inhaling the soap and storm scent of his skin, allowing her hand to rest on the back of his neck, her fingertips brushed by the golden curls of his hair.

"Thank you," she murmured.

A gasp slipped from her lips as he put his arm around her in kind, hugging her back with the cat—mewling in annoyance—between them. It was as if Max was trying to squeeze the air out of her lungs, but she did not complain, allowing herself to be held so vigorously. After all, she sensed it was the hug of someone who really would have cared if anything bad had befallen her, and was beyond relieved that it had not.

And as they sat there on the settee, embracing as if they were not strangers at all, she was filled with the warmest feeling, as if a cat had just curled up in her soul, purring loudly.