Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 94964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
* * *
In truth, she had no intention of seeking Arthur out, but she hoped quite fervently that she would run into him. She had found him walking just about the same time the day before and she was hoping it was a daily habit. She needed to know how he was feeling about yesterday.
* * *
She had barely been able to sleep because of her racing thoughts. She felt as if she might go mad if she did not see him again and speak with him one more time. She’d had some trouble falling asleep because her body just lit up with…she could not even explain the feeling that took over her. She’d closed her eyes and he was kissing her again, his hard chest against hers, his hands so tight around her that she could not move.
* * *
It made her moan aloud and then she clapped a hand over her mouth, afraid that someone might have heard. After that, she tried scrunching her eyes shut, and forcing herself to sleep. But he was still there, she could see him, his shaggy hair a dark stain on the pillow next to her, mesmerizing gray eyes staring into hers. Her lips tingled and she squirmed again, feeling both hot and cold. She’d ended up flinging off her covers and panting like a dog on a hot day, letting the feeling take her where it would. It was a long time before she could calm down enough to sleep.
* * *
She walked slowly, breathing in the crisp morning air as the puppy explored, sniffing at the ground, burrowing in the grass as if looking for something. She smiled, watching his tiny tail wag happily, and found that it made her happy.
* * *
Suddenly, the little puppy began to yip in alarm. If it was bigger, it’d be barking. It pulled on the leash, trying to enter the ditch.
* * *
“Pup! Pup! What are you doing?” Janice slid into the ditch a bit, trying to keep up with him. She froze, catching sight of an arm, laying as if flung there by a careless owner. She let out a small scream before peering over the tall grass, hoping that the arm would at least be attached to a body that was alive.
* * *
She let out a scream when she saw the man lying on his back, his long black hair lying in straggles down his side, his woolen coat wet. “Your Grace!” she called loudly before dropping to her knees and shaking him frantically, her heart beating triple time.
* * *
He groaned, moving his head slightly and she squeaked in surprise. “You’re alive,” she whispered.
* * *
He began to struggle to lift his head and she reached forward, trying to help. “What happened to you?”
* * *
He groaned, reaching up to clutch his head in his hands as he sat up. She saw that he was wearing a torn shirt, but his breeches were intact.
* * *
“Were you attacked by brigands?” she asked in distress, trying to help him to his feet. He resisted, hunching over and clutching his head.
* * *
“Hush. You’re speaking too loudly,” he whispered.
* * *
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “Did you hurt your head?”
* * *
Suddenly his face went green, and he looked as if he was going to cast up his accounts. She moved away, looking around for the puppy. He was busy sniffing at Arthur’s behind and Janice suppressed a laugh. She reached for him, waiting the duke out.
* * *
Finally, he looked up, his face pale but composed. “Forgive me,” he said.
* * *
“Nothing to forgive. Would you like some help getting to your feet?”
* * *
He put his hand on the ground and pushed himself upward, getting to his feet on his own. “No, thank you.”
* * *
“What happened to you?”
* * *
He swayed a little from side to side, and she reached out to hold his arm, to give him some balance. “I…” he shook his head and then winced, clutching his head.
* * *
“Here, let me help you get home.”
* * *
“I-I’m fine.” He tried to extricate his hand from hers, but she would not let him.
* * *
“No, you aren’t. I am taking you home whether you like it or not.”
* * *
He sighed in resignation. “Very well then,” he said.
Arthur could not remember much about the night before or how he ended up in a ditch. He did know he had been properly shot in the neck the night before, even before he left home. He couldn’t really remember how he’d gotten to Sarandon’s manor, but he did remember that there was some shouting, perhaps some broken crockery and he might have been prematurely expelled from the premises. He did not remember if he had actually lost the farm, as he’d meant to.