Page 26 of Distracting the Duke

He waved a weary hand. “Yes, I’m aware of that. But I value my honor extremely highly, and I’m sure your brother would say the same.”

“But who’s to know if you change your minds? Duels have to be kept secret, don’t they? And what if someone is injured?”

“You must have a very low opinion of me if you think I mean to harm your brother.”

“So, you won’t duel?” She leaned forward excitedly.

The door opened, admitting his valet. “Ah, Hicks, fetch my embrocation, if you please. And send for a fresh jug of drinking water and a cup for Lady Tinniswood. Would you like something to eat, madam? You must be hungry after your ride.”

Clara hesitated, then put in a request for a little wine and some dry biscuits.

Worn out by the effort of restraining his wayward thoughts and trying to both battle with and be polite to Lady Clara, Marcus turned back to his inhaling.

A few minutes later, he heard someone bring in the items they’d asked for. After taking in a few more soothing lungsful of steam, he lifted the towel and turned round.

His mouth went dry. Clara had just pulled the neck of her gown away from her breasts and was blowing down the front of it.

“I would be happy to assist you with that,” he murmured before he realized what he was saying.

Good God, was he really trying to flirt with this woman, in his current pitiful state?

She removed her hand immediately and gave him a quelling look. “You’re supposed to be steaming yourself. Pray continue, for the sooner you’re done, the sooner we can conclude our business.”

Unabashed, he ran the towel over his face and hair, and remarked, “I’m done now.”

It really was getting horribly hot in here, but he needed to sweat out the fever if he could. He was so weary, too. The bed looked very tempting. How was he going to get rid of Clara so he could lie down and sleep?

“Are you still determined to remain in this room until I change my mind about the duel?” he asked.

She clasped her hands tightly together. “I am.”

“Then you may wish to turn away.”

To hell with the compromising position he was placing himself in. She was not a conniving miss out to trap him into marriage, and he was about to fall over from exhaustion.

He stood up, grasped the edges of his nightshirt, and pulled it up and over his head. Casting it on the floor, he padded across to the bed, slid beneath the linens, and glanced at Clara to gauge her reaction.

Her hands were over her eyes, but he knew she’d been looking at him. Her cheeks, visible between her fingers, were bright scarlet. If he hadn’t had a sore throat, he’d have laughed outright.

There. Maybe she’d see sense and leave right now.

His foot came into contact with her bottom as he eased himself down the length of the bed, and she shot up like a jack-in-the-box, propelling herself speedily across the room.

“Come now, spare me your blushes,” he drawled as she peeped at him between her fingers. “You’re a widow. You know what a man looks like without clothes on.”

She removed her hands slowly, her eyes flickering over his bare chest and shoulders before they came to rest on his face once more. “If you mean to scare me away, you won’t succeed,” she said. “A man’s naked… A man’s naked…”

She swallowed, poured herself another cupful of water, and drank it down so fast some of it escaped and trickled down the front of her bodice. He watched its progress with avid interest.

He coughed, then coughed again. Damn this chill! Why did his body have to let him down when he wanted to appear in perfect control?

“A man’s naked body holds no surprises for you?” he supplied. “I imagine that’s what you’re trying to say.”

“It’s not important.” Her gaze swept over him again.

His breathing became shallow at her lingering study of his chest. What now?

She picked up his towel, dipped it in the washing bowl, and brought it across to the bed. “Here, dab yourself with this. It will help cool your skin.”