Page 7 of The Duchess Games

He frowned at her. Folks whispered that he was cold and silent and terrifying, but she had always fancied she saw something else in his brown eyes. A kindness. But that was so many years ago.

Also, his arms were particularly well-muscled, his jaw strong.

It was deeply distracting.

“Be careful, I don’t know if he bites,” he said, unaware that her thoughts were taking a sharply inappropriate and somewhat salacious turn. His tone was clipped and aristocratic, best suited to beeswax candles and gold plates and duels at dawn.

“He absolutely bites,” she snorted. She was best suited to beaches and chipped clay plates and a chess piece made from a rutabaga. “That’s a snapping turtle. His neck extends further than you think physically possible, after which he will bite your finger clean off.”

“Step back,” he ordered, even as he immediately stepped closer.

She did no such thing. She wasn’t going to let a novice get himself hurt. Especially a duke.

“Caitriona,” he repeated firmly. She never would have guessed that he might recall her given name. Even if he did sound deeply annoyed. “Now.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the duke in him or the man in him who issued the quiet command. She absolutely should not like it. She definitely should not obey. On principle, if nothing else. But she already knew she could not manage Bartholomew on her own and being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn was probably not particularly helpful at the moment.

When she stepped up onto the edge, Callum extended his hand to help her. She was very aware of her bare toes and her wet dress brushing her shins. There was no smugness, no arrogance at her acquiescence. Just that stern, unreadable expression. She wondered if there were finishing schools in London just for dukes. If so, they must teach that cold hard glance. There would be awards. Gold ribbons. Callum Winter would be prefect of Duke School.

Even now with his coat hanging from the trident, standing in a fountain with his trousers rolled above his ankles. There was no doubt he held a title. An ancient and venerated one at that. He pushed up his sleeves to reveal strong forearms dusted with hair and tanned from the sun. He looked nothing like a duke.

He looked delicious.

The heat was clearly getting to her. One did not think such thoughts about a duke.

But she very much wanted to lean forward and lick him. Faintly shocked at the way the thought slammed unbidden into her and then proceeded to awaken all sorts of hot tingles, Cat nearly tripped. She had no business wanting to lick him. Especially when her sister was even now preparing to win him like a medieval knight at a tournament winning a prize.

Not to mention that her forthcoming betrayal was a foregone conclusion.

As he was barely acknowledging her presence, she supposed it hardly signified.

Callum looked up suddenly as if she had spoken out loud, dark eyes locking onto her.

“Um,” she said. “His name is Bartholomew.” For heaven’s sake, Caitriona Sparrow, sort yourself out.

“Bartholomew.”

“Yes. He must have been someone’s pet once because he’s not native to Britain.”

His mouth twitched at her tone. She knew it was sharper than she intended. “And you don’t approve,” he said.

“I’m sure it was all very sweet for the child who received it, but you shouldn’t have a pet if you can’t care for it properly.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

People always argued with her over the care of animals. They found her too strict, too blunt. Too messy. He never had though. Before.

“So, what’s to be done then, Miss Sparrow? I am at your pleasure.”

Something inside her melted. Or caught fire. She couldn’t be sure.

Whatever it was, she was certain it was not genteel.

She forced herself not to blush. His gaze was steady, calm. Surely, he hadn’t meant the double entendre. He wasn’t the sort to tease. Everyone said so.

And yet.

“I need a branch,” Cat said, tearing her eyes from him. Naturally, the garden was too well-kept for that. She pulled on a hedge, looking furtively over her shoulder. “Is a gardener likely to get into trouble if I snap this?”