Banishing that thought as much as he could, he set his mind to the task at hand and scooped the drenched bundle comprising Miss Starling up into his arms. And stilled. Because there was that rounded bottom of hers again, this time accompanied by a wonderfully pliable thigh and…
“Do you want me to help?” Linwick asked.
“No. No. I was just getting my balance,” Flynn told his friend. Because now that Miss Starling was in his arms, he had no intention of letting her go. Not ever. Which was something of a perplexing conclusion to be having about a woman he barely knew. Especially one who always seemed to be more of a menace to him than anything else.
Arabella wished she had drowned. Or at the very least been rescued by someone else. Anyone besides Hollyoak. Because the duke was wet and once again, she was to blame. The fact that she was a great deal wetter did not make her feel less embarrassed.
Quite the contrary.
So she did what the small bit of pride she had left compelled her to do and said, “I am perfectly capable of walking.”
He tightened his hold and proceeded toward solid ground. “No you’re not. Your legs are trembling.” She gave him a look, to which he added, “It is hard to ignore.”
She groaned.
“Does something hurt?”
“No. Thank you. I’m fine.” He made an odd sound. It almost sounded like a chuckle. She considered his mouth. “Are you laughing at me?”
The beginnings of a smile slipped away into absolute seriousness as he marched toward an awaiting carriage. “I would not dream of it.”
She sighed and resigned herself to the idea of being carried by a man who undoubtedly thought her to be an incompetent birdbrain. And as she did so, she allowed herself to feel rather than think. She’d always admired Hollyoak from a distance. He was handsome and kind. He always made it a point to invite the spinsters and debutantes to dance. She’d noticed that. She’d noticed a lot. Like the way his hair changed color from chestnut to something caramel–like when he stood beneath the light of a chandelier.
Now, caught up in his arms, she noticed other things as well, like his strength and the firmness of his chest. Hollyoak had always carried himself with the sort of grace that intrigued her, but in this moment, there was something more – an endless degree of raw male power. For a second, it brought to mind the wild image of a primitive man secreting away the woman he wanted to a cave somewhere so he could…
She laughed. Of all the preposterous notions to enter her head. Truly, her brain must be just as frozen as her body for it certainly wasn’t working.
“What is it?” He asked the question a second before they reached the carriage.
She shrugged as best as she could. “Nothing.”
He raised an eyebrow, but rather than prod her, he called for the driver to open the door. Once this had been accomplished, he promptly deposited her on a plush velvet bench.
Caroline, whom Arabella had completely forgotten about, climbed in behind her. She was followed by Linwick and finally by Hollyoak, who told the driver to take them directly to Starling House after getting the address from Caroline. He then sat silently, his gaze not leaving her for the entire duration of the ride, which she reckoned to be the most uncomfortable trip she’d ever endured in spite of Caroline’s constant chatter. It did not distract Arabella from the fact that she had become the center of the duke’s attention.
When they finally arrived at her home, Hollyoak helped her alight. “If you will permit, I will call on you tomorrow. To make sure you have not taken ill after this afternoon’s occurrence.”
She nodded vaguely. “Thank you for your help.”
He saw her inside, explained things to her parents, and took his leave.
“Well.” The word was spoken by Caroline who’d followed Arabella into the parlor. “That was certainly an interesting afternoon.”
No other words were added before Arabella was whisked upstairs to her bedchamber where a bath was promptly prepared and fresh clothes laid out on the bed, all in an effort to ward off the chill that hit her the following morning.
Arabella Starling was feverish. Or at least she had been for the past few days. Flynn knew this because he’d come to call at Starling House every day since the ice skating accident. Today was no different, even though it was Christmas Eve and he was supposed to have left town that morning in order to arrive at his aunt’s estate before dinner. That was where he was meant to be. It was where he had promised to be. As tradition demanded.
Instead, he was being ushered into the Starling parlor where the scent of fresh pine drifted from garlands that decorated the walls. Three people awaited his arrival, though only one held his interest. Apparently, Miss Starling had recovered enough from her ordeal to venture downstairs and receive a visitor for a change. The relief that swamped him could not be denied. It was an all–encompassing state of pure joy. Which explained the temptation he had to race across the floor to where she sat, pull her into his arms, and kiss her.
But since this would not be considered decorous, he forced back the wide smile that threatened and proceeded to greet her parents.
“Mrs. Starling. Mr. Starling.” He finally turned toward the woman who mattered to him the most. “Miss Starling.” He approached the chair her father offered and took a seat. “It pleases me to see you looking well.”
It was a tepid conveyance of sentiment which failed to do his true feelings justice. But there was etiquette to consider and one had to be proper. To shout, “Thank God you’re alive,” wasn’t done. Which really was a pity since that was what he wanted to do.
Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. “My parents tell me you have come to check on me every day since the accident. They say you even brought the physician who attended me.”
He’d brought three. Their unanimous conclusion that there was nothing to be done besides waiting to see whether or not Miss Starling recovered had been excessively frustrating. He did not mention this, but inclined his head in acquiescence.
“That was very kind of you,” Miss Starling said.
Mrs. Starling poured him a cup of tea and prepared it as she had grown accustomed to doing during his prior visits. “We owe you a debt of gratitude. Had it not been for you, our daughter might have drowned.”
“It was extremely fortunate that you happened to be there when the ice broke,” Mr. Starling said.
“Had I not been, I believe someone else would have come to the rescue,” Flynn told him.
But that would have been a shame because then Flynn would not have known what it felt like to hold Miss Starling in his arms. He would not have experienced the dread of possibly losing her before he had won her. He would not have known the elation that came from knowing she would live.
“If you will permit,” he told the Starlings, “I would like to request a moment in private with your daughter. There is something I wish to discuss with her.”
Mrs. Starling’s eyes widened. “Really?”
Mr. Starling stood. “You may have the room, Your Grace.” He held out his hand to his wife who hastily joined him. “Take as long as you need.”
The pair had quit the room within two seconds and, much to Flynn’s surprise, the door closed firmly behind them with a click.