Page 18 of Duke of Emeralds (Dukes of Decadence #2)

“Why on earth would I be avoiding you?” she replied with a forced giggle, her tone a touch too quick, betraying her flustered state.

He chuckled softly. “Why do ye laugh, then?”

“Am I not entitled to a little mirth, Your Grace?” she retorted, arching an eyebrow though a smile threatened to break through her facade.

“Indeed, ye are. I suppose ye prefer solitude?”

“At this moment, yes.”

“So do I,” he murmured, turning and striding ahead toward the water.

Hester watched him for a moment, unsure of how to read him. Shrugging, she dared to follow. By the time she reached him, he had shed his boots and rolled up his breeches, wading into the shallow edge of the water, the sunlight glinting off his tawny hair.

“What became of your desire for solitude? The water is full of fish,” she said.

“It was overtaken by the wish to soak my feet,” he replied, glancing back at her with a grin. Hester laughed, quickly discarding her boots and gathering her skirts to follow suit.

As she stepped into the cool water, the sensation against her bare skin was invigorating, contrasting delightfully with the warm afternoon air.

She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, memories of freer days flooding her mind.

When she opened them again, she caught Thomas watching her with an expression that made her heart flutter.

“There’s a lake on my family estate,” she began, seeking to distract herself from the intensity of his gaze. “Leonard and I would often play there, splashing about like children.”

“Did he ever do this, then?” Thomas suddenly splashed water in her direction, catching her completely off guard. Hester squealed, laughter bubbling forth as she attempted to retaliate, but he dodged with ease, his movements fluid and graceful.

“How are you so skilled at this? It hardly seems fair!” she protested, mock indignation coloring her tone.

“Perhaps ye should inquire with Elspet how I became such a master of splashin’,” he called over his shoulder, expertly avoiding another wave of water aimed his way.

Hester knew little of his sister, only that she resided in Scotland, yet she could imagine the mischief they must have shared. “Any boy with a sister and access to water is bound to excel at?—”

“Being unfair,” he finished for her, laughter dancing in his eyes as they both recalled their childhoods filled with similar games.

“Clearly Elspet hasn’t drenched you enough to teach you not to pick on a woman at sea,” she quipped, her spirit buoyed as she chased after him, splashing wildly.

“Goodness, am I dealing with a siren now?” he exclaimed, feigning shock as he splashed her again.

“You never told me much about your sister,” she said.

His eyes widened a fraction. “I must have forgotten.”

Hester smiled. “Where in Scotland is she?”

“Edinburgh. She has three children, rambunctious little ones.” He chuckled and moved slightly away, moving his arms as though he was about to splash her again. Hester braced for it and shut her eyes.

Thomas laughed. “Do ye concede and give me the win?”

“Never!” To demonstrate her will continue, she gathered a small current around her and sent it his way.

When their mirth subsided, she inched close and asked, “Is Elspet your only sister?”

“Aye.”

“And your parents?”

An invisible wall immediately rose between them. Thomas’ jovial demeanor shifted, his gaze turning distant, and she felt a pang of regret for her curiosity. How foolish of her to pry into matters that lay buried beneath the surface.

“It is nearly time for dinner. We should return,” he said, breaking the silence with a note of finality.

As she gathered her heavy skirts, the weight of her spirits matched the damp fabric clinging to her legs.

Just then, her foot slipped on an unseen stone, sending her tumbling backward into the water.

“By the heavens!” Thomas rushed to her side. “Are ye all right?” He extended a hand, pulling her up from the water’s embrace.

“I am well enough,” Hester replied though the embarrassment made her cheeks burn. She attempted to navigate toward her abandoned boots, but each step threatened to trip her further, her skirts dragging heavily behind her.

“Allow me,” he said suddenly, and before she could protest, he scooped her into his arms, lifting her effortlessly.

“Thomas, what are you doing?” she gasped, her heart racing as she squirmed against him.

“Taking ye back home,” he declared, ignoring her protests.

“But I can walk,” she insisted.

“Aye, but ye’ll only slow us down,” he countered. “I cannot risk ye tripping and hurting yerself.” His words hung in the air, laced with genuine concern, and something inside her stirred—a longing for his care that both thrilled and terrified her.

As they approached the castle, Miss Holt and Mrs. Smith appeared, their brows furrowed with concern. “Is all well, Your Grace?” Mrs. Smith inquired, eyeing Hester’s drenched form with disapproval.

“The Duchess is unhurt. Only drenched,” Thomas reassured them, striding past them toward the grand staircase.

When they reached her chamber doors, he finally set her down, but instead of releasing her, he held her against him, their bodies mere inches apart.

Hester’s breath quickened as she became acutely aware of how the wet fabric clung to her form, a scandalous reminder of their proximity.

Thomas’s gaze roamed over her, unabashed, until he blinked, as if awakening from a dream.

“Ye should change out of those wet clothes before ye catch a chill,” he advised, his tone suddenly serious. “I will see ye at dinner.”

With that, he stepped away, leaving her feeling oddly bereft and even more confused about these strange feelings than before.