Page 8 of The Duke’s Hellion (Duke Dare #3)

S am was convinced that he would not help Mimi secure Roger’s attention if she were the last woman in the galaxy.

He had said what he meant and meant what he said.

He wouldn’t help her if she begged for it.

What kind of woman left her fate up to fate?

A jangle of rocks was rolling around in Sam’s belly just thinking about what utter nonsense that was.

It was obvious to anyone with eyes or ears that Roger was not the least bit interested in Mimi.

And if after last night’s reckless display there was not even the tiniest fraction of a smile or a gaze or more than a few words shared, surely it was clear that there really was no interest to be had.

No matter what Mimi did, there was no hope.

If Roger wasn’t interested in her brazen opinions, overly competitive nature, and no holds barred approach to life—never mind her shimmering gold locks, suffocatingly vanilla scent, and sky-blue eyes—there was simply no hope of him conjuring it up from nowhere.

But then a pang seared through his heart.

He dreaded having to watch Mimi attempt another awkward flirtation.

It was like watching a fish out of water.

Or watching a cat try to take a bath. No one wanted to be privy to those events.

He tried not to think about what the next encounter might be, but he couldn’t help himself.

Would she do something completely audacious and ask the man to dance?

That would give the ladies something to gossip about.

Of course it would depend on how she went about it.

Would she simply proffer her hand and expect an invitation?

Not likely. This was Mimi. She would be the type to simply ask the question.

As if ingrained societal strictures were nothing more than a suggested way of life, and not the living, breathing, executing entity that it was.

Still, he could picture her asking Roger to dance.

Or would she try to discreetly ask people about his interests and proclivities?

He shuddered at the thought of her attempting a clandestine mission of any kind.

She was too…what was the right word to describe someone like her?

Someone who always spoke her mind without concern for putting others on the spot.

She wasn’t inconsiderate…not quite. But she didn’t let etiquette dictate her behavior like she ought to.

She was a genteel lady after all; she should care about her reputation, especially if she was trying to secure a duke.

He resigned himself to watching her make her own bed and then lie in it. Alone. For no clear reason, a shiver trounced up his spine at the thought.

Dash it. He would have to watch the woman compete for affection and lose.

She was a competitor. He had seen it firsthand, and he knew the type.

Because he was her type. She needed to rise to the challenge, even if she failed.

Nothing was worse than watching a flailing attempt at a win.

Being witness to her incompetence in this area—especially after seeing her success so gracefully elsewhere—almost made him want to reconsider.

But he would not. Even if she fell flat on her face, he would hold his ground, stand by, and let her fall.

It was the best way to learn how to win.

There was no other option. She was too young to take any guidance from an old man (her words not his) like him.

It rankled that she thought of him as an old man when he was not even a decade her senior.

Plenty of men of the ton married with a far more disparate age gap.

Hell, some seventy-year-old men (balding and toothless) still took a bride in hopes of securing an heir.

It was just the way of society. But he could predict how Mimi would feel about that situation.

A snap of a twig brought Sam to the present.

The late morning sun shone through the trees, blinding him momentarily.

Chris was a few yards ahead walking with Nobi toward the archery activity.

After last night’s discussion, Mimi must have convinced Sally to hold an archery tournament of sorts.

Despite it being a house party in honor of Sally’s engagement, she was more than happy to oblige a dear friend.

So many of the house guests were on their way to the same location where a no-eyed Mimi had beaten him in target practice.

Humiliating.

Rather amusing, though. If he allowed himself to chuckle over how flustered he had been. Not one to usually fall prey to the drama of his day, Mimi had really pounced upon him at his lowest. Or close to it.

No. His lowest had been a different day. Far more tragic events. Not something to ponder in the moment.

Now he had to focus on redeeming himself, for he would enter this silly competition. And win. Of course, that.

THUD!

A low moan trembled through the air in front of him where he saw Mimi. Face down in the ground. Well…wonders never cease. Her falling on her face had happened a mite quicker than anticipated.

He sauntered the few steps closer to her and squatted before her. All the others were much further ahead now, leaving them alone.

“You all right?”

“Yes.” Her head flew up and she blew a stream up her face to clear her hair from her eyes. Her palms were propped on the ground as she lifted herself just above hovering the ground. He had a straight shot down her dress. To explore the dark valley between her—

“I’m fine,” she grunted.

“Are you?” And he wanted to reach out and wipe the dirt off her cheeks.

Of course he didn’t do that. He was being ridiculous.

The chit was about to learn her lesson, and he needed to step back and allow her to do so.

He shot back up, but before he could turn around and let her be, her voice stopped him.

Though…not intentionally. She hadn’t called out to him.

Hadn’t reprimanded him for his rudeness.

It was just a little mumble. Barely audible in fact.

“I should have expected nothing less.”

And he couldn’t walk away then. He told his feet to keep moving, but they refused. And he told his mouth to stay shut, but it didn’t listen. Really, it had no ears. What could he expect?

“What did you say?” his mouth asked.

“I said,” she pushed herself up higher off the ground, and now one foot was beneath her body, “I should have expected nothing less. From you, that is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The sensation of a snake was slithering up through his organs, warning him that something was about to attack.

“If I have to explain it, there’s no point in saying it.”

“I rather think that’s a terrible way to live life. And more to the point, that’s a horrendous approach to arguing. How the bloody hell should I know what you mean when you string obscure words and sentiments together?” That snake was rearing its head, ready to strike.

Mimi glared at him while she appeared to be struggling to get her other foot underneath herself. Sam couldn’t determine the issue, but perhaps her foot was caught in the hem of one of her many layers of clothing. She grunted as she lifted her foot but made no progress.

“What’s going on with you? Have you got yourself a pair of new shoes?”

“Yes.”

Well, that was not expected. But perhaps it should have been.

“I’m borrowing a pair from a friend, if you must know.”

He must know. He really must.

“Why? Do you think that a glimpse of the toe of your boot is really going to secure you a husband?”

Her eyebrows raised at him. “Perhaps we could continue the questioning once I’m standing firmly on both feet.”

“That might take a while.” At his mocking her glare deepened, causing him to slightly rock back on his heels.

“Bah! Help me up, you idiot.”

He belted out a laugh. Rarely did anyone other than his closest friends ever talk to Sam in such a way.

If that was her strike, he could easily deflect it. He could just walk away and leave her in the dirt. She needed to learn. How else was she going to become a stronger person? He should just walk away.

But he didn’t. She looked so helpless lying there with dirt on her face. Helpless? No. Mimi was anything but helpless. All the same, he crouched down, extended a hand, and opened his mouth.

“I’ll offer my help. I’m a gentleman after all. But I’d strongly recommend that you reconsider who the idiot is between us, all things considered.”

“I’ve considered them all and have reached the same conclusion.” With a grumble, she took his hand and stood up. None too gently. In fact, she tripped on her hem, and her body stumbled into Sam’s.

Her plush body…plied completely against his. Rock hard. Everywhere.

Stunned. He was too stunned to speak. To even think for a split second. This was definitely a woman pressed up against him. A warm-blooded, competitive, competent woman who was about to botch everything up.

It was one thing for Mimi to fail and show weakness in front of him. He didn’t mind. After he saw her glory in her win over him in archery, the chit could be brought down a notch. (And arm wrestling him didn’t count.)

But what if she metaphorically fell on her face in front of Roger?

Or someone else? Someone who wasn’t so accepting of her shortcomings.

Someone who might feed the gossip mill. Dinner the other night had been excruciating, but if he was the only witness he wouldn’t have been cringing throughout the whole meal.

Something about watching Mimi fail, make a fool of herself, in front of others…no, that didn’t sit right with Sam.

She could show him her weaknesses, but others didn’t need to be privy to that. It was almost as if that could be a secret between them.

Like the secret he was feeling with her body against his. Her soft curves fit perfectly against his hard contours. He wanted to slip his hand down her bottom, pull her even closer, hold her tightly until there was no space for air to squeeze between them. That was a dangerous thought.

The danger was so sharp it ought to pop the bubble he felt he was still inside.

Holding her latched to his body, it was more than just the weakness that she showed.

More than just a vulnerability that she showed.

More than just the softness that she showed.

It was something in her eyes, like she was seeing through a cloud.

Like she was dreaming. Like he was the object of her dreams. The object of her fantasy.

But that couldn’t be true. He wasn’t the type of man single, young, marriage-minded women dreamed about.

A whimper crept out of her lips ripping a hoarse response from his. “What’s wrong?”

Was that even his voice? It sounded strained. This was not good.

Her eyes fluttered open. The softest expression he had seen from her. “My pinky.”

The look. The tone. The moment. It was a bubble beyond time and space.

He heard nothing. Felt nothing. Except the pounding of his heart.

Like someone was taking a hammer to it. In an even more gruff voice, he asked, “What’s wrong with your pinky?

” And since he knew it was wrong for his hand to slip down to her bottom, he covered her hand with his instead.

Was it his imagination or did she suck in a breath at his touch? What universe was he in right now? He couldn’t think.

“It…hurts.” He had never heard her voice that gentle before. Vulnerable. Open.

“Where?” he asked as he rubbed his fingers along her delicate digit.

“On the knuckle.” Her blue eyes gazed up at him through long dark lashes.

“Here? Does this hurt?” He squeezed the place on her finger that she said was sore, and she winced. And her wince gripped his heart.

She nodded while her gaze fell to his mouth. Her tongue darted out and licked her bottom lip.

Her affirmation of pain, even slight, shook him. Everyone felt pain. It was one of the few common threads amongst the human race. He couldn’t do much about her pinky, but…the thought that flew through his mind flapped its wings hard. He could prevent her further pain with Roger.

He let the thought float around in his mind, and once the flapping ceased, the thought settled.

He could help her. She didn’t have to try and win this on her own.

There was no additional pride in accomplishing this particular feat on her own.

She thought it was fate. Perhaps she already fancied herself in love with Roger.

Who was he to question her love? Her choices?

He would not stand in the way of love. If pursuing Roger would make her happy, that was what mattered.

He wasn’t even sure why it mattered so much now, but it did.

The question looming in his head was how to offer her that help. She had been dead set on not accepting any advice from him. Then again, she probably hadn’t expected to be standing in his arms for so long either. Perhaps there was a chance it was going to be easier than he expected.

“It feels better now,” she whispered, and he couldn’t help watching her lips as she spoke. So engrossed was he by her rose red mouth that he didn’t realize he had still been caressing her hand and rubbing her pinky softly between his fingers.

He needed to release her, fingers and all, and go find Chris. A plan had to be put into motion before she could suspect something. He hoped it would work because he liked the idea of making her feel better.

“That’s good,” he mumbled.

But something inside of him flared up at those two simple words in warning, probably because he realized the first thing he had to do was stand up and get her perfectly fitted body off him.