Page 2 of How Not to Marry a Duke

She met his gaze, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself speechless. The contrast of those blue eyes and midnight hair against olive skin was stunning.

He cleared his throat. “Pardon, miss,” he said as he dropped his hand and stepped away. “I am looking for the owner of this cottage.”

“You found the owner, sir.”

Truly? How was it possible one small woman, no matter how beautiful, could own the dogs that had distracted him from his work for three long days?

“I’m Miss Adeline. How can I help you, sir?”

He’d had his speech prepared, or rather his list of complaints for the fellow who owned such unruly dogs, but he’d been taken aback by the fact his neighbor was a young woman—a very pretty one. Was she married? It would be easier to confront a husband.

She looked up expectantly at him, waiting.

“The truth is, I’m here because of your—”

A blur from around the corner of the cottage drew his eye. What the devil!

A giant pig barreled full speed toward them with no sign of slowing. Unthinking, Warwick hauled the woman behind him. “Watch out!”

“Wait—”

With the cottage to one side and Miss Adeline behind him, Warwick’s options were limited. Heart hammering, he had just enough time to angle her away from the attack and brace himself as about two hundred pounds of solid farm animal barreled headfirst into him.

The threesome tumbled to the ground, man, woman, and swine. He took the brunt of it, cushioning the lady’s fall with his body. They landed in dirt and a patch of mud.

A sharp pain raced down his arm. Through the roaring din, he swore.

His prior injury hadn’t fully healed, but at least the pain had eased to a constant dull ache. But now, the stabbing pain was like a rasp on his skin, and he knew the wound had reopened.

He sat upright and eyed the corpulent beast. White with black spots and a spotted black-and-white snout with a tail that curled upward, the animal had charged him like a bull. As far as pigs went, he was ordinary, except for the glimmer of intelligence in his beady black eyes. Rather than wander off, the pig snuffled in Warwick’s face.

The woman shoved herself from beneath Warwick to sit. “Henry, no!” She wagged a finger at the pig. Her tone was one of pure admonishment.

Amazingly, the pig responded, and, with a snort, he turned away from Warwick to waddle to her side. Her lips curved in a fond smile as she gave him a pat on the head. The pig snorted once more, then wandered off to his pen and started guzzling food from a bucket of feed. Warwick noticed the door to the pen was ajar.

He rose and reached down to grasp the woman around the waist and help her to her feet. Her waist was trim and fit the curve of his hand, her curves soft as she briefly pressed against him.

She stood straight and looked up at him. “I apologize. He’s never done that before and is quite docile. I believe you frightened him when you shouted.”

Warwick’s eyes widened. He couldn’t fathom her defense of the animal. His arm began to throb, and his already strained temper flared. “I frightened him? Your pig is a nuisance and attacked me.” Just saying it out loud was ludicrous. His clothes were ruined, and he didn’t bother to wipe away the dirt, dust, and mud from his trousers and once-white shirt. Mud clung to the skirts of her dress.

Her eyebrows drew together. “Only to greet you. Henry is friendly and wouldn’t harm anyone.”

Warwick cradled his arm. “Henry is oversized and dangerous.”

She glared. “He is not fat! He was the runt of the litter. He’s also my beloved pet.”

His heartbeat hammered. “Your pet? A pig cannot be a pet. It’s a farm animal.”

“That’s untrue. They are quite affectionate.”

“I doubt a pig can express affection.” His tone was surly.

“You, sir, don’t have much experience with pigs.”

“Only the bacon or pork they provide on my table.”

She gasped and her eyes narrowed.