Page 7 of Down Bad with the Iron Duke

And then he spun on his heel and continued toward the stables.

Leaving her gaping in his wake for a second time.

5

Rafe

Rafe fought back his amusement as he strode toward his stables. Upset she was a woman? Rafe could never be upset by a fact such as that. She’d proven herself capable over the years, so when it came to stewarding duties, that was all that mattered to him. And there was something about her…a spark. She wasn’t cowed by him, even if he might make her slightly nervous. She couldn’t seem to hold back her tongue. Which was a trait he liked in his women.

Miss Dawson appeared back at his side, over her shock at his statement. Rafe didn’t mince words. One couldn’t when one used so few of them.

She was silent for a beat, but then that mouth got the better of her. “Aren’t you going to…” She waved toward his state of dishabille. “I mean, you’re not properly dressed…”

No, he wasn’t. It wasn’t exactly easy to get properly dressed when one spent the night in a cave. He’d returned to his rooms early that morning, but all he’d managed were fresh trousers and a shirt before he couldn’t take the suffocating memories any longer.

“I’m a duke.” Which meant he could do whatever he wanted. Unfortunately, he knew how far some dukes went with that power.

She huffed. “Yes, and I am a woman. Here we go again. Stating obvious facts.”

He wondered how long she’d be able to tolerate silence.

They made it ten paces.

“I have brown hair. The sky is grey. It is May. You have muscles made of stone, and my finger is now permanently damaged because of it. Am I doing it right?”

Rafe slowed as they approached the entrance to the stables, then paused and turned to face her. His gaze traced her features. She was both soft and hard. High cheekbones. Eyes a warm dark brown like the color of the coffee he took in the morning. Plush lips. A chin that slowly jutted out further and further the longer he stared at her.

“You’re beautiful.”

She blinked rapidly. “I-I beg your pardon?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “We are stating facts, yes?” He spun on his heel and entered the stables.

Scurrying bootsteps echoed through the stable behind his heavy thudding ones.

“Yes, but that lacked all finesse.”

He signaled to his grooms, gesturing between himself and Miss Dawson.

“You hurled that at me with as much grace as a trebuchet tossing rocks.”

A moment later two horses were brought out, saddled and ready for riding. Once they were both in the saddle, he glanced her way. “I don’t need finesse. I’m a duke.”

Her mouth flattened, and her right eye twitched as if she were desperately trying to avoid rolling her eyes. It took everything in him to hold back his amusement because she’d resembled his grandmama just then. He had a knack for driving his grandmama past the point of patience.

He nudged his horse forward before his threatening amusement could surface.

Once they were out of hearing distance of the stables, she cleared her throat. “I won’t be…participating in your inappropriate suggestion from earlier, Your Grace. If you expect that of me as part of my position, then I can no longer remain in your service.”

Rafe stiffened. “I do not force myself upon unwilling women,” he said tightly.

“I mean no insult, Your Grace,” she said carefully. “But I am an unwilling woman. Respectfully, Your Grace.”

Their eyes clashed, then she quickly looked away.

“You’re not unwilling, Miss Dawson. And, yes, that is another fact.”

She did that gaping trout expression again, but before he could blink, her mouth snapped shut, delicate nostrils flaring. A dark spark lit in her brown eyes. “Yes, well, with a silver tongue like that, how could I possibly resist?”