Page 39 of An Unfamiliar Duke

“Over here,” he said, leading Rosalind to the narrow access hidden between the bushes.

“A kissing gate,” she said, pushing against the wooden slats so she could step into the V-shaped enclosure. “Do you know why these means of access are so named, my Lord Duke Engineer?”

He chuckled. “I do. The gate is built so that it pivots on a hinge. If a person pushes against the gate so that it touches, or kisses, the far post, it allows him or her entry into the widest part of the enclosure. The same person can then swing the gate back until it touches, or kisses, the nearer post, allowing him or her exit but confusing the most wily of cattle.”

She had stepped around the center mark and turned to push the gate back toward him. “Although your technically correct response cannot be faulted, it is not my preferred answer.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is that so? How would you best explain the kissing gate’s appellation?”

She stood on the other side of the gate, her hands on the top slat. “I have heard it said that the kissing gate came about its name because the first person to pass through is required to close the gate on the second person, providing the second person an opportunity to offer a kiss in exchange for entry.” Her dark-brown eyes met his, and awareness hummed between them.

He took a step toward her, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest. “I concede,” he said. “Your explanation is far superior to mine.”

“I . . . I am glad you think so.”

Slowly, he lifted his hand, brushing back a stray curl from off her face only to have the wind capture the enticing lock of hair again. He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, anchoring her soft ringlets in place with his fingers. “May I enter, Rosalind?”

She did not drop her gaze. “Yes,” she whispered.

“And would you accept the forfeit stipulated by the kissing gate?” Already, he was leaning in, wanting this more than he had even realized. If she said no . . . if she pulled back . . .

“Yes.” The softly spoken word had scarcely disappeared on the breeze before Sebastian’s lips claimed hers.

He reached over the gate. Her arms snaked up around his neck, the faint scent of jasmine teasing his senses. The touch of her fingers on the skin above his collar sent a tremor coursing through him. He pulled her closer and lost himself in the kiss.

“Sebastian.” She murmured his name, pulling back slightly.

He opened his eyes and took an unsteady breath. Dear heaven, what had happened to him? One minute he was thinking clearly, and the next minute he was not thinking at all.

“Someone is coming.”

At Rosalind’s words, Sebastian released her and raised his head. The steady pounding of hooves vibrated through the ground. She was right. Someone was coming. And he was close. Rosalind took a step back, pulling the gate with her. He entered, rounding the V-shaped center and pushing the gate closed behind him. Taking her hand, he turned to face the rider.

“Your Grace.” The gentleman on horseback reined his mount to a halt and slid out of the saddle.

“Good day, Grayson.” His steward bowed, and Sebastian turned to Rosalind. “Rosalind, this is Mr. Mark Grayson, my steward. Mr. Grayson, I should like you to meet my wife, the Duchess of Kelbrook.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Grayson.” Rosalind’s greeting was calm and cordial. Only her tight grip on his hand suggested that she was not quite herself.

“And I you, Your Grace.” Grayson removed his hat and bowed again.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your unexpected and hurried arrival?” Sebastian asked.

“Vickers told me I might find you here, Your Grace. I just came from the Becketts’ house. All this wind has brought down the ash tree beside his front gate, and the biggest limb has gone through the roof.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened. He knew the tree well. It was one of the largest ash trees on the property, and earlier this summer he’d noted that a goodly portion of it had not leafed. He had intended to mention the observation to his gardener, but it had slipped his mind. If the tree was dying or, worse, if parts of it were rotting, it was little wonder that it had fallen victim to today’s strong winds. “What of his family?” he asked. “Was anyone injured?”

“Thankfully, no. Mrs. Beckett had taken the children to the market. They’re back now, and she has the little ones picking up sticks to keep them occupied. David’s on the roof, trying to clear the hole well enough to patch it until old Bill Greenwald, the roofer, can get there. I’m wondering if we can send over some men to help with the bigger branches.” He glanced at the sky and frowned. “Shepherd that he is, David’s forecasting rain tomorrow.”

“Then we must act quickly. I’ve never known David to miss the mark with the weather. I shall escort Her Grace back to the house, and then I will ride over to the cottage myself. Have the gardeners gather all the axes and saws they can find, and tell Dawson to hitch up the cart and saddle my mount. With the bridge out, everyone will need to go by road.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Grayson was already halfway back into his saddle.

“I shall join you soon,” Sebastian said.

Grayson nodded. He wheeled his horse around and started toward the stables at a canter.

“Go after him, Sebastian.” Rosalind released his hand. “You are needed elsewhere, and I am perfectly capable of reaching the house by myself.”