‘Nolan!’ she cried.
Heedless of the brambles which tried to ensnare her dress, she ran towards where she had last seen him. By the time she reached him, he was already pushing himself up to sitting. He’d fallen into a shallow, muddy ditch and obviously snagged his clothes on brambles as he’d gone down, as the sleeves of his jacket were ripped in several places, showing the white of his shirt below.
‘I have broken you,’ she whispered.
His shoulders started to shake and she braced herself for his fury until she realised he was laughing. Silently at first but then in great gusts, the sound coming from deep within him. She started to giggle and soon the two of them were doubled over, clutching their stomachs.
‘Broken,’ he managed to wheeze.
It only set her off harder, tears running down her face, her ribs aching.
Nolan was always handsome in an austere, unapproachable way, but undone like this, his eyes creased with happiness, he looked younger, more alive than she had ever seen him.
‘I found the way out,’ Nolan managed sometime later. ‘I do not know whether that will help us or not.’ He indicated a wooden door, covered in tight ivy.
‘Do you have a knife?’ she asked, running her fingers along the thick, curling stems.
He patted his thighs, drawing her attention to his solid muscles. ‘No, it turns out I did not bring my rapier with me for this gentle stroll around my hosts’ garden.’
She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm and tried the handle. ‘It is unlocked. Perhaps all we need do is pull on it.’ She tugged, sweat beading on her forehead at the effort, but the door did not budge as the ivy wrapped around the hinges held tight.
He pushed himself to his feet. ‘Allow me.’
Hardly seeming to expend any energy, he pulled a gap wide enough for them both to squeeze through. She shamelessly gawked at his shoulders while his back was turned.
‘Ladies first,’ he murmured, keeping a firm grip on the handle.
Her arm lightly brushed against his chest as she moved past him.
He followed, muttering about his valet’s fury as green moss stained his coat sleeves.
On the other side was a narrow pathway. She gazed up at him, her fingers itching with the desire to smooth his rumpled hair. He no longer looked like the austere Duke she was used to. He was creased and dirty and the ghost of their shared laughter still shone in his eyes. Her heart ached with a strange longing, but what it wanted, she wasn’t sure.
With his gaze fixed on her face, he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his top pocket. ‘Shall we see what is next on the list?’
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