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caught up in the passion of the moment to mention it. No one had commented about the beating of his heart, however. Perhaps it was because she was sitting across his lap. Or perhaps it was simply something no one had ever noticed before.
       Lily gently cupped his jaw and then pulled her hand back as if she had been burned. "You are feverish, Your Grace."
       "It's nothing to concern yourself with, Miss Rutledge."
       "I can't even believe you can stand up, let alone ride."
       Simon heaved a sigh. She was persistent. "You have a terrible habit of not listening to me. I'm neither injured nor ill. Now let it be."
       She pursed her lips, and Simon wished he didn't imagine kissing them. Ignoring Lily Rutledge would be easier if her every gesture wasn't innocently seductive. She had no idea the precarious position she'd put herself into with him.
       Why hadn't she married some country squire or local vicar or… someone respectable? Her mere existence tempted him to do things he knew he shouldn't. He couldn't be the only man to find her so… intoxicating. Firmly on the shelf, she'd said. It was ridiculous.
       Lily Rutledge should be somewhere in Essex raising a brood of children and tending to some decent man's needs. Not draped across him in the middle of nowhere, making him want things he couldn't have.
       "You are very grumpy," she said quietly. "Are you certain you're not ill?"
       Simon ignored her. He didn't need someone worrying about him and trying to coddle him. Besides, answering her hadn't done him any good up to this point. She kept asking the same questions, unsatisfied with his responses, and he could never tell her the truth. But he had to admit he did enjoy her attention, no matter how poorly advised it was.
    ***

    Lily sighed a breath of relief when she spotted Haslemere in the distance. Blackmoor had stopped talking some way back, and her head throbbed. Every time she adjusted her seat, trying to get comfortable, the duke either flinched or grunted. He would tense, and then it took moments for him to relax again.
       Her thoughts went back to Oliver. She hadn't planned to be away from Maberley Hall for so long. Hopefully, he was all right. What would he think when Blackmoor's servant arrived to transport him to Hampshire? And why was the duke so adamant about bringing Oliver to his estate?
       Lily looked up at Blackmoor to ask him. The question died on her lips, however, when she noticed the intensity of his stare, which was focused on her. She nearly lost her breath.
       "We're here," he said, his voice low and gravely.
       Lily shook her head, bringing herself back to the present, but the motion caused the throbbing pain to reoccur. Sure enough, they were in front of a quaint inn, two stories tall with a good-sized stable.
       Lord William strode toward them, his dark hair windblown and a charming grin on his face. "Ah, there you are. I was starting to think my brother had absconded with you."
       Lily smiled. What a ridiculous thing to say. "He's been ignoring me for years, Lord William. I hardly think he wants anything to do with me at all."
       "I would beg to differ on that point, Miss Rutledge," Lord William said as he walked closer to the duke's mount.
       Blackmoor growled.
       His brother clasped his hand to his chest, feigning insult. "Lord William? My dear Miss Rutledge, we are practically family. Call me Will."
       Behind her, Blackmoor grumbled something unintelligible.
       His brother roared with laughter. "So charming, Simon." He lifted Lily from the horse and placed her on the ground, offering his arm. "Come on, my dear. Dr. Albright will be along shortly. I do hope you'll let me call you Lily."
       She didn't have much of a choice, not that she was fussy about that sort of thing. She nodded. "Of course."
       "Brilliant," Will gushed, escorting her into the taproom, which was much brighter than the frightening establishment