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arrogant length of his nose.
    He grasped her hand and slowly turned it to bring her finger against his mouth. With his tongue, he traced the side of her finger, finding the sliver of wood and acquainting himself with its angle of entry by virtue of explorations that made Gwen’s insides leap.
    Gwen turned her head, unable to hold his gaze while his tongue probed at her flesh. The wet, warm feel of his lips and tongue against her finger, the challenge in his eyes as he held her hand to his mouth… Hot, uncomfortable, complicated feelings spiraled up from her middle, made all the worse by her conviction that Amery found the whole business amusing.
    His teeth gently scraped at Gwen’s finger just as her insides nearly collapsed from an answering mortification—it had to be embarrassment causing those odd sensations—and then his mouth was gone.
    “There.” He held a mean little dagger of wood on the end of his finger for her to see then flicked it into the weeds. “No wonder it hurt.” He withdrew a handkerchief and wrapped it around Gwen’s finger, applying a snug pressure while she submitted to his assistance.
    “Wouldn’t you do the same for me?” he asked quietly. When Gwen mutely gazed out over the water, he sighed and answered his own question. “I see you would not, which is just as well. I relish asking for help no more than you do. Shall we be on our way?”
    He offered his right arm, and Gwen accepted it, wondering at the significance of his last comment. They made the journey back to the manor house in thoughtful silence until they were walking up the driveway, their horses side by side.
    “You will spend the balance of the afternoon with Rose?” he asked her as they approached the stable yard.
    “She might be napping, but from when she awakens until she goes down tonight, I will be more or less with her.”
    Amery dismounted and came around his horse. “What is more or less?”
    This had nothing to do with stewardship of the land, and yet Gwen answered him. “If I have accounting to do, she might play in the library while I work at the books. She might come with me if I need to visit the home farm or the propagation houses. I reserve tasks near the manor for the end of the day, and if it’s safe, she comes with me.”
    He lifted her off her horse and likely would have stepped back in the next instant, but Gwen pitched a bit forward on landing, so his hands lingered on her waist a moment longer.
    “Thank you, my lord.”
    “Most welcome,” he replied, taking that step back and offering her his arm. The horses were led away, and the idiot man remained standing there, his elbow winged out until Gwen took his arm and he started a sedate progress toward the house.
    “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
    “I beg your pardon?” His tone wasn’t begging anything and suggested he never would.
    “You don’t have to make it your personal mission to return me to the land of gentlemanly manners,” she bit out. “I concede defeat, your lordship. I will acquiesce in your displays of civility, but you need not be so willing to put your hands on my person.”
    “Are my hands on your person, then?”
    “You know to what I refer.”
    “I do,” he allowed. “You referred to it as manners and civilities. Let me ask you a question, though, Miss Hollister.”
    He paused on a slight rise offering a view of the autumn gardens. Asters and pansies bloomed in colorful abundance, and the chrysanthemums were coming into their glory.
    “Your question, my lord?”
    “Have I at any point touched you against your will?”
    “No. No, damn you, you have not.”
    ***
    Miss Hollister dropped Douglas’s arm and strode away into the house. From the set of her shoulders, she was crying again, which was understandable. She’d had much to cry about, and unless he missed his guess, she’d probably allowed herself very few tears.
    They were similar in that regard, he and this fallen, knowledgeable woman who loved