Waking Up With the Duke by Lorraine Heath

that brief moment in time, she was free—
    But the landing was ungainly. Cassiopeia lost her footing, screaming as she went down, tossing Jayne off in the process. She hit the ground hard in a graceless sprawl. By the time she shoved herself into a sitting position, Cassie was standing again, but it was obvious all was not right. She favored her right leg. Sorrow filled Jayne because of the suffering she’d caused the poor creature. What in the world had she been attempting to prove?
    “Jayne!”
    She heard Ainsley’s voice before he appeared at the hedgerow, bringing his horse to a halt, taking in the situation on the other side. “Christ! I saw you tumble. Are you injured?”
    “I see no reason for blasphemy,” she said as she gingerly pushed herself to her feet. Her bottom and hip would no doubt be bruised on the morrow. Not that she intended to reveal that bit of intimacy to Ainsley.
    “Stay there,” he ordered. “I’m coming over.”
    Standing as she was on a small rise, she was able to see him as he trotted away, turned about, and urged his mount toward the hedgerow. They vaulted over it with such grace, the horse and man obviously one, it was quite a breathtaking sight. She didn’t wish to be impressed with his horsemanship. But she was. Blast him.
    He dismounted with such elegant yet powerful ease. She could see the corded muscles of his thighs bunching and rippling. His long, sure strides carried him toward her. He was magnificent, and she cursed herself for noticing.
    With eyes the green of clover upon which she had once lain, he scrutinized every aspect of her, causing flesh bumps to erupt over her. Such a strange reaction when she was suddenly unbearably warm, her breathing labored as though he clasped her in an unyielding embrace—when he was touching her not at all.
    “Are you injured?” he asked, the concern in his voice mixed with determination. He was not one to be trifled with. He would ferret out any untruth. Not that she cared. He didn’t intimidate or frighten her. He quite simply irritated her.
    “No.”
    His eyes narrowed sharply, and she capitulated. “A bit bruised, but nothing to worry over. It is Cassie for whom I have concern.” She made to march past him and nearly tumbled again when she brought her full weight down on her right foot. His hand was immediately beneath her elbow, supporting her with so little effort.
    “You are hurt.” His curt tone reminded her too much of the chastisement she’d received from Walfort the night before.
    “It’s nothing. A slight sprain, perhaps. Nothing about which to panic. You’re quite overreacting.”
    “Will you be able to dance tonight?”
    What an idiotic question. “I don’t dance.”
    He stiffened, his fingers tightening on her arm, his gaze riveted on hers as though she was suddenly a puzzle whose pieces had not been put together properly. “I’ve had the pleasure of watching you dance. No lady is as elegant upon the dance floor as you.”
    “I did not mean that I am incapable of dancing. Rather I do not, by choice, dance. You may release me.”
    He did so, ever so slowly, as though with great reluctance. “Why do you no longer dance?”
    “Because Walfort can’t.”
    “I thought since you’d become involved in the hunt, that you agreed with my earlier assessment that to not do what you are capable of doing is merely a punishment for him.”
    “Your argument might apply to the hunt, but I seriously doubt he would take pleasure in my waltzing in the arms of other men.”
    “I think he would take pleasure in your smile and the sparkle in your eyes.”
    An image of being swept along in Ainsley’s arms flashed through her mind. They’d never danced. Even before the accident. He’d kept his distance. She’d never thought to wonder why. Not that it signified. “I think you’re mistaken. Now I must see to Cassie.”
    “Allow me to approach her first. If she’s in pain, she could strike out.”
    She didn’t like his