Project Duchess. Sabrina Jeffries

make you take them walking.”

      “As long as you lead the way, I wouldn’t mind that a bit,” he countered, and held out his hand for the leashes. “We scoundrels will follow you anywhere.”

      She swallowed, her throat undulating in a fashion that made him want to put his lips just there, in the hollow. Now where had that thought come from?

      Then she seemed to catch herself, for she went rigid as she held out the leashes. “All right. Then you can walk them. If you think you can keep up.”

      When he took the leashes from her, her fingers brushed his accidentally, and an alarming current snapped between them.

      But if she felt the same, she showed no sign of it. As she pivoted on her heel and marched off along the edge of the gorse toward what looked like a forest of elms, he hurried after her with the dogs.

      “You see, lads,” he drawled, “the way to turn a lady up sweet is to acquiesce to whatever she wants. That’s how you get exactly what you want.”

      Her sniff made it clear she’d heard him. So did the very feminine toss of her head and the subtle swing of her hips as if she were aware of him watching her from behind.

      Satisfaction coursed through him. Clearly, a day with Beatrice was going to be far more interesting than spending his time cooped up in the study with Sheridan and going over estate documents, as they’d done last evening after the funeral.

      And who knew? It might even give him a chance to look at the infamous bridge where Maurice had died, so he could report to Sheridan on that as well. All he had to do was coax her into showing him the dower house.

      He began to think that might not be as difficult as he’d feared.