Free The Duke's Quandary by Callie Hutton

An attack of brain fever?
    “Woman, you are a danger to yourself and the world in general.” He’d finally stopped his attack, and rolled her onto her back. Leaning over her, he placed his hands on either side of her head, much too close for her comfort. He glared at her, his jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek jumping.
    Unable to think of a coherent word to utter, Penelope just stared at him until he stood, brushed off his trousers and reached a hand to pull her up. Once she was standing, she backed away from him, worried by his bizarre behavior. “Why did you throw me to the ground?” Although her voice had returned, her words came out breathless.
    “You set your gown on fire!” His shout would certainly rouse the entire household.
    She pulled the bottom of her dressing gown out to see the blackened, burned hem where, indeed, she had set herself on fire. Next to her lay the candlestick, positioned on its side, the flame now extinguished. “Oh, dear.”
    “ Oh, dear ! That’s all you can say?” He leaned forward, his face flushed, hands tightly clenched. “Madam, you need someone to follow you about all day to keep you from killing yourself—or some other hapless soul.”
    Penelope drew herself up, and gripped the neckline of her dressing gown. “That is, indeed, an unkind thing to say.”
    All the stiffness in him seemed to deflate. He backed away, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger. “I apologize. You are correct, that was unkind.” His lips tipped in a slight smile. “But not far from the truth.”
    “I wish I could dispute that,” she sniffed, “but I’m afraid you are right.” She bent to retrieve the rug, clasping it to her, suddenly aware of how scantily she was dressed. “Why are you here?”
    “I guess I could ask the same of you.”
    “I like to come to the garden at night and examine the plants.”
    “Why in the dark?”
    Why indeed? How to explain to him how important the work was to her, and how trivial it seemed to others who viewed her rooting around in the bushes. She could just imagine Her Grace’s reaction to seeing her houseguest hurrying into the house in a mud splattered morning gown, trekking clumps of dirt along with her.
    “I’m a botanist, and that’s what I do. Most people don’t understand it, and see my activities as strange. Hence, the cover of darkness.”
    …
    His heartbeat back to normal, Drake was finally able to hear what the girl said. S trange. That word barely covered it.
    He’d almost had a heart seizure when he’d seen the hem of her gown in flames. Shortly after the carriage had dropped him off, he’d noticed a glow in the garden. Curious, he had followed the trail from the pathway to where the flickering light shone in a patch of the woods. It hadn’t taken him long to identify his trespasser, but before he could approach her, she had leaned close to a candlestick she’d placed on the ground, and her dressing gown had caught fire.
    “Can I prevail upon you to do your scientific research in the light of day?”
    “What will you mother and sisters think?”
    He shoved aside the open flaps of his jacket, and placed his hands on his hips. “And what would they think if I carried your burned body into the house?”
    “I see your point.” She pushed the spectacles up on her nose and offered a sweet smile.
    And his stomach muscles, along with the area below, tightened. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the semi-darkness, and he wasn’t rolling her about on the ground, he took in her appearance. The ragged, burned bottom of the gown called attention to well-turned ankles peeking out from below.
    Although she hugged a rug to her chest, the pressure caused the tops of her breasts to rise above the edge of the rug. His mouth watered at the thought of placing his lips over the enticing mounds and taking his fill. As she looked at him in confusion, the glass from her spectacles magnified her jade green eyes and dark eyelashes. A