By the time she was finished, that title would be worth no more than a bag of popcorn at the local movie theater. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself to a sitting position. The realization that she wore little more than a flimsy nightgown brought a downward curl to her lips. No doubt the Duke had fun undressing her while she’d been practically comatose. Heartless bastard. A quick survey of her surroundings didn’t put her mind at ease. Where were the modern conveniences of today’s society? Why was she seeing a porcelain stand with pitcher and water basin next to the bed? And what about the lights? Did the Duke not believe in electricity? Her teeth chattering, she swept her gaze to the opposite side of the room. Downstairs, she’d caught a glimpse of the rich furnishings and gilded entranceway, but here, inside the obviously masculine bedroom, she’d been thrust into another century. The bedroom door swung wide, and the doorway filled with the Duke’s massive frame. Intimidating and breathtaking, he walked toward her. Abby jumped to her feet and immediately swayed, reaching behind her to grasp hold of the bedpost. Instantly, he was there, guiding her back to the mattress behind her, but she shook him off. “I’m fine.”
