by Tanya Wilde
Her hopes scattered.
“Looks like her, the face,” Mr. Mean drawled.
“Yes,” Mr. Ugly agreed. “The nose, brows, and cheekbones are the same.”
“It could be a distant cousin of mine,” Holly argued.
“No, this is you,” the mean one said.
“I must warn you that I am not alone,” she murmured, searching her brain for a way to get out of this. “My companion has gone into town to fetch our cook.”
“Your companion, heh?” Sir Handsome mocked. “Nice try, missy. You are a slippery one, for sure, but any man would have to be mad to defy a duke.”
Holly shrugged. “Except if the man who defies a duke is himself a duke.” Or in her case, a marquis.
“Y’re here with the duke?” Mr. Mean asked, confused.
Holly sighed.
“No, ye bloody idiot. She’s trying to confuse us,” Mr. Ugly said. “I think.”
“And what if she didn’t travel alone?”
“Then we shall inform His Grace that she had assistance,” Sir Handsome said. “It would explain why we had such a difficult time in finding her.” Displeasure darkened his features.
“How did you find me?” Holly asked, giving each of them a skeptical look. When they all narrowed their eyes at her, she quickly amended, “If I am this person you are searching for.”
Sir Handsome shifted on his horse. “We got lucky with a traveler claiming to have spotted you at an inn. He couldn’t be sure it was you, and neither did he make mention of any companion you were traveling with.”
“Damn lucky,” Mr. Mean agreed. “We’d never have headed in this direction if we had not come across the man.”
How damn unlucky for her.
“Now we get to collect the coin the duke promised. A hefty amount he placed on your safe, unharmed return,” Sir Handsome said, soft reassurance in his voice.
So they meant no threat to her person. That was something, Holly supposed. But if anyone ever discovered she had not only traveled with the Marquis of Warton without a chaperone but with these ruffians as well, any salvageable thread of her reputation would be laid to rest.
These men were lucky, indeed.
The traveler must have glimpsed her when she had explored the first inn they had stopped at. And now that these men were here, Holly was presented with three possibilities: attempt to continue to persuade them that she was not who they wanted and return to her little cottage of exile; be the unwilling victim in their plot to return her to the duke; or return with them willingly.
The third option seemed the least likely to cause any trouble. And had she, not moments earlier, declared she would face the duke?
Admittedly, Holly had hoped to do so on her terms. Honestly, being bound and gagged did not send the message of a woman intent on fighting for her future. Why not try option one?
“Look, I’m sure this has all been a terrible mistake.”
“No mistake, my lady,” the handsome one said, and the others chuckled. “There is no need to be afraid of us.”
Curse this day! She should have remained in bed, blissfully unaware of Brahm’s abandonment and these men. Resisting them would only prolong the inevitable. Holly could see that now.
Fine. Option three it is.
Holly would willingly partake in their plan to return her. But first, she had a few demands of her own. “Very well, take me to the duke. But I will travel with you as your sister and on my own horse. We avoid bustling towns where I might be recognized—I still have a future to think of. And in return, I will give you no trouble. I shall be the model of a dutiful sibling.”
They all looked at her, astonished.
Then Mr. Ugly and Mr. Mean swiveled their heads to Sir Handsome in unison. Clearly he was in command.
His eyes never left hers as he inclined his head. “Your wish is my command.”
Holly nearly snorted. But having made her decision, however reluctantly, she would remain civil even if it killed her.
She spared a glance over her shoulder and out over the open fields, hoping that Brahm would materialize from behind the trees in the distance. Hoping that their kiss, their moment, had been more than just a fleeting desire to him.
Resignation settled deep in her heart.
No horse charged from the depth of the trees.
The Marquis of Warton was gone.
She’d have to save herself.
Chapter 16
One hour. That was how far he got. One bloody hour. Brahm had gotten as far as the outskirts of the village before he had stopped, sitting on the back of Galileo, and had cursed himself for leaving Holly to wake up alone. He hadn’t even left a bloody note.
At the start of their journey, even as far back as discovering her in the secret passage of the church, Brahm hadn’t expected much but troublesome, perhaps mildly embarrassing behavior from Holly Middleton.
And when he had agreed to aid her, he had just wanted some form of relief, some amusement to break the monotonous routine his life had become. With Josephine happily married and living with her husband, he had become more isolated than usual. He had believed, at the time, he could help a lady in need and get a little adventure in the undertaking.
But Holly Middleton was much more than he expected.
She was dazzling.
He had not expected her allure or his enduring desire for her. It was impossible to shake her. And then he had gone and ruined everything.
Brahm still felt a sting of shame for abandoning her there, on the ground, in a state of pleasure.
The bloody floor.
He was stark raving mad to have done that. And Holly had not sought him out for the rest of the day, which for her said quite a lot. No doubt she must have been furious with him. Not to mention what she must have felt when she found him gone.
Devil take it! Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined they’d be intimate. But she had taunted him, tempted him, robbed him of his breath and his self-control. He had been sorely unprepared for the feelings she had provoked when she’d cried out in pleasure, her body coming undone in his arms. Something had shattered inside him.
And then he was the jackass who left after that.
Brahm fought to recollect the reasons he had steered clear of her before: she was prone to reckless behavior, outspoken, and brazen. And yet none of those reasons carried weight any longer.
Holly Middleton had revealed a side of herself that Brahm had not expected to find. She was radiant, kind, and accepting. The force of her was enticing. Her outspoken and brazen behavior was brave, refreshing, engaging.
Everything inside him responded to her.
And as he sat on the back of his horse, his eyes burning from lack of sleep, Brahm felt her everywhere. The taste of her was still fresh on his lips, the smell of her hair in his nose and the feel of her body tucked beneath his still prickling his skin.
Desperately, Brahm grasped for the strength to spur his horse onward and to place distance between them. He had done his duty. Nothing more was expected of him. So why was he not galloping off into the sunset without her? Because, try as he might, he could no longer recall why he wanted to leave Holly behind. He could not envision a life without her in it anymore.
How could he go back to his empty home? How could he continue to attend balls and soirees without her by his side, calming his temper and brightening situations that he otherwise abhorred? How could he go back to dining at a big table, alone, rather than picnicking in libraries with her?
Solitude was no longer enough.
He wanted Holly.
Who else would slip into his room when he bathed, spit out his hot chocolate when he forgot to add sugar, or inflame his skin with a mere touch? With her, he forgot about everyone and everything and simply lived in the present.
At that moment, sitting atop Galileo on the outskirts of the village, he finally ended the war within himself. With an extraordinary amount of emotion coursing through him, he charged off on his
horse, turning back the way he had come.
The fact remained, too, that she should marry him. At least, that’s what he planned on presenting to her.
He might not have compromised her in the actual sense of the word, but he had traveled with her unchaperoned. He had slept in the same room with her. He had kissed her. He had introduced her to pleasure. Those were grounds enough to demand that she marry him, to badger her into matrimony if she first declined him. Weren’t they?
A humorless laugh escaped his throat.
He knew such methods would not work on Holly. No, she’d hear nothing of duty or ruination or good old-fashioned logic. She’d want the truth. She’d want to hear that he couldn’t imagine living without her. She’d want to know that though her presence robbed him of any practical thought, her absence left him fumbling in the dark, choking on air.
But Brahm was not a man of many words. His snapping often got in the way whenever he felt raw emotion, and he felt a great measure of feeling now. He couldn’t go to Holly like this. He was sure to fumble it.
So he changed direction once more and spurned his horse in the direction of the open fields.
An overwhelming sense of freedom settled in Brahm as he and Galileo explored the country lanes and bridle paths. After three-quarters of an hour, the raging emotions in his churning gut finally settled. That was the thing about riding—the proximity to the natural world always provided him with a clear head.
More level-headed than ever, he headed toward the cottage, prepared to present Holly with the facts: He cared for her. He desired her. He wanted to marry her. And she could not rip him to shreds by refusing him.
Simple.
To the point.
His confidence lasted all but an hour. Upon returning to the cottage, he found no sign of Holly. There was no answer when he called her name. He stood, befuddled, staring up the narrow flight of stairs, waiting for her to appear at the top.
“Holly?” he hollered again.
A figure did appear then, but she was all wrong.
“My Lord?”
“Where is Miss Middleton?” he snapped at the maid.
“I believe she’s taking a stroll, my lord. She was quite distressed upon learning your lordship returned to London.”
Brahm let out a foul curse.
He should never have left her.
“My Lord?”
He ignored the maid, his throat too tight to speak. What if she had attempted to follow him?
No, he shook his head, she wouldn’t do that.
She wouldn’t.
But still Brahm bolted out the door, his leather sole boots hitting the ground hard, each step pounding through the earth. Sweat rolled down his brow, and his heart hammered as he found no sign of her presence—or that she had ventured to pursue him.
See, there is nothing to worry over.
Brahm willed his beating heart to a slower pace. There was no need to panic. Not yet. She had, in all likelihood, gone for a walk to clear her mind.
Retrieving Galileo, he set out to inspect the grounds. He found no sign her.
Brahm scowled.
Where the hell was she?
Veering his horse to the main lane that led to the cottage, he decided to retrace his route and its small offshoots that led to a nearby river and fields. It was on the offshoot to the fields that he came across three pairs of hoof imprints.
An acidic taste formed in his mouth.
Riders had been here. And so had someone on foot.
Holly.
A growl lodged in the back of his throat; he was disgusted with himself for leaving Holly unprotected. Fear skittered over his skin as he dismounted to inspect the ground. The tracks could not be more than a few hours old.
Uncontrollable anger seized him. He wanted to kick something. Hard. He had turned his back for one moment, all because he couldn’t see what had been right in front of him all along, and he had lost her.
Swamped with dread, he felt apprehension sweep over him. He stood gazing at the field, with no sense of direction. He felt as if someone had clobbered him over the head. Everything around him seemed to lose sound. Everything but his pulse, which pounded in his ears.
Focus.
He had to figure out what had happened.
His breathing labored, he pulled at his disheveled hair in frustration, examining the area she had been taken from.
The tracks were faint, but they did not indicate that anyone had run in the direction of the cottage—only away from it—and neither did they indicate any sign of a struggle. They moved in the direction of the village in a rather organized manner.
That made no sense.
Had Holly gone willingly? Why would she?
Unless . . . Unless these riders were the duke’s men. Unless she’d given herself up to a fate she hadn’t thought she had an alternative to or true escape from.
Devil take it!
His heart worked hard as he breathed unevenly.
He was the alternative, and she didn’t even know it.
HOLLY OPENED HER EYES and was greeted by the canopy of an unfamiliar bed. And even if she had not noticed something as trifling as the strange canopy, the gloriously soft mattress and plush bedding would have alerted her all the same.
Her brain felt thick, and there was a dull throbbing at the front of her skull. Her hand lifted to her temple where a bruised lump had swelled to the size of a chicken egg.
Reckless—she had been too reckless.
Why had she gone and convinced herself halfway through the journey that she really ought to escape—not to run, but to get away to meet the duke on her own terms, as she first desired?
Gah, it had seemed like a smashing idea at the time.
She had run off, without a plan, at a moment when she’d thought her captors had their guard down, but they hadn’t. When she had forced her horse to bolt, Sir Handsome had chased her and grabbed the reins, and the momentum of the sudden stop had thrown her from the mount.
Holly was lucky to still be alive.
“Good, you are awake.”
She winced as those hard, steely words slammed against her skull like a hammer.
St. Ives.
Of course, he was here just as her head was splitting. But wait, where exactly was here? It must be one of his residences. But which?
Holly opened one eye, angling her face to the side, trying not to jar her head too much. The duke’s face was a blurry blotch in her vision.
She blinked, and his features slowly came into focus. Black eyes rested on her. They didn’t glare, just coolly stared. After all, to glare would mean the lofty duke felt something other than indifference. Which begged the question, what did he feel? Slighted? That was an emotion, right? Or was the duke going through the motions of emotion to keep up appearances with his beloved inferior peers?
“You found me,” she rasped, her voice still thick with sleep. “You must be in raptures.”
“Did you honestly believe I would not?”
Yes, she’d honestly believed he wouldn’t have. Had his men not struck such luck, and had Holly not run after Brahm, and had Brahm not left in the first place, it was unlikely the duke would ever have discovered her.
“Did you truly believe jilting me would not carry any consequence?” he continued.
“Yes, yes, you are a mighty duke and shall deliver my comeuppance. Spare me the woeful tale of how my betrayal forever broke your heart. You married my sister. That is a far cry from being jilted. In fact, if I am to believe the London Times, you always meant to marry Willow, not me.”
Yes, she had known there would be some consequence. What she hadn’t known was that she would fall in love again. She wondered what the duke would say about that.
He clenched his jaw. “A necessary tale to spare both our houses the humiliation of your actions.”
“It seems like everything worked out for you, Your Grace,” she paused, her voice dry and cracked. “So why must you still do this?”
“And what of you?” Holly challenged. “You hid your true feelings, masked your true intentions. What is that not if not breaking one’s word? And now I must be the one punished? You have no right to me, Your Grace. I am not yours.”
“You made sure of that, did you not, Miss Middleton? But there are other ways to mete out lessons.”
“A lesson is one thing; marriage to your brother is lifelong,” Holly snapped and then flinched. Mercy, her head hurt.
“So that is why you ran away instead of facing the aftermath of your actions, the threat of another looming marriage.”
“I’m curious, what does Lord Jonathan have to say about this plan of yours? What has he done to warrant the same punishment as me?”
He waved her comment aside. “It’s past time he marries.”
“So you will happily doom us both to a life of unhappiness?”
His eyes narrowed. How had she ever found those deep pools of black intoxicating?
“You betrayed me.”
“Your brother did not,” she shot back.
Something flickered in his face but was gone in an instant.
“How can you believe what you did was right?” Holly demanded. “That it was acceptable to deceive me and fool me into believing you are something you are clearly not?”
“We all put our best self forward when making new acquaintances, Miss Middleton.”
“That was your best self?”
“I was being charming.”
“Up till the moment you handed me a set of rules to live by. You really ought to have waited until after the wedding.”
His gaze roved her face. “Agreed.”
Holly bristled. “I am a person, you know. Not a slave. I do not need my meals assigned to me. Your deception went too far. Your rules go too far.”
He considered her, his face impassive. No surprise there, Holly thought darkly. The man was as obstinate as a bull.
“The rules are there for a reason,” he ground out.
