Gambling on the Duke's Daughter

by Diana Bold

  “What has he done, darling?” Clarice seemed honestly confused. “The fact that he didn’t come for dinner doesn’t prove anything, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Don’t be absurd. We both know he’s gone to visit one of his actresses.” There. She’d said it. Her worst fear.

  Clarice gave her a sympathetic glance. “Perhaps he has. And even if he hasn’t, it’s likely someday he will. Most men of our class keep mistresses. I’m sure your father does. But you can’t think about that. Not if you want anything resembling a happy marriage.”

  Natalia blinked away a film of threatening tears. “I can’t bear to think of him touching anyone but me. If I’m going to be his wife, I want to be his entire world.”

  “That’s what every woman wants,” Clarice whispered. “But very few of us ever get it.”

  They sat there, lost in their own miserable thoughts, for several endless minutes. Devastated by the picture Clarice painted of marriage, Natalia’s eyes welled with tears. Was there no hope then? Was she destined to spend the rest of her life watching Dylan flit from woman to woman?

  “Oh, Natalia. Don’t cry.” Clarice gave a shaky laugh. “Just because my marriage is unhappy doesn’t mean yours will be, too. I’m far too pessimistic about the whole matter. Besides, I’ve seen the way that man looks at you. If any woman on earth has a chance at keeping her husband at her side, it’s you.”

  Clarice’s words rang with truth, and Natalia clung to the possibility like a lifeboat. “How do I do that? Tell me how to keep him from looking elsewhere.”

  Clarice blushed bright red. “Well, I’m obviously not an expert on the matter. But I know a few things that might help.”

  “What kind of things?” Natalia immediately conjured up an image of Dylan leaning over her, his face drawn with passion, his breath hot against her skin. There was so much she didn’t know, so much she wanted to learn.

  Perhaps, if she could learn to please him, to do the things his mistresses did, he wouldn’t be so eager to look elsewhere for his pleasures.

  “Maybe we should start at the beginning.” If possible, Clarice turned even redder. “Tell me, Natalia, what do you know about making love?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The following afternoon, Natalia took her afternoon tea in the garden. She hadn’t left the house in nearly a week and felt horribly confined. She longed for the freedom of her weekly ride, but once the gossips caught sight of her, she’d regret the indulgence. Women she’d once thought of as her friends were bound to cut her dead.

  Clarice offered to join her outside, but Natalia wanted to be alone for a while. After finishing the tea the servants had set on a small table near the conservatory doors, she wandered toward the rose arbor, unable to resist the lure of the place where her life had changed so dramatically.

  In the light of day, the back corner of the garden didn’t seem a place of mystery and intrigue. In fact, the overgrown rose bushes needed a good pruning and the stone bench seemed forlorn and desolate.

  With a deep sigh, she sank down on the bench where Dylan had kissed her. Wistfully, she placed her fingertips to her lips as though a trace of that magical moment lingered.

  “Thinking of your lover, Lady Natalia?”

  The mocking words startled her. She whirled around and then froze when Lord Jonathan Taylor strode toward her from the back of her father’s property. Unease settled in the pit of her stomach.

  “What are you doing here?” She strove for an imperious tone. Jonathan had spread the gossip that had ruined her. For the first time, she wondered if he were bitter because she’d rejected him.

  “Why, I’ve come to offer you my congratulations, of course. You see, I just heard about your forthcoming marriage.” His pale, sharp-featured face bore an angry menace. As he spoke, he moved closer, until less than a yard separated them.

  “That’s very kind of you.” Natalia rose from the bench and edged toward the house in an effort to put the maximum amount of distance possible between her and her former admirer. “I’m sure my father will be glad to know you called. Shall I fetch him for you?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “We both know it’s you I’ve come to see.”

  Natalia frowned, anger eclipsing her fear. “I know nothing of the sort. In fact, I can’t imagine what makes you think you have the right to approach me in such an inappropriate manner.”

  “Inappropriate? How dare you speak to me of what is appropriate? I saw you kissing Dylan Blake. I saw you moaning at his touch like a cat in heat.”

  Natalia shook her head, embarrassed and furious. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to this.” She turned her back, her pulse racing as she quickened her steps in an effort to be away from him. Surely, he wouldn’t try to stop her.

  She hadn’t gone five steps before he grabbed her from behind, trapped her arms, and pulled her against him with an unexpected wiry strength.

  “You weren’t supposed to want him.”

  Terror rose in her throat as he turned her in his arms and shoved her onto the stone bench. Straddling her thighs, he pinned her in place. She bucked wildly, trying to dislodge him. Laughing, he grabbed her hair and twisted until she cried out.

  She stilled, glaring up at him as she struggled to catch her breath. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want some of what you were so eager to give your future husband. Don’t you know you’ve ruined everything, you stupid bitch? You were supposed to put him in his place, not marry him.”

  Natalia intensified her struggles, but he wrenched her arms behind her back until she thought they would snap. His face loomed above hers; his breath rank with the scent of brandy.

  He was drunk, she realized, her terror growing. He must be out of his mind, to come here like this, to threaten her and put his hands on her so brutally.

  Unless he doesn’t plan to leave me alive to tell anyone what happened.

  “Let me go.” She tried to make her words into a command, but they came out as a breathy quiver.

  He shook his head. “I’ll make you want me. I’ll make you forget about Blake.”

  Natalia let out a piercing scream right before his mouth descended upon hers and choked her cries with a punishing kiss.

  WHEN DYLAN ARRIVED at the duke’s townhouse, the duchess greeted him warmly and directed him out to the garden, where Natalia had taken her afternoon tea.

  “Why don’t you join her?” Clarice suggested with a smile. “Dinner won’t be served for several hours, and I know you two have a lot to talk about.”

  Dylan gave the lovely young duchess a grateful smile. “Thank you. I feared I wouldn’t get another chance to talk to her in private until after we were married.”

  “Be patient with her,” Clarice advised. “She’s still angry and upset, but I think she’ll forgive you eventually.”

  Heartened by his future mother-in-law’s words, Dylan slipped out into the garden, only to find the small table abandoned, the tea grown long cold. He frowned. Had Natalia—?

  A woman’s scream cut through the quiet afternoon and stopped him in his tracks. The sound seemed so out of place, given the formal splendor of his surroundings, it took him a moment to comprehend.

  The scream choked off, as though brutally silence. Dylan’s heart plummeted with fear as he recognized the voice. Natalia.

  Cursing beneath his breath, he sprinted through the hedges, praying she’d slipped or been surprised by some insect. He reached the back corner of the garden in record time, only to skid to a sharp halt.

  Jonathan Taylor had Natalia trapped against the stone bench with the full weight of his body. Natalia struggled to get away, her panic and disgust evident. As Dylan started toward them, Jonathan drew back his hand and slapped her viciously across the face.

  “Be still,” Jonathan snarled. “Quit fighting me.”

  “Get your hands off her.” Dylan found it hard to speak past his fury. “I’ll kill you for this, you bastard.”

  Jonatha
n whirled around, his pale skin flushed with passion and anger. “I’m only taking what should have been mine all along—”

  Dylan punched Jonathan into silence. The force of the blow reverberated all the way up his arm, giving him a moment of sweet satisfaction.

  Jonathan stumbled. Dylan hit him again, his fury and confusion driving several more punishing blows.

  Peripherally, he was aware that the duke and several male servants had come outside. Natalia cringed against the hedge, her mouth buried in her hands, her eyes wide and horrified as she watched the violent scene play out before her.

  Is she all right? His momentary inattention allowed Jonathan to land a blow of his own. Dylan staggered and tried to shake off the unexpected pain in his jaw.

  “I wanted you to fail.” Jonathan caught Dylan under his chin with another quick jab. “All my life, you’ve beaten me, but I thought that little bitch would finally be the one to put you in your place.”

  “Don’t call her that.” A red haze of fury obscured Dylan’s vision. Jonathan would pay for daring to put his hands on her...

  “Stop, sir. You’re going to kill him.” The calm and soothing voice pulled Dylan out of his murderous rage with an abruptness that left him reeling.

  Dylan blinked, disoriented. As his mind focused, he found himself straddling his enemy’s prone body. Jonathan was unconscious, his aristocratic face battered nearly beyond recognition.

  “It’s all right, sir.” Clayton’s butler crouched, his face carefully neutral. “We’ll handle the matter from here.”

  Dylan glanced around. Clayton’s servants, none of whom would meet his gaze, surrounded him. In the corner, the duke tried to calm Natalia. She trembled, her face buried against her father’s chest.

  “Tie him up and take him down to the cellar,” Clayton instructed his men as he stroked his daughter’s dark hair. “I’ll send for the magistrate. We’ll let the authorities deal with this piece of filth.”

  Dylan stood and found he, too, trembled. Clenching his hands, he pressed them behind his back so they wouldn’t betray him.

  His own violence stunned him, sickened him. He’d tried so hard to lock this side of himself away, afraid of what he was capable of when he gave in to the demons of battle that haunted him. But as he stared down at Jonathan’s inert form, he couldn’t be sorry.

  The bastard had dared to put his hands on Natalia. Death was too good for him.

  NATALIA KNEW SHE COULDN’T hide from her brutal attack. Her cheek and lips stung from Jonathan’s angry slap, but she wasn’t really hurt. Just frightened and overwhelmed by the violence of the last few minutes.

  Tentatively, she lifted her face from her father’s chest. Her gaze locked on Jonathan’s battered form. Unconscious, he’d obviously taken the worst of the battle.

  Dylan stood beside her attacker, looking rather dazed. His beautiful mouth was bloody, and his dark hair fell over his desolate gray eyes, giving him the wild, dangerous appearance of a pirate or highwayman.

  Although she’d been horrified by the violence, his actions comforted her. He’d protected her in the most primal way. Every time she thought she knew him, he did something completely unexpected. His complexities both frightened and intrigued her.

  “Come along, Natalia. You certainly don’t need to see this.” The duke tried to lead her away, but she shook off his hand.

  “No. I want to talk to Captain Blake.” When her father looked as though he meant to argue, she gave him a tremulous smile. “Please. It will be fine.”

  The duke gave a deep sigh as the servants dragged the unconscious man toward the house. “I don’t know how he got close enough to you to do such a thing. I refused to allow him to court you a few weeks back, but I never dreamed he’d try something like this.”

  “No one could have,” Natalia assured him. “But I’m fine now, and Captain Blake and I have a lot to discuss.”

  “Certainly.” The duke squeezed Dylan’s shoulder in passing. “Well done, young man. I owe you a great debt.”

  Dylan shook his head, seeming beyond speech. As soon as the duke disappeared, Natalia sank down on the edge of the bench, certain her weak knees would no longer support her.

  “Did he hurt you?” Dylan advanced toward her, then stopped uncertainly a few feet away. “Oh, Natalia, when I saw that man touch you...”

  “You rescued me.” She gave a lost laugh. “You really are a hero, aren’t you?”

  “No.” He shook his head, holding her gaze. “Not a hero. I’m so sorry for what he did to you. I feel as though it’s my fault.”

  He reached out, and they both noticed the blood on his hand. Grimacing, he scrubbed his palm against his thigh, trying to wipe the crimson stain on his trousers.

  “Stop it,” she whispered. “Come with me. I’ll help you.”

  He frowned at her imperious tone but obediently followed her inside. She led him into the conservatory and gestured for him to sit in the nearest chair, then doused a clean handkerchief with a generous amount of brandy from the sideboard.

  A soft hiss of pain escaped his lips when she touched the first of his split knuckles, but he quelled the sound. “You don’t have to do this.”

  She threw him a chiding look. “And you didn’t have to keep Jonathan Taylor from molesting me. But you did.”

  The undamaged corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. “If you keep this up, I might almost believe you care.”

  Natalia scrubbed his bloody knuckles with unnecessary force and wondered how she could survive touching the lush curve of his mouth after she finished with his hands. “Of course, I care. But don’t start thinking I’ve forgiven you because I haven’t. In fact, I don’t’ know if I ever will.”

  He sighed and raked the hand she’d already tended through his disheveled hair. “All I want is a chance to earn back your trust, Natalia. How can I do that if you won’t even talk to me?”

  She frowned and took his other hand. As she wiped away the blood, she tried to forget how tender he’d been that night in the garden. “You’re right. I can’t very well avoid you forever.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Some of the tension seemed to flow out of him. She couldn’t help but wonder if the last few days had been as horrible for him as they had been for her.

  She finished his hand then boldly sat down on his lap so she’d have better access to his poor battered face. She tenderly dabbed the small cut on his upper lip. “You’re going to have a fat lip for our wedding.”

  At her touch, his breath hitched, his gray eyes burning with intensity. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her closer. With the other, he took the bloody cloth from her hand and tossed it aside.

  “If you really want me to feel better, just let me hold you for a while.” As he spoke, he pressed her head against his chest and enfolded her in his strong embrace. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple and squeezed her tight. “Now, tell me honestly. Are you all right?”

  God, it felt so good to be in his arms again. She let out a breath and a shuddering sigh and relaxed against him. “I am now.” Her voice sounded muffled against the broad wall of his chest. “He scared me, more than anything. It seemed so unreal. I couldn’t believe he was actually attacking me in my father’s garden.”

  Dylan made a soft angry sound deep in his throat. “I can’t believe it, either. When I saw him...”

  She lifted her gaze to his and saw how much his own violence had upset him.

  “I would have killed him if someone hadn’t stopped me. I completely lost control.”

  Natalia cupped his face and stared deep into his eyes. “You protected me, Dylan. I’m so glad you were there. Lord knows what he would have done if you hadn’t heard me scream.”

  “I went too far,” he insisted. “Ever since I returned from the war, my anger is far too close to the surface.”

  “That’s understandable. And I don’t think you would have truly killed him. I imagine he’ll be fine in a few days.”

  D
ylan huffed out a sound of disgust and buried his face against the crook of her neck. “I don’t know how he expected to get away with it.”

  Natalia shuddered at the memory. “I think he was drunk.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “Don’t think about it anymore. It doesn’t matter. No harm was done.”

  Dylan lifted his head, a troubled look in his eyes. “You seem far more willing to forgive him than you are me.”

  His words shattered the fragile truce the afternoon’s unsettling events had forged between them. Natalia pushed off his lap and stared down at him in dismay. She refused to admit his words had merit, even though they struck a chord deep within her. She told herself it wasn’t unreasonable to nurse her anger and hurt, even when faced with his tenderness. “Perhaps, that’s because I hardly know him. I never trusted him the way I did you.”

  Dylan let his head fall against the back of the chair and closed his eyes as though he couldn’t bear to look at her. “I deserve that. But it’s still hard to hear.”

  She stared at him, at this beautiful wicked man who’d stolen her heart, and she wanted to weep with the hopelessness of it all. Where did they go from here? Was it even possible to start again?

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.” With a sigh, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against the cut he’d suffered in her defense. “Thank you for rescuing me. Why don’t you rest for a while? I’ll send someone down to tell you when dinner’s ready.”

  Then she turned and hurried away, trying to pretend she didn’t wish he’d asked her to stay.

  AS SOON AS NATALIA left the room, Dylan went to find his future father-in-law. Something had to be done about Jonathan. Clayton had the power and influence to ensure that little bastard never hurt Natalia again.

  He couldn’t believe Jonathan’s hatred and jealousy ran deep enough to attempt an assault on the Duke of Clayton’s daughter. He shuddered to think of the lengths Jonathan might have gone to in order to keep Natalia from naming her attacker.