by Eva Devon
The duke’s dark brows rose. “Stubborn, madam? Bullheaded, more like.”
Kate scowled up at him. Who was he to talk? He had been just as difficult. “Now see here, I thank you for your assistance, Your Grace, but I hardly think—”
“Kate, close your mouth,” Imogen said quickly. “Unless you wish to be on the first boat to Spain come tomorrow morning.”
That gave Kate pause. She was, indeed, going to have to leave. It was as simple as that. If she didn’t find a way to fix her damaged reputation, she would either have to stay locked up in her house or she would have to hie off the continent. “Yes, well, I suppose you have a point.”
“A point?” Darkwell echoed. “Were you present for this debacle, Kathryn?” His face paled as he shook his head, causing his bruises to stand out sharply. “The countess was one step away from lynching you here in the middle of the park.”
Kate shifted uncomfortably on her carriage seat. “I am not a child, sir. You need not explain how tenuous my situation is.”
Ryder’s jaw tightened as if fighting back some jaded comment. “I shall meet you at your home in, shall we say, ten minutes’ time? And we shall discuss what to do.” He didn’t even wait. He just whipped his hunter about and inclined his head, riding off in the direction of her townhome.
Kate sat up straight staring after him. “Imperious—”
“And chivalrous rescuer,” Imogen cut in.
Kate frowned and folded her arms over her chest. “Those were not the words I was going to use.”
However, Imogen was right. He had come to her rescue when no one else would and it was clear he cared. More than he’d ever let on. In fact, he seemed furious anyone might speak ill against her. For a brief moment, she had been certain he was going to throttle the countess. An event she might pay money to see.
And she had a terrible feeling those bruises were an effect of words exchanged over her. The very thought caused her silly emotions to blossom with false hope.
Even so, that did not give him the right to order her here and there or treat her as a child. She had enough experience with men who saw her as a piece of luggage to be shunted about. It didn’t matter that her blood was rushing through her veins, that she could hardly believe she had seen him again and that, now, he was demanding an audience.
Kate bit down on her lower lip, trying to bring herself back down to reality. He was going to demand marriage. She knew it. Though she was sure he had no desire to make her his wife, he had no choice now after publicly proclaiming himself. And any woman of intelligence would jump at his offer.
But Kate had learned the hard way that jumping only resulted in one flying through the air, hurtling to the earth below. And she did not have wings which meant, if she was not very careful, she would crash.
Just as she had done before.
Chapter 18
Pacing had become part of his existence since meeting that infuriating woman. Ryder forced himself to stop in front of the library’s towering fireplace before he wore a long trench in the polished wood floor.
But damn it, had she no sense?
And her response had hardly been the one he’d been expecting. He was unsure as to why, but somewhere in what remained of his boyish fantasies, he expected her to throw herself into his arms and cling to him, showering him with kisses at his swift ride to her rescue. He’d even considered he might have to wipe a few tears from her frightened face.
Instead, she’d lit up at the sight of him for a few brief moments and then turned into a bristly thistle in the next.
And good God, why had he said that? Future duchess? Wife. He’d proclaimed her to be his wife—in front of half the ton. There was no going back from that. Despite any vows he’d ever made to Jane, he was about to be married. Again.
He ran his fingers over Jane’s ribbon, the fabric now rough from so much attention. Ever so slowly, he untied it and slipped it into his pocket. Even if it was the right thing to do, he couldn’t wear it. Not for this conversation. Not when he took Kathryn in his arms.
He glanced at the open door. Listening for any sound, any sound that might indicate she was here.
The part of him he’d long kept under lock and key was elated at the prospect of marrying Kate. Elated in a positively stupid fashion. One would think he was a boy in the first flush of flirtation, when he’d been innocent and the world held an unsurpassable treasure trove of promise. When he hadn’t lost those he loved to stupid causes.
But for some damned reason, Kathryn Darrell held happiness, an emotion he was a fair stranger to, out to him like an ephemeral prize. A prize which threatened his very vows to the one person who, in life and death, had been the center of his world for well over a decade.
Jane’s face came to his mind, her soft curls and pale eyes. But the image was fading now. He swallowed, trying not to think about what today’s event meant to her memory.
Ryder eyed the decanters of brandy sitting on the Chippendale sideboard and wondered at its presence in a lady’s establishment. Then again, he knew Kate had a taste for it. She had a taste for things no good young lady should. She was a walking conundrum. It was what he so liked about her.
In the last few weeks, he’d grown to expect her presence and he could no longer imagine going on without it. Somehow he could make her see reason that marriage to him was preferable to banishment. And she certainly seemed appalled by a life abroad. And who wouldn’t?
Life with the Spanish, indeed!
He’d rather skewer himself in the eyeball than put up with those poncing idiots.
Ryder glanced at the open doorway again. He kept listening for the delicate steps of ladies. Where the devil were they? He hadn’t ridden that fast ahead.
He caught his reflection in one of the tall gilt mirrors hanging from the wall and, much to his own disgust, he paused. He’d always been thorough in his appearance, but he had never really given a damn about how he looked. Until this exact moment. He found himself smoothing down his black silk waist coat and checking his dark wool sleeves for horse hair.
Unromantic though this proposal might be, he was going to do it right. He’d be thorough if it killed him. It was his duty after all.
Finally, footsteps echoed down the hall, and Ryder turned about the room. The last thing he wanted, though he couldn’t believe he cared, was to look like he’d been waiting like a nervous school boy. He strode to the fireplace and propped his arm along the green Carerra marble.
Clearing his throat, he waited. It was preposterous that he felt any sort of concern at this meeting. He’d stood on the wrong side of a pistol, fought on the continent and he’d even endured Jane’s death.
And yet, Kathryn Darrell managed to awaken a sense of unease in him. It was as if he were standing on a tight rope, that at any moment someone was going to shake.
Kathryn and Imogen bustled through the doorway and he bit back a curse. What the devil was her friend doing here? “I do believe we are past the need for a chaperone.”
The two women exchanged some mysterious female look. Imogen eyed him warily. “Mrs. Darrell asked for my presence.”
Ryder drew in a slow breath. Not a week ago, Kathryn had done everything in her power to get him alone, and now she was issuing propriety as if they were at a tea dance. “Is this true?”
She stared him down, daring him to challenge her decision. “Yes.”
Well, he’d always been one to live up to a challenge and he wanted her alone. It would be easier to convince her if he could get her into his arms. It certainly didn’t hurt that he damn well wanted his mouth on hers. “Why?”
Clearly annoyed he was pressing this matter, she said tightly, “I wish to retain my good sense.”
A smile started at his lips as did a decidedly warm feeling in his abdomen. She was concerned about being alone with him because it would affect her judgment? It was the best possible answer to his question. “I understand, but this is a conversation I think best kept between us.”
“Come, Kathryn,” he said softly. “You have nothing to fear from me. You must know by now my main interest is only in your welfare.”
Kathryn stared back at him for a moment, her lips pressing into a concerned line.
It killed him that she hesitated. But what right had he to wish she was completely unreserved in his presence? He certainly kept his fair share of himself locked away.
“As you wish.” She clasped Imogen’s beringed hand then let her friend go.
Interestingly, as she departed, Imogen threw him a warning stare that spoke volumes for the care of her friend.
The silence lingered between them as he and Kathryn stared at each other like two opposing armies on the brink of treaty or war. Ryder took a step forward, hoping to narrow the breach. “I am sorry for your discomfort this morning.”
She shrugged, causing her curled hair to brush her neck. However, the action didn’t quite hide the degree of pain to her gesture. “It was my own fault. I should have known I could not go freely about.”
It was impossible, hearing the resignation in her bright voice. When he’d first met her, her determination had been like her shield. She’d been unafraid of anything and though she certainly seemed brave, a little of that innocent hope had worn off under London’s harsh pressures.
“If it is your fault then it is equally mine,” he said gently.
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I am an equal partner in our scandal. It simply happens that society is far more kind to the male in these happenings. That doesn’t make me less culpable.”
“True.” She smiled slightly and stepped towards him, her light blue skirts swaying. “But that doesn’t change my predicament.”
“I think it does.” The words felt like marbles in his mouth but he knew it was the right thing to do. And without a doubt, he knew Jane would want him to do what was right. “We must marry.”
The smile vanished, and Kate glared at him, her blue-gray eyes a stony color. To his acute frustration, she stepped back and cocked a brow at him. “Must, sir?”
Ryder sighed. “Kathryn, are you going to be spitefully stubborn again and ignore the events of this morning?”
“Spiteful?” she huffed. “I, sir, am never spiteful.”
Ryder stared back at her. “Good grief, woman, I could say the sun was yellow and you’d proclaim it green.”
She glowered for a moment then the starch went out of her a bit. “I can be difficult, but I simply don’t wish to be ordered, Ryder. I have been ordered about my whole life. By men, I might add.”
It would never be possible for him to understand what it was like to be a woman, completely at the mercy of a father or husband. But he did know what it was like to be controlled by guilt and grief. “I know how important freedom is to you.”
Her frown eased and she took another step towards him. “You remember.”
“Despite appearances, I remember everything you’ve said or done.” God, he wished he could bite his tongue, but the truth just spilled out.
“You know, we were both emphatic about not marrying that night at the opera,” she pointed out.
Ryder sighed. “I wish I could tell you differently, but there are many reasons why I think it is a mistake that you should marry me.”
Her smile faded again and her expression grew guarded. “And yet you wish it now. It is very difficult to accept you because your sense of honor demands you assist me.”
“Make no mistake, you are. . .” He didn’t know how to put her effect on him into words. It was equally maddening and wonderful. She drove him to distraction then offered him respite from his self-inflicted and well deserved punishments. “You make me want happiness.”
“Oh, Ryder.” She took several slow steps towards him, the rustle of her skirts as hypnotic as the kindness warming her eyes “You deserve happiness. More than anyone I know.”
Ryder swallowed back the retort that she was wrong. He wanted her to agree to marriage, and a recital of his faults was probably not the most intelligent way to ensure her assent. And yet, could he marry her without her knowing he could never love her, that he could never give her the care a husband should give his wife?
Bile twisted his stomach. “Can you marry me despite—”
“I’ve missed you,” she said softly. “Even your gruffness.”
Relief flooded through him that she stopped the fatal words from passing his lips. Nor had she seen him truly gruff as she put it. And if he had his way, she never would. For her sake, he’d force himself out of the darkness that pulled him down so frequently and he would try to start again. Perhaps he could do it. “I have missed you, too, Kathryn.”
“In truth?” she asked. Though she gave him a cheeky grin, there was definite uncertainty in her stance.
Ryder laughed, a rush of sound that echoed up to the ceiling. “God, yes.” He’d never tell her how much and how he’d thought of her nigh on every waking moment.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. “You know, I had no intention of ever marrying again.”
“Nor I. But sometimes life chooses paths for us.”
“I suppose, but Ryder, I cannot settle into the life of a dutiful wife. I just can’t.” Her beautiful forehead creased with worry and she clasped her hands in front of her. “Before, I was left to rot in the country and had no control over my life. . . I made a very bad mistake putting myself in—” She swallowed as if her dead husband’s name was poison. “In Percy’s hands.”
If the bastard had still been alive, Ryder would have killed him. Slowly. No one had the right to encroach on Kathryn’s beautiful independence nor her sense of self. It was what drew him to her. And any man who tried to take it from her was a coward.
Ryder crossed the room in a few short strides and pulled her against him. He wanted to free her, not make her a captive. And God, he wanted to see the light that would come from her when she had no worries, when she was truly free to be herself. Something she could be as a powerful duchess.
“I have no wish to control you or take your freedom.” He gestured from her to him. “This wasn’t what I wanted, but I find now, that having you all to myself is immensely appealing.”
“To yourself?” she murmured, curving her body instinctively against his.
Ryder looked down on her beautiful face. “Yes.”
He was playing a very dangerous game with his own heart. Her eyes were half-closed and her mouth was ever so slightly open, offering herself up to him. It was the most erotic sight he had ever seen.
Without another word, he took her mouth in a hungry kiss. The days of turmoil had taken their toll and he kissed her without restraint. Refusing to hold back the banked up passion inside him.
She gasped against his mouth and wrapped her arms about his shoulders. Molding herself against him.
Need hammered his body, awakening him. It was like possession. He had to have her. He had to make her his and he couldn’t stop until he did.
He tore his mouth away from hers and swung her up into her arms. Her skirts spilled over his hands and caressed his thighs as he tucked her against his chest. Glancing about the room, he looked for any surface that might do.
“Kathryn?” A voice called from the hall.
Ryder groaned and stopped in the middle of the room.
“Yes?” Kate called, her voice definitely deeper with desire.
Imogen cleared her throat, the sound muffled through the closed door. She paused for a moment. “Are you well?”
Kate pressed her face to Ryder’s shirt and stifled a laugh. She drew in a soft breath then lifted her head. “Extremely well.”
“It is rather quiet in there.”
Ryder tensed. Had the damned woman been listening in? His ardor faded a little. “I promise Mrs. Darrell is perfectly safe.”
&
nbsp; Ryder jerked his head towards the door as he heard a clear snort. Impertinent woman. Then again, it only showed that she was definitely concerned about his Kathryn which, to his surprise, raised the woman in his esteem. But damn it, couldn’t she skive off?
“Have you agreed to marry him then?”
“Ah.” Kate looked up into his eyes. She nibbled her lower lip and stroked a hand down the front of his black wool coat.
His entire world stopped in that moment. He had every advantage. Power, wealth, a reputation that could protect her and yet, he was completely uncertain of her answer. Kathryn was not a typical woman which was why he hoped the next word from her mouth would be “yes”.
Kathryn’s lips parted in the most beautiful smile. “Yes.”
“Thank God,” Imogen exclaimed. “Otherwise, I was going to have to uproot myself and grow a fondness for lederhosen. Though I might enjoy an exposed male leg. Still—”
“Is that all?” Ryder demanded, his voice a shade harsher than he intended. But damn it, it had been days since he’d made love to Kathryn. And now that she was going to be his, the only thing stopping him was the meddlesome, if well intentioned, woman in the hallway.
“Oh.” Imogen’s voice rose with a touch of embarrassment. “Certainly. Do carry on.” There was a shuffle of material and then, “Enjoy yourselves.”
Her quick footsteps echoed down the hall and Ryder shook his head. “She is quite something.”
Kate looked up at him, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You’ve no idea.”
“Now where were we?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Her hand caressed the back of his neck. “I think you were trying to find a place to set me down.”
“So I was.” Damnation, he was on fire for her. His blood was pounding, making rational thought extremely difficult. If he wasn’t careful, he might toss her over his shoulder and carry her off to his cave.
As if she could see the passion mounting in his eyes, she said breathily, “I recommend the carpet in front of the fire.”
