The Art of Stealing a Duke’s Heart: Thieves of Desire Book 1
Page 10
“And what of Mary?”
“I could take her.”
They all jumped at Calli’s voice, looking down to see that her eyes were now open and she was leaning up on her elbows.
“You’re awake.”
“Of course I’m awake,” she said, her nostrils flaring indignantly, to which Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh, and Calli and the children all looked at him wide-eyed with astonishment.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, looking between them all.
“You laughed,” Mary said, her mouth slightly open, showing the gap between her teeth.
“Yes?” he said, not understanding.
“You never laugh,” Matthew said, his little fists on his hips.
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Sure, I do,” he insisted, then hedged, “sometimes.”
Calli took pity on him and began to push herself to her feet. Jonathan held out a hand to help her, her fingers closing over his, causing a flood of memories from the night before to wash through him.
“You say you can ride, Miss Donahue?”
“Yes,” she said, although her confirmation was far from sure.
“Did you ride much, growing up in London?”
“Now and then.”
“Hmm,” he said, looking at her and the firm tilt of her chin. “Very well. But you will ride Buttercup.”
“Buttercup?”
“Yes, Buttercup. Come, then. Let’s go before I change my mind.”
* * *
Calli was more than relieved to find that Buttercup was a rather old, sturdy, docile mare. Calli hadn’t lied when she said she could ride, but she wasn’t exactly skilled. She remembered riding a pony as a child, and when Arie’s fortunes had grown enough to buy himself a horse, he had taught them each to at least lead the horse in a walk, should they ever find themselves in a situation that required it.
Well, here she was.
Mary settled in behind Calli, squeezing her little arms tightly around her, and Calli was suddenly gripped with how much responsibility she had taken on. The child’s life was in her hands. Jonathan must have sensed her sudden unease, for as he handed Calli the reins, he placed his hands upon her clenched ones for a moment.
“Remember, the horse can sense your emotion. Be calm, and Buttercup will be calm as well.”
She nodded, forcing herself to smile with a confidence she didn’t quite feel.
Soon enough, however, they were walking slowly out of the stables, and Buttercup’s steady rhythm provided Calli with assurance that even if she couldn’t trust herself, she could, at least, trust the horse.
“That’s it,” she said, gently patting the horse on the neck as they followed Jonathan and Matthew upon General, a horse just as magnificent as his owner.
“How far are we going?” she called over to Jonathan as they caught up.
“To the next land over,” he said. “We should only be gone for a couple of hours.”
She nodded in response, although even a couple of hours atop a horse was a couple more hours than she had ever spent on one. She said nothing, however, but followed along behind, pleased, for the moment, to simply enjoy the beautiful day they had been gifted.
Now and again, she looked over at Jonathan, who seemed quite at home in the saddle. In fact, ever since they had arrived here at Wyndmere, he had slowly softened, losing some of the hard edge of his exterior that had surrounded him like a shell in London.
Perhaps it was the outdoors. Or maybe the fact that he was away from some of the responsibility that followed him around in the city.
Whatever it was, she enjoyed it. Perhaps too much.
For it was also far too easy for her to forget exactly why she was here in Jonathan’s home. In London, her family made sure to constantly remind her, just in case she lost sight of what she was supposed to be doing.
Not so here in the country.
For goodness sake, she wasn’t even thinking of him as the duke anymore, but as Jonathan. Which was incredibly dangerous. For the duke was an unattainable man, one who held far more wealth and prestige than was fair for any one man to have.
Jonathan was another entity altogether.
Especially a Jonathan who had agreed to take the children with him on an excursion. Matthew looked positively thrilled, his back straight and a wide smile on his face as he held onto his uncle. It was obvious how much he looked up to him, the man who was his family and the one person who had taken them in when they needed it the most.
“Miss Donahue?” Mary said from just behind her ear. “Can we go faster?”
Calli looked down warily at the reins she held ever-so-loosely in her hands.
“I’m not sure…”
“Please?”
Calli looked over at Jonathan, who must have heard, for he looked at her with brows raised and question in his blue eyes.
“We can go a little faster if you feel up to it.”
She nodded determinately. “Of course.”
She remembered Arie’s teaching and nudged her heels softly into Buttercup’s side.
It was obviously not nearly enough prodding, for Buttercup continued her slow, methodical pace.
“A little harder,” Jonathan called, and Calli looked up to find a wide grin on his face. The man was laughing at her. She shot him a look of chagrin and nudged her heels in, much harder this time.
Buttercup obviously wasn’t entirely pleased as she let out a slight whinny, but she listened this time, picking up her pace.
Jonathan urged General forward, and the two horses began an amiable trot together, nearly in unison.
Mary laughed in glee from behind Calli and Matthew seemed similarly thrilled. Calli looked over at Jonathan, the two of them sharing a smile — one that they couldn’t seem to break, nor could they look away from one another.
This feeling… the connection between them, the children, the horses, the sun upon their faces… it was better than anything Calli had ever known.
Which made the thought that it was fleeting only hurt that much more.
Chapter 13
If only she wasn’t so positively radiant. Then perhaps Jonathan would have been able to tear himself away from her.
But she practically drew him to her, as though there was some invisible rope around his waist that she kept tugging toward her, until he was caught with no wish to escape.
Jonathan had never thought that he would give any part of his heart away, nor hold affection for another. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to marry. He was aware that he would be required to do so, for an heir if nothing else. He wished he could simply allow Matthew to inherit, but the laws of inheritance didn’t work that way. If he didn’t marry and have a son of his own, all of this — the land, the estate, the homes — that he had worked for would go to a cousin, one that by no means deserved it or would even know what to do with it.
At least Jonathan had amassed fortune enough from his investments in trade that he could one day leave a considerable amount to his niece and nephew. He would do right by them. He had promised his sister, yes, but it was as important to him as it would ever have been to her.
He had never considered, however, that he might allow himself to feel something for another woman. Especially not after Cecelia.
He rubbed a hand over his forehead. He had thought he had felt something for her, as well. Until he had realized that she was just using him.
In fact, he could hardly remember the last time he had dealings with anyone who wanted something from him besides what he could offer through his name and fortune.
But now there was Calli. A governess. A woman with no family name or connections. If he were to ever suggest something more serious to her than a bit of trifling in his gallery… what would that even look like? Oh, the scandal that would ensue. But did he even care?
“You look awfully solemn,” Calli called over, jumping him out of his reverie. “Is everything all right?”
“Well?” he said, looking around at the rest of them. “What do you think?”
“It’s very empty,” Matthew said with a frown.
“That’s a good thing,” Jonathan said. “It can make for viable land. Miss Donahue, what do you think of it?”
Why her opinion mattered, he had no idea. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to think,” she said, laughing uneasily. “I must be honest, Your Grace, I know nothing of land besides appreciation for the beauty of nature. As Matthew says, it is certainly wide open.”
“Let’s take a closer look,” Jonathan said. “We’ll see what it holds.”
After a time, they dismounted and began walking the horses, as Jonathan inspected various areas to see what was currently growing, how damp the soil was and whether or not the land might be arable.
He could finally sense the children getting restless, and when they began to ask whether they had brought lunch, he somewhat regretted bringing them.
Until he remembered how pleased Calli seemed to be with the decision.
“We shall return to Wyndmere, and you can eat,” he said, looking up at them. “I’m planning another trip here tomorrow and will speak more with the owner.”
“Oh, good,” Matthew said, and Jonathan couldn’t help a small laugh at their obvious relief.
“Don’t forget it was you who requested this journey.”
“Yes, but I didn’t realize how long it was going to be,” Matthew grumbled a bit as Jonathan hoisted him back up on the horse after helping Calli and Mary.
“Patience, son,” Jonathan said, and only when he had mounted himself did he sense the three of them staring at him once more.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Calli said, shaking her head quickly, turning Buttercup around, but he didn’t miss the smile that curled on her lips.
“You called me son,” Matthew whispered, and Jonathan stilled. He hadn’t even realized he had done so.
“I did,” he said, unsure what to make of it himself.
“Thank you,” Matthew said, laying his head against Jonathan’s back. Jonathan’s heart warmed, even as he had no idea just how to respond.
What in the devil was happening to him?
* * *
Calli hadn’t forgotten her promise to allow the children to paint.
After returning to Wyndmere and ensuring they were well-fed, she led them up to the nursery, where she draped them in aprons that were far too large for them to ensure the paint didn’t stain their clothing.
She unpacked her paint supplies and began to pour out a little bit for the children.
“A brush for each of you,” she said, even as she bit her lip at the thought that if either of the brushes were damaged, she might have some difficulty completing her own painting.
But this was the decision she had made. The children deserved to have some fun with the pastime that brought her so much joy.
She pulled out her sketchbook, taking out a page for each of them to paint on.
“You can draw something first and then paint, or you can just paint,” she said. “It is entirely up to you.”
“What’s the right way?” Mary asked, her paintbrush hesitating over the page.
“There is no right way,” Calli said gently. “Art just is — let your heart paint for you.”
“That makes no sense,” Matthew said, looking at her somewhat critically, and Calli laughed.
“I know. But try anyway and perhaps one day you will understand.”
“Will you paint too?” Mary asked, and Calli realized that they still weren’t entirely sure what to do, that perhaps if she participated, they might be more at ease.
“Of course,” she said, finding another brush and opening up her sketchpad to a blank page.
Inspired by their ride that morning, she dipped her paint in the green and began to paint a landscape. She sensed the children following suit, and soon enough she was as lost in her work as she always was.
So much so that she didn’t realize there was another presence in the room until Mary spoke out.
“Uncle! What are you doing here?”
Calli’s head shot up, and she gasped in surprise when she found Jonathan standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
“I was walking by and heard you in here. Thought I would see what you were doing.”
Calli narrowed her eyes. No other room in the house was near the nursery. But then she slowly widened them once more. He wanted to spend time with them — he just had no idea how to actually put that into words, and so he had made up his own excuse instead. It was actually somewhat endearing.
“Would you like to join us?” she asked, but he was already shaking his head.
“No, no.”
He did, however, take a couple of hesitant steps into the room, coming to stand behind them, and Calli paused for a moment, unsure how to proceed with his close scrutiny.
Fortunately, he took a step away from her to see what the children were painting, and she followed his gaze with curiosity.
“Impressive,” he said, and both children beamed at his compliment.
“It’s the sun,” Matthew explained, while Mary had a large heart in the center of hers.
“You are both fine artists,” he said, before coming to stand behind Calli. “I can see why. For your teacher is most impressive.”
She stilled, feeling the breath of his words on her neck, the warmth of his praise reverberating around her.
“It’s just a landscape,” she said with a shrug, but he touched her — just for a moment — on the shoulder.
“I have seen many paintings by masters, Miss Donahue, and this one has the makings to be as good as any of them.”
Her cheeks warmed, even as she knew he couldn’t possibly mean what he said.
He held out a hand to her. “May I see your other sketches?”
Her mind flew over what was contained within, and whether there was anything in the book that might tell him something about her that she didn’t want him to know. She hesitated slightly, but seemed to remember removing everything she needed to and placing under her bed.
She tore out the freshly painted sheet and passed it over to him silently.
He didn’t say anything, and all Calli could hear was the slip of one page to the next as he passed through her work. She felt open, exposed, as though he was looking within to see all that was inside of her.
Which was partially true. She poured her soul out into her sketches, into her painting. It wasn’t often that she allowed another to see in.
“Thank you,” he said softly when he handed it back to her after what felt like an indeterminable number of minutes. He must have understood her vulnerability at this scrutiny. “You are extraordinary.”
Calli dipped her head, his words meaning more than he could ever imagine, even as Mary and Matthew giggled.
She cleared her throat, returning her attention to them. “And how are your paintings coming along?” she asked, which was enough to distract them as they proceeded to explain all of the thought they had put into them.
Jonathan walked to the door, pausing within the frame as he looked back, his expression too difficult to read as he looked at the children and then caught Calli’s gaze. They stared at one another for a moment, caught, trapped, until he slid his hand back down and walked away, leaving Calli shaken — and longing to see him again.
* * *
Jonathan spent the night tossing in his bed, considering Miss Donahue — Calli. The woman he had kissed, the woman who was his governess, who worked for him, who he should be keeping as far away from as
possible.
But what was he supposed to do when she refused to leave his thoughts? Stubborn woman.
Finally, he pushed aside the covers, rose from his bed, and went to the one place that always brought him solace — his gallery.
He stood in the entryway, looking around at the masterful works in front of him. He couldn’t properly say just why he had begun such a collection. He had just realized that he enjoyed seeing the paintings, had appreciated the peace they brought him… and continued to collect.
The practical side of him knew that the money would be much better spent elsewhere, but fortunately he had amassed enough that he wouldn’t particularly miss most of it.
And the paintings were investments in themselves.
“I thought I heard you.”
He whirled around to find Calli standing in the doorway, a threadbare wrapper pulled tightly around her, bare toes poking out beneath. Her hair descended in waves as he always thought it might, and she looked like a Greek goddess — albeit a rather impoverished one.
Jonathan did all he could to keep his gaze on her eyes, instead of dipping to the enticing beauty mark he longed to kiss, the plush lips that he yearned to taste again, and the flesh of her cleavage poking out just above the V of her nightgown.
“You heard me?”
“The corridor to the stairs runs alongside my bedroom,” she explained simply.
“You couldn’t sleep?”
“No,” she shook her head, taking another step into the room. “I couldn’t. As tired as I was.”
He sighed, trying to think of every possible reason that might be cause for him to want to turn himself off, away from her, and back to the orderly life where he normally found himself.
There were many. But instead, he crossed the room, wrapped his hands around her hips, and pulled her toward him, hearing only her short gasp of surprise as he buried one hand in her hair, holding her against him with the other, and plundered her mouth with his.
Chapter 14
Was it possible for one’s mind to completely stop functioning?