Forbidden to the Duke

by Liz Tyner

  ‘I could not see my uncle breathing his last,’ Bellona explained. ‘I could not believe that it was real. This time the truth felt like a dream. I could see and hear but I could not…feel. You cannot undo something like that. You wish for the moments to go back just the smallest time, but they will not. You long to know it didn’t happen, but it did.’

  She remembered stopping, and sitting, wrapping her arms around her knees. She could hear the words, and see the people, but they blocked her view of her uncle. More screams. Louder this time.

  ‘So much noise,’ she continued. ‘Then Stephanos was walking away. Swaggering, away from everyone. Towards me. On the trail, he stopped and watched me. He was not even a true man yet, but he was tall even then. As big as the men. His eyes were evil. “Your uncle is dead,” he said. “I killed the man who stabbed him.” He laughed. Blood was on his face and where his knife was tucked in his sash. “I could kill everyone on this island and no one could stop me. Even you, little one. I could cut your throat.”’

  She’d watched him and felt no fear. But she had known he was thinking of death as a prize—someone else’s life a bounty. A proof of power.

  ‘He laughed. He threw back his head and raised his fists into the air. Like a rooster crowing to greet the morning. He was not sad my uncle died. He was happy for my uncle’s death because he could kill the murderer in front of everyone. He didn’t care about justice. He cared that other people feared him.’

  ‘Not all men are evil.’

  ‘Stephanos was. And only one evil man can cause so much pain. And he liked it. Years ago, Melina was to marry him. She had no choice. He had decided to wed. He was going to marry one of us and he didn’t care which one. Melos was too small to escape him. Melina sailed away to bring us funds to help, but when she didn’t return, he noticed Thessa and would not stop watching her. She agreed to marry him to stop him looking in my direction. But then the ship came and we escaped. I still have dreams about it. About all of it.’

  ‘Anyone could have nightmares after seeing such things.’

  ‘I see too much in my dreams.’ She wrapped her arms around herself. ‘Again. I see a man’s face with nothing in his spirit but death. The happiness of having power over others.’

  ‘You cannot be feeling true danger from me. You cannot.’ He pushed himself up. ‘I could not hurt you. I could not.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you could. But there is something in your thoughts you are not saying.’ Something she couldn’t decipher. ‘When you meet my eyes, I see… I am unsettled. If you are in the room, I know where you stand. I cannot think of anyone else when you are near.’

  He shook his head from side to side. ‘That is just a… Something that happens between a man and a woman. It means little.’

  ‘I cannot think it means nothing.’

  ‘Not everything a person feels or thinks is to be spoken of. That is why thoughts reside in the head. Some things are to be kept silent. No one tells another person all the things inside.’

  ‘My sisters and I, we did.’

  ‘Perhaps women do. Men do not.’

  ‘So they do not think of important things that need to be told?’ She moved so she could see the light flickering on his face.

  He closed his eyes. ‘A man doesn’t need to prattle on.’

  ‘It is not prattle,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what it is, though.’ She shrugged. ‘But perhaps it is not good. Your mother talks so much of death and hurting. And now you are injured. If you do not get well, your mother will never forgive me.’

  ‘I doubt she will forgive you anyway if she finds out the truth,’ he teased.

  ‘My sisters and I had a saying, “There is the truth, and there is the truth we tell our mother.”’

  He smiled. ‘My brother and I said it a little differently. “If you tell Mother, I will kill you.”’

  ‘I suppose they both mean almost the same.’ She leaned closer, seeing his lashes against his cheek. The way the soft fringe and the strong jaw, lean nose and stubbled chin all formed the man.

  ‘I am aware the duchess is on the mend,’ he said. ‘But I don’t want to risk her learning of this.’

  She rose and got another flannel and took it to the side of the bed, looking down at him.

  He opened his eyes, peering into hers. ‘Stop staring at me so.’ He reached for the fabric. ‘You might as well lie beside me. You’re already ruined if anyone sees you here. It will probably look more innocent if we’re on top of the covers, looking irritated, anyway. You might as well relax.’

  She didn’t want to go back to her room. To the dreams. She might have even talked to a pirate to keep from being alone. To be alone with Rhys, though, she would have fought sea savages.

  She walked around the bed and sat on the other side, resting against the headboard, snuggling into the dressing gown. ‘I wanted to make sure you are not hiding pain.’

  ‘I’m not hiding it at all. It aches. But less than other hurts I’ve had.’ He paused. ‘Where were you going when you were in the hallway?’

  ‘The servants’ quarters.’

  ‘Were you searching for someone?’

  ‘No. I sometimes sleep there. In my big room, sleeping is difficult. A few nights ago, I could not get the door to latch properly and I could not rest. My bedchamber seemed so large and open that someone could have walked in on me in my sleep and I felt that I had nowhere to hide. So I took the book to a smaller room I had found. I felt safer there.’

  ‘You felt safer away…away from the rest of us?’

  She nodded. ‘The room is more like my home on Melos. A place so small no one could hide and a single lamp could light to the very edges of the room. In Melos, I would have thought it so grand to have the plainest chamber in your house. It is far better than what I once had.’

  ‘Bellona, do you not respect the servants’ world?’

  ‘I do.’ She smiled. ‘Even your servants would think me far beneath them if they had stepped on Melos and met me right before I left my home. On Melos, the animals lived under my home and the stairs led to the two rooms above, where we lived.’

  ‘You’ll never have to live like that again.’

  ‘I miss it,’ she said. ‘I long for it every day.’

  ‘How could you want to return to that?’

  ‘I miss my sisters and my mana being together. The waves. The blue. The smell of the sea. The sand under my feet. But now I must be happy in England. I just do not know how to do that and it has been two years.’

  ‘It takes a bit to recover when you lose what you hold dear.’

  ‘I wish I could share with Mana and I wish she could see the riches here. The only thing I know is—if she had to choose and could, she would have chosen to be poor in order for us to have much. She would be so happy looking down from the heavens, although I don’t know if it is possible.’

  ‘Perhaps she does see this.’

  ‘She would not be happy I hurt you.’

  He chuckled. ‘Of course not. A woman is not like that, especially a mother.’

  ‘Gigia. You did not know her. She would think it humorous or perhaps be angry that I let you so close to me in the hallway.’

  ‘I can understand a grandmother not wanting her granddaughter to be close to a man in the dark.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said and chuckled. ‘Gigia was not at all like you think. Not at all. She was not at all like the English and their proper ways. If she were here now she would be angry with me that I had not—’

  Silence again. She knew he thought of the same thing she did. Gigia would have been angry that Bellona was not pushing her body against Rhys. But what he didn’t know was that she would have been most angry to know Bellona had not been whispering a price in his ear.

  Chapter Eleven

  His hand hurt like blazes where he’d cut himself on her blade—which was the only thing allowing him to keep a decent thought in his head.

  No, he didn’t have a decent th
ought. But keeping his hand pressed against the makeshift bandage while reminding himself that he might still die of a fever kept him from pulling her against him.

  She slept completely wrapped in his dressing gown, only her head poking from the top of it, concealed more chastely than any woman he’d ever seen.

  She wiggled around, towards him, and the dip in the bed helped him roll ever so slightly towards her.

  Miss Roman Warrior Goddess could have killed him with her very sharp knife, but he’d immediately wanted to reassure her when she’d discovered she’d accidentally sliced him.

  Flames nicked at him everywhere, but he wasn’t feverish.

  His body still had the cravings of a youth, but his mind had advanced somewhat. He had rules. He had managed for quite some time to keep out of a woman’s bed. He turned over. But now one was in his bed and she was sleeping peacefully.

  He should have married before now.

  He just wished… He just wished he had wed the previous year. He should have. Then his wife would have been settled by now. Most likely, a child would have been on the way and Rhys could have threaded his fingers through his wife’s mussed hair and rested his cheek against her skin.

  His boots were on so he couldn’t get under the covers. He’d have to call his valet to be undressed. If he did that, she would have to leave. He wouldn’t be able to sleep. He’d be lying there, bleeding and thinking of her.

  She turned in her sleep. Her arm went around his midsection, jolting him, and he rested his clasped hands at the side, his arm just against her hand, keeping it snug to his body.

  It would be for ever until morning, but the time would pass too soon.

  *

  Bellona awoke with a dim light flickering in the room and the sound of rain pounding against the house. Rhys sat in the overstuffed chair, which had been turned towards the bed. His left arm propped his head and she couldn’t tell for sure if his eyes were open.

  She pushed herself into a sitting position.

  ‘It’s morning,’ Rhys said. ‘Or it will be soon. You should leave before someone discovers you.’

  ‘Your hand?’

  He held it closer to the light. A blood-caked slice went from the bottom knuckle of his forefinger to the heel of his hand. He waved his fingers.

  She put a foot on the floor, and looked at the night table. ‘Will you return my knife?’

  ‘Do you truly believe you need it here?’

  ‘No.’

  He reached to the drawer, pulled out the knife and handed it to her, the blade facing himself.

  ‘I’ll put it away,’ she said. She held the cold handle and looked at the weapon. The crumpled flannel, coloured with darkened red, lay on the nightstand.

  The knife no longer made her feel safe or secure. Now it felt poisonous. The men who had frightened her in the past had hurt her from a world away.

  Next, he picked up one of the shards of glass from the floor and put it on the table. ‘You should take the real weapon from this room. My valet will believe the culprit was the broken glass. But I don’t want him to see a knife in my room where there has been none before because he would surmise something. What exactly, I don’t know, but I don’t want to take the risk.’

  He lowered his voice. ‘Bellona, if you have fears in the night, I will check to make certain no one is there.’

  ‘When Thessa and I were taken on the island, it was from our beds in the dead of night. I fear what happens when I sleep. But this time waking was the most dangerous course. I am sorry.’

  She rose, reached for the tip of his fingers and examined his hand, putting the image of the injury into her mind as strongly as she could. This she would remember when she thought of the blood and felt fear, because this could result. She must control herself. She couldn’t live in terror any longer. ‘The hallway is long. If I have trouble sleeping, I’ll sleep in the room below stairs. I feel safer there. If I shout, someone will hear. I don’t want to see anyone’s blood again and know I caused it. I can’t.’

  ‘You should not be below stairs. You are a guest. We have family rooms all about.’ He waved his arm, then he dropped it to his side, grimacing. ‘Just no family to fill them any more.’

  She turned away. Only one person had the task of filling the rooms and she did not want to think about that.

  ‘I will be leaving to go back to Whitegate soon,’ she said. ‘There I’ll sleep in the nursery near the children if I need to. When I watch them, the world doesn’t seem quite the same dark place. It seems like there’s sunshine in the night.’

  ‘I know how much better you’ve made the duchess while you’ve been here,’ he said. ‘I suppose there is a reason the mourning time is a year. Perhaps that’s just how long it takes for everyone and I shouldn’t have been so concerned. But after Geoff passed, she crumpled, seeming to fall into the past, and even I could not rouse her.’

  Bellona knew the duchess had been moving about Harling House more. She even talked of other things besides her grief. Bellona could leave without concern, and if she stayed it would be foolish. Being at Harling House when Rhys returned with a wife would not be wise.

  ‘I am enjoying speaking with you.’ He spoke softly. ‘But if you don’t leave soon, someone might see you. I’ll walk you to your room. I don’t want my dressing gown left about for the maid to see so I’ll return with it.’

  ‘We did nothing wrong.’ She pulled the clothing tight around her, tying the belt. ‘Except I did cut your hand.’

  He moved to the door, waiting to open it. She stopped beside him. His hair had been finger combed and his shirt, rumpled, hung loose from his trousers. She reached, smoothing the sleeve, pressing a hand against it, but the wrinkles were fixed firm. ‘You look like you have been in a war.’ She didn’t release his arm.

  ‘It will certainly not be perceived as innocent if it is known you spent the night here. The talk would rumble about for the rest of our lives. You in my room. My hand slashed. Tales could get quite grand about that. Even I would have trouble believing it all innocent and I am here to see that it is. It might be assumed I attacked you. Or that you meant to hurt me and I had to restrain you. I don’t know what would be said, but it would not be good. You’d be ruined. Quite ruined.’

  She wouldn’t admit the thoughts running through her mind, but she didn’t care if she were ruined. She didn’t. But for his sake she didn’t want any tales put out about her hurting him and people speculating on what had really happened. She didn’t even want to remember the night because of the pain she’d caused him and the fear that he might become feverish.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ she said.

  He cupped her cheek in his hand. ‘I see it in your eyes. You don’t have to tell me.’

  Everything shifted and it was as if his spirit stepped behind her, beside her and all around her.

  ‘I’m leaving Harling House soon,’ he said. ‘And this will be the only chance I have to tell you goodbye.’

  ‘You would vanish without taking your leave of me?’

  ‘Yes. I would and I should.’ He leaned forward. He brushed a light kiss on her cheek. ‘I won’t forget you.’

  ‘You can’t. I’ve put a mark on you.’

  He moved, pressing another kiss on her cheek, lingering this time. His lips touched her as he spoke. ‘You certainly have. Deeper than you know.’

  He did not say he cared for her, though, and the knowledge washed over her in the same way a winter wind entered the cracks in the wall and enveloped everything inside. She had to make the feeling of unease disappear. She had to warm herself and only by stepping closer to him could she find any comfort at all.

  She examined his eyes and he did not move, just looked back at her. Brown. Chocolate. Aged wood. Perhaps not as dark as the men on Melos. But a gaze softened by his lashes. He stood patiently, not speaking, and he didn’t smile, but the small lines at the corners of his eyes relaxed.

  Then he did smile. ‘You shouldn’t examine a man so clos
ely. It does things to him… It is the same as if your fingers had swept over me.’

  She reached out, putting her palm over his heart. The fabric didn’t prevent her from feeling the strength of the man beneath, of the skin covering taut muscle.

  He reached up, taking the barest grasp of her fingertips. He shut his eyes and pulled her hand up so that her knuckles brushed against the roughness of his cheeks.

  No clock ticked. No sound from beyond the walls reached them.

  He snaked the other arm around her waist, using the strength of his forearm to hold her against him, sending shivers into her that she could feel every place her body had ever touched anything and all those senses changed into something burning inside her.

  His kiss was her first true kiss. His tongue, warm and hungry, took her, tasting her, melting her into his body and swirling her from her feet and giving her the feeling of when she swam just underwater and sunlight heated her back, only stronger.

  He turned her, the door at her back, holding her up and himself, not ending the first kiss, but changing it to a treasure trove of smaller ones, moving to her jaw, her ear and burrowing down her neck, his left hand pulling open the top of the dressing gown, heated fingers pushing the barrier away to make a path for his lips over her skin.

  He pulled back, released her, and her knees almost gave way, but as her body seemed to dip, his arm kept her upright.

  His eyes stayed on hers, but when he opened his mouth, it took a second for him to speak.

  ‘I am not myself.’ His voice roughened, the words barely reached Bellona’s ears. ‘I do not know what is the matter with me.’ He gave her a tight bow of his head. ‘Forgive me.’

  Bellona muttered. ‘You have marked me, too.’

  She stepped to the door, stopping only long enough to throw the dressing gown back into the room as she left.

  Chapter Twelve