The Duke Who Lied

by Michaels, Jess

  “There,” he said, stopping and pointing across the tangle of branches.

  Amelia caught her breath, and together they stared at the little building standing dilapidated in a clearing not ten feet away. He smiled despite the strange ache in his chest.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “The place where I came to escape,” he explained. “I built it—rather poorly, as you can see from its condition—when I was ten or eleven, during a summer my father insisted we come to Brighthollow so he could start teaching me how to manage the estate.”

  “But you built a playhouse for yourself instead,” Amelia said softly.

  He nodded as he released her hand and crossed the steps to the worn-out little house. It was so very badly built out of warped branches and rusty nails. Had he stolen them from somewhere? He could hardly recall. He did remember crying some afternoons as he banged away at the thing.

  “Looking at it now, I think I’m lucky it didn’t collapse down on me and kill me,” he said with a laugh as he touched a wall and felt it buckle slightly.

  “Why did you need to hide?” she whispered.

  He didn’t turn toward her. He’d been thinking about telling her this story all night, but he couldn’t look at her. Not yet. Not yet.

  “He needed me to be perfect,” Hugh said.

  “Your father.” Her voice barely carried.

  He nodded, still staring at the shabby house. “My father. Hugh the first, Hugh the greatest, for I have likely never lived up to his name, at least not in his eyes. I’m sure he rolls in his grave regularly when I make the wrong decision.”

  “That sounds like a great deal of pressure for a boy.”

  “It was,” he said, thickness entering his throat. “I could not make a mistake. If I didn’t know how to do something immediately, I had failed and that was unacceptable.”

  “But failure is how we learn,” Amelia said. “Did he not know that?”

  Hugh glanced at her over his shoulder and saw the pain on her face. Empathy for him. He wanted to reach for her, but turned away instead. “Apparently not. He required that I hide my emotion. Anger was not to be accepted. Certainly not fear or pain. I had to hide any lack of understanding. Any need for more. If I didn’t he would—”

  He broke off. He didn’t want to say what he would do. How the crack of a switch felt against his skin. How the fear of worse to come felt.

  “Hugh,” she whispered, and then her hand touched his arm. Once again he felt the weight of her fingers on his skin, but this time it didn’t feel like pressure. It felt like relief.

  He looked down, lost in gray-blue eyes. Her soothing, safe gaze felt like a cocoon that he could wrap around that broken part of him. Perhaps even heal, which had never felt possible before.

  Now she offered that, and in that striking moment he realized one fundamental fact. He loved her.

  He nearly staggered beneath the weight of that realization. Love was something he hadn’t truly believed in for a very long time. He had slowly been a convert to its existence as he watched his friends find it. But when it came to himself? He hadn’t dared to dream there would be love in his future. Certainly he’d never thought he’d find it in such a short time, after such an intense and troubled exchange of lies and passion.

  And yet here it was, in the form of the utterly beautiful, completely perfect woman who held his hand. A woman who in no way felt the same about him. Yesterday she had declared it once more, lamenting all she’d lost when they wed.

  The pain of that fact, combined with the other, was almost unbearable.

  She reached up and touched his cheek. “I see all those hurts, still alive in your eyes,” she whispered. “And I wish there was some way to take it all away.”

  He leaned into her palm. Old hurts stung, yes. But it was the new one that burned. Boiled. Sliced like a knife.

  “You are taking it away right now,” he whispered.

  “You and I are more alike than perhaps I ever knew,” she said, her fingers stroking his jawline and sending shivers through him. “We have fought our whole lives to earn the love that should have been freely given. We have both felt like outsiders to our own existence.”

  He pressed his lips together. Yes, there was that. That common bond that now flowered between them. She was here with him now, after all. Looking up at him with sweetness and gentleness, with true caring.

  Wasn’t it possible that she could love him? Given time, if he worked at doing exactly what she suggested, earning her love…couldn’t she?

  “You are looking at me so closely,” she said, her fingers dropping from his face. “I’m becoming a little nervous.”

  He pushed aside the thoughts in his mind. He would not share them. He would simply start today, now, to show her that he was worthy of her heart. That was all he could do. Woo his wife and try to make up for what he’d done in the past.

  Even if she didn’t know about it.

  “You shouldn’t be,” he said, hoping his voice sounded calmer than he felt. “I was only pondering that despite our shared pains in our past, we handle them so differently.”

  “How so?” she asked, stepping away from him toward the little playhouse. She leaned down and smiled as she peered into the window at the chair that sat half-broken in the middle of the dirty, rundown room.

  “You flow with change,” he said. “As elegantly as you dance or walk or move at all.”

  She blushed as she faced him. “You think I do?”

  “I know you do. I’ve watched you. I stole everything you ever wanted.” He bent his head. “And you glided into the future you didn’t want with a grace and kindness that I certainly have not earned.”

  “It was a difficult situation,” she said slowly. “For both of us. I will admit that I hated you at first, but you are quite frustrating, Hugh, for you make it impossible to hate you for long. And since I cannot hate you, and since this is the life I will lead, I feel the best choice is to make it a life I want. There are a good many things about it…about you…that make that easy.”

  He frowned. “I have not found that talent of optimism in the face of unwanted change. Where you are light, I seem to be dark.”

  Her expression softened, and she moved closer once more. She lifted her chin, examining his face closely. “Not always,” she whispered.

  His breath came short now, a combination of high emotion and a desire for her that never seemed to fade. He realized now that it never would. Touching her wasn’t just about pleasure—in some ways it never had been. His body had craved what his mind would not accept until it was forced.

  He wanted to be near her. He wanted to be connected with her. And when they made love, he was able to have that connection. She allowed it, and so he fed on it like he was starved.

  Perhaps he had been. Until her.

  “I need your light, Amelia,” he murmured. “I never knew how much.”

  She was silent as she wound her arms around his neck, lifting up so her lips were close to his. “Then take it,” she whispered in the moment before she kissed him.

  His mind emptied of his troubles and his fears, replaced by his desire and his passion and the love that now flowed like a river through it all. He gathered her closer, pressing their bodies until it felt like they were one. That she was truly his, at least in the fantasy world they would now enter.

  “I need—” he panted, unable to finish the sentence.

  She nodded because she understood. It was all the acquiescence he required. He lifted her feet off the ground, continuing to kiss her as he placed her back to the smooth bark of a nearby sweet chestnut tree. Leaning against the hard surface, he cupped her backside, grinding her against him as he kissed her like it was the last time.

  Or the first time. And it almost was. This was the first time he’d kissed her when he knew he loved her. That made it different. Sweet and special and desperate and needy.

  She moaned against hi
s mouth, lifting into him with as much hunger as what was stoked in his body. His hands shook as he pushed her skirt up, his breath caught as he slid his fingers along her skin. She opened her legs, her mouth dragging along his jaw as he unfastened the placard of his trousers.

  He lifted, she opened and he slid inside. Home, because it was her, and now he understood how much that meant. Would always mean, even if she never felt the same way. He thrust into her, their foreheads touching as he took and took and took, marking her, marking himself, claiming even if he did not yet say it out loud, that he would be hers until his last breath left his lungs.

  She began to moan her pleasure, her hands digging into his shoulders, and then her pussy rippled around him as she orgasmed. He thrust harder, dragging them both through her pleasure, but he had no control left. Not after today. He grunted as heated sensation ricocheted through him, and then he cried out as his seed pumped hard and hot into her clenching body.

  Her mouth found his again and he drowned in her taste, never wanting to part himself from her. Knowing that he had to. And knowing that once he did, the real work to win her would begin.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Something had changed in Hugh. Amelia couldn’t place it as she sat in the library, staring with unseeing eyes at the book in hand, but she felt it as strongly as if it were something palpable.

  It had been two days since he took her to the playhouse in the woods and confessed the details of his childhood to her. And he had not been the same since. No, he wasn’t entirely open with her, she knew he held back, but he was trying. He shared his thoughts, asked her about hers. He told her more and more about his life, including how he’d come to be in his large group of friends and what that meant to him. About his mother, his father, their loss, and the weight of carrying a title and of becoming what amounted to a father at such a young age.

  She was beginning to know him, truly know him, and it encouraged her to be more open, herself. Passionate nights would give over to hours of whispered confidences and private jokes.

  And her feelings for the man grew with every day they spent together. The life she led with him, which had seemed like such a horror a month ago, was now something…well, she didn’t want to lose it. And she wondered what would change once they left for London the next morning.

  The door to the library opened, and Amelia forced a smile as Lizzie entered the chamber.

  “Hello, dearest,” she said, tossing her novel aside. “Coming to find a book?”

  Lizzie shook her head. “Return one,” she said, and held up a slim volume in her hand. “I finished it last night.” She placed it on the shelf and then came to sit beside Amelia. “I cannot believe how quickly ten days has flown by.”

  Amelia took her hands and squeezed them gently. “I know. It seems only yesterday that we arrived. I have adored my time here. I love that I get to return here again and again.”

  Lizzie frowned slightly. “But tomorrow you’ll go. I hate that part.”

  “Then why not come with us?” Amelia pressed. “Oh, Lizzie, how I’d love to have you in London. We could have such fun, and I know Hugh would adore having you near. The Season is coming to an end, but we could introduce you in a small way and then you could join us for parties and balls. I would love having my dear sister at my side.”

  Lizzie turned her head, and Amelia saw the sparkle of tears in her bright eyes. She had pushed too hard, though she still had no idea why Lizzie was so opposed to taking her place in Society.

  “I don’t want you to think it’s because of you or my brother,” Lizzie whispered. “It isn’t.”

  Amelia put an arm around her. “I know. I never thought that. But I cannot help but wonder why it is that London and Society in general are so frightening to you. I know you are shy and reserved, but we would be with you. And Hugh’s friends have wonderful wives. You’d not be alone or forced to navigate your way without so many friends at your side.”

  “I am shy,” Lizzie admitted. “I’ve never liked being out and about very much. But I always knew that I’d have to come out at some point. Have to overcome the failing that makes me want to hide from others. No, it’s something…else that makes me hesitate.”

  Amelia searched her face. Lizzie was not good at hiding her feelings, not like Hugh. Now her emotions were very clear and very painful. Amelia could almost taste them, they hung so heavy in the air.

  “What happened?” she whispered. “Won’t you tell me if it might help?”

  Lizzie worried her lip gently and then sighed. “You truly have become like a sister to me in the short time we’ve been acquainted,” she began. “There is so much of me that wants to tell you the truth. Only—only I worry you will…not…not…”

  “Not what? Understand?” Amelia encouraged.

  Lizzie placed her head in her hands and her shoulders began to shake. “I fear you won’t love me anymore if you knew. That you’ll never look at me the same way again.”

  Amelia drew back at that statement. She had assumed Lizzie’s reticence came from something minor, but this breakdown implied something far deeper and bigger and more painful than she’d ever guessed.

  Something Lizzie really did need to talk about.

  “Look at me,” Amelia whispered. When Lizzie dared to do so, Amelia gently wiped tears from her cheeks. “I could never not love you, no matter what you tell me. I promise you that.”

  Lizzie smiled through her tears. “You make me believe you.”

  “Because it’s true. Oh, Lizzie, I can see what a weight you’ve carried. If you would like to let me shoulder some small part of the load, I’m happy to do so. And if you’re not ready, I respect that, as well.”

  Lizzie got up and walked across the room, her expressive face filled with pensive worry. Amelia forced herself to remain in her place, allowing her friend to work through her feelings on her own.

  At last, Lizzie turned and said, “There was…a man.”

  Amelia caught her breath. Lizzie was so sweet, so innocent, it was hard to believe she would have involved herself with someone. But she kept the shock from her face and nodded. “I see.”

  “He lived in the village,” Lizzie continued. “He seemed so kind. We met at a little soiree at the meeting hall and he asked me to dance. When I said I didn’t like to dance, he took me for a walk instead, and it was…”

  “Very romantic,” Amelia said when Lizzie did not seem capable of continuing.

  Lizzie nodded. “When I look back now, I suppose I can see that it was part of some trap he was setting. He had studied me, I think, determining my personality so he would know how to best s-seduce me.”

  Lizzie’s cheeks flamed and Amelia got up, wanting desperately to comfort her. But she stayed in place and did not push, not yet. “That is what he did?”

  “Well, he asked me to marry him. Hugh had been gone and I was hesitant. I knew this man had so little to recommend him, at least in my brother’s eyes. And he said the same, that the great Duke of Brighthollow would never accept him or allow him the chance to prove his worth.”

  Amelia wrinkled her brow. “That does not sound like a man with your best interest at heart.”

  “No. But I thought myself in love with him by then. Foolishly, it seems. He convinced me that if we ran away, Hugh would have to agree to our union and that one day this man would prove his worth.”

  “Oh dear,” Amelia breathed.

  “I was so silly.” Lizzie balled her hands into fists at her sides. “Sixteen and wanting so much to be loved that I agreed. I convinced myself that he would love me and that Hugh would understand some day.”

  “You ran away with him?” Amelia gasped, thinking of Hugh and his deep love for his sister. He must have been terrified when he found out.

  “I did, expecting we would marry within hours and make it proper, or at least less scandalous. But we didn’t. Hours passed and he started talking to me about Scotland, Gretna Green.”


  “Four days from here?” Amelia said, her mouth dropped open in shock.

  “Yes. I was horrified, for I knew what people would say if they discovered I’d spent three nights alone with the man before I married him. But he insisted it was best.”

  “And it was too late to escape,” Amelia said.

  A nod was her reply. “I felt increasingly that it was. The first night we stopped along the road, he only kissed me. I…liked it enough, I suppose. He was forceful and didn’t seem to care that I didn’t know what I was doing.” She shuddered. “By the second night we stopped, he told me we were practically married already. That we would be soon enough. He convinced me to—”

  Lizzie’s face was almost purple with humiliation now, and Amelia caught her hand at last. “I understand. I understand what you did.”

  “I had such romantic notions,” Lizzie sighed after she had gathered herself enough to speak. “He wasn’t cruel, but I didn’t…like it. And when it was done, he wouldn’t even hold me.”

  Amelia shut her eyes, thinking back to her own wedding night. To how gentle Hugh had been, how giving and caring. And how he had been just the same every night since. What they shared in their bed was not cheap, it was not cruel. It had bonded them physically and helped her see him as more than some ogre who had stolen the life she thought she wanted.

  And Lizzie had not experienced that same care. Amelia had never hated someone more, despite not knowing this man’s identity.

  “I’m so sorry,” Amelia whispered.

  “I knew I’d done the wrong thing and I wanted so badly for Hugh to come.” Lizzie covered her face. “But I couldn’t leave. I’d surrendered my innocence, I had to marry him. On the third night he stopped just before the border of Scotland. And then…Hugh was there. He swept in like a knight in shining armor, and I don’t know what he ultimately did to make that man go away, but he did it. And Hugh took me home.”

  Amelia’s eyes filled with tears, not just for what Lizzie had been through and how it had changed her, but for Hugh, as well. She knew, both from observation and through their conversations, how important his sister was to him. His heart must have broken to know what she had endured. It certainly explained his protectiveness of her.