Taming a Duke's Wild Rose: Taming the Heart Series Book 2

by Tammy Andresen

  “Would you really choose Carl Lundberg?”

  She shook her head. At this moment, she wasn’t sure. “That should be for me to decide.”

  “Well, rest easy, His Grace would like to meet you and he will only proceed if you also agree to the match. So you will have your choice after all.”

  Surprise lit her face. “When did this happen?”

  Her father cleared his throat. “I can see that you feel differently about Lundberg today. If I had told you yesterday, you would have automatically said you wouldn’t marry His Grace.”

  Rose shook her head. He had a point. She was terribly stubborn when she set her mind to something.

  ***

  Rose sat at dinner with her father. She didn’t ask why they were dining two hours later than normal. Her father usually insisted on keeping to a schedule. So instead of a meal with the evening sun pouring into the room they sat in semi darkness waiting for Mr. Cross to join them.

  Only a few candles were lit, casting unusual shadows about the room. Her father was abnormally quiet and after making a few attempts to chat, Rose fell into her own thoughts. Carl’s face rose up into her mind. A small frown creased her brow.

  There was something unusual in her interaction with Carl today. There was meaning behind his words that she couldn’t quite grasp. There had been something dangerous about him too. She didn’t understand it yet, it was a feeling.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when Mr. Cross entered the dining room. Both Rose and her father stood to greet their guest. Rose’s heart skipped a beat as her gaze found his. He was even broader and more handsome than she remembered. His powerful thighs carried him across the room. Heat filled her cheeks as she watched the shadowy light play across his handsome features, though his face was still shadowed.

  She was suddenly thankful for the low light of the candles. It hid her embarrassment. Her father was at the head of the table and Rose sat to his left. He took the chair to her father’s right.

  Her father cleared his throat. “Good evening, Mr. Cross.”

  “Lord Wentworth.” Mr. Cross’s voice was low but had a pleasant smoothness like toffee or caramel. “Lady Rose.”

  “Mr. Cross.” She gave a small curtsey then they took their seats.

  He was turned towards her father and Rose studied his profile. He may have been the most handsome man she had ever seen. Full lips and a strong jaw set off his dark, sparkling eyes. He sat straight and tall in his chair. There was something about the set of his shoulders that made him seem powerful. It flitted across her mind that she would like to feel his arms around her. Her cheeks filled with heat again.

  She closed her eyes and tried to picture Carl. What was it about him that had drawn her in? He was tall and fair. He was a veteran of the Napoleonic Wars. She fancied him a hero. Like the ones she daydreamed about. He laughed a lot. He told her she was beautiful. Did he make her feel like this? She frowned slightly. How had it felt to have his arms around her? It hadn’t felt like anything at all.

  “Rose?” Her father’s voice penetrated her thoughts.

  “Hmm?” She focused on her father.

  “I asked you to tell Mr. Cross about your pianoforte skills.” His voice held a note of irritation.

  She turned to Mr. Cross and he looked at her. A strange shadow fell across the other side of his face only when the light flickered, the shadow didn’t move. It was strange to say the least. “Pianoforte skills are best demonstrated and not explained, I would think.”

  He gave her an amused smile. “I agree.” It made him even more handsome and she felt herself blushing again.

  “Perhaps I could play for you after dinner?” She looked down at her plate. His eyes were making her stomach do funny flip flops.

  “I would like that.” His deep voice washed over her.

  She gave a single nod and then her father asked Mr. Cross about the Napoleonic Wars. She tried not to sigh. It was going to be a long evening of men talking.

  Mr. Cross shook his head. “They are a necessary evil but it is difficult to watch good men fight and die.”

  Rose’s head snapped up. “You were there?” the question popped out before she could stop it.

  “Yes, I was not formally enlisted but I was employed by the Prince Regent for some special assignments.” He frowned and Rose saw the strange shadow on the side of his face again.

  “Was it exciting?” She leaned forward. Carl had made it sound like he was constantly fending off French soldiers and saving damsels in distress.

  A frown deepened the lines of his face. “That isn’t exactly the word I would use. Much of it is downright dull, or cold, or terrible. When it isn’t any of those, it is terrifying. It is our duty, of course. But I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

  Rose’s head tilted to the side as she studied his profile and his words. It wasn’t what she expected. Her fantasy of soldiers had always been dashing and heroic. Carl had affirmed those beliefs.

  She ate the rest of her meal in relative silence, while her father and Mr. Cross talked. At the end of the dinner, they retired to the library.

  A few candles flickered, casting a romantic glow around the room, though there were significantly less than normal. It was curious to say the least, as was the fact that she had only managed to see Mr. Cross’ profile. At no point had he shown her his full face.

  The men each had a scotch while Rose sat at the pianoforte. Normally she would have retired, being the only female, but tonight she had been invited. She stroked a few keys, warming up her hands. Mr. Cross came over and sat next to her on her right. A warm tingling sensation spread through her body at his nearness. She glanced quickly at his profile. His brown hair curled softly around his ear and Rose resisted the urge to reach out and touch it.

  She trained her gaze back on the keys. “Would you like me to turn the pages for you?” His voice danced over her nerves.

  “Yes, please,” she said even though she didn’t need him to. She picked a piece of music, a piano sonata by Pleyel. She loved this score and had played it a thousand times. When she wasn’t at the river, she could often be found at the pianoforte. It was how she had coped with her mother’s death.

  She began the opening notes and lost herself in the music. It soothed her soul and cleared her mind. Her fingers flew over the keys as emotion poured out of her body.

  She almost missed a key the first time that Mr. Cross leaned over to turn the page. Rose caught his scent, strong and clean. It sent a shiver down her spine. The next time he turned the page, his arm touched hers. Its hardness was in stark contrast to the softness of her own body.

  She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers down the muscles of his arm. She glanced quickly at him, her cheeks filling with heat. His gaze caught and held hers despite him not looking directly at her. He still kept his face partially turned away.

  There was an intensity in his eyes, she had seen it in other men before but she had never understood it until this moment. It reverberated through her to her very core and she echoed the emotion back to him. She hit a wrong key and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father glance over at them.

  She quickly looked back down at the keys. What was happening to her? She tried in that moment to remember Carl’s face but she couldn’t. She could only see Mr. Cross. The heat of his chocolate brown eyes, penetrating to her very soul.

  Completing the concerto, she moved into a soft and light number. It was not the next song in her play book and Mr. Cross started to get up, his job done. She bit her lip for a second and then whispered, “Wait.”

  He sat back down and, for the first time, turned his face toward her. She could clearly see that what she thought was a shadow earlier was actually a scar. It was deep and puckered and it cut across his face from the edge of his mouth to almost his ear. The skin was jagged and angry still and it marred what would have been the strong line of his cheek bone. Her fingers stumbled for just a second but she willed th
em to keep playing and the mistake was almost indiscernible.

  No wonder he had kept half his face hidden from her. She trembled, despite the heat of his body and she returned her gaze back to the keys. She took several deep breaths then she looked back into his eyes. Rose had the strangest urge to run her fingers along it and soothe the damaged skin. He must have been a perfect specimen of a man prior to the injury. She wondered how people reacted to him now. Judging by his need to hide his face, they often did not respond well. It surprised her how little she cared.

  “What is it Lady Rose?” He turned the page of her play book even though she was not performing the song.

  Rose snapped back to the present. She had called him back to ask him a question, not to ogle his looks. “I…I… wanted to ask you what you meant earlier. I hope it isn’t terribly rude but you said war was terrible. All the soldiers I am acquainted with speak as though they…” she didn’t quite know how to finish.

  “Were great heroes. And war is wonderful.” He finished for her.

  “Yes.” She bit her lip as she played.

  “You have experienced death.” He raised his eyebrows and Rose started. She had only been thinking of the soldier who won not the one who lost.

  “Oh…I…” Death was a terrible thing. How could it not occur to her that for one man to be victorious another must die?

  “I would always protect my country, protect my family. But I would never enjoy taking someone’s life. That person also has a family and people who love him.”

  Rose bent her head in shame. “Thank you for answering,” she whispered.

  Leaning closer to her, he turned another page. His fingertips gently brushed the small of her back. His lips moved close to her ear. “Don’t be upset. I went to war with grand illusions myself at one and twenty. It is normal. But men who do not leave wiser are either fools or liars.”

  It felt as though he had read her thoughts concerning Carl. She turned to look at him. His lips, which had been at her ear, were now but a millimeter from her own mouth. Their eyes locked and Rose felt as though she could hardly take in air. Her eyes fluttered open and closed. She tilted her head back a little further so their lips were a breath apart. She wasn’t even aware she had stopped playing.

  “Keep playing,” his husky voice jarred her back to reality. She could feel his breath fanning across her face.

  “Oh,” she uttered as her fingers struck up the notes again. She ripped her gaze from his. Her cheeks filled with heat. She had never wanted a man’s lips on hers like this before.

  “Rose is a very accomplished player normally,” her father called from the other side of the room.

  “It is obvious that she is,” Mr. Cross returned. His breath tickled her cheek. Rose felt herself flush and she wondered what could possibly be wrong with her?

  She had fallen for a man before. But she was in love with Carl, wasn’t she? So why wasn’t she immune to other men? What if she married and felt this way about every handsome man she met?

  Dread filled Rose. She wondered if she should never marry. Was her father right? Would she continue to fall in love with every handsome man that passed her by?

  Her breathing was strained as she felt the color drain from her face. She looked over at Mr. Cross, bewildered.

  Their eyes met and the color returned to her cheeks in a rush. He looked mildly surprised but his hand gently squeezed her upper arm. “It’s all right. Play another song.”

  Her fingers struck the beginning notes of some song, though she had no idea what it was.

  His breath continued to tickle the hair by her ear as his arm pressed against hers. Rose licked her parched lips. “I…I…”

  “This afternoon you told me I couldn’t ask you anymore questions because I hadn’t shared anything about myself. Now that I have answered some of your questions, is it my turn again?”

  Another wrong note jangled out of the pianoforte. “I completely forgot that I… yes, of course, you may ask.”

  “Your Mr. Lundberg. Was he in the war?”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “And how does he describe being a soldier?” His voice was a whisper and his lips were so close to her ear, she could almost feel them.

  “He describes it like the story of a hero. He is a hero. He has told me―“

  “Does he have any metals?” His voice had a slight edge.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen any.” She bit her lip.

  “Ask him the next time you see him.” Mr. Cross stood and left the bench. Rose had a vague feeling of emptiness and loss now that he was gone.

  ***

  Alex moved to the other side of the room. He needed some distance from Rose. She was as lovely in candlelight as she was in sunlight. He closed his eyes for a brief second. It had taken everything he had to not place his lips on hers. They had been so close. Her breath smelled like honey and a light floral scent surrounded her.

  She had wanted him to kiss her too. He could tell. What was more, she seemed utterly shocked by her own reaction. He didn’t know her well enough to understand if she often reacted this way toward men or if this was new. Both Rose and her father had mentioned that she fell in and out of love.

  Was she surprised to be attracted to him because of his scar? Many women pretended to not be offended by it. But they gave themselves away in those moments of closeness. They frowned or they shivered or shrank away.

  Rose hadn’t done any of those things despite her surprise. Could it be that he had found a woman who was both beautiful and not afraid of the mark on his face? It must be a mistake.

  “I do not know what has gotten into her this evening.” Lord Wentworth frowned towards his daughter, still playing.

  “I flustered her with a few of my questions.” Alex sat next to the Earl.

  “That is surprising. Very little usually flusters her.”

  “She is lovely. Everything you said is true. Smart, articulate and thoughtful, she is a treasure.”

  “Thank you. She needs a husband who can tame her waywardness, but don’t we all have flaws?”

  Alex looked back at Rose. She swayed gracefully as she now flawlessly played the pianoforte. The music flowed over him. If Rose had a flaw, he couldn’t see it.

  TAMING A DUKE’S WILD ROSE

  CHAPTER THREE

  Rose, once again, sat by the river. She had ridden early this morning, caught up on correspondence, created baskets for families who had recently had children on the estate, and aided in the polishing of silverware. No amount of work had cleared her head.

  Now she sat pondering the bubbling blue water. It would not be much longer before it turned cold and grey. Another summer would pass. She seemed no closer to understanding her heart though. Was it only yesterday that she thought she knew what she was about?

  A noise behind her made her jump. Rose turned her head to see Carl peeking around a tree to not be seen by her guards.

  Didn’t he have a job? Had he nothing to do besides pester her? She caught herself. The man she loved shouldn’t be a bother, but her father and Mr. Cross were hard at work running the estate. What was it that Carl did?

  “My love, come closer,” he called in a loud whisper.

  “I can’t. My guards will see,” she called back.

  “Rose, this is getting ridiculous. We are in love. We are getting married. I shouldn’t have to sneak around like this. Come over here and leave with me now.” Irritation laced his voice and his face scrunched up in annoyance.

  Rose hesitated. Had Carl always been this impatient? She had tried running away like this once before. It hadn’t worked and it had only served to irritate her father. Mr. Cross would also be here to witness it. Would he think her an errant child for trying to run away and shirk her responsibilities?

  “I can’t. My guards are just over there. They will surely catch us. We must wait till the moment is right.” She bit her lip. She knew it was a lie as soon as it passed her lips. She no longer felt the same u
rgency to be Carl’s wife. She needed more time to sort out her feelings.

  He huffed a breath. “We have waited long enough. I have waited long enough. I’m not sure you’re even worth―“

  She stood abruptly and turned towards her guards. Any feelings that had remained for Carl were dampened by his words. “Then find someone else.” She stomped two paces towards her guards who now looked over at her movement.

  “Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I am impatient to make you my own. To be with you every day. Have you thought about what I said yesterday?”

  His voice halted her movements. The feeling of dread returned, deep in her stomach. “How could I think about it when I have no idea what you could possibly mean?”

  “I simply meant there is another solution besides running away if that should fail us.” He moved a little closer. “War has taught me many things and I could…”

  Rose’s utter confusion was interrupted by another voice, deep and rich like honey. “Lady Rose need hear no more about what you learned during the war.” Mr. Cross stood on her right, close enough to touch. His chocolate brown hair had glints of gold in the sun. His broad shoulders looked powerful enough to protect her from anything and she had a sudden impulse to hide behind him. It seemed silly that she would want to hide from Carl. She was supposed to love him.

  “Who are you?” Carl stepped out from the woods. Rose’s frown deepened. He was much thinner than Alex and how had she never noticed how nasally his voice was?

  “I am a friend of the family. And you, sir?” Mr. Cross folded his hands over his muscular chest.

  “I am Rose’s chosen fiancé.” Carl’s fists clenched at his side.

  “If you are joining the peerage than you should know that you always refer to her as Lady Rose in a setting such as this.”

  Carl’s face turned purple in anger and Rose took a half step towards Mr. Cross. He turned slightly to look at her with a warm and reassuring glance.