Gambling on the Duke's Daughter (Brides of Scandal Book 1)

by Diana Bold

  “You don’t?” He seemed surprised and more than a little annoyed. Frowning, he turned on his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Well, you’re wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” A cold chill traveled down Natalia’s spine. He was pulling away from her, and not just physically.

  “When I met you, I had nothing. I had no money. No future. No hope. I was almost thirty years old, the earl had written me off, my commission was gone, and I was about to be thrown out of my shabby little apartment down by the river. The only dream I’d ever had—to run an estate of my own—seemed as unattainable as the moon.”

  She’d known all this, of course, but it made her uncomfortable to hear him say it. She’d never known that sort of desperation, had always had the security of her name and fortune to carry her through rough times.

  How naïve she’d been.

  “Then I made that wager with Jonathan, and I started thinking you were exactly what I needed. A rich wife would solve all my problems. If I had your dowry, I could buy the finest estate on the market. I’d never have to worry about money again.”

  He glanced at her through his dark lashes, as though to check that his words were having the desired effect. Natalia met his gaze, refusing to even blink, lest he know how badly he was hurting her.

  Something was very wrong. These things he said might hold truth, but she knew him well enough now to realize his motives had never been so cut and dried. He wasn’t a heartless man.

  No. Dylan cared about people far more than he wanted to. He wouldn’t be doing this unless he had somehow gotten it into his head that by pushing her away, he was protecting her.

  “You’re lying,” she said, with utter certainty. “That might have been why you approached me at your father’s ball, but it wasn’t the reason you agreed to meet me in the garden.”

  “You’re defending me now?” He shook his head. “Just a few short days ago, you were more than willing to believe I’d married you in order to get my hands on your dowry.”

  “A lot has changed since then.” She placed her hand against his heart, loving the slow steady beat. “Seeing you here, at Aldabaran, I’ve come to realize that a home is far more important to you than any amount of money could ever be. And you knew this place was yours before you met me in the garden.”

  “As far as I knew, Aldabaran was a crumbling ruin,” he told her stubbornly. “I thought I might need your money to rebuild it.”

  With every cold, calculating word Dylan said, Natalia’s confusion grew. What was he trying to do? It seemed as though he was trying to hurt her on purpose.

  “All right,” she agreed, tired of arguing. “You married me for my dowry. But that doesn’t mean our marriage can’t succeed. Many marriages start this way.”

  Dylan pushed himself to a sitting position, his back against the headboard, one knee drawn up to his chest. He gave her a brooding look. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. To have you here in my life every moment of the day. Perhaps it would be better if we found you a house in London.”

  Natalia felt as though she’d been slapped. He didn’t want her in his life? She sat up as well, careful to keep the sheet drawn up to her chest, feeling a sudden resurgence of modesty. “You don’t want to be married to me? Are you suggesting a… divorce?”

  Divorce was practically unheard of. If Dylan actually went through with such a thing, she’d be a social pariah. No one would receive her.

  But that was the least of her worries. If Dylan were to do this, to reject her with such cold finality, she would die. She couldn’t bear the thought of living without him.

  Dylan shook his head, his gaze shuttered and distant. “I didn’t say anything about a divorce.”

  Natalia’s hurt faded, replaced by a wave of searing anger. “Then perhaps you need to be a little clearer, Dylan. Because I don’t know what the hell you are talking about.”

  He looked a bit taken aback by her profanity. “I think we should live apart. You don’t belong here.”

  If he’d meant to destroy her, he couldn’t have chosen a better weapon. She already loved Aldabaran and couldn’t bear to think of leaving it. “I don’t know how you can decide that so quickly. Give me a little more time. We’ve only been here a few days.”

  He shook his head and slid out of the bed, crossing the room to gather up his discarded pile of clothing. His golden skin gleamed in the firelight. She looked away, ashamed by the way his broad shoulders, slim waist, and long, lean flanks could still make her heartbeat accelerate.

  “You were made for the glittering lights of London, Natalia.” As he spoke, he pulled on his breeches, fumbling in his haste. “And I’ve been alone for far too long. I can’t imagine having you underfoot day after day.”

  “Have I done something wrong?” Natalia hated herself for asking, hated the way her love for him had made her weak.

  The man had just told her he didn’t want her. She should be walking away instead of trying to figure out a way to make things right.

  He paused for a moment and turned to face her, his shirt gaping open across his broad chest. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, love. You’ve done nothing wrong. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

  “So, I’m to go running back to my father? Tell him I made a mistake?” Natalia squared her shoulders, determined not to let him know this was killing her.

  “Of course not.” He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “The dowry is yours to spend as you see fit. Buy a fashionable home. Become a bluestocking if you wish. Don’t you see? You’ll be free to do whatever you want with the rest of your life.”

  He was the one who didn’t see. All she’d ever wanted was here, at Aldabaran. She wanted to raise a family with the man she loved, grow old and die with the sound of the ocean in her ears.

  “Will you visit me from time to time, at least enough to keep the gossips at bay? Will you promise to be a decent father if these nights we’ve already spent together result in a child?” Pride be damned. She couldn’t bear to lose him completely.

  He shrugged. “I’d rather not. But if that’s what it takes to get you to leave, I suppose I could manage an occasional visit.”

  His indifference managed to hurt her more than his cruelty. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked to keep them at bay. “You bastard. I’ve done nothing to deserve this.”

  Dylan shook his head and left the room, leaving her alone with the shattered remnants of her dreams.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The next day dawned gray and gloomy, a perfect setting for Natalia’s mood. She’d cried herself to sleep, and when she awoke, her head throbbed, and her eyes burned. Clad only in a robe and slippers, she drifted to the narrow window and stared down at the churning sea. A storm was brewing, which meant Dylan wouldn’t be able to send her away just yet.

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  No matter how many times she replayed all the horrible things Dylan had said last night, she couldn’t believe he truly meant them. Everything he’d said and done had been so out of character. She couldn’t help thinking she’d missed something.

  There must be an answer. There must be a logical explanation. Unfortunately, she was no closer to finding it now than when he’d walked out the door on her last night.

  A movement on the cliffs far below caught her attention. She leaned forward, peering through the glass to identify the source. Frowning, she watched as someone walked out on a slim finger of rock and then stood on the very edge, staring down at the crashing waves while the wind whipped at his dark clothes.

  Dylan.

  Unreasonable panic mounted within her. What was he doing down there? Did he realize how dangerous his position was, especially given the growing intensity of the storm?

  Perhaps he didn’t care.

  Misery was etched in every line of his body. Even from this distance, she could see how much he was hurting. Once again, she was struck with the certainty that he didn’t really want to
send her way, but somehow felt he must.

  A sudden shiver ran down her spine. Had he been trying to protect her from himself? Did he want her to leave so she wouldn’t be there when he hurt himself?

  His mother had thrown herself off that very cliff…

  Oh, God. She had to stop him.

  Pushing away from the window, she lunged across the room and out the door. She rushed down the stairs and then hurried outside, pausing only for a second to catch her breath as the chill wind cut through the thin silk of her robe.

  Ignoring the discomfort, she tore down the path toward the cliffs, scanning the horizon for any sign of him. Please, God, don’t let me be too late.

  At last, she saw him. He stood at the very edge of the cliff, his hands thrust deep within the pockets of his long overcoat, his dark hair whipping in the breeze. His head was tilted toward the sky, his eyes were closed, and he seemed to sway in the abyss of some terrible emotion.

  Skidding to a stop a few yards away, Natalia fought to regain her breath as she pondered the best way to approach him. She wanted to scream his name and force him away from the edge. She wanted to shake him for his foolishness and make him swear he’d never even think of doing such a thing again. But she didn’t want to startle him. She was far too close to losing him as it was.

  “Dylan,” she called. “What are you doing?”

  He opened his eyes and turned his head toward the sound of her voice. Those blue-gray depths were filled with despair, but she saw no sign of desperation.

  “Natalia,” he said, with a weary sigh. “Must we have this conversation again?”

  She clutched her robe more tightly around her waist and took a few hesitant steps forward, stopping an arm’s length away. Was she close enough now to stop him from doing something horrible?

  “That’s not why I’m here. I saw you from my window… I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  He flicked a quick glance at the keep, then back, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth as he took in her dishabille. “You ran out here in your robe? What were you thinking? You’ll catch your death of cold.” As he spoke, he shrugged out of his coat, closed the distance between them, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  The coat held his warmth, and by putting it on her, he’d stepped away from the precipice. Overwhelmed with relief, she flung herself into his arms.

  “Oh, Dylan,” she whispered, clinging to him with all her strength. “I was so afraid.”

  He tensed beneath her unexpected onslaught. For a moment, she thought he might pull away. Then his arms came around her, and his lips brushed her temple. “Why were you afraid?”

  She tilted her head, blinking back her tears so she could look into his eyes. “I thought you were going to jump off the cliff. I thought you were going to kill yourself.”

  “Kill myself?” He gave an incredulous laugh and released her. “Why would you think such a thing?”

  She shook her head, suddenly embarrassed. As usual, she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. How foolish she must appear, running after him this way, throwing herself into his arms after he’d told her in no uncertain terms he didn’t want her.

  His gaze narrowed, and his frown returned. “You’ve heard about my mother, haven’t you?” He turned his back on her once again, staring out to sea.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “Your… Mrs. Macpherson told me about it. I’m so sorry, Dylan.”

  She’d almost called the old woman his grandmother. What a slip to make, especially at a time like this.

  A time like this…

  She let her gaze rest on his broad shoulders. They were so tense he looked as though he carried the weight of the entire world upon them. Perhaps what he needed most was someone to help him carry the load.

  Since he’d already decided it couldn’t be her, perhaps she could at least leave him with a parting gift—a father and grandmother who obviously loved him.

  He made an impatient gesture with his hand. “Well, even if you’re worried that suicide is hereditary, you needn’t be afraid I’ll jump.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “My mother didn’t kill herself, you see. I was there the night Warren pushed her to her death.”

  Natalia caught her breath, stunned by what he’d just revealed. The Earl of Warren had killed Fiona? This was what had been troubling him last night. He must’ve found out that truth while he’d been in the village yesterday. This was why he’d tried to push her away. The poor man believed his father had murdered his mother.

  Gathering all her courage, Natalia stepped forward and wrapped her hand around his. “I can’t even imagine how hard this has been for you.” She circled him until her own back faced the edge of the cliff and the crashing sea, forcing him to meet her gaze. “But there’s something I think you should know. Something that might make all of this just a little easier to bear.”

  He caught his breath, and then stared down at her, a strange, watchful look on his face. “What are you talking about, love?”

  Love. Her heart thrilled at the casual endearment. Perhaps there was still hope.

  She reached for his other hand and squeezed them both reassuringly. “I know this will come as a great shock to you, Dylan. But yesterday I discovered the Earl of Warren is not your father.”

  * * *

  She knows about Patrick.

  Dylan stared at his wife in open-mouthed astonishment. He couldn’t imagine how she had found out, but the news of his humble beginnings didn’t seem to bother her in the least.

  She made love to me after she knew the truth.

  “Your mother was having an affair,” she continued, her cheeks pinkening. “She was in love with Patrick Macpherson. He is your real father.”

  He bowed his head and pressed his face against her hair, so she couldn’t see the maelstrom of emotions her words had provoked. Dear God, she knew. She knew, and it didn’t matter.

  What a fool he’d been. He’d said terrible things to hurt her—he’d nearly succeeded in driving her away.

  All this in a selfish attempt to keep her from breaking his heart.

  But even now, after everything he’d done, she still cared enough about him to run outside in the bitter cold clad in nothing but her robe and nightgown. Hell, he was half convinced that if he were to step toward the edge of the cliff right now, she’d hold onto his ankle like a bulldog and refuse to let go.

  Because she loves me. How could he have been so blind?

  His body began to shake with suppressed laughter.

  “It’s all right,” she whispered, cupping his head in her hands. “Cry if you need to. There’s no shame in it.”

  “I’m not crying.” Laughing openly, he picked her up in his arms and headed away from the cliffs.

  “You’re laughing.” She stared up at him, utterly confused. “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because I love you,” he admitted. “I love you so much.”

  “You love me?” Natalia frowned and shook her head. “Are you listening? I just told you the Earl of Warren isn’t your father.”

  “I already knew that.” Dylan cradled her tighter in his arms, leaving the cliffs and the crashing fury of the waves far behind them. “Those things I said… God, can you ever forgive me? I thought you wouldn’t want me if you found out my father was a mere groom.”

  Her exotic eyes flooded with tears. “Of course, I forgive you. I love you, Dylan. I’ve always loved you.”

  She loves me. God, how he’d needed to hear her say the words. It made all the difference in the world, gave him the strength to face anything.

  Grinning, he bent down to kiss her, but she stopped him, bracing her hands against his chest. “I love you, and I forgive you, but I’m still furious.”

  They’d reached the outer courtyard of the keep, and he reluctantly put her down. “You have every right to be furious.” He let her slide slowly down his body, keeping her pressed against him when she’d regained her feet. “I acted like an utter jack ass.”
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  “You’re an idiot,” she agreed, shoving away from him and staring up at him with wide, wounded eyes. “I don’t care whether your father is a chimney sweep or the Prince of Wales. How could you even think such a thing would matter to me?”

  He sighed and speared his hand through his damp hair. “Let’s go inside, love. We still have a lot to talk about.”

  “Yes, we certainly do.” Turning, she strode toward the front door, which she’d left wide open in her battle to save him.

  He followed, sealing the howling wind and cutting chill outside where they belonged. The great hall was warm and welcoming, both fireplaces crackling to keep the gloom and dampness away. Taking Natalia’s hand, he tugged her toward the large comfortable chair where she’d fallen asleep waiting for him last night.

  “Come here.” He coaxed her to sit in his lap, cocooning them both in the warm folds of his overcoat. “You can yell at me all you like. Just give me a moment to enjoy having you in my arms again.”

  She laughed and relaxed against him. “Oh, Dylan. I don’t want to yell at you. I just wish you would have believed in me a little bit more.”

  “Well, I think we both had a hard time believing,” he told her diplomatically. “But I’m going to try harder, Natalia. Just don’t give up on me.”

  “I won’t,” she promised, pulling his head down for a scorching kiss. For a long moment, he let himself get lost in her sweetness. It seemed as though it had been years, not mere hours, since he’d kissed her.

  At last, he forced himself to pull away, brutally reining in the impulse to carry her up the stairs and spend the rest of the day making love. There were still many things they needed to talk about, including the debt of gratitude that had driven him out onto the cliffs that morning.

  He’d gone outside hoping the bitter cold would clear his mind, because he’d been undone by her thoughtful gesture.

  “Last night, after I left you, I went back to my room and found my mother’s paintings.” He cupped her face tenderly, staring into her eyes as he tried to convey just how much it meant to him. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before.”