The Duke and the Wallflower

by Clever, Jessie

  She straightened at a sound so familiar she moved toward it without hesitation. Parting the curtains, she stepped through to find Henry at full gallop through the gardens that greeted her.

  And Dax, standing with his back to her as he watched Henry run. Her husband wore only trousers and a shirt, rolled to the elbows, and her chest tightened at the sight of him.

  How had so much changed in a matter of days?

  Last night had been a revelation. She had heard whispers that the sexual act could be pleasurable for women if the man was attentive, but she’d never thought she would experience such pleasure. She knew last night had been a fulfillment of her bargain with Dax, but she couldn’t help but think maybe it was something more. The way he’d touched her had been so deliberate, so invoking. Surely he hadn’t been simply playing along.

  A finger of doubt scratched at the back of her neck even as she thought it. After all, he’d wanted an ugly wife. How did one inspire desire when one found the object of such so disappointing?

  She squared her shoulders. He had asked for the chance to regain her trust, and she was going to do all she could to keep an open mind. That was the least she owed him.

  She stepped up behind him, afraid to startle him, but he must have heard her because he turned, a boyish smile on his face.

  “Did you know if you simply toss the bit of morsel into the grass he can find it from the mere scent?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

  “Have you never had a dog of your own?”

  He scoffed and toyed with a piece of what might have been sausage between his fingers.

  “My father had hunting hounds back when he did that sort of thing, but never something as extraordinary as Henry.” He held up a single finger of the hand without the sausage. “One does not dally with hunting dogs.”

  She laughed again and meant to say more, but Henry had heard her at that point and zipped around to careen to a stop at her feet. She bent and scratched his shaggy head.

  “And did you know,” she said, “that Henry is actually a failure at what he was bred to do?”

  She looked up to meet Dax’s astonished gaze.

  “Don’t call my dog a failure.”

  Something dangerously warm flickered to life inside of her at his words, and she swallowed against it.

  “Henry is a herder. The man I got him from had bred Henry to herd his sheep.” She straightened, keeping one hand on the dog’s head. “Unfortunately, it appears Henry is afraid of sheep.”

  Dax’s expression grew serious as he studied Henry.

  “It’s all right, chum. I’m afraid of cats. They always look at you like they’re planning your funeral. It’s rather unsettling.”

  She laughed again. “Surely you can’t dislike a good barn cat. They’re rather useful at their work.”

  His look was skeptical, and she laughed while Henry barked for more sausage. Dax tossed the last of the sausage over his shoulder, and Henry took off like a spring suddenly let loose. She watched him go so that’s why she didn’t see her husband move toward her. He pulled her into his arms before she was prepared, and his kiss was warm and spicy from his breakfast.

  “Good morning, wife,” he murmured against her lips.

  She couldn’t help it. The last of her defenses were overrun in that moment, standing in the gardens awash with the scent of the sea, her husband’s arms firmly around her. He pulled away reluctantly, lingering on her lips a moment longer.

  “You must eat,” he said promptly and moved away so she could see the table laid out behind him.

  There were all manner of dishes from eggs and sausages to kidneys and tomatoes. Uncharacteristically, her stomach growled, and she pressed a hand to it.

  He smirked as he said, “Did you sleep well?”

  “When you let me.”

  She didn’t miss the shock that registered on his face as she took a seat at the table, and she felt a measure of pride at her witty rejoinder.

  He took the seat he’d obviously been using before tossing bits of sausage to Henry and picked up the teapot to fill her cup.

  She helped herself to some eggs and sausages.

  “Well, perhaps if my wife were less demanding in her requirements, she would get more sleep.”

  Her face warmed, but she couldn’t help a smile.

  “I shall keep that in mind.”

  He handed her the teacup, and she knew he deliberately brushed her fingers with his.

  “Now, you’ll want to eat up. We have a long day ahead of us.”

  She raised both eyebrows as she swallowed a bite of egg. “We do?”

  He nodded seriously. “Today you meet the ocean. I should think you’d want your strength for that.”

  At just his words, a thrill shot through her. “You’re taking me down to the ocean?”

  Something passed over his eyes at her eagerness, but she couldn’t have said what.

  He smiled softly and said, “Of course. Weren’t you looking forward to it?”

  She nodded, poking at a sausage patty. “Yes, absolutely, but don’t you have estate affairs to tend to? I’d assume the steward would wish to speak to you after your absence.”

  His expression was pained as he said, “He’s already stepped in. He wants to discuss the results of the new breeding tactics we instituted this spring.”

  She paused with her eggs halfway to her mouth.

  “Breeding tactics?”

  He picked up his own teacup with a nod. “Yes, Sheridan is very particular about his breeding methods.” He gestured with the cup. “I can’t fault the man. His results are exemplary.”

  “But what are you breeding?”

  He swallowed his tea. “Cattle.”

  She set down her fork. “You have livestock on your estate?”

  He paused, a slow smile coming to his lips, and she realized she’d given herself away.

  “Would you like to see them in our travels today, Your Grace? We have pigs and lambs as well.” He cast a glance at Henry who was now gleefully rolling in the grass just off the stone steps leading down into the garden. “Perhaps we’ll save the lambs for another day when Henry may be inclined to other activities.”

  Only too late did she realize just quite how excited she was to discover her new home. It wouldn’t do to forget she was still disappointed in Ashbourne. But that could wait. She set aside her napkin.

  “Shall we begin?”

  * * *

  He didn’t recall the cliff being this precarious and potentially lethal. How many times had he run down the length of the rutted path leading to the water’s edge without a thought to his safety? He’d even traversed it barefoot and carrying his various fishing poles and bait.

  But in every turn he saw catastrophic danger to his wife. With every step, he ensured his foot was solid before allowing her to step down, even while firmly keeping her hand in his. She’d tried to bat away his assistance, but once they’d turned onto the path in the cliff face, she’d gladly taken his hand.

  Henry, however, was already at the bottom. He could see the dog spraying sand as he sprinted from one edge of the beach to the other.

  If he were honest, Eliza was more than sturdy in her descent, and even though she had taken his hand, he was sure before long she would be taking this path all by herself.

  Perhaps with one or two of their little ones in tow.

  He wasn’t sure where the thought had come from, but after last night, he wasn’t surprised it had. He studied her face as the sun dappled it through the sparse shrubs that clung to the cliffside. Had he never before noticed the way her attention was so precise, so genuine? Had he never before noticed the way her hair changed color in the sunlight? One might have thought it a mousy brown, but it wasn’t at all. When the sun struck it he saw weaves of reds and chestnut.

  Not that he could see much. The bonnet she wore was ridiculous by any length, but he knew it was likely demanded by propriety, and it would keep the sun out of
her eyes. So he would manage with his disappointment in not seeing all of her glorious hair.

  For it was as glorious as he thought it would be.

  He had been selfish enough during the night to fulfill every detail he’d been imagining since he’d first taken in the thickness of her mane. The way it fell down her back, darkness against the pearl of her bare back. How he could wrap it in his hands as he cradled her face for another exquisite kiss.

  God, he couldn’t think of that right now. He was still trying to get them to the bottom without killing them both.

  The path leveled out near the end, dropping gracefully to the beach below, but even when the danger had abated, she did not release his hand, and he tried to ignore the flare of pleasure it caused him.

  Once their feet touched sand, he paused, giving her a moment to soak in what he knew was a spectacular sight.

  Along this stretch of cliff, the land turned slightly inward, tucking the Ashbourne beach into a natural cove, shielded from the most turbulent of the ocean waves. Cliffs rose up on either side of the cerulean water as if marking the space for display like a painting in a museum. Specks of jagged rock dotted the surface of the water in places as the cove stretched out to the ocean proper, and waves crashed against them with a brilliant force of foaming whites and greens and blues. Seagulls screeched overhead as they searched for their next meal, and Henry barked gloriously at them.

  Eliza said nothing.

  He studied her face, drank in her expression as she stared out at the cove before them.

  “Is it to your liking?” He didn’t know why he asked the question. It wasn’t as if he could control the movement of the ocean, but right then it was vitally important that she like it. Alarm coursed through him, and he knew he was treading dangerously close to the very thing he had meant to avoid.

  He scanned the beach around them, a lifetime of memories flooding back to him without permission.

  As a child he’d played on this very beach with Ronald and Bethany. It was hard to believe how different things were now.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Her voice brought his attention back to her, and with it, the memories receded.

  Her pleasure showed in her slightly parted lips and wide eyes.

  Her attention shifted from the water to him. “May I touch it?”

  He realized she spoke of the water.

  He shook his head gravely. “No.”

  Her face fell for an instant.

  “Not with your boots on. It’s a known rule that boots are not allowed on beaches. Only bare feet.”

  She let go of his hand to place a fist against one hip. “Your boots are touching the beach, Your Grace.”

  He looked down as if surprised to find boots on his feet.

  “Well, aren’t I the idiot?”

  He dropped to the beach without ceremony, landing with a thud in the soft sand as he wrenched his boots off, one after the other, tossing them unseen behind him.

  Her laughter rivaled with the screech of gulls and Henry’s barking.

  She sobered and gathering her skirts in her hands, extended a single foot.

  “While you are down there, would you mind?”

  He set to work untying her boots, and soon he’d cast both of them aside, but he couldn’t help but stare at her ankles. While he’d seen all of her the previous night, it didn’t detract from the pleasure he took in seeing parts of her others were not privileged to see.

  “Madame, I’m afraid we’ve encountered a problem.” He looked up to meet her eyes even as his fingers began to wander up her leg. “Stockings are not permitted either.”

  He watched her eyes darken as his fingers traveled farther up her leg. He found the tie that held them in place on each leg, and he knew with a simple tug he’d have them freed. Except he didn’t wish to let her go so soon. He let his fingers linger, brushing the bare skin of her inner thighs. He was rewarded when he heard the quickly indrawn hush of breath, and he smiled, allowing her a reprieve as he tugged loose each bow.

  Her stockings slithered down her legs, and he steadied her as she stepped free of them. He tossed them on her boots before standing and taking her hand once more.

  She shrieked when the water rushed up to meet her toes, and she jumped back into his arms, her own going around him as she held herself up against him.

  “It’s a great deal colder than I’d imagined.” Her voice was light with laughter. “Do you really swim in this?”

  He couldn’t have answered if the queen herself demanded it. The joy that surged through him at having her so carelessly throw herself into his embrace had him teetering on an invisible brink. He already knew he was falling in love with her, but with every moment, it grew more and more real. Soon it would be inevitable. God help him.

  Eliza was not Bethany, but the idea of making himself so vulnerable once again scared him. He was older now with far greater responsibilities, and the idea that he could expose himself like that was ridiculous.

  Eliza stilled against him when he didn’t answer, and she tipped her head up to peer at him.

  “Are you all right?” Her tone lacked the warmth it had moments earlier, and he regretted doing that to her.

  He meant to reassure her that all was well, but seeing her face turned up to him like that struck him directly in the chest.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  Her face closed at his words, and she tried to tug herself from his embrace, but he held her tight.

  “You mustn’t say such falsehoods,” she said to his chest.

  He used a single finger under her chin to raise her face to his. “It isn’t a falsehood when I know the truth of it.”

  Her eyes darkened at his words, and he bent his head for a soft kiss.

  When he straightened, he let her go, slipping his hand down to hers.

  “The water will get warmer as the summer lingers on, I promise you. Hold up your skirts.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply as he ran them both into the water with a great splash. Henry caught on to the fun and chased after them, sand and water spraying all about them.

  Eliza shrieked again, her delight cascading into laughter as Henry soaked them both.

  They waded until the cold had her teeth chattering, and he pulled her reluctantly from the water to dry on the warmth of the sand. He tugged her down beside him, and she collapsed with a final laugh.

  “I never knew the ocean was such fun. I’d always heard such dreadful stories about it.”

  He eyed her. “Dreadful stories about the ocean?”

  Her smile was mischievous. “Ships sinking and wild monsters that emerge from its murky depths.” Her tone matched her smile, and something stirred inside of him.

  “You invented these stories, didn’t you?”

  A shadow crossed her face, and he realized he’d just made her uncomfortable, as if he’d unknowingly poked a secret. He would remember that for later, but right now, he wanted her happy and smiling, the sun on their shoulders and their toes in the sand.

  “I can just see the terrifying stories you would tell your little sisters to give them nightmares. You were a devious child, weren’t you?”

  This had her expression clearing, and he was grateful for that.

  She pursed her lips and raised her chin. “I know not of what you speak.” She gave him a side eye. “Besides, I’m sure a boy like yourself must have been up to his own dastardly deeds in a place like this.” She gestured at the beach around them.

  It was his turn to lose the laughter.

  She quickly reached out a hand to place it on his leg.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I had heard somewhere that…that they were your friends.”

  She didn’t need to explain as he already felt the burning in his chest he always felt when he thought of them. Only now, the burning was a little less than it had been. He looked at his wife, wondering why it was the humiliation he had carried for so long seemed to be dimming.<
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  “They were,” he found himself saying when he most assured he would not speak of it. “Their estates bordered either side of Ashbourne, and we became close friends as children, spending summers here at the shore.”

  That was more than he’d said on the subject in the seven years since it had happened.

  Her hand curved on his thigh, comforting in its pressure.

  “Have you ever spoken of what happened? It must be painful to carry such betrayal with you.”

  He’d never thought of it like that. Her eyes searched his face, and he knew he’d once more give her an answer he’d never given anyone.

  “I have not.” He swallowed. “It was one thing to suffer the betrayal of a woman. It was another to watch your friend turn his back on you.”

  “The Marquess of Isley?”

  He nodded, his eyes drifting back out to the hypnotic waves of the ocean.

  “Ronald and I were friends at an early age. His mother would visit my mother, and we’d hide away in the nursery until he had to leave.” The wind picked up, driving a blast of salty air in his face. He squinted against the sun. “Bethany we found later when we were old enough to explore the grounds on our own. She was dangling from a tree when we stumbled upon her. Scared her so much she let go of the branch. We were only lucky she didn’t break her arm, or we’d never have been allowed to play together again.”

  He toyed with the sand at his fingertips.

  “It must have been hard being an only child.” He looked at her sharply, and she went on. “When your friends betrayed you, you had no one to turn to.” She smiled softly as if seeing something he couldn’t. “I will always have my sisters, and they will always have me. No matter what happens.”

  A sharp pain tightened his chest, and he realized it was because she hadn’t included him in her statement. He knew it was too soon to have regained her trust, but it still hurt him.

  He laced his fingers through hers as her hand still rested on his thigh. It would take time, but he knew there was hope.

  “Are you ready for your first swimming lesson?”

  She didn’t answer, and he turned to take in her expression, which was one of absolute shock.