by Dawn Brower
He stared down at his dripping wet clothes and frowned. Amelia barely suppressed a laugh. She had finally said yes to one of his invitations, and he wasn’t in a position to see it through. It was far more comical than she wanted to convey. The duke glanced back up at her and said, “Yes, I would.”
“You would?” Amelia lifted a brow. Surely he didn’t mean that. He had to be unbelievably uncomfortable in his wet attire.
“Yes, I would,” he reiterated. “But perhaps we could walk in the manor's direction.” He once again looked down at his damp clothing. “So I may change before I walk you back here.”
She nibbled on her lips and considered his suggestion. “Perhaps...but...the geese...”
“I can look after them,” Thomas told her. “I’ll be here a while yet working on the pen. They’ll be fine, I promise.”
She couldn’t really argue now that Thomas had taken away her one reason for not going. She glanced at the duke, and he lifted a brow. The arrogant arse... “Then all right. We can walk toward the manor.”
“Wonderful,” the duke said. His voice was filled with confidence, mixed with triumph. He thought he had won a battle, and in a way he had. Amelia was fine with that. It was best that he did, so this farce could end sooner rather than later. She couldn’t continue to spend time with him and have any hope of erasing him from her already bruised heart. He held his arm out to her. “Miss Halsey, walk with me, please.”
She didn’t take his arm. “I’d rather not have to change my dress.”
“That is wise.” He nodded at her. “Then let’s continue to the manor.”
They walked side by side in silence. The duke had his arms behind his back as they strolled toward his friend’s manor. She wasn’t sure which friend owned it and hadn’t thought to ask. It might be a suitable topic of conversation, but she couldn’t bring to broach the topic.
It didn’t take them long to reach the manor. They walked up to the entrance together, and the duke opened the door. He gestured for her to go inside. “Please come in.”
Said the wolf to his prey...
Amelia took a deep breath and went inside. She prayed she wouldn’t come to regret this decision. The duke followed her inside and closed the door. “I won’t be long,” he told her. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the sitting room.” He pointed to a room off of the parlor. “I’ll have tea sent in.”
“That’s unnecessary...” she began.
“I insist,” he interrupted her. “Now go and sit down, and when I return, I’ll have some of that tea with you. It’ll help with the chill.”
Amelia cringed. She was being inhospitable. Of course he’d want tea to warm up with. “All right,” she agreed, and went into the sitting room. Amelia told herself not to glance back at him, but she couldn’t resist. When she did, the heat in his gaze did more to warm her than any tea ever could. She swallowed the lump in her throat and realized she had made a mistake. One that she couldn’t rectify...because she’d already set her fate in motion. What the duke didn’t realize was it had started in London at the masquerade. Perhaps this was for the best. She could see this through and have the affair she’d wanted that night. He didn’t want anything more than that from her, and she’d find a way to be content with what he could offer her. Somehow, she’d move on without his love.
Chapter 8
Grant had to remove his wet clothing, but unfortunately, his attire seemed to be affixed to his skin in an unfathomable fashion. It took him longer to peel his shirt off than he’d thought possible. The exertion made him wish he’d brought his valet with him, but that didn’t help his current situation. It wasn’t as if he could go back and change his mind. He would have to handle his dilemma on his own. When he had finally removed all of his wet clothing, he was out of breath from the struggle.
He sat down on his bed and fought to get his breathing under control. “Christ...” He blew out a breath. If Amelia was not waiting for him in the sitting room, he’d crawl into his bed and stay there 'til morning. The urge to strangle Beetle had grown with each attempt to remove his clothes. He hated that infernal goose. Somehow, he would win Beetle over, though. If he hoped to spend any sort of time in Amelia’s company, he’d have to ensure the goose quit attacking him.
Stupid goose... He really should stop fantasizing about ways to strangle Beetle and dress. Especially considering it didn’t help his situation, and it would not endear Amelia to him. She’d hate him if he actually hurt the evil creature. Were geese actually beasts from hell? He had never met a nice goose, and he couldn’t fathom why Amelia liked Bumble and Beetle so much. What sane person actually adopted geese as pets? He shook his head and stood.
He went to his armoire and pulled out some new trousers and slid them on and continued dressing so he was at least presentable. Grant forewent the cravat, and didn’t bother with a waistcoat or jacket. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and left his shirt open at the neck. It was perhaps a bit too casual, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be comfortable after the ordeal with his wet clothes.
His boots were still wet, and sadly, he didn’t have another pair. He’d have to see if Kentville had any boots he’d left behind. Grant left his boots near the hearth. He’d start a fire later to help them dry properly. The weather was a bit too warm for a fire now, but at night when it cooled off, he’d be able to bear it.
Grant wandered into the master chamber and looked through the armoire there. Kentwood hadn’t left much behind. There were two outdated waistcoats, some neatly folded cravats, and one white shirt. Luckily there was a pair of boots that were quite old near the bed. The leather was cracked and dirt was smeared across the toes. He sighed. They would have to do. He sat in a chair and pulled them on. The boots were a size too big; however, they could have been worse...too small.
Now that he’d dressed, Grant went down the stairs and to the sitting room. Amelia sat on the settee with a teacup in her hand. He’d told a maid to take tea to her on his way to his chambers. There was a small staff at the manor and most of them only worked during the day, then went home at dusk. The housekeeper acted as cook while Grant was there, but he had her keep to light meals. She insisted on baking pastries and biscuits for him every day though. So, he wasn’t surprised to find some on a plate near the tea set. His stomach rumbled. Grant would have to thank Mrs. Jones for her thoughtfulness later. He couldn’t recall ever being so hungry.
“I trust everything is to your liking,” he said as he strolled to her side. Grant didn’t give her a chance to suggest he sit somewhere else. He sat next to her...where he believed he belonged. There was something about her that he couldn’t shake. She seemed so damn familiar. Amelia had said they met before, but he couldn’t remember where.
“It is,” she said. Her cup rattled on the saucer in her hand.
He took it from her and set it on the table. “I wouldn’t want you to spill it,” he told her. “Then you would need a change of clothes. Does my presence bother you that much?”
She shook her head. “No, of course not.”
“Then why do you appear so anxious?” He met her gaze, but she glanced away, not giving him the opportunity to decipher what her feelings might be. Grant hated she seemed so jumpy around him. There had to be some way to alleviate what concerned her. “Tell me.”
“It’s nothing.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I...” Amelia swallowed hard, then turned toward him. “This...” She motioned her hand between them. “Seems inappropriate.”
“It’s not,” he insisted. There were some very inappropriate things he wished to do to and with her, and none of them entailed being fully clothed on the settee in his friend’s sitting room.
“We are alone in a manor,” she told him. “That’s highly inappropriate. This alone would be enough to scandalize society. The very thing you ran from is happening between us right now.”
“Is that so?” He lifted a brow. “Well, it is a good thing you do not wish to marry me, and no one else is
here to witness the horror of us sitting on a settee together. Alone.” He winked. “I promise I will not ravish you. Well, at least not until you beg me to.”
She laughed. “As that is unlikely to happen, I suppose my virtue is safe.”
Grant loved when she laughed. Her smile lit up her entire face, and warmth filled her cheeks. Pale skin didn’t do her beauty any favors. “I could change your mind.” He wanted to kiss her, and he would before the day was out. Kissing wasn’t ravishing...
“You are incorrigible,” she chastised him, but her smile hadn’t faded. So, he didn’t think she really meant what she said.
“But you like me, anyway.” He leaned a little closer. “And, I also believe you lied before.” Grant moved his head so his mouth was near her ear. “You would marry me...if I asked.”
Amelia nearly moaned with pleasure at his closeness. She wanted to throw her arms around him and beg him to ravish her. She wouldn’t though. It would be the worst possible thing she could do. The duke was indeed right. About everything...
She wanted to kiss him, and so much more. If he asked her to marry him, she’d say yes without giving it a second thought. But he wouldn’t ask her. The duke didn’t want to marry her. This entire situation was nothing more than a game to him. “It’s a good thing you will not endeavor to ask for my hand then. Don’t play a game you are guaranteed to lose.”
“Is it losing though?” He leaned back against the settee. “As I see it, I’d win either way. I could seduce you, of course, but if we married, I’d have you in my bed for a lifetime. I don’t see how that would be a terrible situation.”
He wouldn’t. Love didn’t enter his mind. All he saw was a plaything that he could make his without a care for Amelia’s feelings. Why did he keep drawing her in? What did he really want from her? “Couldn’t you find someone else to torture with this? I’m certain London is crawling with eligible ladies willing to say some vows with you.”
“I don’t want any of those women,” he retorted. “I want you.”
“Well, you can’t have me,” she told him. “It’s time you learned you are not guaranteed anything in life.” Amelia couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice. It didn’t matter that she loved him. The duke did not love her. She wanted nothing more than to sigh his name and beg him to carry her to his bed. An affair with him was bound to be memorable. If he continued to pursue her, she would give in to that urge. She had to at least try to stay strong.
He frowned. “I do know nothing is guaranteed.”
“Then you’re fortunate to have learned that lesson.” She jutted her chin upward. “Now that that is settled, you can walk me home.” Amelia could not stay one second longer. She was so close to leaning into him and pressing her lips to his. Being near him was dangerous to her restraint.
“I haven’t had my tea yet.” He grinned at her. “I do need to warm up a bit. It was your goose that caused my fall into the pond. You wouldn’t want me to catch ill, would you?”
Damn him... “No, I wouldn’t.” She glared at the tea. “But I doubt the tea is very hot. It has been some time since the maid brought it in. It might help if you put a jacket on instead.” She narrowed her gaze. Why had he foregone his waistcoat and jacket? He looked more like a laborer, with his shirt rolled up. “If you were so concerned about warmth, you should also have left your sleeves in place.”
“This is more comfortable,” he explained. “Since the tea is cold, there is something else that might help warm me up.”
Amelia stared at him and reminded herself to breathe. Why did she desire him? She knew he was bad for her, but her feelings would not go away. There was that heat in his gaze again. He did not need any help with warmth. The man created enough on his own with a look, and she had a feeling that she wouldn’t like what he suggested... or to be clearer, she’d like it more than she should. “Perhaps we should ring for more tea.” If she didn’t do something, she’d soon beg him to kiss her.
“I don’t want tea,” he told her, then reached for her. One of his arms snaked around her waist as he drew her onto his lap. “You can give me all the warmth I need.”
“You really shouldn’t have done that,” she said breathlessly. Amelia was glad he did, but she didn’t want to say that aloud. It might give him ideas, and he already had plenty of his own.
“Perhaps,” he said as he leaned down to press his lips to her collarbone. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something improper.”
Amelia moaned as he trailed kisses up her neck. God help her. She didn’t have the strength to resist this temptation. “Grant...” His name came out breathless and didn’t do much to discourage him.
“It’s about time you said my name.” His voice was hoarse with emotion.
“I had to do something to get your attention.” She had to stop this before it went too far, even if she didn’t want to.
“You have my undivided attention.” Arrogance was laced through his tone. He believed he’d won her over, but he hadn’t. The truth was, she’d always been the wanton girl in his arms. Amelia was better at hiding it, and she had to find a way to return to that woman that kept him at a distance.
He trailed his fingers down her back and sent tiny shivers down her spine in his wake. All the sensation was too much. She shook with need. Something she hadn’t felt since that night at the masquerade.
“I need you to stop this.” Damn her breathless tone…
“I don’t think you want me to.” He placed his hand on her cheek. “You want me to do more. Let me kiss you.”
“No,” she said firmly. “You’ve done enough kissing already.” She leaned into him when she should be pushing him away. How was he to believe her when every instinct inside her said to let him kiss her? If he pressed his lips to hers, she’d be lost. That couldn’t happen. It was time to do the right thing, even if it hurt. Amelia placed her hand on his chest and pushed away from him. She tumbled backward onto the settee.
He chuckled. “If you wanted a different position, all you needed to do was tell me.”
Amelia shook her head and rolled off the settee before he settled on top of her. She scrambled to her feet and to the other side of the room. “Walk me home now, please.” Her voice didn’t shake, and she was glad for that. He was her weakness, and she’d almost given in to him. “If you can’t be bothered, then I can see myself home.” A part of her was terrified of her feelings for him. They were dangerous to her reputation and her fragile heart. She couldn’t let him close. Not if she hoped to ever get over him.
Grant sighed. “You will not walk alone.”
“Then let’s go,” she told him. “I have much to do yet today.” Without waiting for him to join her, she left the room. He caught up with her, but she didn’t glance in his direction and didn’t say one word to him all the way back to her cottage. Amelia was afraid she’d confess everything, and that would be a disaster. He could never know she still loved him, and he especially couldn’t know it had been her at the masquerade. She didn’t know what he’d do if he ever found that out...
Chapter 9
Grant had an idea. The best one, in his opinion, he’d ever devised. Beetle continued to attack him almost daily. All right... definitely daily. He found a reason to visit Amelia at every opportunity, and each time Beetle noticed him, the damn goose would take off on a dead run, then either poke him with his beak or bite his hand. That was why he’d decided he had to win Beetle’s trust. This little scheme of his would work.
If it didn’t, he might yet murder Beetle...
He knew what didn’t work. Geese were not like dogs. They didn’t take orders and were offended if he tried to tell them what to do. Bumble was more amiable and left Grant alone. Beetle was the problem. He had a list of dos and don’ts.
Don’ts:
Hiss at him. Beetle takes this as an act of war and will charge. His aggression is much worse when I hiss at him.
Dump water on him. He likes to swim in it, but he doesn�
�t want help getting wet.
Take your eyes off of him. This is also an act of war, or at the very least a battle cry.
Try to claim what Beetle deems his territory. Also, a reason to attack.
No petting. At least not until trust is earned.
* * *
Hell, Beetle always has a reason to attack... He shook his head and glanced back at the list. He needed to keep reminding himself what he should and should not do, and hell, he’d only poured water over him once. He didn’t need anyone to tell him not to do that again.
* * *
Dos (According to a nearby farmer):
Keep eye contact and never stare at Bumble or Amelia. At least not until Beetle’s trust is won.
Offer him treats. Lots of treats.
Crouch down to his level. Give him more treats.
Speak softly.
* * *
Apparently, they don’t like to be yelled at. Who knew? Grant wanted to glare at the infernal goose. This effort better be worth it. Otherwise, he didn’t stand a chance with Amelia. She wasn’t likely to give up her pets, and he wanted to be around her without Beetle biting him. It was annoying.
With his instructions in hand, he went to Amelia’s cottage. She was going to town, and he would have the afternoon to work with Beetle. He didn’t expect a miracle, but it was a good time to start. The farmer said it would take a week or two. Grant was an overachiever and wanted results in days.
