Chapter Two
Who was Boris, damn his eyes?
Elias Shelton remained cooperatively draped across Byron’s saddle as his rescuing angel spirited him off to wherever it was she planned to take him. His head hurt like the devil, his entire body ached, and his gut protested at the astronomical amount of brandy he’d forced upon it the night before. Death would be a happy release, except he had no wish to die, at least not until he had discovered the identity of his fair saviour.
Eli had difficulty remembering precisely how matters had come to this rather humiliating, yet immensely entertaining pass. He recalled being with Franklin and Johnson, drinking and wenching in their usual competitive manner in the taverns that littered the dockside in Portsmouth. He was supposed to be back at Winsdale Hall by now. That much he did know. His mother would be displeased by his continued absence, although he wasn’t precisely sure why. Elias tended to do as he pleased, and it was many a long year since his mother had dictated his movements. Even so, there was something important nagging away at the back of his aching head, something he’d agree to do against his better judgement—hence the carousing, which had proven an effective way of taking his mind off things.
He’d been taking a shortcut through the woods. Then he must have fallen asleep and slithered from Byron’s back. The next thing he knew an angel with the most remarkable eyes, a soft yet scorching touch, and a face to inspire the most taciturn of artists, had placed her gentle hands on him, rousing him from his stupor. He’d taken a peep at her, dazed and disorientated, but ready to tell her there was nothing wrong with him that dousing himself in cold water and sleeping for a sennight wouldn’t put right.
Unfortunately, he chose the wrong moment to open his eyes. She happened to lift her skirts just as he did so, muttered something uncomplimentary about him, and tore her petticoat to shreds. The glimpse of shapely limb coincidentally afforded him was reason enough to pretend continued delirium. Perhaps the snoring had been a little too much, but he’d done it to cover the surprised gasp of approval that slipped past his lips at the sight of her, and thought he’d be best advised to keep it up. He was surprised it didn’t make her suspicious. As far as he was aware, unconscious persons weren’t given to snoring.
Who was she? Was she real? Was he even more intoxicated than he’d realised, and his subconscious had conjured up an image of his ideal woman? Very likely, because it was a lady, or perhaps ladies, responsible for his aching head. That much he did know. There was something about a female he very much wished to avoid—except, he wouldn’t want to avoid her if the woman in question was this guardian angel.
She placed something against his aching head. He’d obviously split it open when he fell, and even her assured yet gentle touch was torture. She had spoken to him incessantly in a soothing, melodic voice that enchanted him, as did the feel of her cool fingers against his heated skin when she brushed his hair clear of the wound. She had rested his head in her lap, pressing firmly against his wound, and Eli had no longer felt any pain. Instead, he had selfishly remained insensible. He had been enjoying himself far too much to bring the entertaining interlude to a premature end.
His rescuing angel had been treating him like a normal person, until she caught a waft of the brandy on his breath. She then upbraided him quite violently for his drunkenness. When had anyone last dared to upbraid His Grace, the Duke of Winsdale, for inappropriate behaviour? It was a refreshing change and entirely deserved.
Someone else had approached. His rescuer had called her Millie, and they fell into a discussion about the best way to transport Eli somewhere more convenient to treat his wound. Ah, things had become really interesting, then. His lovely companion would have to manhandle him in order to achieve that ambition. Eli resisted the urge to smile at the prospect.
Athena. Millie had called her Athena. A lovely name for a beautiful lady. The goddess of wisdom, if he remembered his Greek mythology a’right. How appropriate. The two women had agreed upon their strategy and made several attempts to get him to his feet. Eli didn’t want them to strain themselves, but couldn’t very well bring himself to help, either. It would be over too quickly if he did. Aching head and complaining stomach notwithstanding, Eli couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself so much. Besides, standing up would bring back the dizziness that had been partly responsible for his fall in the first place, wouldn’t it?
Thus vindicated, he had remained a dead, unmoving weight on the ground. His goddess had complained vociferously as she draped one of his arms across her narrow shoulders and struggled to elevate him from his prone position. Eli had obliging left his arm where she had placed it, enticingly close to her left breast, and chanced a quick peep down at her body while she was preoccupied. He had sucked in a sharp breath when he was treated to a close, intriguing glimpse of enticing curves hidden beneath a hideous worsted gown. A body that had matched the lovely face, but that body ought to be clad in satins and silks. And so it would be, if Eli had his way.
He had quickly closed his eyes again before she caught him awake. His eyes were bound to be horribly bloodshot, anyway. They probably resembled a map of Jamaica, definitely not a sight fit for a lady. Eli tried not to lean too much of his weight against his lovely Athena’s delicate shoulders as his rescuers had dragged him towards a sturdy tree. Leaning against the tree in question—Eli had decided it was time to be a little more cooperative when he found himself guarded by the older, much stouter, Millie. He had wondered what relation she was to his goddess. Not a mother, obviously, since Athena addressed her by her Christian name and appeared to be the one in charge. A faithful retainer, perhaps? Yes, most likely.
Eli briefly had opened one eye again, keeping his head bowed as he admired the elegant sway of Athena’s hips when she moved away from him. He groaned, a different sort of pain gripping him as she reached Byron and caressed the horse’s muzzle. The only living creature Athena ought to be caressing was him, damn it! Athena had led Byron across to Eli’s position, and he listened as the two women laid plans to boost him across Byron’s back, arguing about which of them should touch Eli’s backside.
Please, sweet goddess, have mercy on a humble duke.
She had won the argument, but the moment he felt her small hands on his posterior he had reason to regret her victory. He had sucked in another sharp breath as his groin constricted in response to her touch. God’s beard, it had been pure torture being thrust against a horse’s flank with a raging erection and a pounding head. His discomfort turned to amusement when Athena had let forth with a string of the most unladylike curses. When the devil had she learned to swear like a sailor?
Finally, after he was laid across Byron’s saddle to their satisfaction and his acute frustration, Millie led the stallion forward. Athena walked beside him, her delicate, flowery fragrance assailing his nostrils as she pressed her shredded petticoat firmly against his wound. Boris, he could now see as he briefly opened an eye again, was the most uncoordinated excuse for a dog he’d ever encountered. Still, at least he seemed dedicated to Eli’s goddess, which reassured him to some degree. He didn’t like the idea of her living around these parts unprotected, which was presumably the case. Were there any men beneath her roof, presumably they would have been summoned to help rouse Eli. Had that been the case, he would have regained his senses long before now.
The journey was slow. Every one of Byron’s steps jolted through Eli’s body like a bad debt, making his head hurt even more. He was so curious about Athena he barely noticed the discomfort. They were on Eli’s land. He didn’t know all of his tenants—not even by sight. There were far too many of them for that, but one as beautiful as Athena would surely have been noticed by one of his servants by now, which meant she would have been brought to his notice, albeit by a circuitous route.
‘Here we are, Millie.’ Byron came to a halt, and Eli quickly closed his eye again. ‘Damnation, he’s still unconscious. He should have woken up by now. I don’t like it. I hope he
hasn’t permanently damaged himself.’
‘Athena, where have you been?’
‘We were worried about you.’
Perdition, Eli must have a concussion. He opened his eyes and saw double. Two children—young ladies of no more than fourteen—ran out of a tumbledown cottage to meet Athena, frowning with anxiety. They were identical in all respects, as far as Eli could tell, given that he was observing them upside down. Both wore worsted pinafores of an unidentifiable colour—plain and serviceable, yet neat and clean. They had blonde hair tumbling down their backs and, unlike Athena, were pretty rather than striking. Eli preferred the colour of Athena’s hair, which was also loose, hanging almost to her waist in a mutiny of curls, a ribbon holding a few strands off her face. It reminded him of the colour the leaves would soon turn at this time of year—a riotous array of deep russet, golden brown, red and orange, too. Oh, what he would give to run his fingers through that tangled mass! How many hours would he happily wile away, trying to identify all the colours?
Athena was a most unusual lady, and Eli would know her better or die in the attempt.
‘There’s no cause for concern,’ Athena said, speaking gently.
‘But who’s this?’
‘And where did this lovely horse come from?’
‘I found this gentleman in the woods. He fell from his horse and hurt his head.’
‘Will he die?’
‘Of course not, Lyssa.’
‘Athena will use her herbs to make him better, I expect.’
‘Which is more than he deserves,’ Athena replied with asperity.
‘Why does he not deserve to be made better? I don’t suppose he would have fallen from his horse if he could have helped it.’
‘He’s intoxicated, Selene. That’s why he fell.’
‘Oh.’
Lyssa? Selene? It was a relief to know there were actually two of them. Twins also named after Greek goddesses. Well, at least he wasn’t seeing double, and he’d learned more about his lovely Athena into the bargain. She had to be related to the twins in some way. What were the chances of unrelated women all being named after Greeks, and living in the same establishment? That was one puzzle resolved, but a far greater one remained. What the devil were they doing on his land? Eli was unlikely to discover the answer unless he opened his eyes. Besides, it was duced uncomfortable, being laid across a saddle like a sack of corn.
It was time to wake up.
‘What shall you do with him?’
‘How shall you get him off the horse?’
Deuce take it, did those twins always talk in tandem?
‘I shall have to pull him down, I suppose.’
Oh, sweet Athena, don’t make it sound like such a chore. The thought of Athena’s delicate hands once again assaulting his person occasioned a change of heart. Perhaps he’d remain insensible for just a little longer.
‘No, lamb,’ Millie said. ‘I expect you want to make up some herbs for his cut head. The girls and I will get him down.’
I think not! ‘Argh, wh-where am I?’
‘You’re awake.’ Athena came into his line of vision, her expression both anxious and relieved. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Upside down.’
‘Here, let me help you. You’ve been lying over your horse’s saddle. If I guide you, do you think you can get down?’
Touch me and you’ll be lying down, too. ‘I’ll try. What happened to me?’
‘I found you in the woods.’
‘Lucky for you she did, my good man, otherwise you would have bled to death by now,’ Millie said emphatically.
‘Here, Millie and I have got you.’ One pair of heavy hands clutched his waist on the left. A much softer pair took his opposite flank. ‘Slide down slowly and we will catch you.’
Eli pushed his hands against the saddle, and slithered to the ground. His knees conveniently buckled beneath his weight, and he just happened to lurch towards Athena. She reached out to steady him, and somehow it was she who finished up in his arms, and he was supporting her. He could feel heat coruscating between their bodies and, just for one divine moment, the gentle pressure of her breasts pressed against his chest. His hands slid to her slender waist, their gazes clashed, and locked. Her eyes widened, as though she didn’t quite understand what had just passed between them. A deeply disturbing jolt rocked Eli’s battered body, one which he had no difficulty recognising. Passion, lust, and desire all bundled into one neat package. Perdition, but he wanted this fiery vixen!
‘Oh!’ she said, recovering first, and seeming genuinely concerned by his contrived accidental contact with her. ‘Are you going to swoon?’
‘Enough of those liberties, you oaf,’ Millie said at the same time. ‘Unhand Mrs Defoe at once.’
Mrs Defoe? Damnation, she was married. That shouldn’t have surprised Eli. Such a jewel would have been snapped up by any man with eyes in his head the moment she left the schoolroom. She clearly wasn’t a lady of his class, but she was educated. He could tell that much from her voice, her poise, the quick thinking that might well have saved his life, and…well, her every action gave the impression of elegance, intelligence and deep rooted common sense. The fact he couldn’t seem to think too coherently when anywhere near her had nothing to do with the bash he had incurred to his head, and everything to do with the pure animal attraction he felt for her. Eli suspected she was a middle-class woman who had fallen on hard times. But where the devil was her husband?
‘It’s all right, Millie. Our guest is just a little woozy. Lean on me, sir, and we’ll get you inside.’
‘Thank you.’
Eli did feel woozy, and parched, and every damned thing. But all his discomforts paled in insignificance when set against the quite violent attraction he felt towards his lovely tenant. Eli had lost count of the number of women he’d dallied with during his adult years, some of whom had actually lived beneath his protection for a while. Every one of them had been a lively, witty, attractive, intelligent woman from the upper-echelons of society. None had come close to claiming his affections, or moving him in any significant way, other than the obvious.
Athena Defoe, did she but know it, had a lot to answer for.
‘What is this place?’ Eli tried not to show his concern when he was led towards a building that looked like a tumbled down stable.
‘It’s a woodsman’s cottage on the Duke of Winsdale’s estate,’ Athena replied.
‘Is it fit for human habitation?’ he asked dubiously.
‘It’s adequate,’ she replied tartly. ‘Or would you prefer us to return you to the woods and let you bleed to death?’
‘I haven’t thanked you for saving me,’ he said, trying for his most charming smile, which failed to make any discernible impression upon his lovely rescuer. Strange, it had never let him down before, but then she didn’t yet know his identity. Everything would change once she did, which was why he didn’t plan to tell her quite yet.
‘Come, it’s this way.’
Athena and Millie supported him through a warm yet dilapidated kitchen. The aroma of something simmering over the fire made Eli’s stomach growl. There was an alcove off the kitchen with a cot set up in it.
‘Lay down on here,’ Athena said. ‘Raise your feet and I will remove your boots. You will be more comfortable that way.’
I’ll be more comfortable if you remove my breeches and lay with me.
‘What should we call you?’ Athena asked.
‘The name’s Franklin,’ he said, thinking quickly and borrowing his drinking partner’s name. Since he was largely responsible for Eli’s condition, the very least he could do was lend him his identity. The moment she knew who he really was, word would be sent to Winsdale, Athena would lose her sparkle and become subservient, and his pleasure in her company would be at an end.
‘Well, Mr Franklin, it’s very fortunate for you I decided to go out at dawn and pick mushrooms.’ She peeled back the dressing on his head, and tutted. ‘If I hadn’t fou
nd you, you really would have bled to death.’
‘Thank you,’ he said solemnly, picking up her free hand and recklessly kissing the back of it.
She blushed to the roots of her colourful hair and snatched her hand back. ‘You’re entirely welcome.’ She turned towards the door. ‘Lyssa,’ she said.
‘Yes, said two voices at once. The twins, he realised, had been watching proceedings from the curtained doorway with eyes the size of saucers.
‘Unsaddle Mr Franklin’s horse and turn him out to pasture with Meg. I’m sure your horse is used to oats, Mr Franklin, but I’m afraid we don’t have any. Grass will just have to serve.’
‘Byron won’t mind in the least.’
‘Selene, bring Mr Franklin’s saddle and bridle into the house, along with his saddlebags. They look expensive and ought not to be left outside.’
The twins dashed off to do as Athena asked.
‘Are they your sisters?’
‘Yes.’ Athena stood up. ‘Rest there. I shall heat up a herbal concoction and will be back directly. Is there anything you need?’
Yes, you. ‘Water would be appreciated. I’m parched.’
‘That’s hardly to be wondered at.’ She stood up, sent him a reproving look, and shook out her skirts. ‘Millie will bring you some.’
He watched her go, feeling more content than he had for months, years even. Then in a blinding rush, he recalled what it was he’d been drinking to forget, and his heart lurched. His mother had lost patience with him. He was thirty years old, the current titleholder of a rich and noble duchy and, scandalously, still unmarried. He had skilfully managed to avoid the matchmaking mamas for years now, but his own mother had finally had enough of his procrastinating. She had lectured him without let up until he agreed it was time to alter that situation. He’d known as much for years, of course. It was his duty to produce an heir and ensure the continuance of the Winsdale dynasty. And so his mother, with his reluctant agreement, was holding a house party this coming week, to which all the most eligible and suitable young ladies had been invited. Eli had promised to select a wife from within their ranks before the final day.
To Defy a Duke: Dangerous Dukes Vol 1 Page 2