The Heart of a Duke

by Samantha Grace

  Oh, dear. She would have to send it on to London when she arrived at the castle. Valera should have it. Perhaps it would bring her the fated happiness the gypsy girl had spoken of.

  Elle would decide her own destiny from now on.

  Unfortunately, she soon discovered that while she might aspire to control her future, she could not control the greed of innkeepers who preyed on weary travelers.

  "Two pounds merely for one night's rest?" Elle's voice rose in disbelief. The innkeeper was taking advantage of her lone status, and it was an outrage. "I assure you, sir. Your inn is not so elegant as to be worth such a fee."

  The rotund man spat on the ground and rubbed a hand under his nose. "Well, my lady is welcome to find another place to stay."

  Compressing her lips, Elle swallowed her frustration. He had her over a barrel and knew it. There was nowhere else. She was not travelling the North Road where there were inns aplenty, but had elected to stay on the smaller roads that wound through the countryside and its tiny villages. There was nowhere else to stay the night, unless she wanted to sleep in the carriage as she had done the first evening. It had been awful, with her startling awake at every small sound, despite the knowledge her driver was asleep under the carriage, his gun on hand to protect them.

  Only two days into her flight to Scotland and her money was dwindling, her fortitude fading, and the certainty she had felt upon execution of her plan had all but disappeared. Elle glared at the innkeeper, exhausted and on the verge of tears, but dug into her purse for the two crowns. She slapped them into his meaty hand and swept past him to the stairs.

  "For that price, I expect a hot bath and meal in my room within the hour."

  His grunt left her uncertain as to whether she would receive the demanded services, but truly, she almost didn't care. After travelling so many hours, Elle was worn thin, and felt as though she might sleep for days. Following the maid to her room, she shut the door and gratefully sank onto the straw ticking of the mattress covered in thick wool blankets. It wasn't elegant, or even particularly soft, but in that moment it felt like heaven.

  Twenty minutes later a pair of maids arrived with a full cask tub and pails of hot water, and a lovely unexpected cake of rose hip soap. Perhaps the innkeeper wasn't quite the ogre she had thought him to be.

  When the women shut the door, Elle quickly shed her dusty clothes and slipped into the water, the heat loosening her muscles into an imitation of jelly in an instant. As curls of steam rose around her, she rubbed one big toe on the lip of the tub and wondered what was going on in her absence.

  Elle had left a letter for both the duke and her mother, advising them of her plan and the uselessness of coming after her. She refused to marry Langley. She simply couldn't do it. Not when there was such an absence of feeling between them.

  Not when she had such a confusing welter of feeling tumbling around inside her for Jacob. Something had changed the way she saw him, over the course of the house party, something terrifying and wonderful.

  If she thought he felt the same, she might have stayed in England, and to the bottom of the Thames with everyone else's expectations. But the closed look on his face when she announced her intention to cry off had muted any hopes in that quarter.

  Still, she was free now and that was what mattered. Papa should never have agreed to the betrothal contract in the first place. Were they in 1730? No, this was 1810, and such arranged marriages were out dated.

  What was so wrong with wanting to be happy?

  There was an abrupt knock on the door to the hall, the loud rap startling Elle out of her thoughts. Ah. Dinner. Thank goodness, as she was famished after a full day of travel. Placing an arm over her bare breasts in a concession toward modesty, she scooted a little lower in the tub, drawing her knees up.

  "Come in."

  The door swung open, revealing not a maid with a dinner tray but six feet of enraged male. Elle squeaked and snatched the towel from the chair next to the tub, yanking it over her. The material was soaked through in seconds but at least it was a shield to cover her nakedness, though she was trapped in the bath.

  Jacob Farrish stepped over the threshold and slammed the door behind him, flipping the lock. Elle watched with wide eyes as he turned back to face her, the disheveled waves of his hair glowing cinnamon in the flickering firelight.

  "I cannot—" He scrubbed a palm over the short ragged growth of ginger hair on his face, the struggle not to shout clear in his expression.

  Elle bit her lip as her gaze travelled over his travel stained clothing and windblown hair, realizing that the facial scruff was not by design but rather because he had likely not stopped long enough to shave. It was a good look on him.

  "The trouble you've caused—" Jacob broke off again, shaking his head, and a shard of guilt over her actions poked at her.

  "But I left a note—"

  "To Hades with your note," Jacob snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously in the dim light. "Your mother is frantic. Langley is furious. It took every ounce of persuasive ability I possess to convince him that I could bring you back and avoid further scandal. So far, we've managed to lay any gossip to rest by circulating the rumor you ate a bad oyster and have been confined to your bed."

  "But I don't like oysters." Elle closed her mouth again when he looked at her like she had lost her mind.

  Jacob inhaled deeply through his nostrils. "Langley is humiliated and angry, but he's sick at the thought of you out here on your own. What did you expect the reaction would be when you disappeared?"

  Well, she knew her mother would be devastated by her desertion, and her stomach flipped at the thought of her father's fury once he was informed of her perfidy, but she'd not thought the duke would even be ruffled, truth be told.

  She didn't mean anything to Langley, not in any personal way. Logic had stated he would merely find a replacement, but perhaps she had given the duke too little credit. Perhaps it was because she felt the need to escape so desperately that she had been able to dismiss the extent of damage she would cause.

  Jacob stared at her from his post by the door, his jaw tight. “Langley agreed that I should be the one to retrieve you, since apparently he feels debutant supervision was one of the unspoken tenants of our agreement."

  Of their what?

  Elle frowned, her fingers tightening on the edge of the wet towel. "Which agreement would that be?"

  "You do understand that I'm being blamed for this, do you not?" He ignored her question. "And your silly maid, and the old man from the stables that you tricked into lending you a carriage?"

  "No." Horror struck her, the sinking feeling turning her hunger for dinner into a ball of lead in her stomach. "They were not to blame. Oh, please tell me the duke didn't do anything awful. Did he sack them?"

  "It was a close shave for the pair, but I managed to convince him it was likely all your idea, and they had been duped by your persuasive charm."

  The censure in his voice made Elle desperate to escape his regard, and she stared down at the soggy material draped over her drawn-up knees. The idea that he now looked at her and found her lacking was nearly unbearable.

  "Thank you for championing them." Her voice was hardly above a whisper, but it was all she could manage and still keep it even. "I hadn't intended anyone else to suffer for my actions. I'll write to the duke and beg his leniency for the staff who aided me, albeit unwittingly."

  "What about me?"

  Her lips parted in surprise. "What about you?"

  "My cousin charged me with overseeing your stay at his estate," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared at her. "Did you know he was paying me to keep you occupied and out of his way during the house party?"

  She felt faint. "Of course not."

  Well, that answered her question rather definitively, in regards to both the duke and his cousin. She raised trembling fingers to her mouth, as he pushed off the doorframe and stalked to the fireplace. Raising one ar
m, he gripped the edge of the mantel, his gaze trained on the flames in front of him.

  "I should hardly think a letter would soothe his fury at my failure. What will you do for me, my lady?" Something in his tone made her look up, but he was still staring at the fire, his breathing a bit ragged.

  "What... what would you like me to do for you, Mr. Farrish?"

  The sharp bark of his laughter made her jump, sending little waves of water to slap against the sides of the tub. "Jacob, remember? Family or not, I think under the circumstances we can dispense with formality. Would you mind getting dressed? Having a conversation is rather difficult when one party is in the bath."

  She blinked, looking down at the soaked towel that floated around her.

  "Yes, of course. Um. Will you please leave then, so I might do so?"

  "No."

  No? Did he mean to stand there while she emerged naked from the water and dressed? Elle considered his rigid back and realized that he did.

  "I cannot possibly exit the bath with you standing in the room."

  "Then you shall become quite waterlogged, since I have no intention of allowing you out of my sight until I deliver you to my cousin."

  Elle stood abruptly, water sloshing over the sides of the tub to soak the floor. There were no more towels but an extra sheet for the bed would work just as well. She snatched it up, stomping behind the worn screen in the corner and hastily rubbed the bathwater from her body. Wishing she had brought her robe for a bit more armor against his judgmental regard, Elle yanked her nightdress over her head, nearly tearing the stitches along the seams.

  "I'm not going back to England. My grandfather's home is less than a day's drive more and that's where I'm headed."

  She emerged to find Jacob glaring at her, his wide mouth tight with grim determination. "You are welcome to try, Eleanore, but you'll have to wait to see your grandfather at the wedding, because you are definitely going back."

  "I will not marry the duke."

  Everything Elle had been feeling over the last week welled up within her, and tears pushed against the backs of her lids, fighting to escape. She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, digging her fingers into the mattress. "Do you think this a whim? That I don't understand what I've done? I cannot marry a man who has no more affection for me than his hounds."

  "I don't th—"

  "I cannot," she interrupted, her gaze meeting Jacob's, her entire body rigid with the need to impress upon him her seriousness. "Please. There is so little in my life I have control of. Do not allow them to take this from me as well."

  Perhaps it was unfair of her to press him thus, but she would fight for her freedom.

  A shadow passed over Jacob's face, softening the harsh expression of implacability. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, before biting off a curse, his shoulders sagging.

  He pushed off the door, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. The springs creaked under his weight, and she could feel the heat coming off him from inches away, welcome against the chill of the Scottish night air. They sat in silence several moments before he ran a hand through his hair, a troubled expression drawing his brows together.

  "Langley's not a bad man, Elle. Proud, and careless at times, but not bad. He could be a good husband, if you gave him another chance."

  Elle rubbed her lips together, and played with the locket that still hung around her neck. The tarnished metal was warm and smooth as silk under her fingers, a comfort when there were so few. She knew the duke didn't intend to hurt her in any way, but he would. How could someone live with such disinterest and not feel the cut of it?

  "I want more than that. I want love. I want passion. Langley could never give me that. It may be selfish of me, but I won't settle for less." She raised her eyes to Jacob's, and the connection sent a jolt of awareness through her.

  Elle was suddenly aware of how quiet the inn had become as the evening deepened. She rubbed her lips together again, her heart beating in her throat, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  The fine hairs along her arms prickled as the moment spun out between them. The world narrowed to the feel of his leg almost touching hers. The rustle of her nightdress as Elle leaned toward him, unable to stop herself. The tremble of his fingers as he raised one hand and lightly ran it over her hair.

  She thought of nothing but Jacob as he lowered his head until their mouths were a whisper apart. His breath brushed over her parted lips, and a tremor shook her as he lingered there. In that moment, she felt as though she was balanced on a knife's edge, so close to falling either way.

  She wanted the kiss, and feared it.

  When he finally lowered his head that last, infinitesimal bit to press his lips to hers, ending Elle's inner dilemma, it was a relief. A sweetness coursed through her as Jacob's mouth moved over hers, gentle and slow. Here was the slow burn of passion she had been missing. His fingers slid deeper into her hair, tangling in the curls, cupping the nape of her neck, and bringing her even closer.

  Jacob was kissing her with all the intensity and thoroughness of a man who had finally caught that which he had most desired. She didn't understand it, but she wasn't about to start questioning it.

  Elle was feverishly grateful she was already sitting, for when his mouth left hers to nibble along the delicate rim of her ear, she surely would have fallen into a heap on the floor. A small sound of shocked pleasure escaped her as his free hand drifted up to ghost over one of her breasts, the tip of it tightening at his light touch.

  Jacob jerked back, his hands leaving her person so quickly his fingers almost became entangled in her hair. He leapt from his seat next to her on the bed to pace the room, his back to her, shoulders rigid and tight.

  "That should not have happened."

  Elle's stomach twisted. "I'm not sorry it did."

  He stilled. "Are you not?"

  "Not at all. It showed me that I'm correct to wait for a marriage with passion." She strove to sound unaffected, despite the frantic patter of her pulse in her throat. "How boring it would be without it, now that I know there is more."

  His eyes flashed in the dim light of the fire as he slowly turned on his heel to look at her.

  "And of course, I want love as well," she added hastily, fingers pleating the material of her nightdress, the heated look he was giving her sending shivers racing over her skin. "I want to be in love with my future husband. Whomever he might be."

  For a moment, Jacob stood still, then he inclined his head, his expression shuttering. "Of course."

  Her throat burned, as she sent him a smile steeped in serenity.

  Despite the attraction between them, it was more than clear he had no intention of pursuing anything more meaningful. It was silly to think one kiss might change his mind. Not that she wanted him to do such a thing. No, she had no use for another high-handed, arrogant man. She had just shed herself of one, and had no desire to acquire another in his place.

  If she kept telling herself that, perhaps she'd even believe it after a time.

  Not seeming to notice he was still in her rented room, Jacob stripped off his coat, throwing it on the floor in front of the fire.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Elle, Elle, Elle." Settling on the floor, he crossed his arms under his head, long legs stretched out in front of him, and closed his eyes. The light from the fireplace played with his hair, gilding him until he resembled a Titan of legend, all flame and gold. "I've already told you. I'm not letting you out of my sight again."

  She might wish that he chose to fight for her cause as strenuously as he had for Langley's servants. He had always been a man who took up the causes of those less able to defend themselves. However, he did not seem to feel she needed such defense or championing.

  Elle crawled under the blanket on her bed, disappointment choking back any reply she would have made.

  He didn't care about her or what she wanted.

  Their kiss had most likely been a product of empty passion, and
proximity. He had said himself, he thought it a mistake.

  Jacob was going to take her back to Brookdale, and Papa would force her to marry the duke. She had hoped that her grandfather would allow her amnesty in Scotland. That he would fight for her right to choose for herself.

  Elle huddled under the covers, staring through the open window at the sliver of moon visible in the night sky. The small, wavering flame of hope in her heart that had survived years of benign neglect by her betrothed, months of wedding preparation for a marriage to a man who would never love her and days of hard, desperate travel, flickered once more... and went out.

  Chapter Seven

  Elle tied her bonnet ribbons under her chin as her trunk was carried from the room. Her fingers felt clumsy and slow. The bow she tied was lopsided and drooping, but how could she muster interest in her appearance when despair sat upon her so heavily?

  She sighed, looking around at the empty room, reluctant to follow her luggage down the stairs of the inn.

  "Are you ready?" Jacob stood in the doorway watching her, his gaze unreadable.

  While she felt every moment of her sleepless night, he looked quite rested. No one would be able to tell by his perfectly tied cravat and spotless coat that he had made his bed on the rough pine floor in front of the fire. He must have risen early to wash, after she had finally drifted off to sleep in the wee hours of the night. Even his bright, wavy hair was combed into ruthless submission.

  "I suppose."

  Elle walked through the doorway, careful not to brush against him. Though she had convinced herself the previous evening's encounter had been produced by exhaustion and a momentary lapse of good judgment, she was not eager to test her theory. She could feel his eyes on her back the entire way down to the common room, but he held his peace.

  "Lady Farrish!" The innkeeper appeared at her elbow, startling Elle. His polite demeanor was such a change from the day before that for a moment she just stared at him, nonplussed. Then he shifted his gaze over her shoulder, his posture becoming even straighter. "My lord. Please excuse me for not being here to greet you last night, but when my stable lad informed me of your arrival, we set up a lovely breakfast for you and your wife. Right this way."