He appeared interested in her opinions, fixing his keen but gentle eyes on her from under his balding head, agreeing no expense should be spared to make the room as grand and elegant as possible. They discussed color schemes, furnishings, paintings, even the size of the chandeliers.
“His Grace left the renovations to my discretion,” Mr. Nash told her. “But I always feel better knowing my patrons can claim some ownership in the final product.”
Kay smiled. “I’m simply thrilled.”
“It gives me special pleasure to discuss my artistic passions with such a knowledgeable person, who seems genuinely interested in the results.” he said, rising from his chair. “I’m certain his Grace will be extraordinarily pleased.”
“He certainly will be surprised.”
Mr. Nash took his leave, looking quite satisfied.
Kay couldn’t have been more delighted with the meeting. When she left Wallshire Manor, it would give her great satisfaction to know she’d left her indelible mark—a constant and tangible reminder for the Duke of what the he had done to her.
This pleased her greatly.
She mounted the stairs with a spring in her step, containing the urge to skip when she reached the landing. As it was, she was in such a hurry she nearly collided with Cora, her maid.
“The dressmaker from the village has confirmed your appointment in the morn, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Cora.” More good news. “That was just what I was coming to see you about.”
Cora blinked back with her mossy eyes alight with pleasure. “It’ll be a lovely surprise for the Duke when he gets home, Your Grace.”
“I dare say it will.” Kay couldn’t help but smile. Since she’d had no opportunity to prepare a trousseau, she’d decided to take matters into her own hands and remedy the situation. One could hardly be a Duchess without a proper wardrobe, now could one?
Half a dozen new gowns should suffice.
And, when they went up to London, she’d have more ordered for formal events.
***
Cora was just as excited as Kay to view the array of fabrics the dressmaker brought with her—bolts of fine silks, muslin, velvets and satin damask lay strewn about the bed. Mrs. Temple, the dressmaker, who resembled a copper-haired elf, explained in detail the creations she had in mind. As she chattered, she waved her small expressive hands in the air, eventually using them to shoo Kay up on a chair.
When every part of her had been spanned and examined in minutia, Kay was allowed to step down and make her selections. Her first choice was a blood red silk. The next a bishop’s blue, so light and soft it fell from her hand in a liquid pool. After that came Carmine, Spanish fly green, and Amaranthus.
When Mrs. Temple eventually scurried out, Kay clapped her hands with satisfaction. Then Cora helped Kay into her riding habit.
She spent the rest of the day with her horses at Butterfield Hall. It drizzled rain for most of the afternoon, forcing her to work in the stable. But it afforded time to give both horses a good rub down, and a thorough brushing of their coats and manes. Lavishing so much love and attention on them reminded her of how much she missed her uncles.
The day grew so dark and dismal, she failed to notice when nightfall replaced the clouds. ‘Twas her belly that finally signaled to her she’d missed her evening meal. She usually ate at the Hall before she returned to the manor. In fact almost every morsel, except the night of their arrival, she’d eaten in her own home. She refused to spend any more time than she had to at Wallshire Manor.
Originally she’d planned to charge the expense of her new gowns to him, but later decided she couldn’t part with them. And in all good conscience, she couldn’t let him pay for something she’d be taking with her when she left.
Today, she’d been pleased to inform Mrs. Temple, her barrister in London would be settling the cost of her gowns. Her monthly allowance allowed for several dozen new dresses if she saw fit.
So much for her plans for revenge.
The ballroom was another matter. In the end he’d get what he paid for, whether he liked it or not.
Since it was well past the time she usually returned to the manor, Kay only had time to wrap two small meat tarts in a napkin to eat along the way. Carter insisted on accompanying her as it wasn’t safe on the road after dark. She gladly accepted, though it seemed ridiculous, since she’d only worry about him making it home safely afterward.
They made good progress. The sky cleared. A bright moon shone down, lighting their path. Still, Kay grew anxious to be indoors, away from the eerie night sounds of flapping wings and the mysterious whispers rustling through the trees. She didn’t like the woods at night. Charlie used to chide her for her cowardice, though he was often known to jump at the sound of a squirrel scurrying up a tree, after an evening spent listening to spooky stories on the heath at the gypsy’s camp.
The skittish mare she’d borrowed from the manor must have sensed her unease. The horse twitched and shuddered beneath her, shying at every sound. They were over half way there when the screech of an owl made her rear. Kay hung on, trying to control the frightened animal, but one sharp jerk of the mare’s head made her lose the reins. Before Kay could catch hold of the horse’s mane, she lost her seat and went thudding to the ground. Luckily she landed on a thick carpet of moss, no worse for wear.
Carter leapt from his mount to make a grab for the mare, but she tore off down the road before he could catch her. He came huffing back, pulling his horse behind him. “My lady, I mean… Your Grace, are you alright?”
“I think so. If you could just give me a hand up.” Her pride was wounded more than anything. “I believe I need a new hat though.” She accepted his hand, producing the crushed object from beneath her bottom with the other. It resembled a dead crow with the black ostrich feathers ruffled and askew. “Owwww! Add a new posterior to that list.”
“Should I go for help?” Carter worried aloud. “We’re very near the manor.”
“No, I’m quite alright.” Kay dusted off her backside with her mangled hat. “Just let me hang on to your arm while I walk it out.” After a few moments stretching she felt much better. It was her right ankle that was giving her trouble. “Rot! That gutless Wallshire mare has ruined me.”
“Try and put your other foot in the stirrup, Your Grace, and I’ll boost you up.”
After several failed attempts they collapsed on the ground, laughing uproariously. By this time Kay was a complete wreck, her hair, without pins, falling around her shoulders, her blue velvet riding habit covered in dirt.
“It’s not going to work,” she finally admitted, choking back the mirth.
“I’ll carry you,” Carter offered gallantly. “That is if you don’t object, Your Grace.”
She wasn’t sure if he could manage such a feat, but she loathed to embarrass him by saying so. “Refuse? How could I refuse? I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a damsel in distress.”
As it turned out, he scooped her up without so much as a groan. She linked her arms around his neck and chatted to him as he walked, hoping to take his mind off the strain in his back.
They were so engrossed reliving the catastrophe and laughing, they paid little attention to the road ahead. The rider thundering toward them was nearly upon them before they had time to react.
“Who is it, Carter, friend or foe?”
“Don’t know, Your Grace,” Carter relayed out the side of his mouth. “It be your husband, and he be looking none too pleased.”
She clutched his neck a little tighter.
“Evening, Your Grace.”
“Good evening.” Kay couldn’t see Hunter’s face, but she could hear the stiff anger in his voice.
“The Duchess took a fall. I was bringing her home, but now you’re here, I’ll leave her in your capable hands.” Without another word Carter deposited her unceremoniously into the Duke’s arms.
Kay had no choice, but to transfer her arms to her husband’s neck lest she fall. She chan
ced a quick upward glance, then quickly dropped her gaze to his chin and grimaced. The heat in his gold flecked eyes made her heart flutter.
He strode with her to his horse, to lift her into the saddle.
She groaned when her bottom hit the hard leather.
He swung up behind her, wrapping one steely arm around her waist and gathering the reins with the other.
They proceeded at a slow silent pace, so slowly it seemed to Kay the journey would never end. The heat of his body behind her made her tremble. Memories of the night they’d spent in the bunk aboard his ship rushed back, as clear as if he’d run his hands down her naked back. ‘Twas fortunate the night breeze cooled the fire in her cheeks.
When the manor came into sight, he finally spoke. “Don’t you know the dangers of traveling on the road this late?”
Used to pampering and tender words when hardship befell her, his harsh questioning caused her throat to constrict. Her voice came low and husky. “It was not my intent to leave so late.” It sounded lame, but there it was, she had no other explanation. She refused to grovel, even if he was being a tyrant. It sparked her anger that he should expect her to, producing a not so gracious apology. “I’m sorry, if I caused you any distress.”
They came to a stop by the stables. “You’ve caused me more trouble than you shall ever know,” he said with wry candor as he swung down. He scooped her from the saddle, then strode with her purposefully toward the house, saying stiffly, “In future, madam, I expect you to adhere to our bargain.”
“What do you mean?” She craned her neck to gaze up at him. “I’ve kept our bargain. I’ve slept here every night.”
He kicked the front door to signal their arrival. “Don’t split hairs with me. You know very well there’s more to our agreement than that.” He glared down at her so intently, her gaze faltered and she had to look away.
Thornhill stared agog upon opening the door.
Hunter paid him no heed, stalking past him through the foyer, then up the stairs. He proceeded in cold silence down the hall to her bedchamber. Then, just when Kay imagined she’d married a man with limitless strength, he deposited her with a heavy groan on the bed, barking at Cora, who stood wide-eyed at the ready, “My wife requires a hot bath.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Cora nodded, then bounced out the door.
Kay wriggled to the edge of the bed to unlace her boots. “I can order my own bath, thank you.”
“You stink of horse.”
“I’d rather smell like a horse than behave like an ass.”
“Here, let me do that.” He brushed her fingers aside to take over the task. The boots were off in a trice. Next he examined her foot. “There isn’t any swelling. Let’s see if you can stand.”
She slid from the bed to gingerly put weight on one foot than the other. Despite the pain in her backside and the soreness in her left foot, she managed to walk just fine. “I must have turned my ankle. It appears to be fine now.”
A knock came to the door, followed by a parade of footman carrying buckets for her bath.
“Good. Since you’re sufficiently recovered we’re going to have a little talk.” Hunter grabbed her by the hand, to begin towing her toward the connecting door.
Her heart gave a leap. “Why can’t we talk here?”
A grim smile spread over his lips. “This is a private conversation. One you won’t want the servants to overhear.”
Kay cringed at his dangerous tone, but was determined he shouldn’t know her unease. “Perhaps they should overhear,” Her voice raised in alarm. “Then they’d know how abominably you’re treating me.”
He ignored the jibe, pulling her over the threshold and into his room. “Have a seat,” he said pointing to one of the chairs by the fire.
She lifted her chin to give him an indignant glare. “I’d rather not, thank you.” Her backside was feeling a might too tender for sitting. Besides she didn’t want to remain in his private lair any longer than necessary. It smelled of exotic male things, arousing her senses in a disquieting way. Instead, she balanced her weight on her good foot, then folded her arms across her chest, waiting for the preachment to come.
He moved to the small table by the granite fireplace to pour himself a brandy. “I’d offer you a drink, but since you’re not staying…”
She could have used a stiff drink, but out of pure stubbornness refused to share refreshment with him. While he tipped the glass to his lips, her gaze traveled from his dark curls where his white shirt lay unbuttoned at his chest, downward to the snugness of his buckskin trousers.
She lifted her gaze to find him studying her with a half-lazy smile.
Her face went hot.
She looked away.
“Are you dissatisfied with Henri’s cooking?”
“No.” The question took her unaware. “I love his cooking.”
“Good, then I’ll expect you to take your meals here from this day forward.” Her head snapped up, sensing a trap.
“You insult him when you dine elsewhere. And I can’t afford to lose a perfectly good chef.” He lifted one dark brow. “I’m sure you’ll agree, as my wife, keeping the staff happy is your duty.”
She pressed her lips flat. How very clever of him to try and manipulate her by turning the issue away from him and toward someone else. She answered quietly and calmly, looking him directly in the eye. “But you see, I’m not your real wife, only a brief figurehead. So I need only uphold the bargain we agreed upon. I’ve slept here each night in this house and will continue to do so. But, at no time did I agree to share your table or your...”
“Bed?” He walked slowly toward her, a wolfish smile playing over his lips. “Funny you should mention that, since my bed is so near. As your lawful husband I could throw you down upon it and exercise my rights any time I see fit.”
Her heart thumped loud in her breast. “But you wouldn’t.”
“No,” he said quietly and smoothly, but she thought she detected a hint of disappointment in his tone. “I would not.”
She took a stumbling step backward. “Because, that isn’t part of our bargain!”
“Because, I’m not an animal.” He cracked a half-mocking smile. “But, maybe you wish that I was. Is that it? Is that why you’re always goading my anger—playing with fire.” He took a step closer. “Because you’re hoping I’ll lose control?”
Her breath came hard. “Of course not!”
He stood but inches from her now—so close, she could feel his breath on her cheek, smell the brandy on his lips.
Despite her desire to thwart him, she loathed to insult Henri. “Very well. I’ll dine here if you wish.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She knew she should leave, but her feet wouldn’t obey her head. “Is that all?”
“Yes, thank you.” he said, his attention fixed on her lips.
“Good. I mean… goodnight then.”
“Good night.”
Neither of them took a step.
When he drew her against his chest, confusion took hold, she had no time to think. Like traitors, her lips parted under the pressure of his mouth. He tasted so good. It felt so right to return his kiss. Their differences vanished—temporarily forgotten in the heat of the fire raging between them. She lifted her arms, pressing closer, savoring the soft feel of his lips and the hardness of his body. His thrusting tongue sent a fresh barrage of sensations cascading through her, wringing an involuntary moan from her lips
“I want you, Kay,” he breathed against her throat. With his hands traveling over her breasts, down her hips, and his lips against her neck, she couldn’t think. When his hand slid between her legs to cup her heat, she writhed against him aching for more.
The sound of a bucket hitting the floor in the next room broke her from the spell.
She pushed away. “My bath! It’s ready.” She turned on her heel and fled.
Safe in her own room with the door closed between them she began to pace.
What was she thinking?
Was she so weak she couldn’t resist him? Or were the sweet pleasures of passion, once tasted, so strong no one could resist them? She hadn’t the experience to know. But in future, she wasn’t taking any chances. She had to avoid him at all costs. Tonight proved she had no resistance where he was concerned.
But the last thing she wanted was to find herself with child. If she were to get through the year unscathed—without making a complete fool of herself, she’d have to be on her guard. Not an easy task, married to a handsome lusty devil like him.
But she had to try.
Perhaps when he found out what mischief she’d been up to, his lust for her would abate.
She’d be safe.
Then, she’d only have his anger to contend with.
Not a pleasant prospect, but with any luck, it might result in him throwing her out on her ear.
Chapter Fourteen
Hunter tossed Beau’s reins to the groom with a nod of thanks. After a long, hard ride, he was spent. But the punishment he took in the saddle did little to slake his lust, or drive Kay from his brain. What he needed was a good stiff drink.
When he’d left for London his self-control had already been stretched to the brink. He’d carried the memory of the sight of her pretty round bottom as she stepped from the tub with him for days. Each night, he’d closed his eyes to the image of her standing before him, pink and dripping with her long blonde hair clinging to her, the towel barely covering her luscious curves.
When he’d arrived home to find she wasn’t there and wasn’t expected from Butterfield hall for some time, he’d paced the study waiting. Eventually, he’d had enough and decided to see for himself whether she was really at the Hall or had run off as he suspected. He’d thundered off down the road in a sweat.
When he’d found her, relief had rushed over him, followed by an intense anger at finding her in another man’s arms. It took him almost the entire ride back to cool his ire and return his mind to rational thinking.
Since then, he’d been plagued with visions of her stretched out on his bunk in the cabin of the Isabella, her mane of long hair spread behind her on the pillow, like a shimmering stream of moonlight. The strain of her being within reach, yet unattainable infected his good nature, clouding his sensibilities. He wished now he’d never touched her, or at the very least, not made the promise to never touch her again.
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