The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2)

by Meara Platt

  “I’m glad you stayed,” she said, another soft breath tickling his ear. “We have to talk.”

  “Good. Talk. That’s what we need.” He carefully eased her foot onto the pillowed stool, for he needed to do something to calm himself. He refused to look at the invitingly enormous bed, nor did he dare settle Dillie in it yet. Far too dangerous for her. They’d talk for a short while, and then he’d walk out and find somewhere else to sleep.

  Not that he wanted to do anything of the sort. He wanted to stay with her, put her in that big bed, and never let her out of it.

  As ever, he was hot and aching for her.

  Hard and aching.

  “I just want you to know...” She paused to let out a soft, quivering breath. “No matter what Abner says, it was my fault. I think it’s important for you to know that I made a terrible mistake. Abner almost lost his life because of it.”

  He knelt beside her, angry that she still cast blame on herself. He understood all too well the terror and disgust gnawing at her insides. He still felt that same disgust over what he’d done to James. “Am I supposed to think less of you, Dillie? I don’t. Accidents happen. That’s all it was. You both survived. It’s over. You’re both on the mend. I won’t hear another word about it.”

  “But it was my fault. We’d passed another inn earlier. I didn’t like the look of the place and insisted we move on. What if he had died? Or been maimed for life?”

  “He’s very much alive, no doubt enjoying an excellent whiskey at my expense.” He took her hands in his. They felt cold. His ought to have been cold, but every part of him heated whenever he was near Dillie. “He suffered nothing more than a broken leg.” Arching an eyebrow, he cast her a small smile. “And a lump on his forehead to match your own.”

  She didn’t smile back, and instead began to nibble her lower lip. “Ian, is this how you always feel?”

  He stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “That sick, churning feeling in your stomach. That terrible ache in your heart, because you were to blame for something dreadful. Is the rumor true? Did your brother die because of you?”

  So that’s why she’d been carping on about Abner’s injury and blaming herself. That’s why she’d lured him into staying. Latch the door. He, like the idiot that he was, had fallen for it. She had been trying to draw him out, hoping he’d speak of James. Damn her. She had no right. He was mostly angry with himself for allowing her to shoot that cannonball straight through his heart. He’d let down his guard, and she’d blown a hole straight through him.

  He rose and turned to storm out, but she hobbled to her feet and clutched his arm with both of her hands to hold him back. “Please, Ian.”

  She winced, the mere effort of standing obviously painful to her, but she had that stubborn Dillie look on her face and he knew she’d follow him into the fiery pits of hell to find her answers. “I’m so sorry. I went about this all wrong. I didn’t know how to broach such a painful subject. I never realized until today just how horrible a burden you’ve carried all these years. We have to talk about it. I need to know the truth.”

  “No, you don’t.” He’d been poked and prodded all his life, the family knives twisting into him with rapacious glee, tormenting him in the hope he’d break. He never had, even as a child. He never would. Not even the French had succeeded, torturing him for information on English invasion plans. He hadn’t spilled those vital secrets either. No, he wasn’t ever going to break.

  She eased her grip, but the gentle look of determination in her eyes held him close. He loved that look, loved her gentleness. He couldn’t pull away even if he tried, even when angry with her as he was now. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Ian. You must believe me.”

  He did.

  “I’m trying to understand you. More precisely, I need to trust you if I’m to be your wife.”

  “Who said my offer was still open?” But he smiled and arched one eyebrow so that she knew he was jesting. She probably knew it anyway. Dillie had a way of reaching his heart, soothing his heart, as no one else ever had.

  “Take off your clothes,” she commanded, shifting out of the blanket he’d made sure to tuck securely about her, for he didn’t trust himself when all that stood between him and a naked Dillie was his last clean shirt. “You’re soaking wet and I’d hate for you to catch a chill.”

  She handed him the blanket.

  Firelight glowed behind her, illuminating her slender body through his spare shirt. Big shirt covering a little body. She looked good enough to devour.

  The hem of the shirt reached only to her knees. She had spectacular legs, even that left leg with its swollen, purplish ankle. He wanted to see the rest of her, wanted to slip the shirt off her body and kiss his way down her skin.

  She must have noticed his look, for she cast him a scowl that warned “we’re still talking” and nothing more was going to happen until he’d bared his soul.

  “How can I truly trust you when you don’t trust me?” she asked as he continued to study her.

  “What makes you think I don’t trust you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You don’t trust anyone. You keep everyone out. Those walls around your heart are thicker than the walls of Jericho. But I have a proposition for you.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, knowing he ought to refuse but wouldn’t. “Go on.”

  “I propose that we trade intimacies.” She hurried to explain as his eyebrow shot up in surprise. “You tell me a secret. In turn, since I haven’t any secrets whatsoever, having led an exceptionally dull life until you came along... well, the point is, I will do a favor for you in return.”

  “A sexual favor?”

  She blushed. “Yes, I suppose that’s the point of intimacy. But you had better reveal big, important secrets if you ever hope to see me naked.” She paused a moment and her blush deepened. “You do wish to see me naked, don’t you, Ian?”

  He was down-on-his-knees-begging desperate, but it wouldn’t do to let her know how thoroughly she affected him. “It has crossed my mind a time or two.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Good. I thought so, but I wasn’t quite sure. You’ve been a gentleman with me all along. I’m glad the notion crossed your mind. More than once or twice, I hope.”

  “Quite a bit more.” He removed his shirt and spread it out on one of the small tables in the room, the one closest to the hearth. If they were to talk and exchange sexual favors—did she understand what she was suggesting?—he may as well be comfortable. As she’d said, he’d catch a chill if he remained in his wet clothes. Lord, he was feverish already.

  He took a moment to tug off his boots, but kept his trousers on. Perhaps he’d allow her to unbutton them. She might enjoy it. He certainly would.

  She let out a little eep when he turned to face her. She was still standing, gripping the back of her chair for support. “Ian, you’re supposed to cover yourself with the blanket.”

  “No.” He wasn’t about to wrap that itchy thing about his bare shoulders when she’d already seen him naked in her bed, and now they were once again up to their eyeballs in trouble. Even if nothing else happened tonight, they’d already given Lady Withnall enough material to fill her scandal sheets for years.

  “No?” Dillie let out a soft laugh. “Not even to spare my delicate sensibilities? Although I haven’t been very delicate, have I? Asking you to latch the door. Asking you to remove your wet clothes. Demanding that you allow me into your heart.” She paused and swallowed hard. “Ian, I want to know you better. I want you to know me. I suspect you already do. I’m not very complicated. But you are. Do you think you can ever let me into your heart?”

  He’d been alone for so long, his defenses were too deeply embedded. “I don’t know, Dillie. I realize it isn’t the answer you hoped for, but it’s the best I can give you right now.”

  He expected her to end the game. Instead, she cast him the gentlest smile. A log splintered and crackled on the cozy fire.
Then silence. The noise of the raging storm seemed to disappear into the background. The shutters no longer rattled, and all that could be heard was the low howl of the wind outside and the muffled pick-pock, pick-pock of the icy rain that struck the shutters’ thick slats.

  So quiet he could hear himself breathe.

  A bottle of whiskey and serviceable glass had been set out on the small table beside the window for him, and it hadn’t been removed when he’d given the chamber to Dillie. The whiskey glowed, a dark, rich amber against the glow of firelight that filled the room. He dared not take a drink. He was already too besotted for his own good.

  “Honesty is good, Ian. I’ll be honest with you, too.” She glanced at the canopied bed, its blue velvet curtains drawn back with matching velvet ties. “I want to be in that big, comfortable bed. I want you in that bed with me and doing all sorts of delightfully wicked things to me.” She held up a hand, as though to stop him from carrying out her wishes. “But you’ll have to work hard to earn your way into that bed.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “Dillie—”

  “We’re not getting out of this scrape, are we? You and me. Alone at the inn. Alone in this room.”

  He agreed. “We’re done for.”

  Her smile slipped a little. “The choice should be an easy one for me. Do I marry a handsome, wealthy duke, or do I remain a ruined spinster for the rest of my days?”

  He put his hands on each side of her waist and gently drew her close. “It is easy. Marry me.”

  “I want to, truly I do. But I don’t know anything about you or the secrets you keep locked away. I don’t know if you’ll break my heart. I think you will, because you can have any woman you want, and I don’t see you reforming your rakehell ways after we’re married. I’m not good at sharing. I never was, Lily can attest to that.” She cast him a wan smile. “Knowing that you’re satisfying your... base, manly urges on other women while I sleep alone in my elegant apartments in Belgrave Square isn’t for me. I suppose I could discreetly take on a lover as other duchesses do.” Her eyes began to water. “But I couldn’t ever do such a thing.”

  Hence her proposed game. Ian groaned inwardly, not only understanding her concerns, but wishing he could put her mind at rest. She needed to be happy in her marriage, just as her parents were. Just as her sisters were. She needed to know that he wasn’t a bastard who would destroy her life as he’d destroyed the life of his brother. She wanted it all. Love. Commitment. Happiness. Forever.

  “Dillie, you’re making too much of this marriage business.”

  She took a stumbling step back, as though he’d physically struck her. He reached out to steady her, but she’d already taken another step back and now stood with the chair between them, as though using it as a shield against him. “Brutal honesty. Well, I asked for it, didn’t I?”

  He sighed. “No, Dillie. I’m an idiot, as you well know. I didn’t mean it as it came out. I don’t know what I meant by it.”

  She brushed a hand across her cheek to swipe at a stray tear. “Of course you do. You’ve answered my question. Thank you. And you can keep your secrets.”

  He sighed again. “Dillie—”

  “No, you needn’t fret.” She swallowed hard. “We needn’t continue this game, although it isn’t really a game, is it? Not when hearts are involved. I’m not going to boot you out, Ian. Not yet, anyway. I actually have a secret to reveal to you.” A light blush stained her cheeks. “After our scandal broke, I promised myself that if you ever landed in my bed again, I would take full advantage. You aren’t quite in my bed yet, but I hope you will be before too long. Right now, it seems that I’ll end up a spinster for the rest of my days. All the more reason for me to have this night with you. I want this night. My night. To treasure always.”

  “Damn it, Dillie.” He ran a hand along the nape of his neck. When was he ever at a loss for words? He wanted her. Ached to have her. Not this way. “You’re right. We don’t need the bloody game. Just marry me. Don’t try to break through my walls. Ignore the gossip about me. You don’t need to know about an event that happened over twenty years ago.”

  She frowned. “Wait. What? Your brother died over twenty years ago? How old were you when it happened?”

  “It doesn’t much matter. He died.”

  She clutched the chair’s high back, as though needing to steady herself. “How old were you? Six? Eight? You were only a child.” She looked angry, as though she wanted to pound his chest. She wouldn’t cause much damage, for her hands were small and hardly able to grasp his shoulders. Her little fists wouldn’t even bruise his thick skin.

  “I was four. The incident happened about twenty-five years ago, to be precise. Satisfied?” He turned away, crossing the room to stride to the door, though he didn’t wish to leave. He couldn’t leave, dressed as he was. Or rather, undressed as he was. He hadn’t a shirt on. Didn’t have on his boots. He was clad only in his trousers. And there was a hard bulge between his legs that Dillie would have noticed if she hadn’t been so busy staring at his face.

  “Four!” She let out a yelp. Then he heard a thud. Damn it, had she just fallen? She must have been chasing after him.

  He returned to her side, his heart lodged in his throat. “For pity’s sake! You’re a stubborn little baggage. Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine. I landed softly,” she said with a laughing groan. “No harm done.”

  He made certain of it before he scooped her off the floor. “You’re attics-to-let. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I didn’t want you to leave me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned into him so that her breasts heaved against his skin.

  “Dillie, I—” He was about to tell her that he’d never leave her. But how could he be sure? “I had better put you into bed.”

  She stiffened in his arms. “Only if you’ll join me.”

  “You don’t understand what you’re asking. I’m not sure I do either. You have me spinning in circles, first demanding that I spill my secrets if I ever hope to marry you or have you naked in this bed, and in the next moment, asking me to join you in bed. Does this mean I’m to be allowed access to your delectable body without the need to marry you or spill any of my secrets?”

  She nodded.

  “Not a single damn requirement or consequence?”

  “Why is it so hard for you to comprehend? To put it in mathematical terms, sharing secrets equals marriage plus sex. Not sharing your secrets equals no marriage plus sex. Either way, you get to have your wicked way with me. So, do you wish to save me from spinsterhood or not? Because I won’t ever marry you if you walk away now.”

  He glowered at her, not liking the game she was still playing, and not liking the way she was manipulating him. Doing a bloody good job of it as well. She knew he’d never allow her to remain a spinster. He wouldn’t give up until she married him. For her own good. He owed her for saving his life. “I’ll stay.”

  “Thank you, Ian. Climb into bed with me. I want to be in your arms, feel the weight of your body against mine.”

  He didn’t know what else to do with the bossy bit of goods, so he agreed. Well, he knew what to do with her. Kiss her. Peel the shirt off her. Bury himself inside her sweet, naked body. Lick and touch and tease every beautiful inch of her. Make her hot and slick for him. Make her scream out his name while in the throes of ecstasy.

  Make her agree to marry him.

  Dillie Farthingale was not going to be a one-night dalliance for him.

  CHAPTER 12

  A SUDDEN GHASTLY THOUGHT struck Ian as he lay stretched atop the covers on the bed beside Dillie, certain his rod would permanently ossify if it grew any harder. She still wore his shirt. Thin shirt. And she had a dreamy expression in her eyes that made their spectacular blue depths seem even more spectacular. “Did someone give you medicine for the pain while I was out searching for Abner?”

  Dillie nodded. “The innkeeper’s wife gave me laudanum.” She glanced at her sprained foot. �
�She said it would ease the throbbing.”

  “Damn it.” He was on his back, Dillie nestled into the crook of his arm, her arm thrown over his chest as she snuggled beside him. He eased her off him and rose slightly to face her. “Here’s one of my rules,” he growled, putting his weight on one elbow to prop himself up. “I’m not bedding you until the damn medicine wears off. Then you can ask me again. I won’t say no. I’ve wanted you in my arms, in my bed. Naked and in my bed, longer than I care to admit.”

  “Me, too. That’s how I’ve always felt about Good Ian. But everyone keeps saying there’s a bad side of you. Even you think so.” She shook her head slowly. “I know my mind’s a little fuzzy, but I still want to know. What did you do that was so awful? Why do you hate yourself so?”

  Great, he was about to bare his soul to a slip of a girl who’d been drugged and now lay injured in bed beside him. Would she remember any of their conversation once the drug wore off?

  “I didn’t take any of the laudanum yet,” she said, as though reading his thoughts. “I wanted to keep my head as clear as possible. I’m still a little muddled, but that’s because of the bump on my brow. I’ll take my medicine afterward.”

  “After you’ve had your answers?”

  “I’d like those, but no. After you’ve had your way with me. And since this will likely be the most memorable moment of my life, I don’t want to be too drugged to remember it clearly.”

  He fell back and sighed. The girl had him turned upside down, twisted in knots. “Does this mean we’re done talking?”

  “Heavens, no. Your ordeal isn’t nearly over. You haven’t told me anything that I didn’t know already. Oh, you did tell me that your nightmarish event happened when you were only four years old.” She propped up on her side, resting on her own elbow as she faced him. “I suppose it counts as a secret. Now I owe you a sexual favor. Name it, Ian.”

  “No. I thought we’d ended your silly game. You’re playing with fire, Dillie. You don’t know what you’re doing.”