To Dream of You: The Royal House of Atharia, Book 1

by Gill, Tamara

  His eyes swept to the bed, mocking him that she was indeed out of his reach, but right at this moment, for several weeks would be well within his grasp. However was he to hide his growing attraction to this woman? To not slip and show her he would not revert to his rakehell ways and try to seduce her while she was here.

  Holly trusted him, and he needed to ensure he never showed her how much her nearness, intelligent conversation, or perfect, generous lips made him want things he should not.

  The door opened, and he stood, bowing. "My lady," he said, coming over to the door and closing it on the world beyond. He flicked the lock, hoping the lady's maid understood their need for privacy. In reality, he simply wanted to lock it and keep her as safe as he could. Not that a lock would keep out her uncle's men if they did storm Sotherton, but it would delay them a time.

  "These are the ducal apartments. I hope you find it to your liking?"

  Holly walked into the room, inspecting the bed that would be hers, the daybed, and roaring fire in the hearth. She walked into the closet, and into the room beyond that was the bathing chamber.

  She came back into the room, a small frown upon her brow. "Is there not an adjoining suite that your mother would have used? I only see where we're to bathe."

  "My parents' marriage was a love match, and they did not sleep apart. Father had the room converted to a bathing chamber and the door to the passage is hidden from the outside. It looks like paneling on the wall. It is always locked and can only be opened from the inside."

  "I do not remember my mother, but my father was fond of her from what he revealed during our childhood. She passed away at the birth of my youngest sister," Holly ventured.

  "I'm sorry she is no longer with you. I should imagine you look very much like her?"

  "Perhaps," she said, running her hand across the dark-purple velvet bedding. "Paintings would say I favor my father, but I do hope there is a little bit of my mother in my features."

  "I'm sure there is." Drew waved the glass in his hand. "Would you like a brandy before bed?"

  She raised one brow, sauntering over to him. "Do I scare you so much, my lord, that you require spirits?"

  "Of course not," he lied, turning to pour her a drink before she noticed the heat that bloomed on his cheeks. What was it about this woman that made him nervous? She was royal, yes, but still, he was a lord, a future duke, they were not so far apart on the social sphere that she should make him a muddling mess, but she did. He supposed she was the first woman he enjoyed being around more than most and was forward, opinionated, and able. All great qualities a man would look for in a wife, him certainly, but she was untouchable, forbidden to him.

  Perhaps that was it.

  Drew took a calming breath, throwing her a congenial smile, handing her the brandy. "To sleep," he toasted, "may tonight be much more agreeable than the last."

  She smiled, clicking her glass to his. "That, my lord, is a toast worth celebrating."

  He drank down the amber liquid, fighting not to take in her appearance. She was dressed for bed, the white silk shift and nightgown suited her, made her appear even more angelic than she had previously. A knot formed low in his gut as she finished her drink, walking to the bed. He could make out her form from behind, her perfect, pert ass and straight spine. Her long, chocolate locks he wanted to tangle his fingers through in passion.

  He spun about, striding to the daybed. Without thought, he ripped the buttons on his breeches open and slid down his pants, leaving him only in his shirt. A small gasp, hardly audible, sounded behind him, and he realized that perhaps he ought to have remained clothed since they were unmarried and alone.

  Instead of apologizing, he climbed onto the daybed, facing the bank of windows, the heavy brocade curtains pulled closed for the evening. "Goodnight, Holly," he said, staring at the curtains as if they would save him from himself and what he was starting to feel for this woman in his care.

  "Goodnight, Drew," she whispered in a tired and throaty voice that sent his blood to pump. It reminded him of how his lovers had sounded after a good, thorough, satisfying romp.

  The sooner she wrote to her guard in London and procured a ship so he could take her back to Atharia and see her rightfully placed as queen, the better. To have her remain here would only lead to more trouble. Not of the violent kind that her uncle wrought, but that of the heart and that, Drew was certain, was trouble Holly was not looking for at all.

  Chapter 10

  Holly woke the following morning late, the sun already high in the sky. She sat up, her bedding strewn about the bed as if she'd kicked and turned all night. Not that she remembered doing so.

  Her gaze automatically swung to the daybed. Disappointment stabbed at her, seeing it empty, the blankets Drew had used laid neatly over the end of her bed to hide the fact they had not slept in the same bed.

  The smell of tea caught her senses, and she turned to look at the bedside cabinet, spying the hot, steaming brew. The staff here was very efficient.

  Holly finished up her morning ablutions, with Jane's help. Not long after, she headed downstairs to find Drew. She found both the duke and Drew in the dining room having lunch. Both men stood, bowing at her arrival, and she came in, seating herself beside Drew. She supposed as his feigned wife that is what one ought to have done.

  "Did you have a restful night, Holly?" the duke asked her, smiling in welcome. "Please bring Lady Balhannah her lunch."

  Holly's stomach clenched with the reminder she had not eaten much over the past two days. A plate of cold meats and cheese was placed before her, along with another pot of tea. After their days on the road, the fresh bread, meats, and cheese were welcome. "May I have the use of your library, this afternoon, Your Grace? I have some correspondence that I need to attend to."

  "Of course," he said, his eyes bright as he took her and Drew in. "I must congratulate you again on your marriage. It makes me very happy indeed to see my son so happily settled and with such a beautiful woman."

  Drew cleared his throat, shifting on his chair, but didn't venture to say anything. Not that either of them could explain to the duke what was really going on under his roof. "I'm happy also," Holly said, not wholly untruthful with her words. The house was very comfortable, more so than Lord Bainbridge's, and the duke was pleasant, the staff more than accommodating.

  "You mentioned that your family is related to Lord Bainbridge. Do you have an estate in England? Are your parents willing to come here and meet with us? I would like to welcome both you and your family to ours when you think they could attend."

  Holly wished her parents could visit the duke. She supposed that she ought to keep to the truth as closely as possible if she had to lie to the gentleman. "Had they been able, I have no doubt they would have loved to have met you, Your Grace, and Drew also, but they cannot. They have both passed, my father early last year, my mother many years ago."

  The duke slumped back in his chair, his eyes hooded with kindness. "I'm so very sorry, Holly. That must be very hard. Do you have any siblings?"

  "I do, Your Grace. Two younger sisters." Holly forked a piece of ham and cheese into her mouth, savoring the taste.

  "Very good indeed." The duke smiled at Drew, a mischievous light entering his eyes. "We shall have to find them both husbands at next year's Season. Drew is friends with many a gentleman who would suit most affably. Do you not think, my son?"

  "I ah… Well, I'm sure Holly's sisters are more than capable of choosing their husbands, Father," he said, sipping from a small porcelain cup filled with coffee.

  "That they are indeed," she ventured, replying to Drew's statement. "But if they do attend the Season, I'll be sure to use Drew's connections. Maybe there is a diamond amongst all the paste who would suit them well."

  The duke laughed, and Drew threw her a curious stare. Holly smiled, shrugging. What did it hurt to play along with the duke's ideas for her sisters? Two women who were unlikely to ever step foot in England or take part in a Season.
They were safe from Lord Balhannah's roguish friends.

  "Now that you're married, my boy, I have had a thought. I need to have a painting commissioned of you both. The future Duke and Duchess of Sotherton. If only your mother were still here to see you settled so. It would warm her heart to know that you're happy."

  Holly watched as Drew reached out, patting his father's hand that sat on the table. Although she had loved her father, there was little affection between them or either of her sisters. They had been brought up to be steadfast and strong-willed—future leaders. That did not mean she did not love them, she would, if need be, die for their future, but she had not had tactile parents. Seeing Drew comfort his father, even in this small way, left a longing inside her that she had not thought she would experience. When the time came, she would fight to be close to her children, be there for them whenever they needed her support, and show affection and love.

  "I am happy, Father." Drew turned, throwing her a wicked smile. Her stomach clenched, and she could only feel sorry for the women who had fallen for such a handsome face. When he wished it, Drew could draw the water from the sea, she was sure. Devilish, handsome rogue.

  They finished their meal, talking of nothing of consequence. Drew wished to inspect the grounds, ensure all was as it should be. No doubt to ensure her safety and wellbeing while she was here. If he kept treating her so well, she could very well end up staying here forever, for who in their right mind would walk away from such a man, such a life in the country?

  A princess would. A future queen would.

  Holly wrote the letter required to Marco after lunch, notifying him of her troubles at Lord Bainbridge's estate and her hasty retreat. Asking for word of Niccolo and if he had regrouped in town with the surviving men. Telling her guard to come to Lord Balhannah's estate via the sea and dock in the bay so she may travel to Atharia. There were only seven and a bit weeks left before her twenty-first birthday, and it would take some time for Marco to procure a vessel and sail it up the coast from London to the Suffolk county. By the time Marco arrived, it might be almost time for them to depart.

  At least her uncle hadn't managed to hurt everyone at Lord Bainbridge's estate. One small mercy. Her next letter was to his lordship, letting him know of the troubles she encountered and that she would recompense his lordship for any repairs that were due after the attack. She also warned his lordship in the letter to be careful and not let Lady Mary out alone without his supervision, just in case her uncle tried to hit out at her through her friends.

  She would not put it past her uncle to be so underhanded and cruel.

  With the letters written, she sealed and placed the missives on the silver salver on the duke's desk. With her uncle's henchmen not knowing of her whereabouts, she would be safe here, and the post leaving the estate would not be intercepted. All would be well. She had to believe that.

  Holly stood and started for the door just as a light knock alerted her to someone joining her. A smile slipped on her lips as Drew's handsome visage peeked about the wood. "Just the woman I wished to find. Would you care for a stroll about the grounds? You have been in here for quite some time."

  "I would like that very much." Holly picked up her shawl she'd laid over a nearby chair and passed Drew, who held the door open for her. He strode up next to her, taking her arm and placing it on his.

  His ease of touching her, of wanting to be near her, was so unlike what she was used to. Men, not even those of her station, dared not to pick up her arm and place it on theirs. Always correct protocol and etiquette were to be adhered to. It was nice to be treated like a lady whom his lordship may be courting in town. Not like a princess born to be queen.

  They left the house via the front steps and started walking up the long, gravel drive. Holly could hear the waves crashing against the shore in the distance, and the air had a distinctive scent of salt. Just as Lord Bainbridge's estate, Sotherton reminded her of her island home.

  "Were you able to complete your correspondence?"

  "I have done so, yes, thank you. Now I must wait to hear any news. I do hope it is better than what I fear. I am not certain what I shall do if Niccolo did not return to London and seek out his brother."

  "If you have lost all those who are here to protect you and see you returned to Atharia to become queen, what shall you do?"

  It was a question Holly had been asking herself for some days now. What if everyone she depended on was gone, dead, or injured? She bit her lip, tossing the thought about in her mind, hoping it would eventually make some sort of sense, a way forward.

  "I could allow my uncle to take the throne, renounce my claim, abdicate."

  Drew pulled her to a stop, watching her keenly. "Would you want to do something like that? If you abdicate and he passes away, you could not take the crown back, could you?"

  "Uncle has no children, so my sister, Alessa would become queen, but it is not what I wish to do. I do not understand why or when my uncle became so cruel, but he must be stopped. If he can treat his family with such contempt and evilness, I shudder to think what he could do to the people. Those who do not have connections or wealth to protect themselves."

  "You are more than welcome to live here, for as long as you need, Holly." Drew wrapped his hand over hers on his arm and started forward again. "I'm a selfish man for saying so, but I do enjoy having you here, and I'm not a man known for such sentiments."

  "Really?" she asked, raising her brow, curious. "What kind of man are you usually, Lord Balhannah?"

  "The type whom women call a rake."

  She chuckled as he wiggled his brows at her. "Do you like to play with women, usually? Tease them into thinking that you love them more than you do before you discard them so cruelly?"

  "Ah, nothing so bad as that, but I may steal a kiss or two. One thing I can attest to, however, is that I never dally with innocents. Of that you may be certain."

  "That is very good to hear. I would hate for my husband to be a debauched rogue." His hand was warm over hers, and her stomach fluttered at his nearness. What would it be like to be kissed by such a man? To be his full attention, his wants, and needs.

  "I have never been kissed," she admitted, staring ahead at the large oaks that lined the drive. "Women like me do not kiss men at balls and parties unless we want to start a diplomatic crisis."

  "I would kiss you." His deep, gravelly voice halted her steps. Holly glanced up, meeting his blue, hooded gaze. His attention dipped to her lips, and she swallowed her fear. She knew upon speaking the words, of admitting just how innocent she was, that a little part of her hoped he would offer to take her first kiss.

  The breath in her lungs seized as he dipped his head. "Last chance, Holly, before I kiss you."

  She tipped her head back, raising her chin. His words, as low as they were, sounded like a challenge. As if he did not believe she would follow through on her subtle request. "I think I can survive a kiss from you, Drew. Men and women are supposed to kiss, after all."

  "Yes, they are," he growled, closing the space between them and settling his lips on hers.

  Chapter 11

  Pleasure thrummed through Drew's blood at his first taste of Holly. Never in his life had he felt such soft, supple lips. Lips that met his moved like a mirror image to his, and kissed him back with such sweet innocence that he ached. Holding her face between his palms, he deepened the kiss. Kept her locked in his embrace to savor the taste of her in his arms.

  She was sweet, as he suspected she would be. He fought the urge to kiss her like he would kiss a lover, deep and thorough, wild and wanton. He was playing with fire kissing a woman so far above his reach. It was an absurd, crazy sort of thing to do. Nothing could come of them, he would marry a lady, and she would marry a prince. They could not marry each other.

  Even so, when her hands settled over his shoulders, slipping to clasp the hair at his nape, the small thread of restraint holding him in place snapped.

  Drew tilted her head and licked her
bottom lip. She gasped, her eyes flying wide, staring at him in wonder. He took advantage of her surprise, kissing her soundly and tangling his tongue with hers. She let out a little sob of wonder, and his mind whirled.

  What was she doing to him? Never had a kiss affected him so much. Already he could feel his hands shaking as he held her sweet face. He'd wanted to kiss her for days. Hell, perhaps even from the very first moment he'd laid eyes on her when she'd saved him, as foggy as that memory was.

  She stepped into his hold, her body meeting his, and he was lost. He wound his arms around her back. Her breasts teased his chest through the silk of her gown. They were supple, her nipples pebbling through to graze his chest.

  His cock rose to attention and he wrenched away, his breathing ragged. Drew stared at her, unsure of what had just happened, but certainly not ready to take that kiss any further. Holly's eyes were wide and cloudy with a lust he never thought to see. They had both been affected by that kiss, and what a kiss it was.

  He took a calming breath, running his hand through his hair, a bark of laughter slipping from between his lips. "Well, Your Highness, how did you like your first kiss?" he asked, bringing them back to the point that it was only a kind gesture on his behalf to give her what she'd asked for.

  She stared at him for what felt like an age before she said, "I fear that I shall never forget it, my lord. Quite satisfactory indeed."

  He hoped she would not forget him, for he too would always remember kissing her. Drew rallied his shot nerves and gestured toward the path. "Shall we continue the tour?"

  "Yes, lets," she said.

  Drew glanced at her, not missing the unevenness of her words. Silence settled between them, uncomfortable and strange, and he started to rattle off the names of the trees, the plants, and introducing her to the gardeners they came in contact with—anything but to bring up or discuss what had just passed between them.