He looked at her, and his expression was unreadable as always. Then he nodded once.
“I admit, I never expected our coupling to be so physically intense. Though I am not complaining,” he added as he stroked her breast absently.
“Even though you are so much more experienced?” she pressed, truly surprised by his answer.
He shrugged. “I have never met anyone like you, Ava.”
She hesitated at that loaded statement. “Is that a compliment?”
He rolled to his side and pressed a heated kiss to her breast. “I don’t fully know.”
She cried out as he scraped his teeth across the bud ever so gently. There were no more questions, no conversation as he pushed her on her back, opened her legs and entered her again.
Chapter Twelve
Christian paced his office, stopping now and then to straighten his cravat in the mirror above the sideboard. When he did, he looked at the clock there and shook his head.
Time had always been counted in many ways by him. Minutes and hours, of course, days and weeks, just like everyone else. But he had also kept time by his hatred. Sometimes it was how long it had been since he saw Windbury. Or how many wrongs had been committed against his family.
After the accident, time had been counted by pain, both the physical due to his injuries and the powerful grief that accompanied his sister’s death.
Now he counted time in anticipation of something far more pleasant.
It had been four days since Ava played the piano for him. Four days that had been a blur of pleasure and desire in any corner of the house he could find her and touch her. Four days that almost always ended with her gentle attempts at interrogation and his abrupt departure from her company.
And yet despite his strong belief that she was plotting against him with her questions and glances and various attempts to get into his life, he still looked forward to seeing her, touching her, tasting her more and more.
There was a light knock on his office door and she stepped into the room.
He couldn’t help but smile. “You do not have to knock when we have an appointment. If I was doing something wicked, I would want you to catch me.”
Despite the days of endless passion, her cheeks pinkened at that statement.
“I can only imagine what wicked things you might wish me to catch you at,” she said with a playful shake of her head.
“I doubt it,” he said, moving on her almost against his will. “Did you sleep well?”
She hesitated and his smile fell.
“What is it?” he asked.
She paced away from him. “As much as I enjoy our time together in this house, as much as I have fallen under the spell of your touch, I have been locked away inside for days and days. I find myself staring out the window at your gardens and wishing to feel some sun on my face.”
He drew back as she turned toward his windows to look outside. Indeed, there was a longing on her face, a hint of sadness that reminded him quite sharply that she was here against her will. All her moans and pleasures might be real, but they were still driven by her need to protect her brother and return home after their bargain ended.
There was a sharp pain in his chest at that thought, but he scowled and pushed it away.
“I told you many times, you are not a bird in a cage. If you wish to go outside, than do so.” His tone was too sharp, too emotional for his taste.
She faced him. “I have not exactly had time,” she said with a smile meant to soften his mood. And strangely it did just that. “I do not wish to roam around alone, being avoided by your servants as I am in the house. I thought perhaps you and I could take a turn around the gardens together.”
He stared at her, allowing her words to sink in, feeling her eyes on him but unable to read her intentions despite how even her gaze was.
“Together,” he repeated.
She shrugged a shoulder delicately. “We would not have to go far if a stroll would be uncomfortable for you. And I would be happy simply to sit in the sun for a little while.”
He could not help how his lips pinched in displeasure. Once again, she subtly brought up a subject he had made clear to her was off limits. How dare she pity him for his injuries?
“I am perfectly capable of walking,” he snapped.
Of course, that might not be true. He hadn’t exactly tested the notion beyond storming around the house and making plans to kidnap virgins like the villain out of some ridiculous novel his sister would have read.
“Very well,” she said, holding up her hands in some kind of peace offering. “Then will you allow it?”
He sucked in a breath in frustration. Here he had planned an afternoon of making love in front of a fire, and now she had backed him into a corner.
“Fine,” he said with a wave of his hand that utterly dismissed her desires on the subject. “Whatever you would like.”
“Excellent!”
She clapped her hands together, her eyes lit up in pleasure so pure that for a moment Christian could do nothing but stare into the face of it. How could she remain so…so light while growing up in her family? While being passed over for marriage again and again? While being held captive, her future completely compromised, by a man she feared as much as desired?
How could she hold on to that lightness of spirit, to that happiness that seemed to permeate her and make her such a joy to be around?
“I don’t want to know why,” he muttered.
She tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”
“Nothing,” he growled. “Fetch your wrap, and I will meet you in the foyer in five minutes.”
She stared at him for a brief moment, then nodded. “Of course. I will hurry.”
She turned and scurried from the room. When she was gone, he moved to the window and looked out at the scene she so longed to be a part of. To him the outside world looked a little…bright. But he was about to forge out into it regardless.
For her.
The butler, Sanders, opened the door for them a few moments later, and Ava couldn’t help a sigh of pleasure as warm summer air hit her face.
“Will you require anything further, Your Grace?” Sanders asked.
Ava glanced at the two men from the corner of her eye. She had barely seen any of Christian’s servants beyond the maid, Laura. It was unfortunate, really, since she’d always believed one could tell a great deal about a man by how he interacted with those in his employ.
And she had often wondered, in the days since her arrival, if that fact was exactly why she never saw or spoke to anyone who worked here. Christian seemed determined to keep her out of his life in every way that was meaningful.
Now, though, she had a fleeting moment of clarity as Christian stared at his butler. Sanders was asking a simple question, of course, but there was something more to his tone. He seemed…concerned for his master.
She glanced at the cane that was forever at Christian’s side. He did appear to be leaning more heavily upon it today. Not that his pain wasn’t always evident no matter how hard he tried to hide it. His pride would not allow her, of all people, to see weakness in him.
“I don’t think so, Sanders,” Christian finally replied to the butler’s inquiry.
“What about luncheon?” Ava pressed gently.
Both men looked at her as if she had spoken some foreign language. Christian shook his head. “What time is it, Sanders?”
“A quarter past eleven, my lord,” Sanders said without having to make reference to a watch or clock.
Ava smiled. All butlers, at least all good ones, were alike, it seemed, in their ability to know everything at all times.
“Will we not be back here in time?” Christian said with a heavy sigh.
He did not look at her, but when Sanders didn’t answer, Ava jolted. “Is your question directed toward me?”
“You are the one who brought up a midday meal, yes,” he said with a strain to his voice that spoke of his impatience.
Ava refused to be intimidated by the tone or his fierce expression.
“I would think we could easily still be out on the grounds at one,” she said with a smile for Sanders that was not returned. “Does His Grace not enjoy a picnic?”
There was a moment when something akin to panic filled Christian’s eyes. She almost withdrew from it, but forced herself not to react. If he knew she had found even the tiniest glimpse into his soul he would push her away, just as he had been doing since he first snatched her from the party.
“If you are insistent,” he finally said through grinding teeth. “Sanders, have a light meal set up along the river’s edge at one o’clock. Lady Ava and I will arrange to find ourselves there at that time.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Sanders responded, and for the first time he allowed his stare to actually settle on Ava, though she could not tell what judgment he made of her. “Of course.”
“Thank you, Sanders, that’s all,” Christian said, turning on his heel to make his way down the stairs toward the twisting driveway below.
“Good day, Your Grace,” Sanders said as he began to shut the door. “Lady Ava.”
Ava jerked her head to look at the butler, but he was already gone. So she had been acknowledged. A triumph indeed.
Gathering her skirt in one hand, she made her way down the stairs to join Christian at the bottom.
She smiled as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm that did not hold his cane. He jerked at the contact and looked down at her in surprise, but she didn’t pull away, even though she wished to withdraw thanks to his pained expression. No, she would not be apprehensive. This was an opportunity to gain some much-desired insight into the man—she would not allow him to take that from her.
“Shall we begin in the gardens?” he said, leading her around the house down a little path of crushed stones.
“Oh yes,” she said with a smile she didn’t have to force. “I have been looking at them out my window for days and longing to see them closer.”
“They are lovely,” he admitted, as they entered a little space in the hedgerow.
She released his arm and moved forward to suck in a breath of sweet rose petals and lilac. The gardens were even more of a marvel up close than they had been out her window. High hedges made up the perimeter and lower ones of the same variety helped to create walkways. In between was a riot of flowers of so many varieties she could not begin to count them. Roses and lilac, carnations and lavender, daisies and marigolds, all burst forth with vibrant colors and attracted bees and butterflies to dance around the petals.
“More than lovely—this is the happiest garden I have ever laid eyes on,” she said on a sigh before she faced him. “Christian, it is magnificent. Who did all this?”
He blinked. “The gardener, I suppose.”
She shook her head and leaned down to sniff a bright red rose. “Oh no. A gardener, even the best gardener, would not design this kind of joyful retreat for someone else. This is something made by the hands of someone who lived here.”
He seemed to consider that point. “My grandmother, my mother’s mother, loved flowers, if I recall. This was her home after my grandfather died, so I suppose the gardens may have been planned by her.
Ava smiled broadly. “I can almost imagine her out here, doting on every plant. Did she speak of it much when you visited?”
He frowned, his gaze far away. “When we visited, her conversations with my mother were often…more troubling.”
She lifted her head from the latest blossom she was examining. “Oh, I see. They did not get along?”
“No, it wasn’t that. My grandmother worried about my father, his obsession with—”
He broke off, but the intent of the rest of his sentence was patently clear.
“My mother’s family also had concerns about their feud,” she said softly.
He said nothing in reply, but walked away to break off a dead leaf from one of the bushes along the path. He tossed the brown refuse aside.
“We were never much of a flower family,” Ava said, shifting the subject. “Loved to look at them, yes, but I am afraid I kill any green thing within twenty paces.”
He looked at her briefly. “I should hustle you out of my garden, then.”
She hesitated, for she could scarce believe he was actually teasing her. In a friendly way.
Finally, she laughed. “I promise not to touch anything else, just in case my black thumb is catching beyond my own plants.”
“Should I fear for the dogs?” he asked, and there was a hint of another real smile, so fleeting and so…lovely.
“You have dogs?” she asked, truly surprised. “I have never seen them. Are you hiding them just as you are hiding the servants?”
He tensed. “Who told you I was hiding the servants?”
She shook her head and strolled over to a bench, where she sat down and set her hands in her lap.
“Oh Christian, do you think I’m blind? You have a huge manor home that must require dozens of servants to manage. The only one I see regularly is Laura. Sanders makes an occasional appearance, and I’ve seen fleeting glimpses of those who deliver meals or scuttle down the halls, but they hardly look at me. Obviously, they have been given an order not to interact with me. It is very…isolating.”
There was a long moment where Christian seemed to be in disagreement with himself on what to do or say next. Finally, he shrugged, almost in surrender.
“They have not been ordered to do anything,” he said. “But I doubt they approve of my methods of revenge, so I assume they avoid you because your captivity makes them uncomfortable. At any rate, when I come here I am not exactly a talkative master, so that feeling of isolation may come more from my habits than anyone’s feelings toward you.”
She pondered her response carefully. This was as open as Christian had ever been with her, and the puzzle that he was began to become clearer. And led her to further questions.
“Your habits since the accident last year?” she pressed, very careful in her tone so that he wouldn’t push her away.
He frowned. “I’m certain they have become worse since my sister’s death and my own…incapacitation, but no. I admit I have never been one for excessive warmth or connection with those in my employ or even my friends and family. Probably Matilda was the only person who enjoyed the very best of me and only because she refused to accept less.”
“She sounds like a very good sister,” Ava said. It was odd to think of her as such, after so many years of being told not to think or speak about their family or even consider them human at all.
“She was,” he admitted. He shook his head and walked away. “But we are here to examine my gardens, are we not? Shall we do that or just dally talking nonsense?”
She pushed to her feet and followed him, easily catching up to him with his painful gait.
“Christian,” she argued. “I wouldn’t classify your sister or your life as nonsense. Great God, I shall be here another two weeks still. Are we never to know anything about each other but our bodies? Do you not wonder about more when we are now so intimately acquainted?”
He spun on her, his face darkening and tight with both physical pain and emotion.
“No!” he burst out. “I never wondered about you. Ever. I never thought of you at all until I decided to steal you. But here you are and you are…intrusive. You are…meddlesome. You are…you are nothing like I ever thought you would be.”
She folded her arms, trying to will her pounding heart to slow, which of course didn’t work in the slightest.
“How am I different?” she demanded.
He threw up his free hand. “You are all lightness and laughter, despite this feud, despite what I’ve done, despite whatever your life has been like.”
Her lips parted. “Are you saying you do not think I feel the pain of my past, of my present predicament?”
“I don’t know, do you?” he pressed, and there was true wonder in his voice.
&
nbsp; “I am not a fool,” she whispered. “I feel each and every effect of my life. I grieve for what has been lost thanks to this idiotic war between our families. It all but killed my mother when I was a very little girl. It poisoned my father until I do not think he felt love for anyone, even his children, so blinded was he by hate. It crippled my brother, both in his body and his heart. I don’t even recognize him when he bothers to open his door to me.”
He flinched at her stark recitation of losses, which shocked her. Should he not be crowing?
“And if you think I do not feel the more direct effects of our ‘war’, then you are the fool,” she continued, even though she knew she should stop.
“Ava—” he interrupted, but she ignored him.
But the words had begun now, words she had felt inside herself for years and put aside, shoved down, tried to ignore as best she could.
“Do you think I’m blind to the fact that men have turned away from me because they do not want to involve themselves in an increasingly irrational battle? Or that friends have slowly melted into shadow because of the scandals our two families carry on our backs with every moment and every step? Trust me, Christian, you and my brother are not the only ones with scars from your war. You scar everyone around you, as did our fathers, our grandfathers, and all the rest back to the beginning, whenever that was.”
She was panting now, her eyes stinging with tears, her hands shaking with upset. As her high emotion faded, she blushed at how she had railed out everything she felt. She had armed him, and worse she had made a fool of herself.
But his expression was not one of triumph or even shock. He swallowed.
“If all that is true, how do you keep your lightness, Ava?” he asked, his voice barely carrying in the summer air.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I have two options in this world. I can allow what is happening around me to control me, to break me, to destroy me and make me a twisted, angry shell of a person, as it has done to so many others. Or I can rise above it. There is ugliness around me, but there is beauty, too. I will find whatever I seek.”
He sucked in a sudden breath at her final words, and for a long time he was silent. Then he turned toward her and held out a hand.
Taken by the Duke Page 10