Duchess Beware (Secrets & Scandals Book 2) (5 page)

Silver smiled.  “He woke a few moments ago.”

Relief flickered in Garrett’s eyes, exposing an intense worry he’d been trying to conceal.  “That is good news.”

Mrs. Burns plowed through the crowded room, scowling as usual.  Daniel’s clothes were tossed over her arm.  “Weel, I managed tae get the stains out an’ mend the rips.” She set the clothes on the bed and turned to Garrett.  “This was in one o’ the pockets.”  She pressed a small object into his hand, then marched out, mumbling about having to do so much extra work.

Standing beside Garrett, Cameron glanced down and his eyes widened.  He snatched up the miniature.

“Be damned.  Give that back.”  Garrett held out his hand.

Cameron ignored the command.  “By the saints, she’s an angel.”

Jamie gazed over Cameron’s shoulder.  “O’course she isna an angel, ye old fool.  The bonnie lass must be his wife.”

Each word pierced Silver’s heart like perfectly aimed arrows. Her breath caught.  Wife?  The possibility that Daniel had a wife never crossed her mind.  Her chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe.  Why wouldn’t he have a wife?  He was a duke above his thirtieth year.  Of course he would have a wife.  Duke’s needed heirs.  It was some kind of rule.

Her knees threatened to buckle, and she reached for the back of the chair to steady herself and remain on her feet.

Morgan joined the others and whistled as he glimpsed the portrait.  “I sure hope she isna his wife.  I’d like tae make her
my
wife.”

“Wha’ dae ye think, Silver?”  Cameron held up the miniature.

The tiny portrait depicted a goddess.  Silver swallowed hard, twisting the piece of linen she held in her hands.  Something inside cracked open.  She could never compete with such a beauty, a beauty who undoubtedly came from the upper crust of Society.  Her insides seared with a mixture of shame and regret.

Garrett seized the miniature and placed it securely within his pocket.  “Do show some respect, gentlemen,” he clipped.  “The lady is the Duke of Kenbrook’s daughter.”

The Duke of Kenbrook’s daughter.  Not the Duchess of Huntington.  Silver gave the cloth another twist, unable to hold back the relief flooding her.  Daniel was not married.  Not yet, a tiny voice whispered.  She bit her bottom lip.  Even she, as far removed from Society as she was, knew of the powerful Duke of Kenbrook.  His daughter must be the most sought after debutante in the whole country.  Daniel obviously had his cap set on her.  He did carry her portrait in his pocket after all.  And why wouldn’t he wish to marry the beauty?  Powerful families married into each other all the time.  Another of society’s endless rules.

So why did he kiss her on the ship and nearly again in the carriage?

The answer came swiftly, filling her with bitter humiliation.  Daniel wanted Fiona.  The kiss had been nothing more than an act.  Never mind he thought the horse belonged to her brother.  She remembered his reaction when he thought she’d dissuade Duncan from selling.

Yes, the interest the duke showed in her had all been a lie.  And she should have known it.  After all, why would he want anything to do with her when he had a beautiful, wealthy goddess waiting for him back home?

Silver forced down the lump in her throat and turned away, lest her pain show.  Then she noticed her aunt standing in the doorway, listening to every word.  She had a sudden need to flee, to get as far away as she could.

“Go and rest, child.  You’ve rarely left the duke’s side.  I will see to it he isn’t left alone,” Prudence stated, as though reading her mind.

Grateful for once for her aunt’s sharp observations, Silver set the cloth aside and reached for the cane the doctor had insisted she use.  Her bandaged ankle throbbed in agony as she limped from the room, but she didn’t halt until she found the sanctuary of her own bedchamber across the hall.

After easing onto her bed, Silver vowed to pluck the duke from her heart—from her very soul—or die trying.

****

Several hours later, as the shroud of sleep lifted, terrible pain wracked his body.  Daniel parted his dry, cracked lips and moaned.  He fought the pounding in his skull and the unbearable aches everywhere else.  Uncertain exactly what was broken, he dared not move, but pried open his swollen, gritty eyes.  Garrett stood over him grinning like a fool on May Day.

“Feeling more the thing?” his so-called friend asked.

“I was before seeing you standing there.”  Daniel winced when a sharp stitch pierced his left side.  A few ribs were broken, he decided with a slight frown.  And that meant he’d not travel for a while.

Now why did that thought not bother him as much as it should?

Without probing for an answer to that question, he glanced around, careful to keep from moving his tender head, and noticed they were alone in the room.  “Where’s Silver?” he asked before he thought better of it.  She had been there before.  He knew it.

Garrett’s smile vanished.  “She is resting in her room.”

He did not like the guarded quality lacing his friend’s voice.  “Is she all right?”

“Rest assured,” Garrett said quickly, “her injuries were not severe—”

“Injuries?” he interrupted, fighting a sudden swell of dizziness.  His breath grew choppy from the effort. 
Dear God, Silver had been hurt?

Garrett sank into the chair beside the bed.  “It took me a while to get the unhappy mare back into her stall.  When I finally returned to assist you with the stallion, I watched Silver…”

He narrowed his eyes.  “What?” he demanded, feeling fatigue trying to swallow him whole.

His friend took a deep breath before he continued.  “She threw herself over you to spare you from further attack.  I am certain Silver saved your life.”

“She did what?” he exploded and came near unto losing consciousness when he tried to rise from the bed.

“Are you insane?”  Garrett stood and helped Daniel back against the pillows with a gentle hand.  “Surely, you’ve guessed how serious your injuries are.  If you leave that bed anytime soon, it will take twice as long to recover.”

He gnashed his teeth in frustration, knowing his friend was right.  “How…severely…was she…hurt?” he asked, every word a strain to verbalize. Fear for Silver’s safety pounded through his veins.

“Only slightly.  A sprained ankle and a bruised shoulder.”

Daniel relaxed. 
Oh, thank God
.  He found it impossible to keep his eyes open.  He fought to ask one last question before giving in to his fatigue.  “Why did she do it?”

“That, my friend, should be obvious,” Garrett said as Daniel floated back into the darkness.

****

Blood had a sickeningly sweet smell, slightly coppery.  He breathed it deeply into his lungs.  It served as a reminder of what was to come.  His heart leapt with anticipation.  He finally knew exactly where in Scotland she had gone.  Rubbing his sticky, red-brown hands together, he wondered if he should revise his plan.  He could go to her now…but no, that wouldn’t do.  She had brothers.  Five to be exact.

He ground his teeth until his jaw ached.  He wasn’t used to being denied what he wanted.  Ever.  No, he would be patient and wait until she returned to England.  It wouldn’t be that much longer.

With a sigh, he tugged his knife free from the dead girl’s chest.  Seeing a curl lying limp against her pasty gray cheek, he cut the lock away.

Soon, he promised as he rose from the floor.  Soon he’d have her back.  And this time, there would be no escaping him.

Chapter Five

Daniel refused to take another drop of laudanum.  The stuff was hemlock.  His mind went fuzzy and he slept too much.  It helped ease his pain, he thought with a grimace as he shifted and got a fiery stitch in his side.  With a small sigh, he relaxed against the pillows.  For the hundredth time, he glanced around the room, hoping to find something different to observe.  No such luck.  The missing brother, Connor, obviously did not collect anything nor did the man believe in a lot of furniture. 

The room had a surprisingly comfortable bed, a table with a bowl and chipped pitcher that did not match on top, a wooden chest secured with a huge iron lock, and a desk with a chair.  Nothing else.  Daniel studied the ink spatters on the desk to his left.  Most were tiny drops and smears, but at the top right corner, the inkwell had been tipped over at one time.  The rounded black stain had long skinny runs of ink flowing down the side of the desk.  It quite resembled an octopus drawing he had once discovered as a child in one of his father’s nature books.

Thinking of a book, his mind instantly recalled something that had happened on the ship.  Of teasing someone about learning to read Greek.

Silver.

Daniel closed his eyes, his conscious nettled.  Garrett said she had saved his life.  God, she could have gotten herself killed.  But as the fear subsided, anger took its place.  How could she have done something so foolish?  And when he saw her next, he’d tell her so.  He popped his eyes open and frowned.  Why hadn’t she come to see him since he woke three days ago?

Mrs. Burns hurried into the room without so much as a knock and began stacking his dinner tray with the empty dishes.  She said nothing.

“I would like a word with Miss MacLaren.  Surely, her ankle is better.  Do send her in,” he said pleasantly, hoping honeyed words would get him his way with the old crone.  God’s truth, nothing else did.

She jutted her pointy chin into the air.  “’Tis no’ proper,” she answered and finished gathering the dishes onto the tray.

Daniel scowled at the woman, not at all used to having his requests denied.  “What do you mean it’s not proper?”

Mrs. Burns paused and straightened, her bony knuckles resting on either scrawny hip.  “Ye canna scare me, Duke.  For years I been puttin’ up wi’ five crotchety brutes, sae ye canna dae any worse than tha’.”

Daniel shook his head.  Not even Garrett dared such impertinence.  He watched the woman lift the heavy tray, then decided not to complement her on the delicious fare as he had intended.  Then the reason for the woman’s added hostility dawned, and he grinned.

Yesterday, Mrs. Burns had given him a bath.  The first one he’d been conscious for. At the beginning, he’d been a bit uncomfortable.  He wore not a stitch of clothing beneath the blanket and sheets.  But when she pulled back the bedding and turned rosy, his discomfort disappeared.  In fact, when she completed the chore, he’d managed to deepen her blush and render her speechless—not an easy task—by praising her on doing such a magnificently thorough job.

The door swung open, interrupting Daniel’s musings.  Prudence Pennington stepped aside to allow Mrs. Burns to exit the room.  He groaned inwardly.  Now he was alone with a lady very much like his grandmother.  What an unsettling thought.  Thank God Garrett hadn’t dispatched a message to his family about his being injured.  He could not abide Torie’s tears and Gran’s biting words of disapproval right now.

Prudence walked to the chair beside the bed and sat.  Her dark, piercing eyes assessed his face.  “Your bruises are fading nicely, Your Grace.  Are you feeling better?”

Daniel sensed something like disappointment in her voice.  She must hold him accountable for Silver’s injuries, just as he did himself.  He cleared his throat.  “Indeed, madam.  How is Silver?” he asked before she could make another comment.

Prudence cocked a brow, seemingly surprised he cared enough to ask.  “She does not give her ankle adequate rest.  It quite pains her.”

His guilt soared.  “Her brothers do not insist she remain abed to heal?”

The sternness in her expression did not waver.  “The MacLaren’s toil with their sheep from dawn until dusk.  They are not here for most of the day.”

He shifted against the pillows and rubbed his tired eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“When is the wedding?”

Startled, Daniel removed his hand and jerked his eyes open.  “What?”

“When is the wedding?” Prudence repeated.  “Yours to Lady Megan Westland.  Even in my time, it was customary for a young man to carry a miniature of his betrothed,” she expounded.

He clenched his fists.  If Prudence knew of the miniature, then so did Silver.  Could that be why she stayed away?  “Lady Megan and I were betrothed.  But no longer.”

Her brows rose.  “I see.”  She pursed her lips and stood.  “I must check on Silver.  Rest well, Your Grace.”

For a long time after Prudence left, Daniel thought of his betrothal.  He recalled his grandmother’s words upon the announcement.  Gran had been pleased, a reaction he had expected.  After all, he shared a penchant with every other Duke of Huntington—nothing but the best.  From horses to wives, it mattered only that they obtained the finest.

Daniel frowned, wondering why he no longer felt a surge of pride with that thought.  One thing was certain, though.  The thought of Megan wed to another no longer hurt.

Not in the least.

****

Silver could hear Daniel calling out to her.  When he called to her again, she twisted about, removing the blanket from her face, and opened her eyes.  He hovered over her with concern knitting his brows.  Moonlight bathed his face in a silvery glow, making him seem almost unworldly.  “Are you all right?” he asked.

Her confusion lifted.  Daniel was sitting on her bed!  But she couldn’t drum up enough anger at him.  Instead, she slumped back against the pillows and nodded.  It had only been a dream.  No, another one of those horrible nightmares that continued to plague her.  She sat up slowly and mopped a trembling hand down her face, swiping away beads of sweat.  Her heart still pounded furiously, and her swollen ankle pulsated in rhythm.  Never before had her dreams of late been so vivid, and she prayed no more would come.  It was bad enough to dream of her mother’s death and of having to marry Victor, but to watch Daniel marry another…  Silver shivered, grateful the nightmare was over.

Breathing in a slow, calming breath, her heart settled back into place and she turned her attention to Daniel.  She nearly gasped when she found his chest bare, except for the white strip of bandage wrapped around his wounded ribs.  Transfixed, she noticed how his skin pulled tight over sculptured muscles that flexed and rippled with his every move.  She actually wanted to touch him, to pull his body to hers, to hold him forever.

Shaking her head to clear such images, she opened her mouth to tell him to leave, but different words came out.  “How did you manage to get out of bed?”

“I ventured out for a while today,” he said with gritted teeth, obviously in a great deal of pain.  “I heard you cry out,” he continued as she opened her mouth to insist he return to his room.

Silver pushed back a lock of hair from her face, struggling with the poignant longing to be in his arms.  She turned away, lest he read her thoughts.  “Sorry to have disturbed you, Your Grace.  ‘Twas merely a dream,” she said softly, feeling him watch her.  She refused to look at him.  That would be dangerous. 

“Please,” she whispered when he made no move to rise.  “Please leave me.”

His hand moved under her chin.  The contact sent shock waves through her body.  He turned her to face him and she had to lift her gaze.  His eyes glittered, reflecting the moonlight from the windows.  “God help me, I cannot,” he said, then lowered his lips onto hers. 

He kissed her with tenderness, awaking a strange need within her and eclipsing all good sense.  Her body, cold and hollow a moment ago, flooded with warmth at his touch.  And she felt so safe, not like…

Her dream rushed into her mind.  Daniel would marry another, and she must not forget that.  Nor must she forget he wanted Fiona.  Obviously, he would do anything—try anything—to get that horse.

Silver jerked back.  “No, this is wrong,” she insisted with an emphatic shake to her head, even though it felt anything but wrong.  “I want you to leave.”

Watching the effect her words had on him, she wished she could take them back.  He blinked, clearing away every trace of emotion from his face, then stood.  A cold detachment settled into his eyes as he gazed down at her.  “You are right.  I shall leave.”

She watched him shuffle from her bedchamber holding his ribs, terrifyingly certain of what he really meant.

****

The hunter.  That’s what he’d become.  Having to hunt for the right girl to fulfill what had to be done.  He was getting close.  So close.  He’d even found her.  The right one.  His hand balled into a fist.  If only the bitch hadn’t scampered off to Scotland!  The door opened, and he took a deep breath to calm his boiling rage.  Soon.  Soon he would get his revenge. 

He settled back against the pillows and watched the girl remove her clothes.  Tongues of red-gold firelight danced up and down her naked body.  A nervous smile peeked through trembling lips, and her eyes—brown instead of blue—filled with uncertainty.  “Do ye like me ‘air, yer worship?” She lifted one of the wavy red tresses that rested against her small pale breast.  She sashayed forward, coming to a halt a few feet from the bed where he lay disrobed.  “I dyed it jes as ye wanted,” she continued, pulling at the ruby lock anxiously.

He cocked his head to the side.  Very near the correct shade.  Good.  He lowered his gaze down her skeletal body.  He could have counted her ribs, she was so thin.  Then something caught his attention, something not at all to his liking, and rage erupted so swiftly, it nearly took his breath.  “What is that?” He pointed to the honey-colored thatch between her legs.

Her eyes widened, and she scrambled back a step.  “Mrs. Drabble said the dye’d burn somethin’ fierce there,” she whimpered, covering herself with a hand.

The girl looked ready to dash away.  Tamping back the rage, he forced his features to relax.  He even smiled.  She may not be exactly what he wished, but he could wait no longer.  His loins were heavy.  Too heavy.  She would give him what he needed this night.  She would do.  “Come here.”

Indecision flickered in her eyes, and he swallowed back a sigh.  He reached to the clothing folded neatly on the chair beside him, the urge to remove the knife from his coat pocket nearly unbearable.  Not yet.  Fran hadn’t returned.  No, no, not Fran anymore.  She had changed her name. 
Damn her.
  He gritted his teeth and retrieved a coin instead.  Slowly, he turned to the other side of the bed and laid the polished piece of gold on the bureau just at the right angle to catch the lamp light.

The girl’s eyes widened and greed quickly replaced her hesitation.

As soon as she straddled him, her body melting around him, he hissed through his teeth in satisfaction.  Yes, she would do. 

For now.  Until that red-haired bitch returned from Scotland.