The Heart of a Duke (9 page)

Only two days into her flight to Scotland and
her money was dwindling, her fortitude fading, and the certainty
she had felt upon execution of her plan had all but disappeared.
Elle glared at the innkeeper, exhausted and on the verge of tears,
but dug into her purse for the two crowns. She slapped them into
his meaty hand and swept past him to the stairs.

"For
that
price, I expect a hot bath and
meal in my room within the hour."

His grunt left her uncertain as to whether she
would receive the demanded services, but truly, she almost didn't
care. After travelling so many hours, Elle was worn thin, and felt
as though she might sleep for days. Following the maid to her room,
she shut the door and gratefully sank onto the straw ticking of the
mattress covered in thick wool blankets. It wasn't elegant, or even
particularly soft, but in that moment it felt like
heaven.

Twenty minutes later a pair of
maids arrived with a full cask tub and pails of hot water, and a
lovely unexpected cake of rose hip soap. Perhaps the innkeeper
wasn't
quite
the
ogre she had thought him to be.

When the women shut the door, Elle quickly
shed her dusty clothes and slipped into the water, the heat
loosening her muscles into an imitation of jelly in an instant. As
curls of steam rose around her, she rubbed one big toe on the lip
of the tub and wondered what was going on in her
absence.

Elle had left a letter for both the duke and
her mother, advising them of her plan and the uselessness of coming
after her. She refused to marry Langley. She simply couldn't do it.
Not when there was such an absence of feeling between
them.

Not when she had such a confusing welter of
feeling tumbling around inside her for Jacob. Something had changed
the way she saw him, over the course of the house party, something
terrifying and wonderful.

If she thought he felt the same, she might
have stayed in England, and to the bottom of the Thames with
everyone else's expectations. But the closed look on his face when
she announced her intention to cry off had muted any hopes in that
quarter.

Still, she was free now and that
was what mattered. Papa should never have agreed to the betrothal
contract in the first place. Were they in 1730? No, this was
1810,
and such arranged marriages were out
dated.

What was so wrong with wanting to be
happy?

There was an abrupt knock on the
door to the hall, the loud rap startling Elle out of her
thoughts.
Ah. Dinner.
Thank goodness, as she was famished after a full day of
travel. Placing an arm over her bare breasts in a concession toward
modesty, she scooted a little lower in the tub, drawing her knees
up.

"Come in."

The door swung open, revealing not a maid with
a dinner tray but six feet of enraged male. Elle squeaked and
snatched the towel from the chair next to the tub, yanking it over
her. The material was soaked through in seconds but at least it was
a shield to cover her nakedness, though she was trapped in the
bath.

Jacob Farrish stepped over the threshold and
slammed the door behind him, flipping the lock. Elle watched with
wide eyes as he turned back to face her, the disheveled waves of
his hair glowing cinnamon in the flickering firelight.

"I cannot—" He scrubbed a palm over the short
ragged growth of ginger hair on his face, the struggle not to shout
clear in his expression.

Elle bit her lip as her gaze travelled over
his travel stained clothing and windblown hair, realizing that the
facial scruff was not by design but rather because he had likely
not stopped long enough to shave. It was a good look on
him.

"The
trouble
you've caused—" Jacob broke
off again, shaking his head, and a shard of guilt over her actions
poked at her.

"But I left a note—"

"
To Hades
with your note,"
Jacob snarled, his eyes
flashing dangerously in the dim light. "Your mother is
frantic
. Langley
is
furious
. It
took every ounce of persuasive ability I possess to convince him
that I could bring you back and avoid further scandal. So far,
we've managed to lay any gossip to rest by circulating the rumor
you ate a bad oyster and have been confined to your
bed."

"But I don't like oysters." Elle closed her
mouth again when he looked at her like she had lost her
mind.

Jacob inhaled deeply through his nostrils.
"Langley is humiliated and angry, but he's sick at the thought of
you out here on your own. What did you expect the reaction would be
when you disappeared?"

Well, she knew her mother would be devastated
by her desertion, and her stomach flipped at the thought of her
father's fury once he was informed of her perfidy, but she'd not
thought the duke would even be ruffled, truth be told.

She didn't
mean
anything to Langley, not in any
personal way. Logic had stated he would merely find a replacement,
but perhaps she had given the duke too little credit. Perhaps it
was because she felt the need to escape so desperately that she had
been able to dismiss the extent of damage she would
cause.

Jacob stared at her from his post by the door,
his jaw tight. “Langley agreed that I should be the one to retrieve
you, since apparently he feels debutant supervision was one of the
unspoken tenants of our agreement."

Of their what?

Elle frowned, her fingers tightening on the
edge of the wet towel. "Which agreement would that be?"

"You do understand that I'm being blamed for
this, do you not?" He ignored her question. "And your silly maid,
and the old man from the stables that you tricked into lending you
a carriage?"

"No." Horror struck her, the sinking feeling
turning her hunger for dinner into a ball of lead in her stomach.
"They were not to blame. Oh, please tell me the duke didn't do
anything awful. Did he sack them?"

"It was a close shave for the pair, but I
managed to convince him it was likely all your idea, and they had
been duped by your persuasive charm."

The censure in his voice made Elle desperate
to escape his regard, and she stared down at the soggy material
draped over her drawn-up knees. The idea that he now looked at her
and found her lacking was nearly unbearable.

"Thank you for championing them." Her voice
was hardly above a whisper, but it was all she could manage and
still keep it even. "I hadn't intended anyone else to suffer for my
actions. I'll write to the duke and beg his leniency for the staff
who aided me, albeit unwittingly."

"What about me?"

Her lips parted in surprise. "What about
you?"

"My cousin charged me with overseeing your
stay at his estate," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. A
muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared at her. "Did you know he was
paying me to keep you occupied and out of his way during the house
party?"

She felt faint. "Of course not."

Well, that answered her question rather
definitively, in regards to both the duke and his cousin. She
raised trembling fingers to her mouth, as he pushed off the
doorframe and stalked to the fireplace. Raising one arm, he gripped
the edge of the mantel, his gaze trained on the flames in front of
him.

"I should hardly think a letter would soothe
his fury at my failure. What will you do for me, my lady?"
Something in his tone made her look up, but he was still staring at
the fire, his breathing a bit ragged.

"What... what would you like me to do for you,
Mr. Farrish?"

The sharp bark of his laughter made her jump,
sending little waves of water to slap against the sides of the tub.
"Jacob, remember? Family or not, I think under the circumstances we
can dispense with formality. Would you mind getting dressed? Having
a conversation is rather difficult when one party is in the
bath."

She blinked, looking down at the soaked towel
that floated around her.

"Yes, of course. Um. Will you please leave
then, so I might do so?"

"No."

No?
Did
he mean to
stand there
while she emerged naked from the water and dressed? Elle
considered his rigid back and realized that he did.

"I cannot possibly exit the bath with you
standing in the room."

"Then you shall become quite waterlogged,
since I have no intention of allowing you out of my sight until I
deliver you to my cousin."

Elle stood abruptly, water sloshing over the
sides of the tub to soak the floor. There were no more towels but
an extra sheet for the bed would work just as well. She snatched it
up, stomping behind the worn screen in the corner and hastily
rubbed the bathwater from her body. Wishing she had brought her
robe for a bit more armor against his judgmental regard, Elle
yanked her nightdress over her head, nearly tearing the stitches
along the seams.

"I'm not going back to England. My
grandfather's home is less than a day's drive more and that's where
I'm headed."

She emerged to find Jacob glaring at her, his
wide mouth tight with grim determination. "You are welcome to try,
Eleanore, but you'll have to wait to see your grandfather at the
wedding, because you are definitely going back."

"
I will
not marry the duke.
"

Everything Elle had been feeling over the last
week welled up within her, and tears pushed against the backs of
her lids, fighting to escape. She lowered herself onto the edge of
the bed, digging her fingers into the mattress. "Do you think this
a whim? That I don't understand what I've done? I cannot marry a
man who has no more affection for me than his hounds."

"I don't th—"

"
I
cannot
," she interrupted, her gaze meeting
Jacob's, her entire body rigid with the need to impress upon him
her seriousness. "Please. There is so little in my life I have
control of. Do not allow them to take this from me as
well."

Perhaps it was unfair of her to press him
thus, but she would fight for her freedom.

A shadow passed over Jacob's face, softening
the harsh expression of implacability. He seemed to struggle with
himself for a moment, before biting off a curse, his shoulders
sagging.

He pushed off the door, and moved to sit on
the edge of the bed. The springs creaked under his weight, and she
could feel the heat coming off him from inches away, welcome
against the chill of the Scottish night air. They sat in silence
several moments before he ran a hand through his hair, a troubled
expression drawing his brows together.

"Langley's not a bad man, Elle. Proud, and
careless at times, but not bad. He could be a good husband, if you
gave him another chance."

Elle rubbed her lips together, and
played with the locket that still hung around her neck. The
tarnished metal was warm and smooth as silk under her fingers, a
comfort when there were so few. She knew the duke didn't
intend
to hurt her in
any way, but he would. How could someone live with such disinterest
and not feel the cut of it?

"I want more than that. I
want
love
. I
want
passion
.
Langley could never give me that. It may be selfish of me, but I
won't settle for less." She raised her eyes to Jacob's, and the
connection sent a jolt of awareness through her.

Elle was suddenly aware of how quiet the inn
had become as the evening deepened. She rubbed her lips together
again, her heart beating in her throat, and his gaze dropped to her
mouth.

The fine hairs along her arms prickled as the
moment spun out between them. The world narrowed to the feel of his
leg almost touching hers. The rustle of her nightdress as Elle
leaned toward him, unable to stop herself. The tremble of his
fingers as he raised one hand and lightly ran it over her
hair.

She thought of nothing but Jacob as he lowered
his head until their mouths were a whisper apart. His breath
brushed over her parted lips, and a tremor shook her as he lingered
there. In that moment, she felt as though she was balanced on a
knife's edge, so close to falling either way.

She wanted the kiss, and feared it.

When he finally lowered his head that last,
infinitesimal bit to press his lips to hers, ending Elle's inner
dilemma, it was a relief. A sweetness coursed through her as
Jacob's mouth moved over hers, gentle and slow. Here was the slow
burn of passion she had been missing. His fingers slid deeper into
her hair, tangling in the curls, cupping the nape of her neck, and
bringing her even closer.

Jacob was kissing her with all the intensity
and thoroughness of a man who had finally caught that which he had
most desired. She didn't understand it, but she wasn't about to
start questioning it.