The Reluctant Duke (Love's Pride Book 1) (7 page)

It was late or early depending how you thought about it. His valet had departed for the evening. Thomas rubbed the back of his neck trying to relieve the knot of tension put there by too many hours poring over old ledgers. He’d spent hours holed up in his study comparing them to the figures brought back by the Sergeant Major.

Kicking off his boots, he pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it onto a chair. He was preparing to lower his pants when he heard a high pitched scream from the other side of the building. Lizzy?

Without thinking, he was out the room and running down the hall, cursing his wounded leg and the fact that it wouldn’t move as it should. His heart raced as he imagined all kinds of terror happening to his little sister.

He rounded onto the girl’s wing. A door halfway down the hall was open with a weak light leaking into the hallway.

Rushing as hard as his leg would let him he burst into the room.

Isabel lay on the floor in her night clothes. Miss Harding stood over her wearing nothing but a night rail with a fireplace poker held over her shoulder like a cricket bat.

Yelling, “Get away from her.” She swung and hit a tall, thin man in the chest with a thick thunk sound. The stark white look on her face reminded him of soldiers he’d seen in hand to hand combat; the rage and blood lust had taken over.

Not waiting, Thomas grabbed the man by the collar and belt then threw him across the room, getting him away from his women. The man flew through the air like a wounded duck before landing on his back with a shock that vibrated through the floor boards.

Thomas turned and checked on the women, they appeared to be all right. Scared, but unharmed. Miss Harding stood there with the poker raised, ready to defend them. Isabel lay on the ground, resting on her elbows as she prepared to get up from the floor.

Lizzy appeared in the door and ran to hold Isabel. All four of them turned to look at the attacker.

Mr. Strait writhed on the ground grabbing at his chest trying to get his breath back.

Thomas’ hand instinctively grasped for an absent sword at his waist. Cursing under his breath, he pulled a bare foot back to kick the man in the head.

You’re not in France anymore he thought to himself with just enough time to save Mr. Strait from a severe headache.

Reaching down, he pulled the intruder to his feet. The tall man refused to remain still, flailing his arms about and trying to push himself away. Thomas had had enough, pulling his fist back he punched him square in the face, knocking him back to the floor once again.

Shaking his bruised hand, he looked around and saw Freddy at the door.

“Goodwin, please ask the Sergeant Major to join us.”

A few minutes later. “Sir, you sent for me,” The Sergeant Major said from the doorway as he took in the scene around him. The footman Goodwin peeked around his bulk.

“Sergeant Major, Please escort Mr. Strait to my study, I will be down in a few minutes.”

“Yes Sir,” the Sergeant Major said, walking over and picking the man up by the collar of his shirt and propelling him out of the room.

“You heard the Major, this way.”

Thomas walked back to the women, Miss Harding had lowered her poker and stood there staring at his bare chest. Her fingers turned white as they squeezed the metal handle.

His heart skipped a beat when he looked at her. The fire backlit her long legs and every curve. For a moment, he forgot about everything else in the world. He forgot about the other people in the room, about the books and papers waiting on his desk. He forgot it all and saw only her. It moved him, sending a warm feeling through his belly.

Shaking his head he turned to Isabel, “Are you sure you are all right my dear,” he asked.

“Yes, Your Grace, thanks to Miss Harding that is,” Isabel said and smiled at the housekeeper. “He said I had to go with him, that I belonged to him. He was quite mad.” The young girl shuddered, hugging herself with her arms crossing her chest.

“Well we have him now, no need to worry about it,” he said looking off into the distance, fighting with himself to not look at Miss Harding again.

“The Sergeant Major and I will take care of everything, you try to get a good night sleep. Lizzy, please see to Isabel, Miss Harding, please come down to my study,” he said, still not looking at her.

She seemed to realize that she was standing there in her night clothes without a robe. Her face went white and her hand to her throat, pulling the shift tight. Then she reached for a blanket on the bed, pulling it off and hiding behind it.

“Yes Your Grace, I um, let me get changed and I will be right down.”

“Yes, of course,” The Duke said, feeling a little disappointed about the blanket. He’d truly loved the prior vision. Turning, he left before he said or did something he would regret.

.o0o.

Gwen’s hands shook, and her heart raced. The memory wouldn’t go away, she couldn’t bury it. Shaking all over, she sat on her bed wringing her hands as if trying to grasp reality. Her body felt as if it had lost all warmth.

His Grace was waiting she reminded herself but still she couldn’t force herself to move. Just like last time she thought, would she ever be able to put it behind her.

- The piece of white paper being handed to her stepfather. A document that sealed her fate. Selling her to a man she didn’t know nor want. - The stink of rum on the Earl’s breathe as he held her down. - The hard thwap sound the fire iron made when she struck him in the head with it. Like tonight, it had been the only weapon within reach. – The red blood that seeped from the wound.

Had she killed him, she didn’t know, she may never know. She’d run before she could find out, escaped. Fleeing barefoot in her nightgown.

Like a ship before a storm she’d been blown up onto this island of Brookshire. The one safe place in the world she’d thought. Until tonight.

Shuddering, she took a deep breath to try and calm herself. It’s over Gwen she repeated in her mind, it’s over, everyone is all right. It’s over.

After several minutes, her heartbeat slowed enough. Squaring her shoulders, she stood and donned her robe. His Grace was waiting.

Gwen slipped into the study, quietly closing the door behind her. She pulled the belt tight at her waist and ran a hand over the back of her head to make sure the tie for her hair was still in place.

The Duke had put on a white shirt before coming downstairs. Mr. Strait was trapped in the center of the room, The Sergeant Major behind him, ready to render him immobile if necessary.

His Grace stood before the man; His hands folded behind his back. As if he was having to restrain himself from throttling him. He glanced back to acknowledge her entry then looked at the prisoner as if he was a slug in the garden.

“Thank you for coming Miss Harding. I wanted you here as a witness to the proceedings. I would have asked Isabel and or Lizzy, but I think they have had enough excitement for the night. Don’t You?” The Duke said with a soft, soothing voice. As if he was gentling a new colt.

“Yes Your Grace, I understand,” Gwen answered.

“Now then Mr. Strait. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The Duke asked.

The thin man’s piercing eyes stared into The Duke as if he wanted to drill holes into the other man. Gwen thought he looked a little insane.

“I’ve lost everything; they took the school away from me. The parents threatened to remove their daughters,” he said, spitting out the words.

“I told you that was going to happen. A man like you should not be in charge of such a school. That does not entitle you to break into my home and assault someone under my protection,” The Duke said, his hands clenching into fists.

Gwen’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She hadn’t know that the Duke had ruined the headmaster, and so quickly. She watched as his fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly. She was sure that he was going to hit the man again.

Instead, he stepped back and addressed the Sergeant Major. “Jack, I believe that His Majesty’s Navy is in need of volunteers. Could you please escort Mr. Strait to the London docks and ensure he is safely placed aboard a vessel scheduled to depart on a long voyage.”

The tall, thin man blanched and started to sway back and forth as the reality of his situation sank in.

“Yes Sir, right away.” The Sergeant Major said.

“Your Grace,” Strait begged, dropping to his knees. “Please you can’t do this, you have no right.”

“Actually I do have the right, unfortunately, besides being a Duke of the realm, I am also the local Magistrate. Push me much more and I will change the sentence to a long imprisonment. Sergeant Major, carry out your orders.”

The soldier grasped the back of Strait’s coat and lifted him to his feet.

“I think I should inform you, if you try to escape I will shoot you where you stand. Please, please try, I haven’t shot anyone for months.” Jack said as he pushed him out of the room.

Gwen watched them, her mind racing. Pressed into the Navy, for a man like Strait it might very well mean a death sentence.

Was it really all over? Had she really hit that man with a fire iron?

She remembered the fear that had raced through her body when she saw him holding Isabel. Her past had flashed before her eyes and that sickening feeling of helplessness had covered her in a morass. Then she’d broken through and grabbed the first thing she could think of and hit the man.

She’d wanted to kill him. All of her anger had been focused in hurting him. If The Duke hadn’t thrown him across the room, there was no telling what she might have done.

Smiling to herself, she remembered His Grace picking the man up and tossing him across the room like a rag doll. She looked up and saw that the Duke was looking at her with piercing eyes. He’d caught her smiling.

“Thinking about hitting Strait with that fire Iron? Felt good didn’t it.” The Duke said.

“Actually, I was thinking about you throwing him across the room,” Gwen said.

The Duke laughed. He watched her for a moment then reached out to pat her on the shoulder at least that is what she thought. Instead, somehow both his arms reached out and pulled her into a hug.

“Thank God you are safe, I was so worried,” he whispered into her hair.

Gwen melted into him. She didn’t think about it, her body reacted, letting him hold her. She savored the feeling as those strong, secure arms folded around her and knew that all was right with the world again.

The months and months of stress leaked away, and all that remained was a contentment that filled her. The terror of her memories, the fright of Isabel being hurt, all of it disappeared.

She put her arms around him and squeezed back, trying to make him feel as good as she felt. He smelt of smoke, and brandy, and all man. It was a scent she would never forget. Leaning back a little, she looked up and saw The Duke stare down at her, his intense silver eyes boring into her soul.

As she watched, he leaned forward and kissed her, his lips taking control of hers. Surprised at first, her body reacted without thought by sinking into the kiss. Her knees began to wobble as she held on tight to stop herself from falling.

He towered over her, making her feel small and feminine, everything about him made her feel good about herself. A weak moan escaped as her lips instinctively parted to let his tongue enter, exploring her mouth, setting her on fire.

She could feel herself slipping away; every part of her soul was lost in feeling what he did to her.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, it ended. She felt him pulling back, letting out a sad sound of wanting. His lips left hers as he stepped back and looked down. His eyes searched hers, trying to read her reaction. It wasn’t fair, his eyes hid his feeling to well, making him impossible to read. Sighing to herself, she hid her face in his chest.

He continued to hold onto her and looked down, shaking his head.

“Oh Gwen, what are we going to do,” he said, pulling her into an embrace, holding her head to his chest.

Gwen didn’t know what to do. She wanted to stay there forever, to never let go. Please god, she prayed, don’t let this end. But it couldn’t last; The Duke, Thomas, couldn’t afford to be seen like this. Someone might walk in, his sister, a staff member. Obviously it had to end.

She stepped away, a shaft of pain piercing her heart. Glancing up, she saw a look of agony cross his eyes, making her feel a little better. She shouldn’t be the only one this miserable. Please, please, don’t apologize she thought. Don’t make it less than it was.

“I am sorry Miss Harding,” he said, standing up straight, his hands at his sides like he was at attention on the parade ground. “Please forgive me; you deserve to be treated so much better. I assure you, it will not happen again.”

No longer Gwen, now it was Miss Harding. The words were like a sword thrust into her heart. She stood there in shock that he could dismiss it so easily, it didn’t seem right, she’d seen that look of pain on his face. Her knees began to shake, not out of embarrassment but out of anger. Gathering the pieces of her heart, she took a deep breath and turned to the door. Trying to get out of the room before anything more could hurt her.