Rescued by a Duke (4 page)

He frowned. No. That would not happen. Could not! She was obviously not of his station, so the
ton
would certainly take issue with her. She would not be deemed suitable for a gentleman, much less a duke. Yet, he still desired more from her than would be appropriate. What a
cad
he must be.

Sighing, he slipped the letter in a desk drawer. Nothing could be done about Lucien's impending visit. There was time enough later for trouble when it arrived on its own. Unfortunately with his brother, it was a surety. Garrett hoped that would give him ample time to relocate Miss Douglas temporarily. Selfishly, because of Garrett's attraction to her, he did not wish her to leave, but it was prudent she not be around when Lucien came.

Garrett left his study and climbed the long staircase. A few steps near the top creaked beneath his weight. His hand glided over the smooth wood of the banister, worn down over decades of use. When he'd left Miss Douglas, he'd been in a black mood, but had given no explanation. Not that he was required to. But something about the girl tugged at his emotions. She resembled a waif, so thin with the straggly hair and large, dark eyes. It was as if he needed to protect her. But from what? From whom? It was time to find out more about his unexpected houseguest.

****

Sasha's breath caught in her throat when she saw her reflection in the large mirror. Maryann, the maid who'd accompanied the duke on his visit a few days prior, had attended to her. When she'd entered the room, it had been with an armful of clothing. After helping Sasha to bathe, Maryann had helped her dress in under-things, a beautiful pale pink dress with lace at the collar, and soft embroidered slippers. The clothes were lovely, though not new. Whose were they? Was there a duchess? Sasha hadn't seen anyone save his grace and the servants.

Even though it was quite intrusive and foreign for someone to help her get clothed, a princess could not have been more celebrated. Maryann had brushed out Sasha's tangled hair until it shone. Her curls had a bounce to them that Sasha hadn't seen in a long while. She studied her reflection in the mirror. How she must have appeared to others before, with her torn clothes and dirty face and hair! It was a wonder the duke even allowed her inside his home.

Since it had been just her and Samuel for so many years, Sasha had forgotten the touch of another woman's hand. The soft caress as she brushed her hair. Nimble fingers buttoning her dress. Oh, how she missed her mother's touch! Maryann had cooed and made over her as if she were her own daughter, wiping away Sasha's tears. Had the older woman also lost someone close to her? Did she not have a family? Sasha's kinship with her was immediate. Indeed, Maryann had a haunted look of loss in her eyes. Sasha glanced in the mirror. Was it reflected in her own?

Sasha sat on top of the made bed, much more comfortable for her leg than the chairs. She was alone in the room. Her leg ached, the pain pulsing from her toes to her knees. What would happen once her leg healed?
Where will I go?
Will I be able to escape debtor's prison?
It had been hard enough, with Samuel's lifestyle. The debts. The running from village to village. And his broken promises. Lies told to her face that he would quit spending hard-earned money on women and drink. That he would change. Become an honest man. But no… he had never changed.

The duke had appeared quite insistent, even angry when she'd offered to work to repay his kindness. Why had he reacted so? She was just trying to pay her own way. Hiring on as a servant was far better and safer than starving on the street. She'd had fears of becoming such, and had no wish for it to happen. Too many a time she and Samuel had lain down for the night in a field or old cattle byre, hungry. Tired from running, leaving Samuel's debts behind.

A knock pierced the silence. Startled, Sasha twisted around to stare at the door. Had the doorknob turned? She tilted her head and waited. Should she say something or just remain quiet, hoping they went away? If it was the duke again, she had no desire to be lectured even though he had every right since it was his house, his bed, and his food she partook of. Perhaps it was Maryann.
Please let it be Maryann.

It opened with a squeak. His grace and Maryann entered. The duke paused just inside the room with his arms crossed over his chest. Sasha trembled. He was so imposing! Yet… his green eyes and strong jaw fascinated her. She bit her lower lip.

Embarrassed at staring, Sasha angled her head, forcing her gaze toward the far wall, where the dressing table and mirror stood She had no right to stare at her benefactor, no matter how attractive he was.

"Miss Douglas, I'd like to apologize for my earlier behavior."

She widened her eyes and glanced back his direction. "Pardon, your grace?"

He stepped closer, wrapping his large hands around the tall bedpost at the foot of the bed, his fingers long and his nails trimmed. Those hands had held her tightly in the well. Kept her safe. Protected.

"I shouldn't have taken out my frustration on you. It had nothing whatsoever to do with you being here, I assure you."

She nodded. Was she expected to say something more? "I…"

He held up his hand. "Since you are under my care, I'd like to know more about you."

What did the man have on his mind? Did he want repayment from her of another kind? Make her his mistress? Gulping down air, she scooted farther back on the bed until she slammed against the headboard. Unless forced, she would not do
that
with any man, unless there was love in her heart for him.

He came closer, pulling over the same chair he'd sat on the previous time. "I only wish to know your circumstances. Where you're from? What is your trade? And about your family."

"Your grace, I have worked as a housekeeper. My parents died several years ago, and my brother and I were raised in Dyers orphanage in Islington, north of London. But… my brother has recently died. I am alone." She shrugged. Hadn't she already told him this? If she kept speaking of it, her grief might get the better of her. She did not wish to cry in front of the duke. Being stranded in the man's guest room was weakness enough.

"Your brother must have been a young man. How was it he died so early in life?"

Anger coursed through Sasha's veins at the thought of her brother's murder. It was so unfair and could have been avoided. If only he would have… "Samuel was at the local inn. I've been told by someone who heard from someone else that another man kept taunting him, trying to grab away the woman Samuel was with that night. They… fought." Tears threatened, but she took a deep breath, clenched her teeth, and willed them away. Her face heated. What must this man think of her brother? Of her?

"I see. Do you know the identity of the other man? Perhaps I could seek him out for you, help you bring him to justice for your brother's sake?"

She lowered her eyebrows. Why would this stranger be compelled to help her? A duke would not stoop to help someone such as her. Wouldn't he deem a poor, orphaned girl as something akin to mud on his boot? Someone to use or discard as he saw fit? His intentions toward her could not be from simple kindness. "No, your grace, I don't know who the other man was. Nor do I know exactly where it happened. And as far as I know, the authorities don't know either."

She'd tried to form the image of such a murderer in her mind, but could only imagine the man would have the face of a monster, dark and evil, with sinister eyes and a black heart. Even though she longed for justice for her brother, it didn't seem right for a duke who didn't even know her to concern himself with her problems. "I thank you, your grace, but it is of no consequence to you. I'm sure you have other matters more important than mine." She was already in his debt. Taking his time away from his affairs would make her even more so.

He scooted the chair closer. "I am responsible for you. After all, it was my empty well you fell into. You have no idea how it pains me. And now, knowing what I do about your brother… you being alone…" He glanced away, his facial muscles tightening as his jaw clenched. Something else pained him. His response was not typical of a stranger and a woman who he barely knew.

Warmth flowed down her spine. The cold, hard shell surrounding Sasha's heart since her brother's death cracked open. Not much, but it seemed his grace truly did want to help her. It was so unbelievable that a person such as him existed. She tilted her head and pulled her hand from beneath the covers, intending to touch his hand, which now rested on the edge of the bed.
Wait.
I can't do that. What am I thinking
? The man was nobility. And she was just… She yanked her hand back into her lap, heat warming her cheeks.

His mouth lifted at both corners, forming dimples on each side. He glanced down toward her hand. "May I?"

Sasha opened her mouth, but no words spilled out. She bit her lower lip, and nodded. He reached down and took her hand in his, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. Calloused skin against sensitive. Moving in circles. Igniting her flesh. Searing deep, into her muscle and bone. Sasha gasped. Her mouth went dry and she swallowed hard. Butterflies flitted around her heart, her mind, her stomach, and lower, spinning the room around her. Spinning her thoughts out of control. The duke was
touching
her.
Her!
And this was different than it had been in the well. That had been because of the need to rescue her.

But this… this was something else entirely. Heat flooded her body, warming her most private places. What was happening? It was as if a fire burned deep inside. A fire that would consume but not die out.

She and Samuel had been orphaned so young, there had been no woman to teach her the ways of men. What should she do? What would happen next?

Chapter Three

Sasha trembled, but now it wasn't from fear. The duke's eyes were kind, and wouldn't it follow that his heart would be as well? No, this time her trembling came from the intimacy of his skin touching hers. How could two hands pressed together start such a riot of emotions? Was this what Samuel had sought with those women in the inn? Surely not, for he never stayed long with any one of them. Once he found someone new, he never spoke of any previous companion. Sasha glanced down at their joined hands. But this… was a connection, a dream.

Quite without warning, he widened his eyes and released her hand. His face reddened. Sasha frowned. What had she done to cause such a reaction? Had it not been his suggestion to touch her hand?

His grace jerked away from her, nearly falling from the chair. He took a deep breath as he steadied the chair. He stood. And paced. From the bed to the door. Door to the bed. Bed to the door. And back.

Maryann sat in the corner, her eyebrows raised. What in the world had caused the duke's change of mood? Had he found her attractive, but reconsidered due to her station?

Sasha waited. The duke slowed his steps, stopped, shrugged his shoulders, and then turned toward her. He came once again to stand beside the bed. He ran his hand through his hair as he raised one corner of his mouth, exposing a dimple. His face, red not a moment ago, now retained its natural hue. Would she ever learn what had just happened?

His grace took a step toward the bed. "How would you like to go downstairs for a while? You could see more of the house since you've been cooped up for several days."

He wished her to see more of his house? It didn't sound like something people of such different stations would do. It would not be appropriate. And after his previous reaction, did he really have any such desire to be in her presence? "Oh, your grace, I don't know if that would…"

"I insist you call me Garrett. It would seem under the circumstances we are more than just casual acquaintances, having met under such intense conditions. And the physician has given his permission for you to leave the bedroom for a while." He pointed toward the door. "Wouldn't you enjoy seeing it?" His placed his hands on his thighs. Sasha allowed her gaze to rest where his hands where. She darted a glance back up to his face.

He was staring at her with his head tilted and the corners of his mouth turned down.
Oh, bother
. She'd hurt the man's feelings when she started to decline his offer. "Of course I would, it's just—"

"Just what?"

She waved her hand limply side to side. "You're a duke and I'm—"

"You're what? A field mouse?"

Sasha grinned. So Garrett had a sense of humor, it seemed. "A field mouse? You did find me in a well in a
field
, after all."

Garrett chuckled. "And so I did." He stood up. "What do you say, then?" He held out his hands toward her.

Sasha frowned. "I couldn't walk down any stairs. I'm not sure I could even walk across the room by myself, even if the physician had not warned me against attempting it."

"Have no fear. You shall travel in comfort."

"I shall?"
What does Garrett have in mind?

He went to the door and opened it wider. Returning, he stood near the bed. "It is through no fault of your own that you cannot walk at the present. And it would not seem a pleasant notion for one to be stuck in one room for several boring days in a row. Surely, you must be tired of staring at the draperies? Personally, I've never cared for that particular shade of puce." He smiled. "Now, if you could come closer to the edge of the bed, we can proceed."