Taken by the Duke (18 page)

“How is your leg?” she asked, pulling at the covers to look at his gnarled flesh.

He tensed, his instinct to push her away and protect his privacy roaring up in him. He managed to keep it in check. Barely.

“Sore,” he admitted, his voice rough. “As it always is in the morning.”

She nodded. “I see. It is to be expected. When you lie still all night, it will cause stiffness and discomfort. You might find relief by stretching your muscles with a brief morning walk. And I would also like to repeat my massage of the area around your wound if you would allow me to do so, despite the pain it caused you last night.”

He arched a brow. “Will my reward for doing so be the same?”

She swatted at him playfully. “Wicked man.”

He rolled to his back and pulled the covers back. “Do as you will then, my torturer and temptress.”

She slipped from the bed and came around to the opposite side. She was utterly naked, though it didn’t seem to trouble her as she examined the flesh closer.

It bothered
him
immensely, for it only made him want to touch her all the more.

She began her massage, sending screaming pain through his body, and his erotic thoughts vanished.

“Talk to me,” she suggested. “To take your mind off the sensations.”

He nodded. “How do you know these things?”

She cocked her head, but continued to rub her hands over his body. “What things?”

“About the stiffness of my muscles, about massaging the area where I was damaged by the accident,” he clarified, groaning as she dug deep against his hip.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but didn’t stop. “I am not sure you would like the answer to your question.”

He looked at her pale face. “Your brother?”

She nodded once. “I never did these things for him, of course, but after the accident I listened to his doctors and talked to those who came to assist him. He, like you, has been very stubborn about accepting help. He has suffered for it, though I believe you have suffered even more.”

Christian stared up at the ceiling as physical pain was joined by grief and anger. “Yes. That may be true.”

She smoothed her hands over his damaged body one last, gentle time. “After you dress, I do suggest a walk in the garden. Not for long, of course, but a quarter of an hour perhaps.”

“And will you join me for that walk?” he said, pushing the other emotions away to tease her.

She smiled, but the expression was tinged with something unpleasant. “I—I thought perhaps I would take that time to write to my brother.”

All his pleasure, all his remaining desire, vanished in a moment. He pushed to a seated position against the pillows and speared her with what he knew was a dark look.

“I see,” he said, keeping his tone as neutral as he could manage. “I thought you wished to stay.”

“I do,” she said hurriedly. “I do wish to stay, but Christian, tomorrow is Sunday, nine days after you took me. Even if we posted the letter then, which was our original agreement, Liam would not receive it until Tuesday at the earliest. That would mean he will have faced eleven days since I went missing. He has to have spent that time trying to determine my whereabouts, my fate.”

It was hard for Christian to imagine Windbury giving a damn about anyone but himself, but he didn’t say anything about it to Ava.

“I cannot, in good conscience, stay here with you basking in pleasure while I know he runs mad with fear,” she continued. “I will not tell him where we are, but I need to tell him I am safe and unharmed and that I will return home by month’s end.”

Old hatreds, hard lost, rose up in him as he pictured Windbury running wild. He loved the idea, though the pain on Ava’s face brought him no gratification.

Those warring emotions, though, frustrated and angered him. How dare she alter his glee in an enemy’s pain?

He pushed to his feet and snatched up the trousers he had long ago discarded on her floor. As he stepped into them, he did not look at her.

“Very well, it seems you have your task well at hand,” he snapped, hating that his reaction was not one of his desire or control.

She reached for the coverlet and wrapped it around herself, a barrier to him. A shield.

“You are angry,” she said, a statement, not a question, and a dully stated one at that. He could see her pain as well as hear it.

“I am not angry,” he lied.

“You cannot expect me to allow him to suffer, even for you,” she whispered.

He pivoted to face her. Her chin was lifted, defiant even in the face of what was obvious discomfort and anguish. He nodded once.

“Of course not. I have much else to do as it is. Perhaps we will share a midday meal together. Good morning.”

He did not wait for her response, but left the room with no further word. After he had slammed the door, he leaned against it, his body humming with unexpected emotion.

She was correct, of course, that she did not deserve his ire. He had no right to feel it, even if he did despise her brother with everything in him.

Except, as he limped away to ready himself for the day, he realized that he did not begrudge her the letter for the sake of hurting her brother. He begrudged her the letter because it was her first step in leaving.

Ava watched in the mirror as Laura pulled the back of her gown closed and quickly buttoned her up. The maid smoothed a few wrinkles here and there in the gown, then stepped back to look at her.

“It is your color, despite your differences from Lady Matilda,” the maid said, almost more to herself than to Ava. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll begin arranging your hair?”

Ava did as she was told without a word. There were so many thoughts in her head, so many feelings, she feared the moment she began talking about anything she would begin to weep. Not something she wished to do in front of a servant.

The girl began to brush Ava’s hair in long strokes. Ava felt Laura watching her in the mirror as she did so and sighed.

“Is there something on your mind, Laura?”

The girl shrugged a shoulder, continuing the long strokes of her brush without faltering. “Only that you are very quiet, Lady Ava. Your circumstances here must be quite troubling to you.”

Ava pursed her lips. “My circumstances have changed somewhat,” she murmured. “But there is certainly much to be troubled about, even if I am no longer a prisoner here.”

Laura stopped brushing mid-stroke and stared at Ava in the mirror. “So the below stairs nonsense was true?”

Ava’s eyes went wide. “What below stairs nonsense?”

Laura hesitated and then returned to brushing. “I would not say anything to you, my lady, of course. But you must know the servants have been talking since your arrival here.”

Ava sighed. “I thought that was likely true. What have they said? Please tell me plainly.”

The other woman swallowed hard. “At first, all the talk was that you had been kidnapped by the duke. Most of the servants were very opposed to it, but the duke is normally a good master, and we all knew how much the loss of Lady Matilda affected him.”

Ava nodded. At last she was getting some insight into Christian. And as humiliating as the conversation was, she needed more of that insight.

“I assume that is why the servants have all avoided me so pointedly,” she asked.

Laura blushed slightly. “They did not want to betray the master. Some of them actually considered it.”

There was a sudden sharpness to the other woman’s tone that made Ava turn her head to look at her. But if Laura had been emotional, she immediately eliminated that reaction from her face.

“Of course, after a day or two of you being here, the talk between the servants changed.”

Ava clenched her hands into fists. “They spoke, I assume, about the fact that the duke and I had become lovers?”

Laura’s lips thinned. “Yes. That was the general topic.”

Ava’s cheeks burned. The conversation below stairs must have been very vulgar, indeed, for Laura to take that harsh tone.

“But last night, after you spoke to Sanders, after you all but took over the leadership of the footmen as you gathered your oils, the whispers changed.”

Ava’s brow wrinkled. She wouldn’t really consider asking Sanders for his help and arranging for the oils to be brought upstairs as taking over leadership of anyone.

“How did they change?” she asked, fearing the answer.

“Someone said that you were acting like the lady of the house, and they wondered if the duke was changed by your charms. Of course I told them they were being ridiculous!”

Ava squeezed her eyes shut and remained silent as she pondered servant gossip. She supposed she should be grateful Laura had stood up for her, but she couldn’t help being slightly stung that the idea that Christian was softening to her was so ridiculous.

Had
he been changed by her? He had been so warm and kind last night, but this morning, he was back to anger, frustration, pushing her away.

“I doubt I could change the duke, even if I tried,” she finally murmured.

Laura said something just under her breath that Ava thought was something about weakness. She opened her eyes, but the girl was doing nothing but lifting and pinning her hair into place. There was nothing that indicated what she had said or thought.

Ava chose to ignore what she had heard and continued, “I apologize that my being here has put the household in an uproar. If it is any consolation, my stay here will last only a short time more. Perhaps shorter than our original bargain called for, if this morning is any indication.”

Laura’s eyes widened in what was obvious surprise. “He is sending you home?” Ava hesitated, and Laura reached down to cover her hand. “Oh, my lady, you may trust in me. I would not take anything you said to the servants below stairs. I promise you, whatever you say will remain between us.”

Ava sighed. She shouldn’t talk to the help, but Great God, she needed to say some of the things in her heart out loud.

“I don’t know
what
he is doing, Laura. He brought me here out of vengeance. His seductions, his plans, they were all designed to bring pain to my brother. I bargained my innocence to save Liam’s life.”

Laura sucked in a breath. “The duke was willing to make such a trade?”

Ava nodded slowly. “Yes, and to save Liam, I might have promised anything. But things have…changed somehow between us. The passion we share is very real. That I know, if nothing else. And now…now he promises he will no longer pursue Liam, but he wishes me to stay.”

Laura set her brush down abruptly and paced away to the window. She stared outside, her shoulder shaking slightly.

“How could he?” she finally whispered.

Ava pushed to her feet. “Oh please do not judge him harshly, Laura. His actions were shocking, I know, and very ungentlemanly, but the pain he feels over the loss of his sister and the destruction of his body in the accident…it is very raw. He lashes out without thought, but I think there is a good man beneath all the hatred he has been taught and the anger he allows to fester.”

Laura took a few breaths and then slowly turned to face Ava. Her face was blank and hard, her hands shaking ever so slightly.

“Laura, I’m sorry,” Ava said, rushing forward to take one of her cold hands. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or upset you with these topics.”

Laura slowly withdrew her hand from Ava’s and motioned her back to her seat. “It is not your doing, Lady Ava,” the other woman assured her in a tense, strange tone. “I’m certain that if the duke will not handle the situation in the way it should be handled, then someone will.”

Ava blinked. She supposed Laura meant her. That she would break this cycle of hate and ruin.

Only she wasn’t certain she could.

Laura finished a few touches on her hair and then stepped back. “Was there anything else you required?”

“Will you bring me paper and a writing instrument?” Ava asked. “I am to write a letter to my brother today that the duke says I may post. You may ask him if you are uncertain. I would like to write it immediately.”

Laura nodded stiffly. “Yes. I will ensure your letter reaches your brother. If you write it, I shall post it myself.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Laura.”

The maid slipped from the room to find the paper, and Ava sank back against the chair with a sigh. She was trapped between two men who very well could destroy each other…and her in the process. And if Laura was correct that someone else would have to intercede to ensure the correct outcome, that meant her letter to Liam would have to be carefully worded indeed.

Chapter Seventeen

Christian barely glanced up from his work as Ava entered his office, though he was utterly aware of her every breath, her every movement, her every look.

“Have you finished your letter?” he asked, knowing how cold his tone was, forcing it to be frigid so she wouldn’t know how he felt.

She hesitated. “Yes. I gave it to Laura.”

“Good, I’m certain she’ll manage the posting of the item,” he said, glancing up before he returned to a line of figures in the ledger before him.