The Heart of a Duke (10 page)

Elle was feverishly grateful she was already
sitting, for when his mouth left hers to nibble along the delicate
rim of her ear, she surely would have fallen into a heap on the
floor. A small sound of shocked pleasure escaped her as his free
hand drifted up to ghost over one of her breasts, the tip of it
tightening at his light touch.

Jacob jerked back, his hands leaving her
person so quickly his fingers almost became entangled in her hair.
He leapt from his seat next to her on the bed to pace the room, his
back to her, shoulders rigid and tight.

"That should not have happened."

Elle's stomach twisted. "I'm not sorry it
did."

He stilled. "Are you not?"

"Not at all. It showed me that I'm correct to
wait for a marriage with passion." She strove to sound unaffected,
despite the frantic patter of her pulse in her throat. "How boring
it would be without it, now that I know there is more."

His eyes flashed in the dim light of the fire
as he slowly turned on his heel to look at her.

"And of course, I want love as well," she
added hastily, fingers pleating the material of her nightdress, the
heated look he was giving her sending shivers racing over her skin.
"I want to be in love with my future husband. Whomever he might
be."

For a moment, Jacob stood still, then he
inclined his head, his expression shuttering. "Of
course."

Her throat burned, as she sent him a smile
steeped in serenity.

Despite the attraction between
them, it was more than clear he had no intention of pursuing
anything more meaningful. It was silly to think one kiss might
change his mind.
Not
that she wanted him to do such a thing. No, she had no use
for another high-handed, arrogant man. She had just shed herself of
one, and had no desire to acquire another in his place.

If she kept telling herself that, perhaps
she'd even believe it after a time.

Not seeming to notice he was still
in
her
rented
room, Jacob stripped off his coat, throwing it on the floor in
front of the fire.

"What are you doing?"

"Elle, Elle, Elle." Settling on the floor, he
crossed his arms under his head, long legs stretched out in front
of him, and closed his eyes. The light from the fireplace played
with his hair, gilding him until he resembled a Titan of legend,
all flame and gold. "I've already told you. I'm not letting you out
of my sight again."

She might wish that he chose to fight for her
cause as strenuously as he had for Langley's servants. He had
always been a man who took up the causes of those less able to
defend themselves. However, he did not seem to feel she needed such
defense or championing.

Elle crawled under the blanket on her bed,
disappointment choking back any reply she would have
made.

He didn't care about her or what she
wanted.

Their kiss had most likely been a product of
empty passion, and proximity. He had said himself, he thought it a
mistake.

Jacob was going to take her back to Brookdale,
and Papa would force her to marry the duke. She had hoped that her
grandfather would allow her amnesty in Scotland. That he would
fight for her right to choose for herself.

Elle huddled under the covers, staring through
the open window at the sliver of moon visible in the night sky. The
small, wavering flame of hope in her heart that had survived years
of benign neglect by her betrothed, months of wedding preparation
for a marriage to a man who would never love her and days of hard,
desperate travel, flickered once more... and went out.

Chapter Seven

Elle tied her bonnet ribbons under her chin as
her trunk was carried from the room. Her fingers felt clumsy and
slow. The bow she tied was lopsided and drooping, but how could she
muster interest in her appearance when despair sat upon her so
heavily?

She sighed, looking around at the empty room,
reluctant to follow her luggage down the stairs of the
inn.

"Are you ready?" Jacob stood in the doorway
watching her, his gaze unreadable.

While she felt every moment of her sleepless
night, he looked quite rested. No one would be able to tell by his
perfectly tied cravat and spotless coat that he had made his bed on
the rough pine floor in front of the fire. He must have risen early
to wash, after she had finally drifted off to sleep in the wee
hours of the night. Even his bright, wavy hair was combed into
ruthless submission.

"I suppose."

Elle walked through the doorway, careful not
to brush against him. Though she had convinced herself the previous
evening's encounter had been produced by exhaustion and a momentary
lapse of good judgment, she was not eager to test her theory. She
could feel his eyes on her back the entire way down to the common
room, but he held his peace.

"Lady Farrish!" The innkeeper appeared at her
elbow, startling Elle. His polite demeanor was such a change from
the day before that for a moment she just stared at him,
nonplussed. Then he shifted his gaze over her shoulder, his posture
becoming even straighter. "My lord. Please excuse me for not being
here to greet you last night, but when my stable lad informed me of
your arrival, we set up a lovely breakfast for you and your wife.
Right this way."

As the innkeeper led the way to a
private parlor, Jacob raised an eyebrow at her.
"
Lady
Farrish
? Interesting choice, as we
are not married, nor am I a lord."

Heat infused Elle's cheeks and she refused to
meet his eyes.

"It had seemed safe yesterday, since he would
not accept me as an unmarried woman," she whispered back, her
fingers clenching the material of her skirts. She had never thought
to see Jacob again after leaving the duke's estate, and taking his
name to strengthen her fabrication seemed harmless enough at the
time.

Now it felt as childish, and mortifying, as if
he had caught her carving their initials together on the trunk of a
tree.

The innkeeper left them in the small parlor,
closing the door as he retreated. Elle headed straight to the
sideboard and began to fill her plate in an attempt to discourage
any more questions, but she should have known better. The barrister
in him would never allow him to leave it alone.

"Why Farrish? Why not Langley?"
Jacob didn't seem too annoyed by her appropriation of his surname.
He wasn't even amused. If she had to say, Elle would name his mood
more
puzzled
than
anything else. "You could have been a duchess and stayed in a much
nicer suite of rooms, I'd warrant."

She set her plate down with a
thump on the small table by the window, her toast sliding off to
land on the wood surface, frustration bubbling within her. "I don't
want to be a duchess. I would rather be a Mrs. Farrish than Her
Grace, Lady Langley, if it would mean I was
loved!
"

When he went perfectly still, Elle realized
what she had said. She hadn't thought things could get worse, but
her skin now prickled with embarrassment. Any more of this and
she'd just throw herself from a cliff, solving everyone's troubles
in one fell swoop.

"For example, I mean," she muttered,
collapsing into her chair and taking a large bite of her wayward
toast. Perhaps if she kept her mouth full, she would stop making a
fool of herself.

Though she would not look up again, Elle heard
Jacob's chair creak as he settled down across from her. He was
silent as he slathered butter on his toast and stirred milk into
his tea. She was itching to know what he was thinking, but refused
to ask. She was sure it wouldn't be anything complimentary.
Suddenly exhausted, Elle almost wished they were already back at
the duke's estate.

At least then this would all be over
with.

"Why did you never tell your father how you
felt about marrying Langley?”

Elle looked up at his soft question to find
him watching her.

"You don't know Papa well, or you
wouldn't have to ask me that. He would never have listened, even if
I had tried. But to be truthful, I didn't realize precisely how
unhappy I
was
until the night before leaving London for Brookdale." Setting
down her fork, Elle rubbed her lips together, still unhappy at the
memory of Langley’s dismissal at the Hastings’ ball and his
aloofness during the house party. "Well, let's just say no one's
world has been set aflame. Still, I think I might have gone through
with the wedding if it wasn't for our little chat in his study the
other evening."

Jacob said nothing, watching her with a steady
gaze.

She drew a sharp breath in through
her nose, refusing to loosen her iron grip on the tears that
threatened. "He will never
see
me, never bother to know me. Once I allowed
myself to acknowledge that, I couldn't bear the thought of
it."

She picked up her fork again, giving a half
shrug of self-consciousness and scooped up a bit of egg. "It sounds
very dramatic, but I assure you if you faced the same situation,
you would feel as desperate."

"I don't find it dramatic at all." When Elle
looked up in surprise, he gave a small shrug of his own. "I've
found myself in the unenviable position of admiring a woman who
looks right past me most days. I assure you, I can understand your
feeling of desperation."

The news that Jacob was in love almost had her
knocking over her tea. He couldn’t possibly mean with her, could
he? If so, why would he return her to Langley? She banished the
thought as quickly as it came. Jacob must be teasing her again. He
was wholly focused on his position as a barrister, and if he made
time for female companionship, it would not be the lasting
sort.

With his bright hair and the abundance of
freckles scattered across his skin, one might call him boyishly
handsome, if it wasn't for his leanly muscled frame and broad
shoulders. The way Jacob's shirt draped loosely over the sleek
muscles of his chest and arms caused such a stutter in her pulse
that she worried.

Elle leaned back in her chair, wishing the
windows were open. A cool breeze would be very welcome.

"Are you well?" Jacob was looking at her with
concern. "You're flushed."

She cleared her throat, willing her blush to
fade. "As well as I can be, circumstances
notwithstanding."

"I've been thinking." He set down his
silverware, lining them up precisely with the edge of the table.
There was a hesitancy to his manner that hadn't been there a moment
ago. "Since we are so close to your grandfather's home, it would be
foolish not to stop there to restock our provisions before
attempting the trip back to Brookdale. You can visit for an
evening, though I regret to say we can't linger any longer than
that. Does that agree with you?"

Hope welled up within her, and she laced her
fingers together on her lap, lest he see the slight shaking of her
hands. "Yes, of course. It's entirely the sensible thing to
do."

"I knew you'd see it that way." His smile was
faint as he stood up from the table. "I'll give you a few moments
to compose yourself, but then we should get back on the road. There
is still quite a drive ahead of us."

Elle murmured her agreement, her thoughts
racing. Once at Grandfather's, she would appeal to familial ties
and beg him not to send her back to Brookdale. He would allow her
to stay, of course he would. Jacob would have no choice but to
leave her behind when he travelled home to England.

Ignoring the raw ache of loss in her throat,
Elle hurried out of the parlor to board the carriage that would
take her to her new life.

Chapter Eight

Jacob silently called himself a fool for the
hundredth time since he had looked at Elle's strained, white face
over breakfast and heard his own voice announcing that he would
take her to her grandfather's home instead of back to his cousin.
He had told her it would be an overnight stay only, but he was an
intelligent man.

As soon as they arrived, she would throw
herself on her grandfather's mercy. Jacob could only hope the old
man would allow her to stay, granting her at least a slim chance at
happiness.

Jacob would travel back to England alone, to
face her irate parents and his cousin. He did not look forward to
it.

Once word got out he had helped the Duke of
Langley's future wife break their betrothal, his career would be
finished before it even truly began. Any chance of winning support
in his pursuit of an appointment to the Royal Court had vanished
into the cool, Scottish Highlands air the moment he announced their
revised travel itinerary.

And yet, what could he have done?

It went against everything he had
ever believed about justice and improving the human condition to be
a part of forcing the lady into a marriage she did not want. The
act would haunt him the rest of his life, most especially whenever
he had to sit through dinner at his cousin's home pinned to his
chair by silently reproachful blue eyes.
Her
eyes.