The Unclaimed Duchess (6 page)

He winced, as if what she said hurt him, but he didn't respond. She wasn't sure if he was quiet to allow her to speak or if she had simply struck him dumb with her confession.

“The heart feels what it feels, Rhys,” she whispered. “And mine has loved you since I was a child, almost as long as I can remember.”

Rhys's eyes squeezed shut and his mouth twisted. “Please don't say these things.”

“Why?” she asked, her dull tone not reflective of how much it hurt when he was tearing her heart out
with his cold dismissal of everything she had ever felt for him. “Because you never allow such emotions to touch you? Because you shun love as much as you do anger and pain? Because something has now happened to make you feel those things and it—”

“No!” He grabbed for her, catching her upper arms in a powerful grip. She stared up into his face, wild with desperation and all the things she had accused him of avoiding. “Because I
can't
, damn you. You don't understand, but I'm trying to protect you.”

She shrugged away, pushing from his arms. “You always say that, as if you somehow know best. But you don't. What you don't understand is that I don't want your protection, Rhys. I want something far deeper, far more meaningful than that.”

He stared at her, unspeaking for close to a full minute. Then he turned on his heel and left the cottage. Left her. Again.

R
hys crouched down on the beach, letting the sand push between his naked toes as angry waves crept toward him, moving closer with each crash. He wished he was capable of expressing his own anger with such loud clarity.

Because Rhys
was
angry, and he was angry with Anne. Why did she have to love him? More to the point, why the hell had she felt compelled to confess her feelings? His entire life was already ravaged. He had gone from understanding what he was and what his future would hold to having nothing but uncertainty all around him.

In the midst of that confusion, in the middle of this hell, the last thing he wanted was Anne's love. That kind of emotion was too powerful. Too dangerous. He just wanted to pack it away, along with every other feeling he could no longer control. He didn't need these things.

“Hello.”

Rhys stiffened at the sound of Anne's voice, soft behind him. It had been nearly an hour since he stormed from the house and he thought perhaps she finally understood he wanted peace. Apparently not.

Slowly he straightened up and turned to find her standing at the base of the path, her slippers and stockings in hand. She had rebound her hair, but it was looser now, not as impeccably coiffed as it normally was. He supposed that made sense. There was no servant here to fuss over her, so Anne had made do on her own.

The softer style suited her, for she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her. Oh, she had always been beautiful, but now Rhys saw her…
truly
saw her, and realized it was perhaps for the first time. Anne had never been anything to him but an accessory to his future. At times she had been a distraction, but he had managed to squelch those feelings when they made themselves known.

This afternoon there would be none of that. Now he couldn't help but see the softness in her eyes, a kindness and a gentleness that had always made her so well-liked by the
ton
at large.

Yet beyond that, there was also strength, something deeper than most possessed. After all, Anne had come here after him, faced off with him, and
never once backed down, even when he hurt her and probably frightened her. She had even been willing to save his very life when she believed he was about to throw himself off the cliffs in desperation.

And then there was the passion. The dark green-blue of her stare had always been pretty enough, but Rhys had never recognized one key aspect that Anne held there. Passion.

She might not show it in ballrooms, she might not know or fully understand it, but when she had come screaming down the hill to save him, when she had reeled back and slapped him after he hurt her, when he had kissed her in the cottage, and above all when she had confessed her love for him…Rhys had felt Anne's deep and abiding passion. All these years he had judged her as the kind of woman who didn't allow deep feelings to trouble her. But instead she had merely been masking them.

He understood something about that. And now, as he stood looking at her on the sandy beach, he wondered how he had been so blind as to not see these things in all the years they had spent betrothed.

“R-Rhys?” she whispered.

He blinked, shoving away his thoughts. “Hello,” he finally responded. “I thought you might have gone, after all.”

She shrugged one shoulder, but he could see she was
biting her tongue to keep herself from arguing about her departure once more. Instead she said, “When I came out of the cottage, I noticed the driver had left my bag when he departed. I hadn't even noticed.”

Rhys blinked. Normally he was observant, but he hadn't noticed, either, so distracted had he been by both arguing with and desiring Anne.

“At any rate, I took it in and unpacked it.”

He stared. “Yourself?”

Her gaze settled firmly on his. “Yes, Rhys. I'm not so incapable that I couldn't put a few things into a drawer. But when you didn't return by the time I had finished, I thought to look for you.”

He nodded, awkward and unable to think of a good answer now that he was standing here with her, this woman who loved him. He hadn't even known that, so he wondered what other things she had kept to herself over the years. Did he know Anne at all?

She paced past him to the edge of the water. Lifting her skirt just a fraction, she allowed a wave to splash over her bare feet. Rhys swallowed at the glimpse of her bare toes, her ankle, a little calf.

“It's beautiful here,” Anne finally said after it seemed like the uncomfortable silence would last a lifetime.

He nodded.
That
, at least, was a subject he could address.

“My mother used to bring us here every summer for a week. She said every child, no matter their rank, deserved to run free for a little while.”

He shut his eyes. He could so clearly picture his normally staid mother running down the shore, laughing and playing with him and his sisters.

But now his image of her was tainted. Had
she
run wild here? Was this where he had been conceived, or some other place where she went to escape her husband? And had she had a tryst only with Simon's father or were there other men?

Great God, what her indiscretion had wrought. For him, but also for herself and for his sisters, when and if this
thing
came out into the open, they would all be punished for her shocking lack of control.

“What about your father?” Anne asked, coming closer to his thoughts than she likely knew.

“My father…” He hesitated. “The Duke of Waverly didn't accompany us.”

“Never?” she asked with surprise in her tone.

Rhys shook his head. “He disapproved of the ‘savage' surroundings and said that this little place was beneath us, but my mother insisted. He allowed it for a time, but when I was thirteen it ended abruptly.”

He remembered the day his mother had told him he could no longer go to this place. She had been crying,
he thought. And after that, she laughed even less, but he had never put much thought into her happiness or lack thereof. Now he wondered about it, about her, even as he burned in anger and betrayal toward her.

“Why did it end?” Anne asked, turning toward him with empathy in her eyes. Not pity, for he hated that, but something else.

“We came home that year and I was talking foolishness about making friends with some of the village children, perhaps even inviting them to one of our estates some year.” Rhys shrugged. “The duke had never supported the idea of me coming here. He didn't like it that I consorted with children who had no rank and believed that my wild behavior was below my station.”

Anne's brow wrinkled. “Didn't it matter to him that you had a little happiness here?”

Rhys's shoulders stiffened. He had confessed that fact to only one person. It seemed Simon had felt compelled to share it with Anne. The idea that she had such a glimpse into the weaknesses he had been taught to hide was troubling.

“Happiness is irrelevant. The duke was correct. At thirteen, I wasn't a boy anymore. It was high time to forget such foolish notions and begin to truly prepare myself for the future my father saw for me.”

Anne's gaze dropped and she slowly turned to look
at the ocean again. “How sad your father thought joy was a foolish notion. And sadder still that he convinced you his opinion was gospel.”

Rhys didn't respond, but instead stepped a fraction closer and looked out with her over the water. The afternoon was waning now, beginning to cast a faintly orange glow over the waves in the distance. They were quiet for a long moment, but unlike when she first came to the water's edge, there was nothing uncomfortable about it.

When some time had passed, Rhys looked down at her. “I'm not trying to hurt you. It was never my intention.”

She didn't look at him. In fact, she hardly reacted to his statement at all, just continued to look out to sea. Finally she nodded.

“I know that. In fact, it's obvious from simply looking at you that
you
are the one who is hurt. Deeply enough that you would run away not just from me but from everything important in your life. And it says something that when you ran, you came to a place where you were happy almost twenty years ago. Where you weren't stifled by the ideals of rank and propriety that were so important to your father that he would crush any other instinct you might have once had.”

Rhys frowned. That was actually a remarkably
good assessment of what was happening here, especially coming from a woman who wasn't fully aware of the entire situation. Was he so easy to read?

Slowly she turned toward him and lifted her face to his. Her hand fluttered at her side, almost like she wanted to touch him, but held back. He found himself wishing she would cup his cheek or take his hand, but then he pushed those desires away. This was what heightened and unchecked emotion did, it made one imprudent.

“Rhys,” she said quietly. “No matter what you feel about it now, I'm still your wife. Clearly something has happened that has driven you to these uncharacteristic actions. Perhaps I could help you.”

All the anger she'd expressed upon her arrival was gone, though he suspected much of it lurked beneath the surface. Still, in the strength of her face and the flash in her eyes, her passion and the love he did not want remained. If she had once hidden her heart to protect herself or to make him more comfortable, those days were over.

He shook his head. “I can't tell you why I'm here, Anne. Or why I left.”

She nodded slowly. “Then don't. But allow me to stay. Let me be with you while you do whatever it is you came here to do. Perhaps you'll change your mind about revealing the truth to me, but perhaps
you won't. Either way, I want to be here for you.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. Since his arrival, he had hardly slept, and now this war with Anne had sapped almost all his remaining energy. The idea of fighting with her for the next few days about staying or going wasn't a pleasant one.

And truth be told, the thought of having her here with him…well, it wasn't as
unpleasant
as he might have thought. As long as he didn't reveal his secret or make love to her and risk creating a child, perhaps there was little harm in her staying.

“Fine,” he said softly.

Anne's face lit up with a smile, and Rhys stared at the expression for a moment. When she looked at him like that, he could almost forget his own misery. He could almost see how making her smile could be a man's life pursuit. Some other man. Not him.

He shook his head. “But if I allow you to stay with me, you must obey me from here on out, Anne.”

Her bright smile faded to a more controlled one and she nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, Rhys. That was one of my vows, after all, and I take my vows very seriously.”

 

Anne restlessly stirred the fire and looked around the cottage once more. She was alone, Rhys had gone
to “take care of an errand.” Her initial response was to chase after him, but she resisted. He had only just agreed to let her stay; she had to remain calm if she wanted to slowly gain his trust…and perhaps, one day, his heart.

Still, she couldn't help but fear he would run away again, and this time perhaps to a place where no one could find him. But every time she stared out the window, she could see his horse moving about the paddock in the distance. Wherever Rhys had gone, he had walked, so there was little chance he could find means of escape tonight.

She sighed as she picked up a wrinkled shirt and moved it to a hamper in the corner of the room. For a man who was usually so refined, Rhys had been a bit of a mess since his arrival here, and his cottage reflected that. She wasn't certain if that was a symptom of his upset or just about the fact that he didn't often tend to himself, just as she didn't.

She smoothed the bed's cool coverlet. Despite its small size and current state of disarray, the cottage was a comfortable place. Cozy and homey.

“Still, it's odd that you loved it here,” she mused aloud as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “It's so different from the life you live in London, from the man you have become there.”

She heard a swift, certain step outside and scram
bled to her feet with a blush. The door opened and Rhys stepped into the room. He had forgone his jacket, leaving him only in a linen shirt tucked lazily into black trousers. The first two buttons were open, leaving a glimpse of his chest and making her think of that moment earlier in the day when his naked body had pinned her down. He held a big basket under one arm as he swung the door shut behind him.

“Food,” he said, and his voice was rough.

She shook her thoughts away and stepped forward to take the basket he offered.

“Goodness,” she murmured as she carried it to the plain wooden table through the open door in the other room. “It's quite heavy.”

He nodded. “That's why I was gone so long. There is a woman in the village who has been cooking for me. Normally someone from the family brings me a late supper, but I wanted to be certain you had enough to eat after your trying journey. When they heard my wife had joined me…well, the family went into a state to prepare something extra special.”

Anne lifted her gaze from the fragrant basket that had been slowly seducing her with its succulent choices. She found a small but amused smile unlike anything she had ever seen on Rhys's face.

“You like them, the family you visited,” she said as she returned her attention to the basket before her.
She unloaded item after item onto the plates that had been sent along with the food.

“Don't be silly,” Rhys protested as he moved forward and took a place at the small table. “They're pleasant, of course, but peasants. I played with their eldest son as a child, but things are different now.”

Anne glanced at him as she took her place, but said nothing. This was the second time he had mentioned friendships he'd shared with village children. And though he dismissed them now as foolish, it was clear they had once meant a great deal to him.