Page 36 of Forever Her Bachelor

Taking a deep breath, she convinced herself that she was only doing it for his name and nothing else. She would be his wife.

Deep, dark lust filled his amber eyes, piercing her with the depth of need in them awakening long dormant emotions in her.

“Good.” He stood again, reaching his hand out for her. “Would you like to rest a few hours while I rouse the servants to prepare for our journey?”

Swallowing, she took his hand in hers.Warmth, security, home.It was a familiar feeling, one she had not experienced in nine years, one she thought she would never feel again. Clutching Newt in her free arm, she squeezed him to her chest, his soft fur easing her nerves.

She had agreed to marry the Duke of St. Clara, and there would be no turning back.

CHAPTER 11

Dear Kitten,

I don’t know what love feels like but if I did; I think it would feel like this. You’re important to me, and I never want to be without you.

Chauncey,

Always your assistant.

St. Clara could hear nothing but the sound of his own footsteps as he led Pippa through the dark corridors of his home. His grip on the candelabra was near painful. A thick cloud of fog blurred his vision as he took slow, cautionary steps, a caution he forced upon himself to ensure that he did not trip and set the entire house on fire.

Simple tasks like walking seemed impossible after the blow she had delivered him. He would grant her any request, even that of separating from him. Allowing Pippa to live as her own woman would benefit both of them. St. Clara had always planned to wed and deposit whomever he married at one of hismany estates while he lived in Town like a bachelor. Just like his father had before him.

However, he wasn’t his father. The more he learned about the man whom he had blindly loved above everyone else, the more he did not want to be him. Pippa’s request, although exactly what he would have preferred if Florentia Vaughn was his wife, was a direct blow to his rather large ego.

The silver candelabra that had been in his family for centuries shook in his hand as he led her down the dark hall toward his own rooms. It was the only place suitable for her to rest as the remainder of the rooms, including the duchess’s chambers, were threadbare. He had sold most of the furnishings to keep the servants employed until he married. It was the least he could do for those who had served his family for years.

After waking his butler, who happened to be busy entertaining a maid, St. Clara rushed back to Pippa. He found her staring at the portrait of him and his father, her posture stiff, her face pale. When he entered the room, she startled as if she was seeing a ghost.

The creature in her arms purred, bringing St. Clara’s attention to it. He stared at the cat, meeting its gaze, squinting, showing him who was in charge. In response, Newt turned and licked his own fur, ignoring St. Clara completely.

“What did you name this one?” He tilted his head down to the cat, remembering her fondness for the small furry creatures.

He remembered her love for kittens with great clarity. He had torn his breeches while rescuing two of her kittens from up the large tree as a boy. From that moment on, he felt a strange connection to the girl with changeable hazel eyes.

He would do anything for her.

“Newt. It’sNewton, butNewtfits more.” She stroked the gray and white fur, eliciting a purr from the creature.

A feeling of jealousy filled him, and he cursed himself for being jealous of a cat. “Newt, after Sir Isaac Newton, of course,” he said easily, feeling like he did when they were children, young and carefree. “Your father’s favorite.”

Her footsteps faltered, and without thinking, he reached out and grasped her elbow, making sure that she would not fall. His fingers tingled from touching her, and he desperately wanted to glide his hand down her arm to feel her soft skin pebble from his touch.

“Thank you.” She stepped away from him, walking down the hall.

St. Clara swallowed as they approached his suite of rooms. He couldn’t help the images of her that suddenly occupied his mind. Swallowing several times, he tried to ignore the tightening in his breeches at the thought of Pippa bare in his bed: her dark hair tumbled around his pillow, her intoxicating scent driving him mad with desire.

Stopping in front of his bedroom door, St. Clara steadied his hand as he grasped the brass knob. It was cool, bringing comfort to his overheated body. Opening the door, he stepped aside, standing on the threshold, not trusting himself to be alone with her in his chambers with his large, inviting bed.

“Are these your chambers?” Pippa asked, her gaze shifting from him into the dark rooms.

“I’m afraid so. All the other rooms are unfortunately inhabitable.” He could not allow his future wife to walk into a dark room, so he stepped further inside and placed the candelabra on the small table in the center of the room.

He watched her enter his private rooms. Her captivating eyes were a maelstrom of emotion as she took in the large, dark space. Suddenly he was ashamed that as a grown man, he had changed nothing in his own home. Everything was the same as it had been when his father was the duke. St. Clara had never hadthe time nor the funds to decorate. Not changing the decor gave him a connection to his dead father, one that he suddenly wished he had broken.

Apprehension clung to her like a second skin as her shoulders remained stiff. There was a slight touch of fear in her eyes when she’d come barreling into his home, cat clutched to her chest. Now, as she tentatively took small steps around his room, he wanted to do everything in his power to relieve her of whatever was troubling her. St. Clara had never seen her devoid of all emotion and feeling like she had been the moment she stepped into Bennett House.

St. Clara couldn’t quite fathom what was making her act thusly. When they were younger, she’d never visited his home. All their adventures would begin in her laboratory. A slow smile spread across his face at the memories, of sneaking off to Hyde Park to collect rocks and plants. At night, he would sneak out to help her with experiments, or so they could finish a book together. For years, she was his closest companion.