Page 24

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

M argaret was furious as she stormed from the manor and through the back garden. Thanks to the way that Lysander had just treated her, she was literally shaking with anger.

I just dinnae understand him! One minute he cannae keep his hands off me and I ken how much he wants me. The next, he dismisses me as if I am nothing, as if he is embarrassed by me.

Again, she could not help but feel that same lack of control that had existed since this marriage began. She had no agency. No sense of place. Worse still, it was not entirely Lysander’s fault.

What did Margaret want? She wanted Lysander, plain and simple.

Last night still sat firmly in her mind, and it made her body quiver even now, hours after the fact.

His lips on hers. His tongue down her throat.

And his fingers… oh, those fingers! But was that where it ended?

Was that all this marriage would ever be?

She had no idea. Nor did she know if she wanted it to go beyond this.

It was raining as she left the manor, but she did not care.

Although to call it rain felt like an understatement.

The winds howled and gusted, making it hard to walk.

The rain was sharp and cutting, and she was forced to cover her face, but still it stung her eyes.

Lighting cracked through the sky. Thunder rumbled.

Perhaps coming out here was nae such a good idea.

She was upset, however, which is why she had chosen to exit the house and make for the stables. Needing to improve her mood, she figured that a few minutes playing with Spotty would cure her. Plus, she did not like the idea of the poor little puppy being alone as the storm howled above.

When she reached the stable, she realized immediately that something was wrong. The stall where Spotty was being kept was open, and her stomach sank and then dropped out completely even before she came upon the empty stall. Oh nae…

Spotty was gone.

“Spotty!” she cried out, her voice drowned by the rumbling of thunder. “Spotty!”

She rushed through the stables, checking the other stalls, looking between the legs of the horses, ducking around piles of hay and stacked boxes. “Spotty!”

The puppy was nowhere in sight. Her eyes wandered across the stable to a doorway at the back, which swung open off its hinges. Again, her stomach dropped, and she felt like she might be sick.

With little choice, she ran back into the storm and through the garden. “Spotty!” she cried out loudly, over the noise of the rain and the wind. “Spotty! Where are ye!”

It was hard to hear clearly, but she thought she could just make out the sound of yelping.

It was pained and frightened, and she hurried through the garden toward a row of trees.

The rain lashed her. The wind battered. But she pushed on, ignoring the wet and the cold as the sound of the poor puppy crying grew.

“Spotty!” She spied him huddled underneath a tree, shaking. He saw her, his big brown eyes widened with relief, and he sprinted for her, leaping up and into her arms. “There ye are. Oh, what were ye thinkin’!”

She laughed with relief as she held his shivering body close.

He licked her face and yelped, his tail wagging, his big ears flopping about as he shook his head.

“Come on…” She tucked him under her arm.

“Let’s get ye back to…” She trailed off when she looked across the garden, through the howling storm, to see the duke coming for her. “Oh nae…”

“Margaret!” the duke shouted as he strode toward her. He held a hand up to cover his face. “What are you doing out here?” A crack of lightning in the sky drowned him out. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I…” She caught her tongue, no idea what to say. The puppy was tucked under her arm, impossible to hide. “It’s nae what it looks like.”

He came to a stop ten feet away, spying the puppy. His body was drenched, hair hanging limply over his face. But she could see the confusion in his eyes… and then the anger as he put the pieces together. “What is that?”

“I can explain.”

“Explain?” He made for her, and she flinched back. “Whose dog is that?” He pointed at Spotty as if she were clutching a rabid wolf to her breast.

“I…” She considered what to say, thinking to lie to him. Nae… I am sick of lyin’. Sick of constantly worryin’ how he might react. He wants the truth? He can have it. And damn the consequences. “We found him last week!” she shouted over the storm. “Lost and afraid.”

“We?”

“Me and the girls,” she said defiantly. “In the stables. I have been lookin’ after him since.” She held him close to show the duke that she would not be letting him go. “The girls named him Spotty, and I dare say that they have grown rather attached to him.”

The duke groaned and ran a hand through his head. “And you came out here to do what?” A rumble of thunder overhead. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is!”

“And ye care?”

The duke reared back as if struck. Despite how angered she was by him, she could see from the look in his eyes how much her comment had hurt him.

Yes, they had fought. And yes, they were yet to find sound footing.

But that single reaction told her that beyond their mutual attraction, there was a part of him that cared for her.

“I am sorry,” she said.

He shook his head. “Where have you been keeping it?”

“The stables.”

He groaned as he looked past her at the stables. His brow furrowed, and he gritted his teeth. “Inside, Margaret. Follow me.”

“And Spotty?”

“Bring him.” He strode for her, holding up an arm to block out the rain as he came in beside her. But the wind was heavy, the way was slippery, and she almost fell. “What’s wrong!” he called.

“Nae – naething!” she stuttered from the cold.

He stopped and looked at her, biting his lip as he considered. And then, without question, he stepped into her and lifted her body into his arms.

“What are ya doin’!” she cried out in surprise.

“Careful,” he commanded.

Again, Margaret felt her body set alight as she wrapped her arms around his thick neck.

He was so strong. So powerful. But also…

surprisingly caring and gentle. Being in his arms like this brought upon her a familiar sensation deep within her loins, one she had been actively trying to avoid.

Needless to say, it added to the confusion like nothing else.

Still, she could feel the anger in him as he carried her. Or was that worry? Likely, even he wasn’t certain.

But that he had come to find her at all was telling.

Margaret could sense that it was done with a purpose, hopefully to clear the air between them once and for all.

For that reason, she was resolved not to back down, regardless of what happened next.

The end of their marriage or the beginning of it.

Although what that might mean, I haven’t a clue.

They reached the manor, and still nothing was said.

Lysander kept her in his arms as he carried her through the home, up the stairs, and toward her room. Once inside, he hurried forward, placing her gently on the sofa before the hearth before bending down to light it; a fire was quick to catch, burning bright and hot.

“Here…” He said, tending the fire until it burned bright and hot. “You are freezing.”

“I am fine.” Her body was shaking from the cold, but the heat of the fire did much to warm her. She could feel it washing over her body.

He scoffed. “You are so…” He gritted his teeth. “Wait here.” The duke stormed from the room.

Margaret’s heart was racing. Partly from fear of what was to come. Partly from excitement. She did not know what she wanted to say or what the duke might say. But she knew that whatever it was, it would come to define them.

The duke arrived back a moment later, carrying a stack of blankets in his arms. He went for her, quick to unfurl the blankets. About to wrap them around her, he paused and looked her over. “Your clothes,” he said.

“What about them?”

“They are soaking wet.” He bit into his lip as he considered. “Take them off.”

“Wh–what?”

“You will freeze if you do not.” He raised an eyebrow at her, no sense that he would take no for an answer.

Margaret did not know if it was such a good idea to remove her wet clothes… while at the same time knowing that she should. The duke continued to watch her expectantly, again that sense that he would not simply allow her to deny him. He is just being caring. That is all…

“As you say…” Nervously, Margaret rose and began to undo the front of her dress. “Do you…” She hesitated as it loosened. “Do you mind turning around?”

He did so without comment. She watched the back of his head, her skin prickling and already feeling far too warm. Nonetheless, she dropped her wet dress; it fell in a heap at her feet, then she stepped out of it and took the blanket, which she quickly wrapped around her shoulders.

“Ye may turn around now,” she said softly, her words trembling.

“Better?” he asked her.

“Much…” She sat back down, careful to keep the blanket around her naked body. “Thank ye.”

The duke nodded once in satisfaction, only for his expression to suddenly turn toward anger. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” he asked. “All it would have taken was one stray branch to fall, or lightning to… to…” He sighed and took a breath. “I am glad you are not hurt.”

“And Spotty?” she indicated the puppy in her lap. It looked up at the duke as if begging for him to accept it.

The duke’s expression was iron. “You should not have adopted a stray dog without speaking to me first.”

“I was nae aware that I needed permission.”

“Where my daughters are concerned, you always need permission.”

She could not help but scoff. “Ah yes, I should have known. I am but a temporary resident in this house. I should really ken better than to think I can make decisions without asking. Shame on me.”