Page 7 of Master of Games (The Duke Fraternity #4)

CHAPTER SIX

Tabbie trembled, gripping Ironheart’s hand.

He was last person she’d expected to be exercising her demons. But here he was, lacing his fingers through hers, his arm brushing her shoulder as he murmured soft words of encouragement.

For a moment she wondered who this man was…surely not the same rake who only wished for one thing from a woman.

She shook her head. She’d be a fool to trust him. He would say whatever was necessary to get what he wanted from her.

But what he claimed to want was her hand in marriage…

Which was ridiculous. He could have the most perfectly beautiful woman in all of England. He could not seriously want her.

But she shook those thoughts aside as they crossed the sweeping lawns to the tea house.

The workers were hard at work rebuilding the structure.

It had been too painful to repair at first and so for the past few summers, Tabbie and her father had stared at the burned-out shell.

Her father inevitably found an excuse to return to London. Tabbie couldn’t blame him. But for herself, she had to live in the remains, dwell in the past and how her life had irrevocably changed.

“What happened?” Caden asked next to her, pulling her even closer to his side.

She stopped, watching as the workers laid the tiles of slate on the roof.

“Kitchen fire. My mother was lounging in the front of the tea house, watching a storm move in across the water. Of note, it was that storm that put out the flames a few hours later.” Pain closed her throat, tightened her chest. She’d never said these words out loud, though they’d echoed in her head a million times.

“Tabbie,” he whispered, using his good arm to pull her against his chest.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, drawing strength from his body. “I saw the flames from the library,” she whispered. “I knew she’d gone to the tea house for her afternoon tea.”

His arm tightened. “You weren’t there? When the fire happened?”

She shook her head. “The staff was busy attempting to put out the flames, they didn’t warn her until it was too late.”

She felt the shudder of his body against hers, but she was too lost in the memories now, the words crowding her mouth.

How had she not realized she’d needed to say them for so long? That they’d been fighting to get out? “When I saw the fire, I didn’t think, I just ran.”

“You tried to save her?” he asked quietly, his palm splayed out on the small of her back.

“I did, but the fire raged out of control so quickly and I was too slow. The door had melted off its hinges and I burst through it screaming her name.”

Another shudder passed through him. Or maybe that was her. “Did you race into the flames?”

“You give me too much credit.” She shook her head.

“I’ve never given you enough.”

She looked up at him then, his features twisted in pain. “That’s not true. I think you have given me more than any man I’ve met.” The truth of those words settled over her and for the first time she acknowledged how he was more than she’d given him credit for.

“It still wasn’t enough,” he answered hoarsely. “Now tell me what happened next.”

She shook her head. “It’s so awful. I shouldn’t burden you with the memories that torture me.”

“Of course you should. I’m rather tolerant of pain. It’s one thing I can give you.”

She drew in a ragged breath. “I couldn’t see her through the flames, she didn’t answer my calls. But the smoke, it filled my lungs and then I collapsed. It was John, the footman, who pulled me out, but by then…” She didn’t finish, not needing to explain that she’d been burned.

Or maybe those words were still too painful.

“I failed, Ironheart. I didn’t save her.” She shook her head. “I didn’t save myself either.”

“Don’t think of it like that,” he replied, but his words held a certain slur that pulled her from her memories. His face was ashen.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a bit dizzy,” he answered, his weight leaning more heavily into hers. “Perhaps I should sit for a minute.”

“There’s a bench over here in the shade of the willow.” She moved to prop her shoulder in his armpit and directed him toward the arched branches.

* * *

Tabbie helped him onto the bench and he cursed himself. He was supposed to be helping her. Instead, in her Tabbie way, she was once again supporting him.

He ought not to come out here. He knew it. After two days of bleeding and riding, his body needed some rest.

But she’d been ready to share and if teasing and flirting weren’t going to help, an emotional connection was the next choice in his campaign to win Tabbie’s hand.

But he also felt this urgency to convince Tabbie they should marry.

Perhaps it was the fact that Whitehouse was breathing down his neck that pushed him to make changes.

And now that Whitehouse had attempted to shoot him, Caden would have to return post haste and see the man to prison and the gallows.

Whitehouse had never been a greater threat, and if he wanted a long future, the man needed to be dealt with the moment he was able.

Tabbie placed a hand on his forehead, checking him for fever. Looking down at the concern in her eyes, he knew Whitehouse wasn’t the entire reason he was pressing forward.

For the first time in his adult life, he’d found a different direction forward.

One that did not involve drunkenness, debauchery, and a disregard for himself and others. With a woman like Tabbie, he could be different.

And just maybe, he could like himself.

He’d seen Tabbie face down the women who were awful to her. She’d held her chin high and fought with the strength of a general. They’d tried to tease her about her scars, shame her. She’d not even batted an eye.

He could be her soldier. The man who put her in a position so great, those men and women wouldn’t dare. He could crack the heads of the few who did.

But he wasn’t certain he could be his best self without her.

And it made him frantic to make her his wife. But he forced himself to relax.

No plan ever succeeded with that kind of desperate energy. If there was one skill he’d learned it was to feign disinterest.

Not that he could feign anything in this moment. One, his head swam from his exhaustion.

But two, he’d heard Tabbie’s story. She’d rushed to her mother’s aid without a single regard to her personal welfare.

That was a woman who knew how to love with her whole heart. Could she teach him?

He leaned into her, catching her scent, wild rose that mingled with the scent of the ocean to create the perfect mix. She smelled of natural abandon and feminine grace. He’d like to make love to her in the rain, while the ocean roared.

Tabbie did almost everything in her life with strength and passion. He already knew that making love to her would be better than anything he’d ever known.

Not that he was capable in this moment of doing anything but hunching closer, burying his nose into the crook of her neck.

“I should retrieve a few footmen to help—”

“I’ll be fine in a moment,” he murmured into her skin. “I just need a rest.”

“You should be in bed.”

“You’re right,” he answered, his lips grazing her skin. She tasted delicious. A lovely combination of sweet and the slight salt of skin that drove him wild and made him forget that he’d been near collapsing a few moments before. “Care to join me?”

“Ironheart!”

“Caden,” he smiled into her skin. “And we can leave our clothes on. I’ll simply sleep better with your heat and I know you’re tired too.”

“That’s a dangerous proposition,” she whispered back.

“Why? Your reputation?”

He felt the flutter of her breathing, the way her pulse skipped. “I don’t do casual relationships, Caden. I’m not certain I’d even know how.”

“Thank the saints for that,” he answered, without much thought. He wished he’d never learned how and he didn’t intend to participate in them any longer. They degraded the soul even as they satiated the body.

“What does that mean?” she asked, pulling away.

He sighed, wanting to continue to nuzzle her skin. “I regret much, and that might be the largest among them.”

She gasped, her eyes going wide. “Are you attempting to tell me that you’ve changed, that you’re no longer a rake?”

“I quit women when I quit drinking.”

Her mouth fell open. “But…”

“I’m ready to return to the house. Will you help me?” he asked. He had every intention of keeping her body pressed to his. And then he’d like to nap with her, curling her body in the curve of his.

“Of course.” She placed herself under his arm, allowing him to lean his weight on her. Imagine if anyone had ever done that for him when he’d been small and vulnerable.

“Did I tell you the origin of my given name?”

“No,” she replied, huffing a little breath at the exertion of carrying his weight.

“It’s the name of one of my mother’s many lovers.”

Tabbie stopped, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Caden.”

“I like my given name better, because it is, at least, honest. I have never been an Ironheart.” He didn’t add that his mother was the one who taught him that to punish his father, debauchery was the best weapon.

Tabbie didn’t need to hear all that today. He’d said enough. If she were going to share the worst moments of her life, then he’d share his too.

Because his Tabbie might be strong, but she was also lonely. And that was an ailment he could cure.

She was going to resist. He knew that.

But instead of being frantic, he was going to do what he always did. Enjoy the chase.