Page 17 of The Duke’s Goddess (Duke Dare #2)

“I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.”

—Joan of Arc

JOAN COULDN’T SWALLOW WITH the dryness in her throat. Lord Tamely lay flat on the terrace while James was shaking out his hand after his right hook to the man’s jaw.

Everything around her was spinning. The man on his back. The man in front of her. Turning. Slowly. There were two of James. Why were they two? Darkness was creeping in from the sides and from up above.

And as the world swirled before her, his words churned in her mind. Like hell, she isn’t. She wasn’t his to protect, yet he had claimed her. But he was a rake. An ever-darkening rake.

“Joan?” his rakish voice sounded fuzzy. “Joan.” Wait. That one sounded panicky.

Darkness.

Only darkness.

“Joan?” It was little more than a whisper this time. She shifted her heavy limbs.

Unsure of how much time had passed between her swooning and her resting snuggly in his arms, she gradually opened her eyes. He was sitting with his back against the balustrade and her head was cradled against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her, one around her back and one pressed gently against the side of her head, keeping her in place.

When her eyes finally cleared and she could see his face, she was greeted by something she hadn’t really seen in his eyes. Concern. He was staring back at her as if she mattered. To him. Of course it only mattered that she hadn’t been hurt. She had just swooned, after all.

“Are you all right?” But even his voice was laden with alarm.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, not sure that she believed the words herself. Her body felt like a sack of sand. It was hard to move, and she didn’t really want to move. Resting against his chest, she felt cozy wrapped in his cologne marked with traces of spice and something distinctly James.

“You can rest here as long as you need,” he said gently as his hand brushed along her hair. It was exactly what she wanted to hear. She started to relax, and warm, as he soothed her with his hand. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to revel in the touch of his fingers slowly tracing her ear, her jaw, down her neck, and back up to her hair.

“So you’re not just a rake then, are you James?” It was time to confront him on the airs he put up.

“It’s what everyone knows about me. It’s what I am.”

She reached up a finger to his jaw, trailing along the short stubble. “I don’t think that’s all you are. There’s more to you. I have seen it.”

“Perhaps,” was all he said. But she saw how his mouth curled up and his eyes softened before she closed her eyes again and laid her head back against his beating heart. A heart she knew. A heart she was sure she had fallen for.

And she was almost perfectly relaxed when her name, uttered on more than one tongue and with varying tones, rang out into the darkness.

She bolted upright, but in her frenzy, her elbow connected with the member between his legs. James shot forward to cradle himself and wrapped her up closer to his chest to make room for his hand to cup himself between his legs.

Terrified to look up and determine who discovered them in this compromising situation, Joan slowly turned her head.

Her two sisters stood front and center. Nobi’s hand was covering her mouth. Mimi was grinning to the high heavens.

And if it had only been those two, Joan would have sighed in relief. Her sisters could catch her in the most scandalous of situations and still be trusted not to gossip.

Alas, it was not just her sisters standing there. Flanking them were Countess Linsgate and her daughter, Simone. Both women who could be counted on to spread all shapes and sizes of gossip.

This was not good. This was not even a little all right. This was completely and utterly disastrous.

“I can explain,” Joan rushed to say. But then she stopped, realizing she had no explanation for what their eyes were taking in. Lord Tamely lay on the ground a few yards away from them, still out cold. And she was canoodling in James’s lap. How could she explain this? She could not.

James’s body had stiffened slightly, but his head was resting against the column and his hand was still brushing along her skin, down her upper arm. She only wished the soft strokes were as soothing as before.

His tone was cavalier when he spoke. “Good news ladies. I have heard from the Earl of Dalhone. Joan and I are to be married.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no. This was even more horrendous than utterly disastrous. She knew what he was doing. He was caught in this situation, and he was too much of a gentleman to let her ruin herself. He was going to ask her father to marry her. Even though he was speaking in the past tense, obviously he hadn’t already made the request to her father. He was just trying to make it look like less of a scandal than it was.

James gently lifted her off of his lap and rose to stand, offering his hand to her in the process. She stood by his side, hand in hand.

“May I present my betrothed?” James announced to the stunned witnesses.

“What happened to Lord Tamely?” Mimi asked about the now-groaning man. Ostensibly all five women were too shocked to reply directly to the proclamation. James had never been considered an eligible bachelor.

“Ah yes…” James scratched his chin. “He didn’t realize she was already mine. So I made sure he knew.”

Joan’s head was swirling again. She thought she might swoon for a second time. Instead, she gripped James’s forearm, looking for something solid to stabilize herself. She was already his? She knew he was just saying that. It was a story. It was a hefty bounder if there ever was one, yet her heart flipped at the words. And then, just as quickly as it had flipped, it flopped back down. She needed to get a hold of herself. Get this situation under control. Rein in her emotions. Quiet the threats around her.

And if her heart wasn’t thumping so loudly in her chest, and her ears weren’t roaring with sound, she might be able to play along with James’s plan. They could fake an engagement and then call it off later. But her heart…that persistently traitorous organ…it would not be silenced. If this had happened a few days ago, she might have agreed to this plan. But not now. Not after they had schemed together—and successfully, at that. Not after they had kissed. Shared about themselves and their pasts. Not after she had rescued him. And come to think of it, not after he had sacrificed himself and rescued her from the sinking boat. No. Not after all that. It was too much. Her heart was in it. Flip-flipping all over the place. For him.

She wouldn’t take him like this. Forced.

She couldn’t pretend something now. She wouldn’t. Not for him. Not for anyone. Joan was always the one to go along to get along. She never rocked the boat, and she always lived cautiously. Then James had entered her life and taught her that some recklessness added spice to her life, and she was enjoying it. Well, she wanted to live her life for herself. Not as a caged animal, chained to someone for life because of a silly misunderstanding.

She would not accept a pity proposal. Nor would she accede to a life that would lead to a resentful husband. No. Her future was hers alone. Even if she had to live it that way…unmarried. She knew this scandal could cost her a husband, permanently. But she would always have her sisters. She would not yield to this decision.

So she did something that she would have never predicted, knowing how hurtful it would be. She forced herself to produce a small chuckle. It sounded contrived to herself, she could only hope that it sounded real to everyone else. After the chuckle, she took a step to the side. “He jests.” She swatted his arm for good measure. “He’s a notorious rake. He knows nothing of love. I could never marry him.”

And then, she saw it. She hadn’t meant to catch his eye because she was terrified of what she might find there, but she caught it all the same. A flicker of pain. Disbelief. Anger. But it was a whisper riding atop the wind because then it was gone. Vanished into the night.

And so were any hopes she had of knowing him better. Perhaps knowing him at all.

The loss of that potential future almost broke her. She almost reached out to take his hand and retract her words saying, I’m the one who jests. Of course I’ll marry you.

Her eyes slipped to his chest. Watched his breaths transition from deep to shallow. And when he huffed, it was as if she could see him displacing any honorable notions he had toward her. In their place, he inhaled a new resolve. To accept her decision. To respect her (she hoped). To leave her alone.

And Joan wasn’t even thinking about the scandal that would ensue as Countess Linsgate clicked her tongue and removed her daughter from the terrace, so as not to be sullied. Joan wasn’t preparing herself for the onslaught of gossip that was sure to follow immediately upon her reentering the ballroom.

No.

She was bracing herself for a future in which she would never scheme with James again. Never feel his touch. His light, warm whisper against her ear. Never kiss him again.

But it was for the best.

He didn’t want to marry, and she wouldn’t force him to.

It was for the best. She repeated to herself, this time letting it sink into her mind in hopes of accepting it.

After the mother-daughter duo exited, James turned to her.

“Joan, I understand this is overwhelming to grasp in the moment,” He grabbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes for a long blink. It looked like regret. It looked as though he was trying to erase a memory from his mind. “But I think it’s best that we—”

“I cannot marry you, James.” There. She said it again. It was difficult to push the words through her uncooperative lips and against her conflicting thoughts, but she had to do it. James was willing to rescue her again, sacrifice himself and the future of bachelorhood that he wanted. She wouldn’t allow it. She didn’t need rescuing. She could live this life on her own. And on her own terms. If she was destined to be a blade-wielding spinster, so be it. Perhaps this was the undivided focus she needed to commit to her blade commissions.

She stole a glance at Nobi and Mimi, surprisingly not saying anything, just staring at her. If this decision damned the duke dare, so be it.

She swallowed.

That was harder for her to accept. She cherished her sisters and didn’t want to upset them. And surely, this would upset them, making herself ineligible to marry, therefore nulling her participation in the duke dare. Her scandal would sully their reputations as well. But sadly, this decision couldn’t be about them. This was the one time that Joan was acting recklessly and completely for herself. The mixture of emotions dousing her as the aftermath of her decision started to settle was vexing. She thought she would have peace if she were to make the best decisions for herself.

James lightly held her upper arms and peered into her face. “Joan, think about the scandal. Think about your future. You will have no offers for marriage. Take my hand. I’m doing the honorable thing. Let me.”

“I cannot.” She gazed up at him for one last minute, memorizing his face. He seemed to be doing the same, scanning her face. Searching for answers that she couldn’t give him. He didn’t truly want her. If he did, he would have said that. It was the perfect opportunity to have changed his mind about marriage and love. But he had said nothing. It was patently clear that nothing had changed inside of his heart. A heart that she knew she loved. She hoped could love her. But apparently could not. He was nothing she had wanted, yet had turned into everything she needed. Even still, he would never feel the same about her.

When she looked away, she whispered, “Please go.”

And to her profound dismay, he did.