Page 14 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

Thoughts of Katherine hovering in his mind, John strode along the servants’ hall, ready to ride out to meet her. The image of her had stayed with him, along with a subconscious feeling of companionship.

When she had ceased fighting her desire yesterday, the beauty of her submission had been a revelation. A hundred times last night he had vowed to honour the trust she was giving him.

He was impatient to see her. So hungry for her he had hardly slept, burning with restless frustration.

He itched to have her, but he had made her a promise and he would temperate his lust. Yet there were many things a man could do without taking a woman’s virginity, and his mind had contemplated all of them last night.

He had visited tenants earlier and returned to look at the ledgers again over luncheon.

There was still nothing untoward there. Now, he was searching for Wareham, who apparently kept the key to the folly.

John had come himself because it gave him another opportunity to try and discover what Wareham was up to.

The office door was shut. John turned the handle without knocking, the door was locked. An ill-temper flared. He rapped on the door harshly, angry at being excluded from a public room in his property.

A chair scraped on the floor within, and a moment later the lock turned. Then the door opened.

Wareham’s expression was insolent – antagonising. Like the other day, there was no deference.

An urge to grip the man by the throat and shove him up against a wall tightened John’s hands into fists. ‘Must I remind you of your place again…’

Wareham turned his back and returned to his desk. ‘You need not remind me. I am well aware of it.’

The deliberate refusal to use John’s title, made John want to throw one of his fists and punch him.

When Wareham stood behind the desk, he looked at John and barely bent his head, as though it would suffice. ‘Your Grace, to what do I owe this honour?’ Then he sat.

Unbelievable! John’s servants were to always stand in his presence. ‘I have come for the key to the tower.’ John held out his hand. Let the man bring it to him.

‘And why would you want that, Your Grace?’

‘That is none of your business. The key, Mr Wareham.’

He stood, walked to a tall narrow cupboard and took out a large iron key. Then walked towards John, holding it out, but when John reached for it, Wareham pulled it back.

John exploded. ‘Give me the key and stop these games at once!’

‘Games, Your Grace?’ Wareham taunted with a gleam in eyes. ‘I am a bit old for games. It is not a game I am playing.’

John snatched the key from his hand. Blast the missing money, he was not short of that.

Let Wareham have it. He would rather just be rid of Wareham.

‘Do you truly think I will tolerate these insults?’ John was calmer now, back in control.

‘You are dismissed. You will leave immediately. I will have you escorted off the estate and send your belongings on afterwards.’

For a moment Wareham simply stared at John, his face devoid of all emotion.

John glanced towards the hall and yelled, ‘Finch!’ He had seen the butler a moment ago.

‘Do you think I want to serve you?’

‘You need not now.’

‘While you have idled abroad, I have built up these estates.’

‘Your Grace?’ Finch appeared.

‘Mr Wareham is leaving. Immediately. Please ask some of the grooms to escort him from the grounds. You may pack his things and send them on, and ensure he takes nothing which belongs to my estates. Have some of the grooms escort him.’

John looked at Wareham. ‘You may send Finch your address when you have found somewhere to stay.’ Then he turned and left the room.

The key cut into his palm as his fist clenched, while the maids and footmen bowed and curtsied as he walked along the corridor.

John would be known as a tyrant now, for dismissing his steward simply because it had taken too long to find a key.

John felt his prison cell slam shut. He was trapped in a life he had not chosen.

Darkness and isolation engulfed him as he stepped into the courtyard.

I want Katherine.

At least he was going to her, something he had chosen. Someone who had asked for nothing from him, she had even tried to reject the one item he had bought for her.

* * *

John was breathing heavily when he reached the tower, having ridden hard to get there, fighting the rage lingering in his blood.

It was a square, red-bricked building which stood in a clearing, on the brow of a shallow hill and it reached fifty feet upwards, stretching towards the sky like the Tower of Babel.

He had come here often as a child, though he was told never to play here.

He had stolen the key to come in secret and be alone.

He would climb up to the square room at the very top and look down on the world, thinking himself like God, imagining he could order things as he wished.

He had always wanted to turn back time and know his mother from his birth, and stop his father’s death.

Not even Philip had known when he had come here.

As he climbed the slope towards the entrance, Katherine emerged from the trees on the other side. His heart struck harder in his chest. She was wearing the same tired spencer he had seen twice before, and the bonnet he had bought her.

She smiled.

The warmth of it filled him, his anger and sadness evaporating.

‘You are late,’ she accused, her eyes searching his.

He took her hand, and kissed the back of her shabby kid leather glove. ‘I was caught up in business.’

‘I thought it was some horrid joke you were playing on me, like Phillip used to do. I thought you would not come and then laugh over the fact I was fool enough to think you serious.’

‘That was never me.’

Her blue eyes were in shadow beneath the brim of her bonnet and she looked nervous although she was smiling.

He was desperate to make this good for her, to prove to himself he was neither a monster nor a tyrant. She could see into him. She knew him. ‘I will not hurt you, Katherine.’

He set the key in the lock and turned it. The stiff door creaked open.

His hand still holding hers, he drew her in, then locked the door behind them. The stairs were steep and numerous. Her fingers clung to his as they climbed.

When they reached the top of the stairs he let go of her hand, opened the door and let her enter first.

Once inside she turned to him breathless from the climb, and smiled.

The room had windows along all four sides. It was flooded with light and the view stretched across four counties.

Impatient, he caught her about the waist, drew her into his arms and kissed her gently, his lips brushing against hers.

Her arms reached about his neck, and when he ended the kiss she hung onto him, laughing and lifting her feet from the floor, letting him bear her weight.

He swung her in a circle.

She was only a light burden. A precious burden.

What was he to do about this, about her?

He shoved the thought aside. He wished to just live for this moment, to shut the world out and let only her in.

A single table stood against one wall. He carried her there and sat her on it. Then tugged loose the ribbon tying her bonnet and let it fall onto the table.

Her arms were still about his neck, loosely holding on and he lowered his mouth to hers again but this time his kiss was searing. He wanted her to know how desperate he was for her.

She kissed him back without reservation and his heart swelled with a soul-deep satisfaction.

Her body arching against him, her fingers slid into his hair. She had no modesty today. The demure girl he’d met on the road and in the church had slipped away.

He ended the kiss and smiled at her. ‘You are a contradiction.’

She blushed as he straightened.

His hands fell to his sides.

She did not jump down but instead leaned back onto her hands, and watched him, crossing her ankles and then swinging her legs back and forth.

He was charmed. She was an antidote to every other woman he had known.

His hand lifted and he began tugging pins from her hair. He had an urge to see it loose.

Loose blonde curls fell to her shoulders and tumbled down her back.

‘You can be so prim when you wish, shy, like a quiet church mouse. And then there is this you…’

Her lips pouted and her breasts pressed against her bodice when she took a breath, while her feet uncrossed. So he might step between her parted thighs if he chose. He chose. She let him, her knees parting until they brushed the outer surfaces of his thighs.

‘I think this is the real you, this reckless girl who has come to tryst with me.’

He bent and kissed her again, and her mouth opened to his, not denying his words. Emotion stirred in his chest as an ache.

After he had pulled the last pin free he buried his fingers in her soft hair, held her scalp and kissed her more deeply. She responded equally. There was a strong intuitive passionate streak in Katherine. He had known it without knowing, but now there was evidence.

Her fingers clasped his open coat at his waist and then they released and moved beneath his coat instead.

He broke the kiss, the intensity of his desire shining in his eyes. He hoped it did not scare her but he refused to hide it, or himself. Let her see who he was and know all of him. He prayed she would still want him.

She leaned back again and watched as he stripped off his coat.

He smiled at her. ‘Have you no modesty left?’

She blushed.

He loved her blushes, but it meant the church mouse had returned.

‘You cannot ask me here to do this and then chide me for being immodest, John.’ There was insecurity in her eyes.

He set his coat aside and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin. Her eyes closed, probably to hide from him.