Page 12 of The Untamed Duke (The Secret Crusaders #3)

CHAPTER 12

J ournal of the Duke of Foxworth:

Seize your future.

Carve your own path, take the life you want and deserve. Others will challenge your authority, resist you at every turn, yet you must not allow them to pierce your formidable armor. If you give them an inch, they will grasp for all, and your strength will be sacrificed. Do not lose yourself to fate’s whims or destiny’s dictates. Capture what is yours.

Do not accept anything less than total surrender.

Pure heat surrounded her, undeniable need, raw anticipation. Her body felt heavy, her stomach unsettled, as he caressed her lips, massaging, tasting, testing. They parried back and force like yesterday’s duel, armed with far greater weapons. Strong arms surrounded her, keeping her close, holding her against a wall of muscle. She pressed nearer…

The music ended.

Reality crashed down like a tidal wave. They were in public, in front of dozens of people. Everything her mother had warned her about, and everything Edmund had forbidden, flashed in her mind. She was kissing her brother’s sworn enemy in front of an entire town!

They broke apart, so quickly she would have fallen had he not supported her. Eyes blazed with scorching intensity, his expression elemental with passion, desire, possessiveness . Her dismay must have been obvious, as he softened. “All will be well.”

It was untrue, as a hundred people watched them like they were a Theater Royal production. Smiling eyes hid nothing, hushed whispers and romantic sighs proof the memories would last far beyond this night.

He leaned down, and sweat formed underneath her corset. Even now, the force to return to his embrace was almost too strong to resist. “Act as if all is normal,” he whispered, “or you shall bring more attention upon us.”

As always, his words were a command. Yet he was right. They could not undo the damage, but perhaps they could lessen the impact.

She stretched her lips into a smile so wide it ached, as she stepped back. Coldness swirled at their separation, yet the ability to reason returned. She opened her mouth, faltering with words that wouldn’t come.

Kenneth, of course, had no difficulty regaining control. “Please excuse my bride and me. Emotions sometimes get the better of us.” He swept his smile across the crowd before turning back to her. “She has enraptured me.”

The last words were murmured, yet judging by the renewed whispers, everyone heard. And although they were meant for an audience, something within her shifted. She was indeed enraptured .

This was very, very bad.

The old shopkeeper winked. “We know how you feel. Us newlywed couples have difficulty hiding our emotions.” He lifted the hand of his bride from half a century ago and kissed her palm. She blushed.

The crowd laughed, and Sophia relaxed as the attention lessened, even as the surreptitious glances continued. “Let’s sit down,” she whispered.

It was far too dangerous to dance with her all-too-tempting partner. Kenneth did not allow her to go far, as he grasped her hand and led her back to the table, where she pretended he had not upended her world. She would have left right then, yet she could not flee after the townspeople’s hard work. So she forced her lips into a smile, talked and mingled and visited until the late hours of the night, when the last of the townspeople departed with brilliant smiles and a hundred thank yous.

Kenneth’s hand never left hers as they walked from the town, under a velvet sky dotted with twinkling stars. When she made a half-hearted attempt to extricate herself, he raised his eyebrow and held her tighter. It was not until they passed the town limits, that she broke the silence. “This is a nightmare.” Again, she pulled her hand back, or at least tried.

He still didn’t release her.

“Let go of me.”

“There are dangers in the darkness.” He clasped her hand more securely. “Sadly, I can no longer trust you to stay close.”

“Do you think I’ll flee into the night? Dash away to London on foot, with no horse and no supplies?”

He frowned. “Would you?”

If he kept on kissing her, she just might.

Who was she kidding?

If he kept kissing her, she’d kiss him right back.

“Of course not,” she huffed. “I’d never make it.”

“Undoubtedly, that’s the only thing stopping you.” His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “What happened, Sophia? I thought you enjoyed tonight.”

He was wrong. She’d adored tonight. Yet she could not forget their true identities, and the consequences should anyone discover the truth. “You kissed me in front of a hundred people. It’ll be a miracle if it doesn’t make its way back to London.”

“You overestimate the danger.” His neutral expression held no regret. “This is an entirely different world. Even if they visit London, they are unlikely to see us.” His side brushed hers. “They do not frequent the exclusive areas.”

“Much of London draws the different classes,” she countered. “You cannot claim to constrain yourself to the ton’s drawing rooms.” As pursed lips confirmed the words, she gestured at his massive frame. “People notice you everywhere you go, and not just because of your position or wealth. You stand out like a sword among daggers.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

She blushed. “Even if you were not a duke, you are…” She waved her hand, stopped. “Handso– I mean attracti… I mean…” She sighed. “You draw attention.”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “The townspeople know me as the son of the Scottish family that has owned the estate for generations. There’s no reason to presume I’m anything more.”

“If you think they don’t suspect you are more , then you are underestimating them,” She bit her bottom lip. “What are we going to do if they realize the truth?”

He looked at her from under hooded eyes. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Scandal. Betrothal. Ownership.

“Despite your objections, you enjoyed yourself tonight.”

She turned away. “We were just pretending.” It was untrue, yet feelings were scraped raw. She would not – could not – admit anything to the powerful duke.

She said nothing more as they continued their journey, walking silently until they reached the bridge. Kenneth opened the gate, firmly guiding her through, before securing the latch behind them. The scent of water swirled from the rushing rapids, hissing and gurgling with danger. During the day, the landscape was calm and peaceful, yet in the darkened night, it played a haunting backdrop.

The manor rose like a beacon in the night. They navigated the distance without interruption, keeping a steady gait as they ascended the steps leading to the entrance. With a heavy key, Kenneth opened the door and ushered her into the warmth and light of the welcoming foyer. He shut the door behind them.

Through it all, he never released her.

She held up their joined hands. “There are no more townspeople to see, no creatures to fear, no dangerous ground on which to fall. Are you going to release me?”

Instead of freeing her hand, he grasped the other. Light from the fireplace danced on his skin, illuminating high cheekbones, chiseled features and determined resolve. “I like holding you.” He stood to his full, towering height. “I challenge your claim we were merely pretending.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What else could it be?” Her breathy tone belied the casual words. “We are not truly married.”

His gaze was unwavering. “Not yet.”

Her heart lurched. Did he mean–

“Even if we aren’t married, something undeniable connects us.” His voice deepened. “The kisses were not pretend.”

Not even a little. Yet she could never share the truth. With every emotion she revealed, he seized more control. “We were playing a role to appease the townspeople.” She turned away. “It was nothing more.”

He released her hand, yet any taste of freedom vanished as he caressed her cheek. “Are you so certain of that?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Would you care to test it?”

“Yes,” she whispered again.

She moved forward, a mere fraction of an inch, yet he recognized it for the invitation it was. He nipped her lips, then brushed them softer, gentler, as she pressed against raw iron. Solid arms snaked around her back, guiding her into position, as he deepened the kiss, moving his lips against hers in the sensual dance. Places he’d once awoken burst into life, tendrils of fire tracing through her veins. She pressed closer…

Until he retreated.

He pulled back so quickly, at first she didn’t even realize. She followed him, yet met only empty air, as he pulled back fully, leaving her without contact for the first time in forever. She touched swollen lips, still tingling with his possession. “Why?” she gasped.

Why had he kissed her? Why did she accept? Why did he affect her so much? The question portrayed a thousand queries, for him, for her, for the world itself.

Why did he stop?

“I’m sorry.” Regret burned in his eyes, as he stood taller, wielding his power like a sword. It threatened to overwhelm, yet he would not take all control.

She struggled to focus. “It is best if we avoid each other for the duration of this trip.”

“That’s impossible now.”

Apprehension crept up her neck, like she had fallen into the midnight river, with only a shadowy descent her future. “What do you mean?”

He stepped closer once more, casting havoc upon her senses. It encircled her, ensnaring her in its invisible web. “I can no longer trust you.”

He could never trust her, just as she couldn’t trust him. Unknown plans blazed in his eyes. “I won’t allow you to flee into danger again. To protect you, I must stay far closer.”

Images arrived, one after the next, of them far closer . Every sense sizzled. “Do you plan to tie yourself to me?”

He gave her a wicked look.

Her heart stumbled. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you safe.” He rubbed his hands together, leaned down. “No matter what that entails.”

He may be powerful, but she had the strength of every woman who believed they were more . She would not accept his dictates, would not surrender.

There was only one option, one action to protect herself, her reputation, her very heart. She must escape again.

This time she would be victorious.

He was not going to tie her to him.

But it was tempting.

She trudged heavily as they departed the foyer, as they traversed the large hallway, as he escorted her up the stairs. When he took the corridor in the opposite direction of her room, she glanced back in confusion, but he kept her moving with a firm hand on her back.

She said nothing.

When they came upon the largest door in the hallway, he released her briefly to unlock it, then ushered her into the master room. She pivoted slowly, taking in the grand furnishings, the oversized oak armoires, the mahogany desk and plush jacquard settees. Her eyes lingered on the massive four-poster bed. “This is your room?”

“Yes.”

She visibly swallowed. “Why did you bring me here?”

The answer was immediate. “This is the only place I can keep you safe.”

She fisted her hands. “The only person threatening my safety is you.”

“That’s not true.” He walked closer. “I may have inconvenienced you, yet I have made clear I would never harm you. You endanger yourself.”

Her color deepened, even as she glared. “You will not have to worry about me for much longer. I am going to bed. If you dare touch me, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

“The same goes for me.”

She gaped at him. “I wouldn’t dream of touching you.”

He lifted an eyebrow, and the color spread to her neck. She watched warily as he locked the door, then placed the key in a hidden pocket deep within his jacket. He turned back to her.

Her anger was a veritable force.

“I’m reconsidering touching you.”

He smiled.

“Not in a way you’ll enjoy.”

He smiled wider.

He strode to the dresser and retrieved a long muslin shirt. “This should be sufficient for nightwear, if you wish to change.” He held out the clothing. “Do not think to escape again. Your escape was an aberration, and I am typically a light sleeper. You will not be so lucky tonight.”

She snatched the clothing, then stomped to the dressing curtain. Rustling made every part of him harden, before she returned a minute later. The shapeless garment covered her from ankle to neck, yet she was as beautiful as a princess. She took a step towards the settee.

“Take the bed.”

She froze.

He softened his voice. “I will use the sofa. I am accustomed to sleeping in inhospitable conditions.”

For a moment, she paused, but then she pivoted and marched to the bed. It was almost as tall as her, yet she hefted herself up in one fluid movement. Placing the gown neatly by her side, she shifted towards the window, providing a tantalizing view of full curves and an alluring backside.

He had lied. The settee was going to be the most inhospitable bed of his life. Not because it was too narrow for his frame, or so short his legs would hang off the end. No, because he had to sleep the entire night without touching the siren twenty feet and an impossible gulf away.

Resisting her would be the greatest challenge of his life.

Her captor didn’t believe she could escape. Didn’t think she could elude his intricate web, slink past him once more. He had taken precaution after precaution, seemingly preventing any and all opportunity to leave the gilded prison. He was probably right.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try.

This time Sophia allowed no sleep. It was easier, and safer, after the day that upended her senses and changed reality. Her jailer stayed up, too, quietly prowling the room, before settling at his desk to tend to some papers. Finally he folded his large body into the settee and squeezed his eyes shut. She waited until his breathing evened and then many minutes more, before daring to rise.

She slid from the high bed, wincing at the gentle thump her slippers made upon the hard floor. Her gaze caught on the lavender dress still folded upon on the bed, the ethereal creation that represented a night of enchantment. She had no choice but to leave it behind.

Leave him behind.

Shadows drenched the room, lit only by the low candlelight and the moonlight streaming through the windows. By the moon’s journey across the sky, it was later than she’d hoped, yet nothing could be done. This time she would not be traveling to the closest town.

After yesterday, she certainly couldn’t ask the townspeople for help. Undoubtedly they would question her motives and summon Kenneth immediately. She would need to travel to the further town, a substantial yet not unattainable trek. Hopefully, she would be able to gain passage once she arrived. Then she would forget all about the untamed duke.

As if it would ever be possible.

She pushed aside unsolicited feelings. Right now the plan was all that mattered. The first step: steal the key.

Kenneth rumbled softly, shifting in the ridiculously small space. Another rumble sounded, louder, deeper, and not in direction of the slumbering duke. She turned to the window.

A storm was brewing. Dark gray clouds thickened the sky, dense puffs of wool against pure blackness. Lightning flashed, illuminating the billowy atmosphere, before another rumble. Kenneth shifted again, and a pillow dropped to the floor. He sighed softly.

She had to escape now . Traipsing through a storm was not preferable, yet she had endured many a tempest during her days in the country, when Edmund hadn’t been looking, of course. Once she left Kenneth’s land, she could find shelter if necessary. He shifted again as she approached, and she hesitated. The key was deep within his coat, nestled in some sort of hidden pocket. To retrieve it, she would have to get close.

Not close enough , a traitorous voice whispered.

She took another step, as lightning struck once more, chased by thunder. One foot forward, and then another. What would she do if he awoke? Was there any excuse he would believe?

She could pretend she was trying to steal a kiss.

It worked during the sword fight. Of course, it could work all too well, leading to other things. Anticipation whispered through her, as she imagined other things .

Finally, she stood above him. Even prone, he was massive, his muscles straining against the thin clothing. His chest rose and fell evenly, and he wore a peaceful expression he never quite managed during waking hours. She fought the urge to touch the planes and angles of his handsome visage, run her hands through his thick locks.

Thunder boomed once more, tearing her from her ponderings. What was she doing? She hadn’t time to watch him sleep. She reached down, as lightning flashed again, illuminating her trembling hand. She grasped his coat.

He didn’t move, and she released a breath. With deliberate movements, she lifted his coat and traced along the lining, yet the key was nowhere to be found.

She needed to get closer.

She kneeled on the hard floor, edging nearer to the man who was somehow even more massive at eye level. Her hand brushed against his chest.

Desire streaked through her.

Not now.

When this was all over she would seriously consider finding a husband, so she could partake in the pleasures she’d only tasted with this man. Yet even as the thought rose, something rebelled, as the image of only one man – slightly wicked, definitely untamed, all powerful – vanquished all others.

The key had to be here somewhere. She’d seen him tuck it into his coat. A thud sounded from up above, and then another, as a thousand raindrops poured from the skies. In seconds it was a deluge, pounding against the roof like an out-of-control drummer, streaming down the windows like a waterfall. She moved to the cadence of its beat, underscored by thunder’s drum. She pushed a little further, and something solid moved under her hand. Triumph glistened as she grasped the key. Victory!

His eyes opened.