Page 18 of The Untamed Duke (The Secret Crusaders #3)

CHAPTER 18

J ournal of the Duke of Foxworth:

Unexpected.

To call this journey such would be an understatement. I kidnapped Sophia as a path to revenge, yet somewhere along the way, everything changed.

Including me.

I found something on this journey. Something important, something extraordinary. Something I believed inescapably lost the moment they first called me, “Your Grace.”

Hope.

Sophia did not merely enjoy her time with Kenneth. Did not merely like, tolerate or endure it.

She loved it.

Free of the constraints of strict London society, she’d never been so free. Although an unrepentant kidnapper, Kenneth was also charismatic, fascinating and charming, and he did things with his hands that made every part of her blush. He taught everything she asked and more, including a dozen ways to unarm a man. She never quite managed to overcome her captor, but she had numerous methods to teach other women. She also became adept at riding astride, and could cut through the water without sinking to the bottom first.

She learned much from her unexpected teacher. He remained helpful and patient, supportive and generous in both time and effort, although his overprotective side made itself well known. When she asked if she could jump into the spring from the low cliff, he gave a resounding no. Of course, she immediately jumped from the low cliff. He then lectured her for jumping from the low cliff, at which point she jumped from the high cliff.

The lecture was after that was excruciating, but he followed it with a glorious bout of love-making.

So she jumped from the high cliff again the next day.

This time he told her he would not make love to her.

She never jumped from the high cliff again.

As far as lovemaking, they enjoyed relations twice more…

Each and every day.

It was scandalous, illogical and definitely inappropriate. A dozen times she pledged it would be the last, and a dozen and one times she ignored her own directive. He explored parts of her she didn’t know existed, brought her to levels of pleasure of which poets could only dream. The physical joinings were extraordinary, yet there was more. So much more.

Long conversations grew from enchanting days, as they discussed any and every subject, light and serious, important and frivolous. Even when he wasn’t teaching, they stayed together, learning of each other’s worlds in a lifetime of stories. They talked, dined and played games, from charades to cards to everything in between, betting kisses and more. Of course, no matter who won or loss, a kiss and more was always the result. Sometimes they simply stayed near each other in comfortable silence, riding over sun-splashed paths or reading in the library. No matter their activities, peace and satisfaction followed, and with it, the inevitable question:

Could they be a match?

The question drifted into her mind, as if on a passing breeze, yet once it found fertile ground, it barely left her conscious. Life here was a fantasy, yet could that somehow transcend to the real world, enchant a life defined by propriety and protocol? If not for his predilection for kidnapping, she could almost imagine a life with the powerful man. Yet even as her emotions churned, he kept his feelings hidden behind an army of one. Her resolve never wavered – she could never accept a match without love.

The days passed as swiftly as the horse she rode ever-swifter. She thought of home often the first few days, and then occasionally the next. By the time a week had passed, so had thoughts of London, and the entire ton, if she admitted it. Edmund did enter her mind, accompanied by regret and sadness. He must be overwrought by her absence, and tearing apart England to find her.

Yet as they delved closer and closer to the day they would step across the ever-growing bridge, dissatisfaction bloomed, unease tempering what should have been relief. For one brief instant, the thought of another tempest destroying the bridge was not entirely horrific. Yet although storms flared, none bore enough anger to fell the passageway, and the progress continued.

She waited with bated breath every time Kenneth returned from checking the bridge. When he shared that more time remained, she would release that breath, and they would make love to begin another beautiful day.

Until…

The day was sunny and blue-skied, the picture of perfection outside the large window. The birds sang their usual melody, as they flitted from wildflower to wildflower, hopping and skipping and playing early morning games. Flowers scented the inside of the chamber, from the roses that mysteriously appeared on the bedside table every morning.

Sophia lay on the bed, atop sheets crinkled from glorious lovemaking, comfortable, content and sated. A soft smile played upon her lips, as she awaited Kenneth’s return.

Then everything changed.

Something was different, as the man she awaited strode into the room, fully dressed in a cream shirt and dark pants. It was clear from his hardened stride, the severe slash of his lips. His hair was tousled, his sleeves carelessly rolled up. Storms brewed in his eyes, at severe contrast to the brilliant sunlight.

“The bridge is complete.”

She had known the moment he stepped into the room, yet confirmation stole her breath. “When are we leaving?”

“Today.”

This time she gasped, fisting the silky sheets. “Why so soon?” The blurted words came on their own, borne of a dismay she could not deny.

Widened eyes betrayed his surprise, and a moment of satisfaction, before his expression returned to neutral. “I didn’t think you would wish to wait.”

“Of course not.” She clenched the sheets harder, and the delicate fabric strained under her fingers. She released it. “My brother must be overwrought.”

Kenneth stiffened. A moment passed, and he nodded. “Take the morning to prepare. An afternoon departure will bring us to London late at night, reducing the risk of being caught.”

There was no acceptable way to return home after a month away, yet it was the best option. Edmund would not care about her method of arrival, and the servants were loyal and discreet in the well-paying Bradenton household.

“I shall visit your brother in the morning.”

Her breath hitched. Did he plan to make amends with Edmund, to apologize? Would he offer for her, not because of scandal, not because he kidnapped her, but because he truly wished to be with her?

At Kenneth’s stern visage, all hope vanished.

What was she thinking? Likely he would gloat over his successful campaign, taunt her brother at the well-played revenge. This had always been a fantasy.

Now it was over.

With a deep breath, she slid off the bed. Kenneth’s stare burned into her, as she padded to the dresser, picked up the only dress that was truly hers. “I should get ready,” she said quietly.

Suddenly, he was behind her. He grasped her arms, taking control with a firm yet gentle touch. Fighting was impossible as he turned her, holding her against the body she knew so well.

“All will be well,” he whispered.

No. Nothing would be well, not now, perhaps not ever. She’d pledged to protect her heart, yet something pierced it, to an extent she couldn’t explore. She could never reveal the truth. “Of course,” she said breezily. “This is wonderful, of course. I cannot wait to get home.”

It was untrue. She missed her family and friends, yet somehow London held little appeal. That was, unless she imagined a certain untamed duke by her side.

It could never be.

“Do not hide from me.”

What good would come of him learning his plan worked even better than he thought? That he had not only stolen her, but her emotions as well? It would only provide further means of revenge. “I am not hiding.”

He softly caressed her cheek. “If you need me, I am here for you. Always.”

Always was an unlikely term for hours. He pressed closer, brushing a soft kiss on the sensitive skin of her neck. She should turn away, should resist. Instead, she melted.

As he dipped his head, common sense fled. She could not relinquish their last chance to be together, no matter how dangerous. She may not be able to tell him how she felt, or even understand herself, yet she could show him. So she accepted the kiss, for what was certainly the last time.

It was time to return home.

“Who is kidnapping whom?”

He locked eyes with the beautiful woman who was his captive for not much longer. The thought of being apart from her brought sharp discomfort, tempered only by the knowledge that any separation would be short.

She belonged to him now.

Obstacles must be defeated before he could officially claim her, particularly a furious duke who was more likely to demand a duel than marriage. Had Bradenton been a typical lord who cared more about society’s rules than flesh and blood, the concern wouldn’t have been as great. A betrothal was the logical solution in cases like these, with the dual benefits of vanquishing any hint of scandal and creating a fortuitous match. Yet Bradenton was anything but ordinary, and clearly he loved his sister. As long as there was no scandal, Bradenton was unlikely to relinquish her.

Only he wasn’t letting her go.

The horses neighed, swiping the ground with their hooves and rocking the carriage. Even the equines were ready to depart, as if they sensed the change in the dusty air. Blue skies provided the perfect setting for their voyage, not too hot, not too cold, with a tempering breeze of pleasant undertones.

Sophia was dressed in her own clothing, her hair in a gentle twist, as she once more transformed into a lady of the ton. Yet although she’d been born into the role, it seemed the facade, a mask for the carefree woman who dove into springs from ridiculously high cliffs, then allowed him to kiss her senseless. He longed to kiss the pinched and prim lady until the spark returned. Instead, he ignored the truth no one would admit:

Neither wanted the journey to end.

Only they hadn’t a choice. Of course while one journey was ending, another was just beginning. It would officially commence when he visited Bradenton the next day.

“I could lock you in the carriage.” She gave a soft smile. “Just for fun.”

He smoothed down Sophia’s silky hair, satisfaction rising as she leaned into him. She tested his discipline like none before. “I shouldn’t have let you read that book on abductions.”

“I’m glad you did. It was very educational.” She stuck her pert little nose in the air.

And he had to stop himself from kissing it. “You plan to abduct someone, do you lass?”

“Without a doubt.”

They both smiled, yet the mood sobered as a bird squawked across the sky, blotting out the sun. “We should depart if we are to arrive tonight.”

She breathed deeply, then ascended the carriage, stopping for one last long look at the estate.

He rubbed the back of his neck. He should be pleased with matters, satisfied even. She accepted their path. She may not have said the exact words in the exact order, yet she made her thoughts clear. As soon as the banns could be read, they would enter a logical, sensible and beneficial union.

Exactly as he wanted.

The gentle clop clop of horses thrummed as the carriage jerked into motion. He directed the carriage by instinct, as the world melted away. The ride was smooth, especially over the sturdy new bridge, and it seemed a mere instant passed before they reached town, and a warm welcome from dozens of residents.

Despite her obvious uncertainty, Sophia was all smiles as she greeted the townspeople, and they embraced her with love. They didn’t notice her forced smile, or the way her eyes dulled with unexplained longing. The only genuine smile came when Molly appeared, hand-in-hand with the shopkeeper’s grandson.

“It’s wonderful to see you.” Sophia hugged the young woman. “How are you?”

Molly squeezed her suitor’s hand. “Perfect.”

Sophia’s smile widened. Her eyes shone with kindness, her voice warmth, as she spoke to the delighted couple. It was an amazing show of cordiality, for a woman raised in the glacial ton. She truly was a diamond of the first water.

And he was the most fortunate man in all of England.

A voice broke the silence. “You barely know the young couple, yet you are captivated.”

Kenneth started. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t even noticed George’s arrival.

The elderly shopkeeper gazed at him knowingly. “Yet perhaps your wistful expression is for another lady.”

Kenneth ran his hand through his hair. Was he that obvious?

Sophia laughed, her cadence as sweet as the candies the townspeople gifted them for the journey. Her gaze softened, reflecting dappled sunlight and pure goodness.

“A true love match,” the elderly man murmured.

Kenneth nodded, paused. George was not looking at his grandson.

Impossible. He would never allow such a thing. Yet perhaps…

He straightened, cleared his throat. Whimsical notions of love were for debutantes and children. It was time to leave. He moved behind Sophia and placed his hand on the small of her back, ignoring the jolt of satisfaction when she melted into him. “We must depart.”

Muscles tightened. “Of course.”

The others nodded graciously. “We hope you can return soon.” Molly looked shyly at the young man next to her. “We are to be married.”

Her suitor beamed. It was difficult to believe this was the same woman who had barely escaped her abusive past. Because of Sophia. “The celebration won’t be grand, of course, but I’d love for you to stand beside me.”

Sophia visibly swallowed. “I’m certain it will be beautiful,” she whispered, her voice wavering. Did she not think he would bring her back for the wedding? Of course he would, and he would pay for a celebration that would indeed be grand.

She looked up at him, her eyes fathomless. “I’m ready to leave now.”

Something was wrong, as they said their final goodbyes. She stood tightly, her shoulders stooped, her eyes unabashedly melancholy, as she wished happiness and fortune to them all.

It was almost as if she thought she’d never return.

They didn’t talk as they traveled back to the coach, trailed by half the town while the other half watched. They remained silent as he helped her into the carriage, climbed onto his perch. He waved to the people. “We will be back soon,” he promised.

Both of them.

Time melted away as they rode through the countryside. The air was warm and temperate, the breeze fragrant with the scent of wildflowers sprinkled on gently rolling hills. They passed few carriages and even fewer towns as he kept the horses at a steady, yet not punishing pace, giving them brief but frequent stops for water and rest. Sophia was a least demanding passenger, emerging only once from the carriage when he insisted she take refreshment at a small inn.

He began to ask her intentions, or her interpretation of his, a hundred times, yet the words wouldn’t come. So instead he stayed silent as he led her through the inn, staying close the entire time. After their stop, they picked up the pace, as the daylight waned, turning the sky into a fiery rainbow of golden oranges and reds. He donned the same coat he had worn on his escape as the night fell, as the lights of London appeared in the distance. No one would see the Duke of Foxworth arriving by carriage, or the precious cargo who would slip into Bradenton’s townhome.

The beat of the horses’ hooves remained steady, as they changed from the soft padding of grass to the heavier cadence of London’s roads. He tightened his grip as he came to the intersection, which would lead to her brother’s home or his, forcing himself to turn towards her family home, away from where she belonged. It would not be for long.

And then they arrived.

Every muscle was a tightly wound coil, every instinct clamoring to stop what must be done. He pushed forward, ignoring the protests of stiff limbs as he stepped down after the hours-long journey. He reached for the door handle, yet it moved before he could touch it.

Time stilled.

She stole his breath, his focus, his attention. Beautiful features glowed in the moonlight, a hundred emotions hidden in her clandestine gaze, a thousand messages he could not decipher.

She should have already slipped away, so swift and silent an observer would think her nothing more than a spirit. It was dangerous standing outside her brother’s townhome, cloaked only in dark coats and even darker shadows. Yet she didn’t move.

“Are you ready?”

She stayed still for a moment, staring at him with uncertain eyes. Then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he reached out, grazed the petal soft skin of her cheek. He leaned down…

And stopped.

He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t risk her reputation, her happiness, no matter how much he wanted to keep her in his arms forever. He must bide his time, wait until the moment he could claim his duchess before the world. So he stayed still, his head bent down as he stole a single moment more. When she edged away, something in his heart cracked just a little.

He grasped the carriage. “Best make haste. We should not risk scandal now.”

Her chest rose and fell, as she gave yet another nod. Then she pivoted… and fled.

He didn’t know how long he remained in that deserted street, standing as still as the fence she slipped behind. A dog barked in the distance, then the wind blew past him, bringing just a hint of the scent of violets.

He straightened. The separation was only temporarily. Tomorrow he would visit Bradenton and offer for Sophia. He would explain all the reasons why the marriage was rational, logical and, most importantly, required. His heart would not get involved.

As he ascended the empty coach, he ignored the voice that whispered…

It already was.