Page 9 of The Untamed Duke (The Secret Crusaders #3)

CHAPTER 9

T he Private Diary of Sophia Hawkins (in a temporary new journal)

Ways to escape an untamed duke:

1. Hide all his clothes while he is sleeping and run. Problem: Likely he’ll chase you anyways. Unexpected Benefit: The view will be interesting.

2. Sneak out while he is in the bath. Problem: Likely he’ll chase you anyways, only wet and naked. Unexpected Benefit: The view will be even more interesting.

3. Tie him to something, and then escape. Problem: Tried before to a spectacular failure. Unexpected Benefit: If done while he is naked, will be the most interesting view of all. New problem: May stay to watch instead of escaping.

She was going to escape.

It didn’t matter that she had no idea where he spirited her, or that she couldn’t contact her family. It didn’t matter that she risked inescapable scandal. It didn’t even matter that the only form of transportation could be her own two feet. Somehow, she would find a way.

She had awoken in an enormous bed, upon a feather soft mattress and tucked under a plush blanket. That Foxworth had carried her into his domain sent a shiver through her, yet true to his word, he did nothing untoward. Every bit of clothing was properly secured, laces tied and untouched.

The room was gorgeous, reeking of old wealth and raw luxury. Masterful tapestries lined cream-colored walls, next to ornate tables with curved edges and clawed feet. A massive marble fireplace stood in the corner, opposite a sitting area with two oversized chairs and a settee of deep mauve. A floor to ceiling window graced an entire wall, showcasing a breathtaking natural landscape.

Despite the situation, the view calmed her. Vast swaths of green stretched for miles, punctuated by towering trees and glimmering lakes. Above the lush land, the sky was a brilliant blue, the sun already high in its cloudless domain as it shined on a wide river that extended as far as one could see. A single road led from the estate, over a bridge that crossed the river, guarded by a tall and sturdy gate. She narrowed her eyes.

If Foxworth thought a gate would stop a member of the Distinguished Ladies of Purpose , he was in for a most startling surprise.

She toured the room, stopping at a note propped on the table. It directed her to a wardrobe with half a dozen dresses, all in her size, as well as directions to the dining room, where she would proceed after dressing. She took her time perusing the exquisite gowns, which were all in season and excellent condition. Who owned them? As quickly as the thought arose, she pushed it aside. It didn’t matter who Foxworth brought to his estate. All that mattered was getting off it.

She donned a light blue day dress with wispy puff sleeves, a lace overlay and pearl embellishments. Afterwards, she plaited her long hair into a thick braid and slid her feet into the slippers she’d worn last night. She’d awoken to find them removed and placed neatly at the foot of the bed. The simple gesture shouldn’t have mattered, yet somehow it did, showing intimacy, familiarity and, even more disconcerting, thoughtfulness.

Half-expecting the room to be locked despite the letter, she was almost relieved when the heavy wooden door opened, leading to a red-carpeted hallway flanked by brilliant tapestries. Gilded vases stood like soldiers as she travelled through the corridor and down a curved stairway. She followed her nose through one cavernous hallway after the next, stepping to the sound of dishes chiming and pots clinging. Her feet echoed on the gleaming floor, as she entered a bright dining room.

As the sister of a duke, Sophia was accustomed to luxury, yet the room was impressive nevertheless. Two stories tall, with a long, white table flanked by throne-like chairs, it gleamed in the natural light from tall domed windows. Crystal candleholders cast fiery rainbows upon pristine white settees, painting a masterpiece of light. On the table, two golden place settings had been arranged, with a closeness that begot intimacy far beyond abductor and abductee.

Sophia padded to the sideboard, stepping into the delicious aromas of a dozen overfilling platters. The selection included steaming biscuits slathered with creamy butter, fluffy eggs cooked to golden perfection and a variety of cakes topped by hot fruit preserves. Fresh juices and creamy hot chocolate accompanied the fare.

“Do you approve?”

She gasped and pivoted.

How very unfair. A man that devious should be weak of body as well, or at least possess some major flaw. Yet Foxworth was chiseled perfection, pure masculine beauty as he strode into the room with the grace of a tiger. Freshly shaven, he wore a white shirt and black pants that molded to his muscular form. His hair was brushed, his eyes alight.

“Thank you for such a lovely feast,” she said automatically.

She pursed her lips. Had she actually just thanked the man who kidnapped her? “What I mean is it is lovely, yet I would much prefer to be free.”

Had she seriously just complimented him again?

His shining eyes proved the affirmative. “I’m glad the food meets your approval.”

This wouldn’t do. She needed to defy him, demand her release. Perhaps something truly shocking would sway him. “It is a shame I shall not be eating it.”

His gaze didn’t waver, as he folded his arms across his chest. The fabric splayed taut against his chest, straining against sculpted muscles. “Why do you believe you won’t be eating?”

Annoyance brought heat to her cheeks. “I will not be eating because I’m not staying. Indeed, I shall not eat until you take me home.” Her stomach chose that moment to growl in protest, yet surely it wouldn’t have to wait long. He wouldn’t dare allow her to starve.

The steaming food beckoned. Perhaps she could take some eggs for the trip. And a few of those butter cakes with strawberry preserves. The tarts looked delici–

“We shall return in a few days, but until then you will enjoy my hospitality. I made it just for you.”

“You cooked this?” She glanced around the massive dining room. It was spotless, yet there wasn’t a single servant to take credit, not a maid, butler, housekeeper or steward. Manors of this size usually maintained a small crew to prepare for the master’s return. Were they truly, utterly alone?

Foxworth strode to the sideboard and grasped two plates, serving generous portions onto each with a golden spoon. “I employ caretakers while I am not here, which is why the estate is in good form, but I sent them away. I didn’t want anyone to see you.”

Relief and dismay rose in equal amounts. There would be no one to spread gossip, and no one to help. “Or aid in my escape.”

He inclined his head, distributing a selection of miniature cakes, each with a dollop of cream. He finished filling the platters, then returned to the table, placing one at each setting. He strode towards her.

She backed up, stopped and straightened. She would not be intimidated. “Don’t you dar–”

He captured her.

She gasped as her feet left the ground, as he took control, pressing her against a body she knew so well. One hand gripped her back, the other under her legs, as heat engulfed her. She pried at his hands, yet he didn’t appear to notice . “Let me go!”

He didn’t obey and he didn’t respond, instead striding back to the table with his prize. He stopped when they reached the chairs, but made no move to release her. “You will eat.”

She scowled. “You can’t force me to eat.”

“Perhaps not.” His voice lowered, “However, you can’t force me to put you down.”

Why, that little– or rather excessively large–

“How dare you!” she hissed. “You refuse to put me down unless I agree to eat?”

“That is correct.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I’m already doing it.” He shifted her closer, splaying his hand across her back. He touched nowhere intimate, yet heat blazed everywhere. “I will not allow you to neglect your health.”

“You don’t allow me to do anything,” she ground out. “Do not worry about me.”

“I find I quite enjoy worrying about you,” he mused. “The thought of letting you go becomes more disagreeable by the minute.”

What?

She fought for strength. “You, sir, are untamed.”

He showed none of the affronted indignity of a reasonable member of the ton would, and displayed no regret. Instead his eyes glowed with power and purpose. “When we first met, I warned you someone would take over if Bradenton didn’t care for you properly. Since you are here with me alone, clearly you need someone better able to take you in hand.”

The room scorched like an inferno. This man didn’t adhere to the dictates of the world. Instead, he seized power, took what he wanted. “Who are you to claim yourself my protector?” she stormed. “You have no authority over me.”

“As you have so often pointed out, I am not a man who waits for power to be bestowed.”

She shifted, yet his hold did not waver for an instant. It should have been uncomfortable in his arms, hard, rough and inhospitable. Yet instead it was strangely comfortable, comforting even, his chest broad and warm, his hands carefully placed to support without harm. If he wasn’t her sworn enemy, it would have almost been… nice.

No. She couldn’t forget his misdeeds, allow him to weaken her resolve. Stories abound of ladies falling for their captors, caught in a pretend world in which abductor and savior exchanged meaning. She was too strong to allow it to happen to her.

“I am perfectly able to care for myself.”

“Are you now?” A faint Scottish burr underscored the words. “Then you have a choice. Either you enjoy this delicious breakfast, or I continue to hold you for as long as it takes to change your mind. I believe eventually you will realize the futility of your actions, or your stomach will remind you.” His expression softened. “Do you truly wish to fight this battle? We return to London in just a few days.”

She paused. Her strategy seemed reasonable at first, favorable even, yet clearly she would not accomplish her goals. Being in his arms made her achy and unsatisfied. “When we return, you will release me immediately? Your revenge will be satisfied?”

He did not delay. “You have my word the retribution will be over.”

He hadn’t explicitly agreed to release her, yet surely it was implied. He couldn’t just keep her. “All right.”

Foxworth showed no lordliness as he gently lowered her to the seat and took the chair across from her. The plush cushion sank underneath her, yet somehow it lacked the comfort of his arms. The next few minutes were filled with silence save for the clinking of dishes and enjoyment of food. The fare was delicious – the eggs light and fluffy, the cakes sweet as they melted in her mouth. The preserves burst with the taste of strawberries and apple, and the tea was honeyed and flavorful, providing the perfect complement to the hearty meal.

Sophia ate her fill, and then some. When she finished, she patted her face with a delicate lace napkin, as Foxworth completed his own meal.

His satisfaction was obvious as he viewed her empty plate. “Did you enjoy it?”

Her numerous sighs precluded any lie. “It was delicious. Where did you learn to create such delicacies?”

“Unlike the pampered gentleman of the ton, many in Scotland learn such skills. It is practical when one doesn’t have a dozen servants seeing to every need.” He frowned, held out a hand. “I meant no offense. I was not discussing a particular lord, but society in general. The class differences are striking and harsh.”

She parted her lips. Most “civilized” men barely looked at those they considered inferior, believing themselves superior simply because of a title, or a fat purse. Of course, they did not choose their birth any more than the poorer classes, and fortune granted them their bounty, not any sort of inherent difference. She’d seen servants show kindness, humility and grace, and lords destroy for diversion.

Who truly was superior?

By his words, Foxworth seemed to realize this. Was he truly on the correct side of social action?

“The dress fits you well.”

She smoothed down the skirt, self-consciousness warming her cheeks. “I was surprised to find so many outfits. I assume they belong to….”

“My sister.”

Unexpected relief loosened her lungs, and she relaxed. Of course they were Clara’s. She must stay here as well, and was of a similar size.

Foxworth inclined his head. “Who did you think they belonged to?”

She would never reveal she believed them to belong to his mistress, or that she cared. “I assumed they belonged to the last lady you kidnapped.”

He grinned. “Haven’t I made clear you’re the only lady I’ve kidnapped?”

She bit back a scowl. “It is fortunate they are here. I did not have time to pack for my kidnapping.”

“How thoughtless of me.” He rubbed his chin. “Next time I kidnap you, I shall give you ample time to prepare. A week at least, two if you need it.”

She resisted the urge to flick a tart at him. Mainly because they were so delicious. “There will be no next time. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you took me back right now.”

He lowered his cup and took a tart. She eyed it. “You’ve made many such requests. How did that work out for you?”

He hadn’t taken her home. Instead he’d…

Kissed her senseless.

Spirited her away.

Held her captive.

In conclusion, not well.

“Yesterday was merely a setback. Today everything is different.”

“Indeed?” He ate the tart in two bites. “Did you forget our little disagreement?”

“The one in which you seized me like a pirate?” She stood, tossing the napkin onto the table. Now that her belly was full, it was time to resume the fight. “You take whatever you want, control others without right or responsibility.”

“I do not deny it.” He stood, pushing the chair back with a scrape. The mood darkened, as he towered a foot above her. “I fight for justice.”

“Justice?” She gripped the sides of her dress, crinkling the delicate fabric. No longer able to stand still, she took several steps, turned and paced. “What is just about kidnapping a lady to seek revenge? Endangering a woman to punish her brother?”

“You were never in danger.” His voice was now serious. “I won’t touch you unless you wish it.”

And with that statement, every memory of him touching her crashed in her mind, every kiss, every gaze. Caught in a clandestine look so full of meaning, she could scarce breathe.

He stepped closer. “Is there something you wish to ask me?”

Would you kiss me?

She cleared her throat. “When will you release me?”

“In several days, when Bradenton has time to reconsider his evil deeds. Of course, I have suitable diversions planned while you are here.”

“Diversions?”

Proposed Schedule:

10am Kissing.

11am Kissing.

12pm Kissing

1pm Ki–

“What sort of diversions? What do you plan to do with me while me are here?”

It was the wrong question.

His gaze darkened, as every single thing he could do to her flashed through her mind. Heat flooded her cheeks, as the temperature notched up a thousand degrees. “I mean what are you going to do me?”

Worse.

“I mean what are we going to do with each other?”

Bloody hell.

His fiery gaze proved he recognized every thought in her wicked mind. “What would you like to do with me?”

What she wanted to do with the Untamed Duke, in no particular order.

1. Kiss him.

2. Kiss him.

3. Kiss him.

4. Kiss…

She fought for strength. “I would very much like to kidnap you back to London so you can enjoy the consequences of your behavior.”

“Not to be disagreeable, but your last attempt at kidnapping did not end well, at least not for you.”

Ah, yes. He’d reversed their positions and kidnapped her instead.

Disappointing, to say the least.

She jutted up her chin. “I am certain I can get better with practice.”

“Would you like me to tie myself up so you may have a go of it?”

“It would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”

Amusement glinted in his eyes. “You need not be unhappy here. The estate boasts a well-stocked library, a full music room and extensive gardens, which you may explore.”

“Do you have a room with weapons?”

“I’m not certain I should answer that question.”

The smothering gloom lifted ever-so-slightly. Perhaps this could be an opportunity, the chance to sample activities her overprotective brother didn’t allow. Of course it would only be for today. During their tour she would find the weak spot in his “prison,” and formulate the best path forward.

Tomorrow she would escape.

Sophia would escape.

At least she would make the attempt, which he would then stop in no uncertain terms. It was a secret she gave away no less than a dozen times during their tour, as she tried every door, studied every window. She inquired about the building, the roads, the town. By her self-assured expression, there wasn’t a chance she wouldn’t succeed.

She wouldn’t.

Besides her questions, she showed polite interest in the rest of the estate. Her eyes lit up at the gardens, blooming heartily from his caretakers’ botanical expertise. She ran her hand along the gleaming instruments of the music room. She looked twice at the library, and said she wished she had time to read the books. When he pointed out she had days, she merely shrugged.

Which meant it was time to show her the only road leaving the estate.

They reached the small path, which led to the narrow bridge over the wide, fast-moving river. She stared.

The large gate that blocked her way was crafted of thick lumber and heavy iron. Secure and sturdy, it towered straight to the sky, with nothing to act as handhold or foothold. Even he would have difficultly scaling it.

She bit her bottom lip. “Was this really necessary?”

“Do you not know the answer to that?”

She stared at him. “Then I may as well be honest. No matter how you imprison me, I will escape.”

With a pointed look, he pushed the thick, smooth wood. It didn’t give an inch, not even when he added pressure.

Her frown deepened. She looked to the left and right, down a river that stretched for miles. “Where’s the next bridge?”

“This is a sparsely populated area, with few towns.” That was true, yet the nearest bridge was still only hours by foot, closer by horseback. If she set out at a brisk pace, she could be in the next town by luncheon. It was not something he would mention.

By her clenched fists, she assumed she was trapped, just as he’d intended. “Is there another way back to London?”

He pointed to the forest on the other side of the estate. “How comfortable are you with wild animals?”

She glared. “I’m managing you.”

“Tsk, tsk, Lady Sophia. That’s not a very… tamed thing to say.” He pushed off the gate, stalked her. She flinched, but didn’t retreat. That was his brave lass. “Some predators bite.”

Her eyes narrowed into little slits. “I’m accustomed to dealing with those who falsely seek control.”

“Are you?” He cracked his knuckles. “And I enjoy chasing unsuspecting prey. It’s almost as much fun as catching them.”

Her face pinkened, yet still she stood tall. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

He had to prevent her escape for her own safety. A woman alone in unfamiliar territory was treacherous, and he hadn’t exaggerated the peril of the forest. Dangerous animals lurked there, and she could easily become lost among the dense vegetation. “Even if you don’t have a healthy fear of predators, the forest is not a feasible path. You’d have to travel days in the wrong direction, bringing you home far later than I planned. This bridge is the only route back for miles. When a great storm felled it one year, I stayed for weeks, until it was repaired.”

Of course, only because he didn’t want to leave.

Her expression turned pensive. “You repaired it yourself?”

“No.” He grasped its smooth side. “I don’t have the necessary materials. Fortunately, the townspeople pass here regularly. I enlisted their help to build a new one.”

“You mentioned a town earlier.” She gazed over the bridge. “I do not often have the opportunity to visit to new places. I shall like to explore it.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He did not need to feign his regret. He would have liked to have shown her the charming town and its kind people, but no doubt she’d slip away the moment they arrived. “The townspeople do not know I am a duke. How would I explain you?”

“We shall say I am your cousin. I assume they do not often visit London.”

“Most of them haven’t travelled further than the next town,” he admitted. Of course, there was always the risk someone would recognize her. Moreover, he couldn’t take the chance she would escape. “I’m sorry, Lady Sophia.”

She sighed. “There must be something I can do to get back to London.”

“There is. Simply wait a few days, and I will take you back myself.” He lowered his voice. “Give up, Lady Sophia. You’re not going to win.”

She took a deep breath, angling her face toward the sun. The light glinted off her creamy features, turning her hair almost translucent. Against the endless green of the land, she was an enchantress of the Earth.

“I think it’s time to see the weapons.”

And delightfully feisty. He chuckled, gesturing her forward. “As you wish, my lady.”

She took one long last baleful look at the bridge.

He smiled.

They walked back in silence, yet a surprisingly comfortable one. She kept a strong profile, a confident tilt to her head, as she stomped forward. When she stepped onto a weak part of the ground, he instinctively grasped her. She started, yet didn’t pull back, her expression betraying the same confusion that plagued him whenever they touched. Whatever he felt, affected her as well. “Thank you.”

She slowed after that. It felt strangely right, as they strolled under the shining sun, gently brushing against each other. He had to release her to open the door, yet they stayed close as they traversed extensive hallways, until they came to two tall wooden doors carved with an ancient Scottish sword. He unlocked them, and gestured her forward.

She walked in and stopped.

She pivoted slowly, taking in everything. Gleaming swords of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, punctuated by knives, daggers and other impressive weaponry. Some gleamed with modern design, while others were dented and discolored with time’s passing. The extensive display included armaments passed down from his ancestors, as well as pieces he’d collected in his travels.

“Teach me how to sword fight.”

That the statement did not surprise Kenneth was as surprising as the statement itself. From any other lady, it would have been inconceivable, yet from Sophia, it was all but expected. “Do you wish to challenge me for your freedom? You would lose.”

“Don’t be so certain about that.” She stopped at a broadsword almost as large as she and touched its bejeweled hilt. “I’m a quick learner.”

“That is undoubtedly true.”

She looked up sharply, yet he kept his expression sincere. Did she not realize how highly he thought of her? Still, the thought of her playing with swords was a bit too much to bear. He would not take the chance of her injuring herself, at least not now when he hadn’t enough time to instruct her properly. “Wouldn’t you prefer a different pursuit?”

“A more feminine pursuit, don’t you mean?” She traced her hand across the blade, snapped her fingers back. He caught her finger, even as she pulled away. Satisfied there was no blood, he released her.

She stared at him. “It is not uncommon for females to encounter danger, yet we are given no tools for defending ourselves. You have often complained about my forays into jeopardy. If I could protect myself, I would be safer.”

Her argument held indisputable logic. He had showed Clara the basic techniques for escaping a threat. Elementary moves wouldn’t work against someone skilled, of course, and an element of luck existed, yet they gave a chance where none existed. “Has Bradenton taught you nothing about defensive maneuvers?”

She visibly tightened at her brother’s name. “Edmund believes he can protect me all on his own. Of course, no one can be there all the time, especially a man with such great responsibilities.”

She was making excuses. Bradenton should have known she would put herself in danger. If it had been his sister, he would have made certain someone, or several someones, was watching her at all times.

“I will teach you to defend yourself.”

Surprise lit her eyes. “You’ll teach me to wield a sword?”

“No.” At her waspish expression, he held out a hand. “At least not on this trip.”

“This is our only trip.” She glared. “You mentioned something about defending myself?”

“I can teach you techniques to escape an assailant. They are not foolproof, however, and depending on your opponent, may not work.” He lowered his chin. “What I’m saying is they will not work on me.”

She smiled sweetly. “Would I try such a thing?”

“Without a doubt.”

She shrugged, yet her eyes shined. “You cannot blame me for using every available resource.”

“Not at all, yet I am well versed in the ways to overcome these moves.” He leaned forward. “If you attempt them, I shall have to take my own defensive maneuvers.”

Her expression sobered as he allowed a wolfish smile. “Actually, come to think of it, maybe you should try them.”

She stuck her pert little nose into the air. “Are you going to teach me, or is making me fall asleep with endless chatter one of your strategies?”

He chuckled and gave into the urge to move closer. “Are you ready?”

“I am.” She stood taller. “Show me.”

He walked closer and closer and closer.

“What are you doing?” She gasped as he captured her. “Let go of me!” She struggled in his arms, all lush softness and curves. It affected him in ways he couldn’t show, casting emotions he didn’t understand. This was to teach the lesson of course, not because of how perfectly she fit.

“Stop struggling,” he commanded.

He must have startled her because she obeyed.

“Struggling will only exhaust you,” he instructed. “Instead, move like this.” With one hand keeping her close, he positioned her with the other. “Try to distract him. Do something unexpected, target vulnerable areas and use his balance against him.”

She listened carefully, and tried the technique. Then again, and again, not stopping until she performed it perfectly. Within minutes, she had mastered her first defensive skill.

He covered different techniques, effective against various types of assaults. She was an apt and skilled student, doggedly tenacious and unfailingly precise. She listened attentively, mastering the skills with unrelenting persistence. An hour and then another raced by, and in the end, she possessed at least some tools with which to fight.

Not that he would allow her to face danger again.

On one particularly successful trial she nearly managed to unbalance him. He moved just quickly enough to escape a rather unsavory fall.

“I almost won!” She was breathing heavily, her cheeks tinged pink, her eyes alight with excitement. She never looked so glorious, or so beautiful.

He tapped her arm. “Almost, but not quite. You will not best me, lass.”

“We’ll see about that.” She studied him. “Would you put a wager on it?”

“A wager?” He stood back on his heels. “I am not releasing you, if that is what you wish.” The chances of her besting him were infinitesimal, yet he was unwilling to risk it.

For a moment disappointment flashed, but then she brightened. “If I best you, will you teach me to sword fight? I’m sure I can handle that weapon.” She pointed to a sword in the corner.

He followed her gaze. With its blunted edge and diminutive dimensions, the sword was unlikely to do major harm, even if used incorrectly. It was actually made for a child, although he would not share that. It was indeed the perfect tool to teach her.

Of course, she would not best him. It was almost too bad. Perhaps he would teach her anyways. “I could be persuaded to give a lesson, if you promise to obey everything I say.”

She blinked. “Don’t I always?”

He looked upward. “You literally never listen to what I say.”

“Then why ask?” she chirped breezily. “It shouldn’t matter. The sword is of little danger. Do we have a wager?”

“All right.” He grasped her wrist. “If you can escape my hold, I will teach you to spar.”

She gave a satisfied smile. Then…

She kissed him.