Page 79 of Tamed By her Duke

Caleb honestly didn’t know whether to laugh, be offended, or get cross with her. He was saved from deciding because Grace apparentlydidknow how to explain his idiocy to him and proceeded to do just that.

“First off,” she said, raising a finger primly like a governess about to illustrate a clear point—only she was still nude, and therefore miles more arousing than any governess Caleb could imagine. “I would like to say this: I am not putting on blinders. I am not defending you out of loyalty alone. You have done anumber of rude, not to mention highly annoying, things to me personally. I haven’t forgotten them.”

Caleb wasn’t sure he would say she was defending himat alllet alone out of blind loyalty, but she looked maddeningly compelling while pontificating, so he left her to it.

“And second,” she went on, “I never met your father—lucky for him,” she added darkly. “But I nevertheless feel wildly confident in saying that he would not have given his new bride several weeks to adjust to her change in circumstances before dragging her off to the marital bed, would he now?”

“Well, nae, he?—”

“And,” she went on, looking increasingly pleased with herself—which, Caleb was distressed to note, only made him stiffen even more with desire, “would he have chased your mother while she sleepwalked to make sure she didn’t break her neck?”

“No, he?—”

“And,” she said emphatically, “would he, upon discovering that theremightbe a villain afoot who intended to do harm to his wife, hie off to a city he despised—oh, don’tfrownCaleb, you’ve made your opinions quite clear—just to dispense with that hypothetical threat?”

“The man sellin’ the millisreal, Grace; he’s no mere hypothetical?—”

She cleared her throat pointedly.

“Christ, woman, stop interruptin’ me. No, he wouldn’t, all right? Are ye happy now? Are ye done?” As he spoke, he could not restrain himself any longer. He snaked an arm around her waist and dragged him until she was perched in his lap.

She paused, considering.

“No, I suppose I’m finished,” she said at last. “But only if you’re adequately convinced.”

Two days ago—hell, two hours ago—Caleb would have thought this wound could not be healed. And it wasn’tfixed. He didn’t think losing his brother was something that would ever feel finished, not so long as he kept having moments, as he still so often did, where he saw something or read a book and thought,Ah, Lenny would love that.

Leonard would have loved Grace, for one. The pair of them would have driven Calebmadwith their sly little smiles and that way they both had of making it impossible to stay angry with them.

So, no. This wouldn’t ever fully heal.

But the fear was less for having shared it. The pain was less.

Later, Caleb would recognize that this moment was the point at which it became impossible for him to turn back.

“Aye,” he said. “I’m convinced.”

She inspected his face for signs of duplicity—as if he’d dare, now that he knew how bloodthirsty she was—and when she found none, her smile was sunlight.

“Good,” she said, nodding in brisk satisfaction. “And if you ever forget it, I shall be right here to remind you. And to curse the bastard’s name,” she added, almost absent in her consideration, which made Caleb pull her close so that he could bury his laughter in her hair.

This, of course, brought her breasts close to his chest, and he realized that, in hiding his scars, he’d not spent nearly enough time luxuriating in the feel of his skin against hers.

“Ye know,” he said, shifting just enough that she could feel where he’d grown once more rock hard beneath her. “We’ve a good hour until supper.”

He felt the curve of her smile against his cheek. “Have we? We ought to put that time to good use, then, don’t you think?”

He did think. And so they did. And as they did, Caleb wondered if he’d ever felt something that was so close to peace in all his born days.

CHAPTER 23

The Duchess of Graham hosted a ball as the last major event of every Season. It was not to be questioned; the event had taken place every year for the last three decades, and, if the current duke had his way, would transpire for at least three decades more, as the man did not intend to let something so trivial as human mortality stop him.

Once, after her return, when Grace had gotten tipsy with Diana (something, to Grace’s delight, took Diana only three quarters of a single drink), Diana had even sullenly admitted that her parents hadn’t cancelled the event the year Grace had beenabducted.

“I believe,” she said, scowling into her drink, which was now just water, as Grace had worried for her friend’s headache the following day, “that their excuse was that ‘a good countryman keeps up his spirits even in dark times.’”

And then, to Grace’s delight, she’d muttered, “Wankers.”

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