Page 60 of Tamed By her Duke

That was the problem, wasn’t it? She didn’t know. She didn’t know where she stood or why this deadline had seemingly been delayed anew.

She was spared from answering, however, because Caleb was evidently not finished.

“Do ye really think I’m the kind of monster who would force ye to my bed when ye’re afraid of me?”

Now, she frowned.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, nonplussed and not a little annoyed. “I already told you that.”

“No?” The word was biting, a challenge. “Then why are ye skulkin’ around, hiding things that trouble ye so wretchedly that it sends ye prowlin’ in the night—every night? I hear ye movin’ about, Grace; I know ye’re too unsettled to even sleep in the next room.”

“What? Yes, I—that’s not aboutyou. You know that!”

She stood her ground even when he surged forward, his face thunderous.

“Do I know that, Grace? Here’s what I know. I know yer father was keen to get rid of ye because ye’d sullied yer reputation. Now I know ye’re askin’ about some to do with a toff and a girl and a mill. Is that him, then?”

Grace’s anger was still there, as was her wounded pride, but those feelings were buried under heaps and heaps of confusion.

“Because—mark me, Grace—I’ll not send ye back to him. I daenae care about your past. I made that clear when I married ye, reputation be damned. But ye areminenow, do ye hear me?Mywife. It’s nae concern of mine if he wasted his chance, left ye untouched—left yeunwed, even after ruinin’ ye.”

Grace felt rather as though she was in some sort of play where she didn’t know the lines, one where she expected to find herself in a tragedy only to realize it had been a comedy all along.

“I—” She shook her head. “I have no ideawhatyou’re talking about.”

He looked disappointed, angry. “If ye are so determined to lie to me, I daenae know what else to say.”

And then, in a gesture clearly born of frustration, he threw up his hands. There was no violence to it.

And yet, unable to stop herself, Grace flinched.

Caleb grew very, very still. His expression was unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

He didn’t speak at once, but when he did, his voice was low and deadly calm.

“Who struck ye, Grace? Who did harm to ye, to make you react like that? Tell me, and I will kill him.”

He wasn’t blustering, didn’t speak from temper. The words were a promise to do swift, dispassionate violence in her honor, to avenge any wrong done against her.

His gaze burned with its intensity and somehow this made Grace finally realize what piece had been missing, why they seemed destined to misunderstand one another so desperately.

“Caleb,” she said carefully, testing the words as she spoke them. “Do you mean to say that you don’t knowwhymy reputation was sullied?”

Incredulity flickered across his features, like he could not believe that she’d chosen this moment to ask that particular question, but he gave his head a sharp shake.

“I dinnae care about the specifics,” he said, done dripping with disdain. “I was given the impression that there was some question about your virtue, though I know now that wasn’t true. I assumed it was some sort of the usual English shite. Found kissin’ some man, dallyin’ too long on a veranda, exchangin’ letters when you oughtn’t.”

There was distinct irony that this man—the one who had been far more intimate with her person than any other—seemed to have some sort of certain knowledge about her virtue, but that, Grace decided, was a matter for another day.

Becausehe didn’t know. He didn’t know about any of it.

A month ago—maybe even a week ago—the idea would have held undeniable appeal. Now, however, the idea that this argument was caused by something so obvious asa misunderstandingfelt laughably idiotic.

“No,” she said. “My reputation was ruined because for three years I was abducted and presumed dead, and when I turned up, very much alive, thetonassumed I must have been sullied during that time.”

It did sound utterly absurd when laid out like that, so, really, Grace did not blame her husband for looking absolutely gob smacked.

“What?” he asked, sounding almost as though he doubted his own ears. It did not suit him; he was not the kind of man who second guessed himself.

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