Page 66 of Plucked By the Orc

Duncan would find out for sure all the same. Before she left his house to return to her life in Lambeth, he would make his feelings clear. And then the decision was hers.

He hadn’t meant to lose his temper in front of thetonand could only imagine what soothing words Albion had conjured to gloss over the situation after Duncan left. For that matter, he imagined Iris’s reaction as well. And he didn’t like what he saw with his mind’s eye. She would know him to be a temperamental sort and far from suitable as a prospective partner in life.

As this unwelcome thought played in his head, however, Duncan couldn’t quite see the truth of it. She may have been a countess on the exterior, at least for the evening, but Iris Gabbert was never one to hold back her thoughts. Or her passions. It was one of the qualities that drew him to her. Perhaps she admired the same quality in him, even when it was socially inconvenient.

Nonetheless, the notion of presenting her with a ring, declaring himself so vulnerable, caused a skittering in his stomach. Although, thankfully, no memories of Lady Margaret invaded his thoughts. At last, the humiliation he had suffered was exorcized from his mind.

Whether with him or without him, he wanted Iris to be happy.

Before any conversation with Iris, Duncan needed to clear his head. Drawing his coat tighter against the cold, he ducked to avoid the metal sign hanging at the front entrance to the stable.

At this time of night, he had the mews house to himself. Taking in the comforting smell of animals and straw, he took a moment to adjust to the dimmer light inside the stable, listening to the contented nickering of the half-dozen horses around him.

He approached Wintermist’s stall. They were at eye level with one another, and the gelding softly blinked his welcome. Duncan removed his gloves, tucked them in his pocket, and offered his hand for a sniff before stroking the animal’s velvety muzzle. White oval patches were now more visible on Wintermist’s gray flanks as he began to shed his top coat in anticipation of springtime.

Duncan felt the animal’s warm breath as Wintermist nibbled the fruit in his hands. And he was always impressed by how gently the massive steed prodded the apple before sinking his teeth into it.

After Wintermist finished the snack, Duncan wiped his hands with his handkerchief and tousled the horse’s mane.

To his surprise, as he returned to his townhouse, he detected a glimmer of candlelight in the library. Mrs. Thompson was still up, waiting to help Iris undress before she retired for the night. But Mrs. Thompson had never intruded on his privacy.

Walking through the front door, he shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto a side table, nearly knocking over a vase. He hurried to the library.

Iris was waiting there, standing before the fire and warming her hands.

This version of Iris differed from the one who had appeared earlier. The intricate ringlets gathered at the crown of her head were let out. Her hair fell loose about her shoulders, straying down her upper arms and back. Her purple gown, lovely as it had been, was discarded for a faded bronze frock that clung to her curves.

Duncan recognized her attire. He’d caught sight of that gown under her pelisse on the first night they met.

“Duncan ‘iggins,” she said. “I should like to have a word with you.”

If Iris knew anything, it was this. She needed to face Duncan Higgins as her true self. And while that wasn’t quite the same person who had come to his house in the first place, as a humble flower seller wanting to recover the parts of herself that had been buried once her mother passed on, she wasn’t the mysterious countess he had presented at Lady Bellingham’s rout either.

She was Iris. No more, no less. And she loved Duncan Higgins with her entire soul. But she could not confess that love freely until she knew how he felt about the woman before him. Not his creation, thefinelady, buther.

He stopped at the door, his impressive form filling the frame and seeming to loom before her even larger, for she had been so nervous waiting for him. Wisps of white snow dotted his black locks, and she longed for them to sit together by the fire. To run her hands through his hair before cupping his face and drawing him in for a slow, deep kiss.

It would be easy to seduce him and let him seduce her. To return to the intimacy they shared with no more talk of love or feelings. She could remain the woman he created or found, whichever fancied them both. The pleasure could continue unchecked.

She wanted him so badly her entire skin was tingling. But she also wanted more.After hearing his words at Lady Bellingham’s, she clung to the hope that such ecstasy might lie within her reach.She only needed the courage to find out for sure.

“Miss Gabbert,” he said gruffly, his fingers flexing. His claws were out, glinting in the soft candlelight. “Given your resounding success tonight, I wasn’t sure whether to expect you or not. I thought you might remain out until dawn.”

“A success, indeed. Thanks to your grace.”

She had changed out of her evening attire into one of her simple frocks from the time before Duncan Higgins entered her life. Some grand lady or another had cast it aside. By now, Iris understood that pretty though the worn fabric was, the style was at least two seasons out of fashion. But she must convey to Duncan that such shallow concerns didn’t matter. Not to her.

Nevertheless, she would retain her elegance. Iris Gabbert liked to keep a touch of dignity about her person, thank you very much. She took a seat on one of his giant armchairs. The bloody furniture may have been large enough to devour her, but she saw no reason not to behave as properly as she had at Lady Bellingham’s.

“Your wager is duly won. I take it Albion wasn’t too disappointed?”

“Rather, I think he is secretly pleased,” Duncan told her. “I believe he was as charmed by your newfound stature as anyone you’ve met since we began our lessons.”

“You don’t believe he wanted Wintermist?”

“Oh, that he did,” Duncan replied almost playfully. “But dash it all if he can have the steed. I’ll help him find a suitable mount if he wishes, but Wintermist will remain in my stable where he belongs.”

Iris parted her lips but found she hadn’t the words. She wanted to ask him if he thought the same of her. That she belonged in hisstable. But that hardly seemed the right way to go about it, as she was not about to agree to be kept in the same manner as a horse, no matter how beloved the creature.

---