Page 77 of The Untamed Duke
When she edged away freezing rain immediately surged through Nicholas’s veins. She was so warm. Like sunlight. He could not control his emotions with her as he did with everyone else. She pulled forth all the anger and pain and sorrow from deep inside him until everything floated on the surface. Like curdled milk waiting to be skimmed away. He suddenly wanted to curl around her and sob into her neck like a weak child, hoping she could fix things.
My sweet, capable Grace. She’ll try and rescue me even if I don’t deserve saving. Even if she's the one who winds up needing rescue.
“I’m not counting this one. Not under these circumstances.”
She frowned, trembling a little more. “It counts, Your Grace. And you only avoid the true problem at hand. You must tell Sebastian what your father did.”
Nicholas pushed her from him, eyes blazing at hearing that vaunted and hated title fall from her lips. “Run along to your bedroom, Grace. Our interlude is over.”
Grace fell back against the mattress, elbows catching her from landing flat. Her mouth twisted as if she might begin weeping again. It took everything savage remaining inside Nicholas to keep from dragging her back into his arms and begging forgiveness.
“Don’t do this, Nicholas,” she whispered, rising upon her knees before him, searching his stony features. Her fingernails dug into his forearm, leaving half-moon marks. “Please...please let me help you.”
“Your negotiation skills leave much to be desired, but it’s an excellent start that you are on your knees. In fact, I find I like you best there,” he sneered.
He could no more stem the poison flowing from his mouth than he could quit breathing. That she’d discovered his secrets only increased the venom. His rage was misplaced. She didn't deserve such treatment, but he couldn’t stop.
“Two more nights, Grace. Burned down stables or no. The loss of your prized stallion? Insignificant. We have an agreement. A bloody contract, set down on paper, at your insistence. Your body for Bellmar Abbey and your horses, no matter their number or the condition of your stables. I intend on collecting all of it. And you. Soon.”
Chapter 31
He’s leaving.
A sob caught in Grace’s throat, one she quickly covered with a small cough. Ivy’s gaze touched on her as both women stood on Bellmar’s steps, watching the duke climb into his expensive, well-sprung coach.
Other than polite goodbyes and a request to leave his stallion behind, he’d not said a word. Although the horse had recovered from his minor stone bruise, he was still flighty from the aftermath of the fire. Nicholas would pay for his keep while in Grace’s care until the beast was returned to Oakmont.
There were no kind words for Grace herself. Nicholas was cool, distant, as if what passed between them the night of the fire meant nothing. When his eyes touched on her bracelet, his beautiful mouth lifting in a half-smirk, it nearly broke her heart.
Grace yanked the cuff of her striped apple green and cream color gown down in an effort of concealing her wrist. Of course, Nicholas noticed the gesture, and their gazes clashed for the briefest of moments. Could he see the longing in her features? The anguish in her eyes? Or did he not care? When he executed a curt bow and turned away, she had her answer.
A wolf masquerading as a gentleman. My wolf.
She very nearly chased the coach as it rumbled down the gravel lane. She wanted to scream after him that she would never mention his secrets again, would give him his two nights, as many as he wanted, if only he would hold her and whisper endearments in her ear.
“Come, dear,” Ivy said softly as the Richeforte coach and its matching white geldings disappeared from sight. Her arm wrapped around Grace’s waist, keeping her from making a fool of herself. “Perhaps a cup of tea will help.”
“It won’t,” Grace’s reply was dull and lackluster.I cannot think of tea when my heart is breaking. First Llyr, and now Nicholas...it’s too much to bear.
“I think it will. We’ll have a nice chat.”
Ivy tugged her into the house, calling for Mrs. Cooper to serve tea on the back terrace. The sunshine was warm, the day pretty and bright, but all Grace could see was thunderstorms and despair. Nicholas only wanted her because of their agreement. He did not wanther.Did not want to even attempt a reconciliation with Sebastian, a reconciliation that might have meant he could freely court her.
And marry me. Take me for his own, for his wife. But he doesn’t want that. How many times did he tell me he would never marry? How many times did I say the same? And now that I want him, he doesn't care. He will go on, hating Sebastian. Sebastian hating him. And all of society will believe the Duke of Richeforte is a wicked, dishonest devil.
They settled into iron chairs set around a small table, Ivy waiting until the tea was delivered and two cups poured before gently broaching the subject of Grace’s unhappiness.
“You can go to him, you know. Take Skye, ride to the duke and tell him how you feel.”
Grace, staring out over the garden just beyond the edge of the terrace, shifted her gaze to her cousin. “What—what did you say?”
“You know what I said.” Ivy laughed softly. “Oh, my dear Grace, you are in love with the man. It’s as clear as a sunny day.”
Grace shook her head. “No. I’m not. Where did you get such an insane idea?”
“I’ve eyes in my head. And I know how a man looks when he is fighting what is in his heart. Richeforte has fallen in love with you. It’s quite obvious.”
“You’re wrong, Ivy. His Grace does not even like me, much less love me. I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about.” Grace sipped her tea, hoping it would hide the trembling of her hands.
