Page 30 of Her Runaway Duke
Was it a sign? Should she leave and discover what she was to do with the rest of her life?
Was she only comfortable here because she felt that she could hide away from the world and what it wanted from her? Or should she believe in this feeling of destiny that had brought her here – despite the duke who seemed to want her gone from his home and his land as fast as possible?
It was a question she pondered throughout the day, as she finishedThe Enchanted Garden, as she drank tea alone in the drawing room, and as she wandered the abandoned gardens outside of the library terrace doors.
The overgrown grass and tangled vines brushed against her dress as she walked through them, a reminder of the neglect and time that had passed since anyone tended to the gardens. The ground was soft and squishy beneath her boots, evidence of the heavy rain over the past few days and the lack of maintenance for the past few years.
Through the air, thick with the earthy scent of moss and decaying plants, she could hear the distant call of birds, and then, the whinny of a horse.
Lucky. She turned toward the sound, nearly expecting to see him coming up behind her once more, but all she saw was the flick of his heels and the swish of his black tail as he disappeared into the thicket of trees across the fields.
She was sure the duke hadn’t seen her, or else he would have stopped and asked her in that gruff, surly way of his just what she was doing out here and why she wasn’t inside within his home’s protective walls.
It was interesting how the same overprotective man was the one who couldn’t wait to send her away so that he could retreat into the shell of his estate once more.
Siena couldn’t help herself from following the path Lucky had galloped, over the once-manicured paths and past the flowerbeds which were now littered with weeds. She picked her way carefully around the cracked and crumbling stone walls, circling the abandoned fountain as a hint of long-forgotten perfume lingered in the air, the remnants of a time when the gardens were loved and cared for.
She didn’t know what she was hoping for as she followed in the path the man and horse had tread. She had no expectations of overtaking them, due to their speed, but she supposed she thought there might be something of interest in the path they had travelled.
By the time she reached the tree line, water from the rain-soaked long grass had invaded her boots but she forged on, warmed by the bright sun overhead, which beat down upon her cloak until she reached the canopy of the branches of leaves overhead.
It was both louder and quieter here on the forest floor. There was no wind nor distant noise, but the chattering of animals and insects went on all around her, calling to one another as they described all that was before them.
A murmuring caught her ear, and while she was gripped for a moment in fear at the memory of the last time she had come upon men in the forest, she was soon soothed when she recognized the voice.
She stepped out, about to announce herself, but stopped when she saw what the duke was doing. He was crouched down on the ground, but not the same unmanicured ground that surrounded him. There was a square of dirt that appeared tohave been recently cultivated, and Siena gasped when she saw the flowers blooming within it.
The duke began to turn at the sound, and she jumped behind a tree to hide, but she was too late.
“Who is there?” he asked, standing with a swirl of his cloak and his hand on his hip as though ready to draw a weapon, like a warrior ready to face his foe. Lucky gave a whinny in her direction, and Siena jumped out with her hands in front of her.
“It is only me.”
“Lady Siena? What are you doing out here?”
There was the gruff question she had been waiting for.
“I was walking,” she said, not seeing why she would have to explain herself any further. “What is this?”
She began to round what appeared to be a garden, even as he shuffled back and forth, clearly uncomfortable.
“It is…” he struggled for words.
“It is a flower garden,” she said, crouching, reaching a hand out to touch a soft, velvety petal. “The roses are beautiful.”
She leaned in closer, drawn by the scent, but when she reached out to tug a rose toward her, this time she pricked her finger.
“Ouch,” she said, bringing it up to her mouth and sucking on it gently.
Still not hearing any reply, she turned around to make sure that the duke was still there.
“Are you?—”
She stopped when she noted the expression on his face. His good eye was fixated intensely on her finger which was still sitting between her lips. His pupil dilated, becoming darker and larger as he took slow steps toward her.
“Your Grace?” she asked, her own breath becoming quicker and slightly erratic as his musky scent mixed with the rosesaround her. That was the scent she hadn’t been able to identify. Roses.
“I told you to call me Levi,” he growled. “I have no wish to be the duke.”
