Page 86 of A Duke Changes Everything
“Yes, is it broken?” Fairchild’s tone turned more concerned than wrathful.
“Her ankle is fine.” Mention of any part of Mina’s body brought fresh memories of every part of her body to Nick’s mind. He felt his cheeks warm, and saw horror dawn on her cousin’s face.
“My God, you have no decency.”
“Of course I don’t. But I would never harm Mina. I promise you that.”
Fairchild let out a little growl and surged forward, fists balled. “But you already have.”
“Gentlemen.” Huntley came forward, a half smile on his face. “Would you mind if the duke and I have a word alone?” His voice was butter smooth, low and calm. His charming voice. The cajoling one he wielded so well.
Fairchild and Iverson looked at Huntley as if he’d lost his mind.
“Trust me,” he said with a sly smile that would inspire anyone with a whit of sense to do nothing of the sort. “Take Mr. Fairchild to the breakfast room, Iverson. The cooks are up early. Surely they can provide some repast or a strong cup of tea. Tea solves all problems, doesn’t it?”
“No, it most assuredly does not,” Fairchild bellowed. “I want to speak to Mina. I’m taking her home.”
Tinder struck the well of anger in Nick, and irritation sparked to life. “Mina decides where she wishes to go and when.”
Huntley was done with charm. He put one hand on Iverson’s shoulder, the other on Fairchild’s, and began shoving the men toward the door. Iverson pushed back. He and Nick and Huntley all fairly matched each other for height and weight, but Fairchild twisted around as if he was prepared to take them all on in a brawl.
“Just go,” Huntley snapped. The sound of his usually mellow voice transformed to a fearsome bark stopped everyone in their tracks. “Bollocks, give us ten minutes.” He spoke only to Iverson, and finally his words had the desired effect.
“Ten minutes,” their business partner warned as he shepherded Mina’s still-grousing cousin through the door. “Then we depart with Miss Thorne.”
“They’re not taking her anywhere,” Nick said when he and Huntley were alone.
“What if she wishes to go?”
“You speak as if we’re not both returning to the same place.” Nick took a deep breath before adding, “I still have matters to attend to at Enderley.”
“Indeed, you do.” Huntley lowered himself into one of the chairs in the corner of the room, crossed his long legs, and positioned his tented fingers under his chin. “What of this matter, Nick?”
The wave of his hand took in Nick’s disheveled state.
“Did you have no thought for the lady’s reputation?” Huntley tipped his head. “You’re usually so careful with your dalliances.”
“This isn’t a dalliance.”
“No, clearly it’s not. So what is it?” Huntley smiled, not his usual smugness, but an expression full of understanding. Perhaps sympathy. “You and I are far too clever to fall into love’s snare.”
Nick held his breath, working to keep emotion from his face, attempting to perfect that gambler’s mien that gave away nothing. Problem was, Mina had torn down all his facades.
Huntley started to grin. Then his mouth fell open and he returned a gaping stare. “My God, you’ve been struck down. You’ve fallen.”
Nick scrubbed a hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his head. He could not name what this was. Love? Maybe. Though he wasn’t sure the word meant to him what it meant to the poets and storytellers. It was nothing he’d ever aspired to. Nothing he’d ever sought. A strange, ephemeral thing he’d rarely felt.
Love.
Could this overwhelming certainty that Mina was his and he could never belong to anyone else be love? It felt titanic. Overwhelming. She was essential. Her smile, her stubbornness, her sweet, impulsive nature—he couldn’t live without them anymore. Only this—the fullness he felt with her—mattered. Only going back to bed and keeping her with him mattered.
Loveseemed too simple a term. He wasn’t certain what he felt for her could fit into the confines of a word he’d never spoken.
“What the hell is love?” he finally asked.
Looking at the horrified expression on Huntley’s face, he suspected he’d asked precisely the wrong person.
“How should I know? You tell me. You’re in the middle of it.” Huntley had leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head hanging as if he felt ill. His skin had gone ashen. “Iverson is determined to find a wife. You’ve been felled by a fine pair of eyes and a perfect bosom. Will this madness come for me next?”
