Page 111 of The Captive
The secretary was used to such commands. He’d served under the old earl and written many a note to the fair Helene for Marcus on various visits at Greendale. She’d never written back, but that hardly mattered now.
Maybe having Mercia meet up with brigands on his homeward journey would have been easier, but the silent duke enjoyed too much popular interest now. His death would be investigated, and the first question asked would be: “Who benefits from his passing?”
So let it be this way, with Girard serving as the instrument of Mercia’s death. No code of law or code of honor would protect Girard from the consequences of killing such a well-regarded nobleman, regardless that it was murder on the so-called field of honor. Girard at the very least would be hounded from the country, and not a soul would protest his absence.
No man whose body—whose hand—had been that badly treated could expect to prevail in personal combat, not even the unbreakable duke.
***
“Did you miss me, Gilly love?”
A great warm weight settled along Gilly’s back and shifted the mattress behind her.
“Did you lock my door?” Sleep hadn’t been elusive, it had been entirely absent, and only a portion of Gilly’s wakefulness had been on her own account.
“Of course I locked the door. What do you take me for? The maids know to leave my chambers alone come morning, but I’d be completely undone did they walk in on me here. I like this bed, it’s cozier than mine.”
“Smaller, you mean.” She flopped over onto her back, trying to see him by the moonlight streaming in the window. “And you won’t be here in the morning.”
“Will too. Budge over. Cozy means I don’t want to be hanging off the mattress all night.”
She shifted to the far side of the bed, realizing he’d once again put himself between her and the door, something she’d never had to ask him to do. “How was Marcus?”
“Too much the officer for me,” Christian said. “Stop frowning at me, love, and cuddle up. The nights grow chilly, and we can’t have your favorite duke taking an ague.”
“Heaven forfend.” She curled down against his side, tucked her head on his shoulder, and slid a knee across his thighs, for he was her favorite duke. Also her favorite man. “Better?”
“You are all that is accommodating. I ran into St. Just saying good night to his horse. He said he had a thoroughly agreeable day, and why I haven’t married you defies reason.”
“You won’t allow me to find sleep,” Gilly said on a sigh. “You must badger me for good measure, haunt my dreams, and threaten to scandalize the maids in the morning to see me flustered.”
“You’re still indisposed, aren’t you?” He twisted his head to kiss her brow. “Poor dear. Your biology makes you cranky—has anyone ever told you that?”
“I’m going to sleep now.”
“Now that I’m here, of course you are.” He drew circles on her nape with his thumb, lazy caresses that drained all the nameless worry out of her.
“What do you mean, Marcus was too much the officer?”
His fingers on her neck slowed. “He was all bonhomie and good show. He’s facing near ruin at Greendale but wouldn’t let me lend a hand.”
The estate was another victim of Greendale’s legacy, and in some ways, one bearing the more difficult wounds to overcome. “How could you tell?”
His hand shifted to knead her shoulders, and Gilly let loose a soft groan. “My countess sounds like Chessie after a good roll.”
“My duke has a few talents that might endear him after all.”
“You got the important part right,” he said. “I am your duke, but back to the matter at hand. Marcus was careful to take me around to his best farms, but still, the fences are sagging, the land is tired, the herds are adequate, but the beasts are runty enough to suggest years of inbreeding. The servants scurry around like whipped dogs, and Marcus claims the solicitors won’t turn loose of any of the estate monies because of legal restrictions.”
“Greendale had coin,” Gilly said. “Or he acted like he did.” She stifled a yawn and shifted her leg to a more comfortable position on Christian’s thighs.
“Move your leg like that again at your peril.”
Her eyes flew open. “I’m not…I’m still indisposed.”
He patted her bum through her nightgown. “That doesn’t preclude me from wanting you, or you from wanting me.”
Wouldanything?“It most certainly should.”
