Page 131 of How to Love a Duke in Ten Days
He let out a long, strained breath, both elated and humbled. “Alexandra…”
She tensed. “I understand if… if this alters your desires. I’m not a virgin. I’m an entire mess, and if you no longer want—”
“Dear God, no!” He trailed his lips over her forehead, down her temples. Pressing little chaste, worshipping kisses to her cheekbones, her nose, the corners of her lips.
She turned her face to him, pressing her still-wobbling mouth against his own.
He let her, soaking in the kiss until she broke it with a great sniff.
He’d give his soul for a handkerchief.
“I feel better now.” She sighed. “I think… I think I can try…”
He lifted her, carrying her to the bed and settling her upon it. He stretched out next to her, behind her, tucking her body gently against his, and scooping out a protective cocoon for her.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“What?” She lifted her head, but he guided it back to rest on his arm.
“Tomorrow.” He traced little symbols of comfort over her arms. “Or the next day. Or whatever day you are ready. Once the tears have dried and the fear is departed…”
And he felt a little less like murdering someone.
Once someone had ceased trying to murder him.
Relaxing, she nodded, her lithe form shuddering a few more times.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered around fresh tears. “Piers?”
“Yes, darling.”
“What do I do now?”
“Now,” he rumbled, doing his best to match his breath with hers, touching her with comfort rather than need. “Now you allow me to hold you. To watch over you as you sleep in my arms.”
She nodded, leaning deeper into his embrace.
Piers held her the entire night, searching the darkness for answers he knew were not there. He wouldn’t rip information from her she wasn’t ready to give. He wouldn’t touch her unless she asked him to.
He would search out his enemies and put them in the ground, for they posed a threat to her as well. Then, when she was safe, he’d tear the world apart until he found the man who’d done this.
And avenge her.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Alexandra had expected to suffer through the following day, to spend each moment dreading her midnight reckoning. Likewise, she’d feared a heavy and melancholy change in the dynamic between her and her husband after the overwrought, if emotionally intimate, night they’d spent in each other’s arms.
However, as she and Redmayne trundled along the scenic cliff road from Le Havre to Seasons-sur-Mer in a coach burdened by a veritable treasure trove, she felt lighter than she had in years.
A smile broke over her as she enjoyed the brilliant sunset and laughed at her husband’s own brand of wry humor. Was this what joy felt like? A cluster of hours nearly free of care, every moment filled to the brim with delight, each one a distinct flavor and all of them sweet.
Their first stop in Le Havre had been the bank, where Redmayne withdrew a mind-boggling amount of money and relinquished it to her as though he’d given her a mere trinket.
On the subject of trinkets, she’d never realized that a man could have the emotional and financial fortitude to shop like a Redmayne. Pillaging coastal villages and such was a trait handed down to him by his ancestors, and evidently, her husband awoke hell-bent on honoring his lineage to the fullest. The notable difference being, of course, he paid rather than plundered.
Paid handsomely, in fact.
Never mind hacking through foreign jungles and forging lethal rivers. Redmayne conquered the entire market street and beyond with a singular focus, spoiling her as though it was a mission given him by the queen.
