Page 37 of The Duke's All That
He chuckled. “Though you would insist on having me believe that you lost on purpose, wouldnae you?”
“You will allow me my pride,” she quipped. “I had to save face somehow.”
They gazed at one another across the distance between their beds, and Iain’s breath caught in his chest. Maybe it was the shifting shadows of the low fire, or the glint of faint light on her glasses, but there seemed to be a decided softness, almost affection, relaxing her features. And it touched him in a very visceral way.
In the next instant, however, more vigorous pounding started up, this time hitting the wall at Seraphina’s back. Gasping, the alarm back in place in her eyes, she scooted forward farther on the mattress and prompted him to continue. “And so you found those English men and fleeced them to within an inch of their lives.”
“Aye.” His voice cracked on the one word. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Aye, and it was nae difficult. They are a cocky lot, those English. And they believe to a one that an overlarge Scotsman is a stupid brute who can easily be taken advantage of.”
“Which you gladly disproved,” she murmured, almost admiringly.
“Aye,” he repeated with a grin, then continued with more enthusiasm. “Soon I was accepting their stolen Scottish houses as payment, taking back some of our heritage. I returned them to the families they had been stolen from, when I could.”
“And so you became some type of Scottish Robin Hood.”
He thought on that for a moment, liking the sound of it. “Aye, I suppose so,” he mused.
“And you’ve been alone all this time?”
The question took him aback, but more for the fact that she sounded so very sad asking it. So surprised was he that she could feel any type of grief for him, he replied without thinking, wanting to console her.
“Nae any longer. Nae now that I have my gran and cousin.”
She stilled, her eyes widening behind the glittering lenses of her spectacles. And he very nearly cursed himself aloud for his mistake. When she had known him, he had been an orphan, with no known family, alone in the world. Now he was revealing that he had relations, ones who were part of his life.
Of course, when he had first decided to keep knowledge of his family, and especially his newly acquired title, from Seraphina, he had been determined to divorce her. She had no right to that information, he had told himself, and might use it against him or refuse to assist him in their permanent and legal separation if she knew.
But everything had changed now that he knew she was innocent and had been as duped as he in their forced parting.
It shook him, that knowledge. What did he expect would happen, that they would abandon this goal he had been working toward since learning she was still alive and well? That they would remain married, would see this coming together as a second chance to have the life they had wanted all those years ago, would forget everything that had come between them and live happily ever after?
And why the hell not?
His entire body seized at that, not so much a whisper as a shout in his head. No, he could not think along that vein.Too much was changing, and much too fast, the very foundation of what he had built crumbling beneath him. Who was he, if not the angry, driven man who had taken his heartbreak and crushed it in his hands, becoming a kind of alchemist as he turned that lead weight of grief into a cloak of gold? It meant everything he had known, everything he had become, was a lie, a mere mirage.
Seraphina remained silent across the small room, questions loud in her gaze, though her lips remained pressed tight. She had always been insatiably curious, her fertile mind like a sponge for information; she would no doubt wish to question him extensively on his unexpected revelation that he had family. And suddenly he was exhausted beyond bearing. How could he possibly respond to her when he was so uncertain of both his past and his future… and had no idea what her place in it was any longer?
To his shock, however, no question passed her lips, only a softly spoken statement that shook him down to his soul.
“I am glad you found someone, and that you are not alone.”
And then, in a room that was finally silent, their neighbors apparently finished with what they were doing, she gave him a nod and, placing her spectacles back on the side table, rolled on her side, her back to him. Iain, for all he had been exhausted just moments ago, found he could not so much as close his eyes, his gaze anchored firmly to the graceful line of her back, certain he would not be able to sleep a wink…
… Until he awoke to a soft whimper filling the room.
Disoriented, he cracked open his eyes and peered about. Where the devil was he? And why the hell did his entirebody ache? He winced, trying to roll on his side—only for his hip to come up against the unforgiving wooden floor beneath him. All at once it came rushing back to him: the solitary room at that blasted inn he’d been forced to share with Seraphina; the electric touch of her hand on his that had spurred such discomfort between them; the noises from the room next door and the conversation they’d shared to drown it out.
But what had woken him? A faint rattle of metal brought his attention to the shadow of a cage in the corner. The bird gave a soft trilling beneath the cover. Ah, of course. Phineas must have called out. Damn pigeon. Glowering at the cage, he resolutely closed his eyes, determined to claim a sliver more of sleep.
Just as he was drifting off, however, the strange noise reached him again, prying him from Morpheus’s arms. Or, rather, wrenching him from them, for the noise was coming not from the cage, but the bed—and was decidedly human.
He tensed, suddenly wide awake, his senses honed down to a sharp point as he focused all his attention on Seraphina in the bed. There was the creak of the bed frame, the soft rush of her breath growing fast, another low whimper. Was she having a nightmare?Stay in your place, he told himself severely. It’s just a dream; nothing to fret about. She’ll be fine in no time.
But her movements only grew more agitated, pale limbs flashing in the faint moonlight as her legs worked free of the covers. The bird’s agitation seemed to grow in concert with Seraphina’s, the tinny sound of its talons and beak on the metal bars as it moved about, a disturbing accompaniment to his mistress’s unintelligible mumbling. Iain’s muscles trembled as he held himself still, not knowing what to do, what she needed from him.
Then, suddenly, she cried out, her words frighteningly clear.
“No! Please, I swear I’m sane. Let me out!”
