Page 28 of Taming a Beastly Duke
After a second, the maid gasped in disbelief, visibly flinching. It seemed strange to Edith that Miss Potter would not expect such a reaction. Servants knew that interrupting important meetings was unacceptable unless it was urgent. A delivery of flowers, no matter the intent, was hardly urgent. Why would she jeopardize her position to do such a thing?
Miss Potter backed away, unaware of Edith’s presence in the door. Edith watched with increasing confusion as the maid’s demeanor changed subtly. She appeared at first to be a cowering servant. However, Edith watched the change in her expression to something harder and more calculating.
“Beast,” she muttered, abandoning the flowers on a table and sweeping out of the room in a huff. As she exited, she at last noticed Edith. However, she walked past her without acknowledgment, and her petulant expression returned. Edith stared after her, thinking over the entire exchange. Her behavior was more than that of a resentful servant.
Just as Edith began to cry, Thomas appeared, putting a gentle arm around her shoulders.
“That brazen creature speaks only out of unwarranted temerity,” he said softly. “She failed to conduct herself appropriately within the expectations of her duties. Marcus, though a bit gruff in his execution, was right to correct her. He is no beast—of that, I am certain. He may be harsh on occasion, but there is nothing beastly about the man we know him to be.”
Edith looked up at Thomas with deep gratitude. She knew that Thomas loved Marcus just as she did. Yet she was still pleased at his passionate defense of her brother.
“You are right,” she said, allowing herself to sink into Thomas’s comforting embrace. And as she gazed into his eyes, it became clear to her thatthere were feelings between them far deeper than mere friendship. She had tried to convince herself that she was being foolish for fancying him, knowing she could never have him. However, the new realization brought with it the fantasy that she could. And right then, she could not help but entertain it.
***
Adelaide decided to go for a walk in the gardens of the Lochville estate to try to keep her mind off the duke’s visit with the physician. She had heard servants whispering about how vicious he had been to Miss Potter when she brought fresh flowers into the room while Mr. Morrison was still there. She saw no fault in the duke reprimanding a servant for knowingly overstepping her bounds, nor had she cause to reproach him considering that his illness must make it difficult to be kind in frustrating situations. She did, however, worry what came of the visit. Had the physician discovered what ailed the Duke? Was there something he could do to help the duke?
The gardens were bathed in glorious sunlight as Adelaide entered the patchwork of fields and gardens. She carried a volume of poetry she had borrowed from the Duke’s library, one which she had not seen since her years with her governess. The peaceful setting of the gardens offered her refuge from her thoughts of her aunt’s knowing observations, the strange warning note about the duke, and her growing feelings for the man whose reputation spoke of darkness. It was easy to lose herself in the book, soon forgetting all her worries as her surroundings became those in the poetry she read.
When a shadow fell across her page, she was startled back to the present. Her pulse quickened with surprise when she saw it was the Duke standing at the entrance of the gazebo where she had found her sanctuary. His powerful frame blocked the light she used in order to read, and she closed the book. When she met his gaze, his eyes softened and he gave her a small but warm smile., despite the tension in his shoulders.
As he approached, she smelled leather and horses. His cravat was loosened, she guessed from the heat of the early summer afternoon. Her fingers tightened around her book as his shadow now covered the entire area where she sat. She was thrilled to have a moment with him, as she found she was more often as of late. Also, her body recalled the heat of his kisses, responding as it always did and with just as much intensity. However, her mind also responded with conflicting thoughts. The warning note had no intention of allowing her to forget about it, no matter what her other feelings for the Duke wanted to be.
“Ah, Ovid's Metamorphoses,” he said, tracing the edge of the book, his hand nearly brushing hers. “A rather dramatic contrast to Wordsworth, I daresay.”
Adelaide blushed, nervous and thrilled at his close proximity. The yearning bloomed within her, making a warm day feel all the hotter.
“I enjoy many poets,” she said. “This is something I have not read since I was a girl.”
The duke raised an eyebrow, smirking as he nudged the book open with his fingertips. She had not thought he could get closer without touching her, but as the book opened, he did.
“This book speaks a great deal about punishment and moral decline,” he said. “Should I take this as an indication of your current mood?”
Adelaide stared up at him, amazed at the genuine curiosity and concern in his eyes. She shook her head, daring to move her hand a little closer to his.
“No,” she said, offering another smile. “Ovid also speaks about transformation, not unlike Wordsworth.”
The duke shrugged, idly turning pages as his hand nearly came to rest on hers.
“I cannot say that turning into a weeping stone or wasting away into nothing is a particularly pleasant transformation,” he said.
Adelaide shook her head once more, glancing away.
“Mayhap,” she said. “The transformation granted by two virtuous souls from stones into sentient life is, however.”
The Duke smirked again, his lips parting ever so slightly before he spoke again.
“He also discusses forbidden love, not unlike Romeo and Juliet,” he said huskily. “I wonder what you think about such tales.”
Adelaide trembled as he reached for her cheek, brushing away a strand of hair. She leaned eagerly into his touch, despite her lingering uncertainty. Understanding her urgent consent, Marcus kissed her, just gently as he had before. And as it always did, it quickly became wild and hungry, the need to continue and advance their contact growing more intense and apparent with every sigh.
Her worries and skepticism vanished, and in that moment, there was nothing but him, the deliciousness of the leather scent on him, his lips on hers and the raw longing between them. When he put his hand on her waist and bent himself so that the top of his chest touched hers, he was sure that he would not stop. They were outdoors, where anyone inside the mansion could find them. Yet all Adelaide could think about is how wonderful it would feel if he continued.
He did not continue, though. He pulled away, his breathing as ragged and rapid as hers. His pale face was spotted with deep crimson as he looked down at his trembling hands. It was as if the tremor he saw there brought him back to his senses. He stumbled backward, looking terribly tormented as he looked from his shaking fingers back to her face.
“I cannot risk your life by letting you get too close to me,” he growled loudly. “I shall not.”
Before she could ask him to repeat what he had said to try to make sense of it, the duke strode away from her. His words had hurt her deeply, though she tried to understand. Each time he kissed her, she could feel that he wanted her more than the last. And yet each time, he was quicker to flee from her. She remained in the gazebo, holding the forgotten book limply in her hand. What had he meant with his words, which were no less cryptic than the warning letter? Was he referring to Charlotte’s death, or was there something else beneath his words?
