Chapter 15

“No,” Duncan pleaded, bright orange light exploding behind his eyes.

He thrashed in his sleep, sweat pouring from every pore as his slumber pulled away the bars of his beast’s cage. He tried to awaken from the nightmare, to find his grip and release himself from the fear. But it pulled him back in, its black tendrils forcing him back to thick smoke, fear, and flames. Back to the day his father died.

“Get out!” his father’s voice echoed. “It’s a trap!”

It was the first and only time he heard fear in his father’s voice.

Duncan coughed as if there were no air in the room, feeling the thick black smoke choking his lungs again. He let out a strangled noise as he convulsed in his bed, fighting through the imaginary hellscape. He was running, coughing, his eyes stinging from the smoke as he saw the pinprick of white light ahead. He had to get to it. Needed to get to it, but the urge to save his father was stronger.

“Father!” he yelled, feeling the heat begin to sear his skin as the sickening sound of groaning wood came from above. It was coming. The pain. The death. The emptiness. It was all about to crash down.

“Duncan?” his father’s voice roared, full of terror. “Nooooo!!! Run!!!”

The groaning from above turned into a deafening creak then, and as Duncan looked up, he saw the burning beam falling toward him.

“No!” he pleaded, his voice trembling as he sat up in bed.

His eyes opened wide, terrified, but he still saw nothing but flames, felt nothing but burning wood atop him. Then through the searing pain, he felt hands on him, pulling him, petting him, but it was too much, all too much, and he began to swing at the air.

“Duncan, it’s me, it’s me,” Alice’s sweet voice sounded through the screams of the past, her much weaker hands desperately trying to still his fists.

Duncan snapped back into reality as he drew a ragged breath, and he felt his arms drop heavily to his sides as he saw Alice’s concerned eyes looking at him. Her hands had cradled his jaw, keeping his face turned to her. Slowly, he felt his rapid heartbeat begin to slow to an even pace, but the room still felt too hot.

“What happened?” he asked shakily, letting his jaw rest briefly on her hand as he looked up at her.

He was still mad at her for taking off his mask. It had bothered him greatly. But, for now, it was only her who had brought him solace and wrenched him free of his nightmare.

“I heard you screaming from my room,” Alice explained, reaching a hand up and running it through his hair.

Her soft touch sent soothing jolts across his scalp, and he couldn’t help but lean into it.

“I thought you were being attacked. Something like at the docks…”

“No,” Duncan sighed, shaking his head. “And I told you, you need to have no concern about that. This was just a nightmare.”

Alice’s hands, blissfully cool, went to his bare chest. “Lie back,” she coaxed, her soft voice rubbing away the hard edges of his tension.

Duncan struggled against her touch for a moment, not trusting his body’s responses as he came further back to reality. Taking calmer breaths, he focused on keeping his heartbeat steady while she turned toward the table and wrung a wet cloth with one hand.

“What is that?” he asked distrustingly, pulling away from her.

Alice gave him a compassionate look before she slowly leaned toward him again with the cloth. “I will not hurt you, Duncan,” she promised, gently pressing the cool, wet cloth to his sweat-covered forehead.

Duncan groaned as relief poured through him. Alice let out a gentle “shhh,” the sound somehow stroking a rigid part of his brain, and he stiffly leaned back into the pillows. His body ached painfully as his muscles began to unclench one by one with each stroke of the cool cloth. How long had he been this way? His entire body was so tight with tension and fear that he couldn’t will his muscles to rest like he normally could.

“Breathe, my love,” she soothed, tenderly running the cool cloth further down his body, over his still-rigid abdomen and tense forearms. “You are here in Baxter. You are safe with me.”

Her voice was like a balm to a burn, dousing the last of the proverbial flames and cooling them with a healing touch.

His nightmares of the fire always did this to him, tricking his body into believing that it was actually running, suffocating… then burning. It was not the first time he’d awoken covered in sweat, barely able to breathe from the heat in the room, and feeling as if he’d just fought ten men. It was not going to be his last either. For a while, the nightmares had gone away when he dropped the investigation. But over the last two months, they had started to resurface.

Why? Why could he not let the past go? He knew why, though. It was the truth everyone around him refused to accept. But he knew. He was broken. Scarred in mind, body, and soul. And bringing Alice into his hell had been a grave mistake.

“Alice, you should not have come,” Duncan chastised, his eyes willing her to understand.

“You were screaming,” she whispered with calm defiance, her eyes not leaving his. “I was not going to ignore your pain.”

“My pain is my matter, not yours,” Duncan growled back defensively, feeling his tension rise as he sat up. “When these nightmares come, I can be dangerous. I once gravely hurt an innocent servant who’d heard me screaming from the halls. I was asleep, I didn’t know what I was doing. I may be safe, but you are not.”

“You will not hurt me.” Alice said this like an edict, only making him more annoyed.

“I will not know it is you,” he insisted.

“And I will not ignore your pain,” she bit back, shooting him such a scathing glare that he looked away.

As he did so, he saw his mask was on the bedside table. Only then did he realize that his face was bare and that Alice had been touching his actual scars. In the panic of the moment, he did not even think about it, but now it was beyond evident. Tense all over again, Duncan sat up and reached for the mask. It disappeared right before he was about to clasp its edges, the blur of Alice’s small hand rushing in front of him, and then he heard it land somewhere on the bed with a dull thud.

“No hiding and no lying,” she demanded, returning his sudden glaring stare.

It had been days since she’d pulled his mask off on the swing, and they hadn’t spoken since. Alice had tried. Cornering him in his office and catching him on the way out once her sisters had left, but he’d refused to hear her out. He’d allowed himself to forget about it briefly because of his nightmare, but now that she was making it an issue again, he once more grew defensive.

“I cannot deal with this right now,” he stated, embarrassed by the desperation in his voice. “Please, Alice. This does not concern you.”

“What was your nightmare?” she asked, ignoring him. “Was it about the fire?”

Her question jarred him, as he was not at all prepared for it. He had told her nothing of the fire. Surely his friends, not even Morgan, would tell her about that. Helena? She’d lost her father to it, too, poor thing, but would she speak of it to Alice?

“Where did you hear about a fire?” he asked suspiciously.

“I was given vague facts with the utmost respect to your name. You needn’t worry about anything further than that,” Alice replied with a shrug.

He glared at her angrily as his jaw ticked, but she only continued to stare coolly back at him, so composed and irritatingly beautiful in the soft lamplight. Damn it if he was not proud of her standing her ground and protecting her source. He would have done the same thing—it was just that he did not like the tables turned on him. Realizing, for now, that she had the upper hand, he felt his stubbornness wither.

“I lost my father in a fire,” he explained grudgingly, rubbing his scars with disgust. “All of us did. Ambrose. Morgan. Ezra. But my friends were where they were supposed to be. They listened, I had not, and I followed them that day, unbeknownst to Father and whoever set the flame. He had no idea I was even there until it broke out. I saw him get separated from the others by the flames and called out to him. He called back, and as I tried to get to him, I think he tried to get to me. But the smoke was too thick, the flames spread too fast. It was impossible.”

“I’m so sorry, Duncan,” she gasped, her hand clasping tightly around his.

Duncan felt a strange comfort in the way Alice was making him feel that he didn’t trust. It was not the words. They were generic as far as the condolences he had received. It was her voice. Her presence. And it was wrong. All wrong. He did not talk like this.

“But also… I think I may understand. A little,” she whispered as his body began to tense up again.

His head swiveled back to her quickly, unsure if he heard her correctly. “How do you mean?” he asked warily.

“Sometimes I still have nightmares about the night my mother died.”

Alice’s confession shocked Duncan, and though he was still angry at her for taking his mask, his glare softened a little.

“I did not realize,” he murmured.

“I don’t see her in my dreams, you know,” Alice continued, her voice distant, like she was trying to stay separate from what she was explaining. “Perhaps that is because I did not see her die. But I do hear her screams. As piercing and as painful as they were the day she died and left Juliet in our care.”

Duncan studied her face, his heart clenching painfully as he saw the pain in her eyes, but just as he thought she was about to cry, she sniffled and shot up from the bed. He watched her silently as she went to his wall of windows and opened two of them, allowing in a large gust of cool, fresh night air.

Duncan inhaled deeply, immediately feeling better, and got out of bed to follow her.

“That’s what I hear too,” he confessed, stopping just a step behind her. “My father’s screams. The sound of them is worse than anything I ever see in my dreams.”

Her eyes were focused on the nightscape before them, but Duncan’s were focused on her back. The loose neckline of her nightgown dipped down to show off the perfection of her spine and the curves that flowed beautifully around it. His hands itched to pull the loose fabric down her shoulders some more so he could see the beautiful bounty that lay beneath, but he stopped himself.

Instead, he moved around her, unlatched another window, and pushed it open. They both let out a sigh of relief as another gust of cool, damp night air rushed in. The fresh air served to anchor Duncan completely back in his body, and as he composed himself, he turned to Alice with a question.

“Why did you take my mask?” he asked, feeling a swell of loneliness and distrust take over him.

He watched as she bowed her head, and he felt his insecurities rear their heads. As silence ticked by, he thought of turning back to the bed, his mask now free for him to pick up, but then Alice spoke.

“Because I do not like it when you hide,” she told him, keeping her eyes trained on the floor. “Your secrets or your face. I hate it. I know ours is not a love marriage, but we are at least friends, Duncan. You can be yourself with me. You can tell me things. This suffering does not have to go on!”

Her words made him flinch. He didn’t want to be friends. He had enough of those, and besides, friends didn’t do what they did to one another.

“And you?” he asked defensively, turning her around. “What are you hiding from? I see how you cower in crowds, how you try to hide yourself behind a pillar or sculpture every chance you get. And what about the way you talk about yourself? It is maddening to hear you speak so poorly of yourself. It makes me want to put you over my knee and?—”

Duncan stopped himself and cleared his throat, a different type of frustration growing. He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he clenched his jaw and took a moment to gather himself. When he was sure he had control of himself, he did his best to speak in a polite tone, but it came out biting at best.

“Why do you think you can demand I not hide when you yourself do the very same?”

“Why does it madden you that I talk this way?” she asked.

Annoyance shot through him as she answered his question with a question, but as he felt the urge to grab her arms and shake her, she lifted her eyes to his. A deep throbbing sensation began in his lower abdomen and testes as their gazes locked, pushing away his anger. His cock stirred to life immediately, straining against the fabric of his drawers.

The look in her eyes was not one of defiance. It was innocence. Eagerness. A willingness to understand his point of view if only he would explain.

“You are so very beautiful without your mask on,” Alice whispered, her gaze dropping first to his neck, then slowly to the rest of his body. “I do not understand why you would hide any part of yourself.”

Duncan looked at her with a deadpan expression. He had been called many things in his life, but beautiful? Never.

“Do not placate me,” he snarled, turning back toward the bed.

“I am not,” Alice said defiantly, catching up to skirt around him, putting herself between him and his mask. “You may not see how other women look at you, but I do,” she continued, hurt rising in her voice. “Even with your mask on, women’s eyes are always following you. Watching your every step like predators. And they can’t even begin to understand how I was able to marry you.”

“You imagine things,” Duncan scoffed.

He tried once more to step around her, but Alice moved with him again. This time, she got directly in the way, and his thigh slid between her legs as they bumped into each other. The direct contact made them both stop immediately, and they looked up at one another with disbelief, hurt and need.

“I do not,” Alice whispered, her eyes begging him to believe her. “I see everything. How they look at you. How they look at me. I hear them, too. Laughing, speculating how conniving I must have been.”

This brought Duncan up short, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“What do you mean?” he asked, seeing hurt shine in her eyes as she looked away.

“I know what I look like,” she mumbled, her voice breaking as she wrapped her arms around her waist. “I have heard the insults all my life, and I never expected them to stop now. But they talk. They wonder what you see in such a cow like myself.”

Duncan had her pressed against him in a second, one arm wrapped around her waist and his free hand wrapped around the nape of her neck.

“Do not say that again,” he threatened, forcing her to meet his eyes.

He was not sure what had come over him, but he could not stand to hear her disparage herself a second longer.

Alice’s eyes glassed over with unshed tears as she looked up at him, and he quickly loosened his grip on her.

“Do not say that,” he repeated, softer this time as his fingers stroked the side of her neck. “I do not like it.”

“Why?” she rasped, her tone nearly breaking his heart. “It has to be true. Why else would you not make love to me?”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. How in the world could she think that?

“No,” Duncan said in a ragged breath.

Unable to take the pain in her voice, he dipped his head and kissed her. Not passionately, like the day before, but tenderly. Thoroughly. His lips suckled and pulled her soft sobs into him. How? How could this woman not see how beautiful she was?

“It is you who are the beautiful one,” he murmured between kisses. “Not me.”

A sharp pang went through his chest as she turned her lips away from his and her hands pressed against his torso.

“Then why?” she pleaded, shaking her head as she pushed at his chest. “Let me go.”

For a moment, Duncan began to obey, to loosen his grip and pull away, but when he heard a low sob escape her lips, he tightened his hold on her and lifted her off her feet.

“Don’t cry,” he begged, carrying her to his bed. “It’s not you,” he promised, pressing kisses to her lips as he laid her down. “It’s not you.”

“I’m sorry,” Alice whispered.

Her eyes were raw and gritty from the mess of finally released tears, and her cheeks felt sticky with dried salt. Now that they were no longer trapped inside, though, she felt a little better.

“You have no reason to be,” Duncan’s voice rumbled above her as he continued stroking her hair. “I’ve been so swept up in how all of this was affecting me that I didn’t even stop to consider your feelings. I had no idea your insecurities ran as deep as mine. Or that you too had lost your mother.”

Alice nodded absently, starting to feel sleepy. They had discussed many things in the last hour since Duncan had carried her to his bed, from her life with her father and sisters to her torturous time among the ton. Duncan had heard it all pour out of her as he lay on his back and held her close to his side, letting her tears fall on his bare chest.

He had not allowed her to ask any further questions about his nightmare, but he had shared some of what she already knew—that his father had been cold and stern and that his mother had died in childbirth. Still, she was relieved that they were finally talking, and was happy to have anything.

“It is getting late,” Duncan whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “You should go back to bed.”

Feeling immediately awake, Alice’s arm tightened around his waist and she buried her face in his chest, throwing her leg possessively over his hips as she muttered, “No.”

Duncan’s breath hitched as she slid her leg over his hips once more, her thigh gently grazing the front of his drawers, inadvertently stroking his rigid member. The moment she heard it, she repeated the motion, slower this time, and was rewarded with another hitched breath. She had tried to ignore it, knowing it was inappropriate, but she had become aware of his hard length the moment it was roused from its sleep.

That had been over an hour ago, and she felt her inner walls clench at the thought of how much agony he was in. Desire shot through her as she started to run her fingertips down his warm, muscled chest, and she pressed her lips to the pectoral that cradled her cheek. He was so tense, so full of agony. If she could just help a little…

She pressed her lips to his pectoral again, reveling in the small shudder it elicited, and then trailed her mouth a scant inch lower. He made no protest as she shifted from his side to the space between his legs, but as she pressed a kiss to his sternum this time, his hands came up to her arms and gripped her tightly.

“Alice,” he breathed, his voice tortured. “I can’t… You can’t… I need…”

“Shhh,” she soothed, rising to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “You take care of everyone, husband,” she insisted, trailing kisses down his neck. “You carry so many burdens. Let someone take care of you for a change.”

A low, guttural, broken sound rumbled in Duncan’s chest as she said these words, and she felt his body relax into the bed. A moment later, his grip on her arms turned into caresses, and as she trailed more kisses down his body, his hands swept up to her loose hair and cradled her head tenderly.

Alice took her time, letting her tongue and lips caress every inch of heated, taut flesh. This was no rushed, passionate race to release like their times together before. When she reached the waistband of his drawers, she slowly dragged them down his hips and his thighs.

Duncan’s manhood sprang up and bobbed as it was freed from its constraints, and her mouth watered at the sight of him. He was so hard, thick, and engorged with blood that it had to be painful. Thick veins roped around his shaft, starting just under his large, mushroomed head and traveling all the way down past his base and into the thatch of dark curls between his legs. It was as if his body was silently begging, pleading to be soothed, but for some reason, he was not allowing it.

Flattening her tongue, Alice licked the underside of his tip and slid down slowly, letting her saliva drip down his hardened shaft as she drew her tongue to the clear beads of precum already gathered at his tip. The taste of his sweet, salty essence only deepened her hunger for him, and she lapped at him again.

Duncan let out a deep groan as his hips bucked in response. His fingers dug into her scalp. Not forcing her but rather holding her closer, and she gave in to her oral exploration. Her tongue and lips shifted from soft and feathery touches to firm, intense suckling until she found the perfect rhythm.

Then, relaxing her throat, she took his length completely into her hot, wet mouth, enveloping him from tip to base. She sucked at him, letting her tongue lash the underside of his head as she slid her mouth up and down. A shudder racked Duncan’s body as she continued, working her throat faster as his hand tightened around her head and the nape of her neck.

She could feel how close he was, how he teetered teasingly on the precipice of agony and release. Forcing her tired jaw a little wider, Alice somehow took him deeper, and this time, her tongue reached his engorged ball sac. Her name spilled from Duncan’s lips as he suddenly slammed his hips up into her mouth, locking her in place, and she felt his cock swell even further before rush after rush of hot liquid shot down her throat.

Her jaw ached, and her teeth begged to relax down into the opposite grooves, but she kept her mouth relaxed until she felt his hard length soften. A moment later, his entire body relaxed, and with one more sweet tug of her throat, she released him.

Duncan let out another broken moan as she did so, but before she could do anything else, she felt his hands go from her scalp to her arms, and she felt herself being dragged up his body.

“What am I to do with you?” he asked, his deep voice raspy as he kissed her lips possessively.

She looked down into his cerulean blue eyes and was deeply pleased to find that they were flooded with sleepy pleasure. He needed sleep now, not conversation, and she wanted to give him what he needed.

Instead of answering, Alice leaned down and kissed him, letting her fingers caress the bare scars on his right cheek. Duncan’s body tensed up greatly again, going as rigid as the stone walls that surrounded them, and then, as if he had no more fight in him, he relaxed and drifted off to deep sleep.

Duncan awoke from a dreamless sleep, unsure for a moment where he was. Slowly, flashes of the previous night returned to him. A nightmare had taken hold of him. Then, when he awoke, he’d discovered it was Alice who had pulled him out of it. He felt her then, on his chest. Warm and supple, covering him like the sweetest little blanket, like she was putting her body between him and his pain.

He had been out of it. Dangerous. But she had come to him anyway. It angered and touched him greatly at the same time, torn between keeping her safe and finally finding his solace. It was clear she had no regard for her own safety, and someone had to watch over her. But it seemed she was more determined to be the one that watched over him.

Carefully, so as to not wake her, Duncan slid his body out from beneath his wife’s, and then tenderly rested her cheek on his pillow. He stood there for a moment, watching her slumber deeply. There was so much he’d told her that he hadn’t known. Secrets that provided proof of the strong woman that rested before him.

She was no weak thing like many of the other ladies of the ton. She was strong, resilient, behind her soft features and beautiful face. But… was she strong enough to survive his curse?