Chapter 18

“Nothing is ever allowed to happen to you.” The soft-spoken statement had come out of the quiet like a declaration.

In the tub, Alice looked down at the man reclining in her arms and saw the inner conflict in his eyes once more. Duncan, along with Ambrose and Ezra, had been gone for two days on an emergency trip to London regarding Morgan. She didn’t know the details, but judging by the ragged and exhausted way her husband walked into the room, she didn’t want to. At least not yet.

Duncan had gone to her immediately, trying to be as passionate and forceful as he normally was, but it was clear to her that this time, sex was not what her masked man needed. He had looked at her silently with betrayal when she’d broken away from his kiss, but then relaxed when she gently pushed him down into a chair and sat on his lap. He said nothing this time as she took off his mask, and then gave her a small, appreciative smile when she lifted her fork and began to feed him the roasted mutton she’d just had brought up.

She did this quietly, tenderly, letting him stop every few bites to rest his head on the spot between her neck and shoulder and sigh wearily. Tonight, there would be no pushing or taking from one another—just care. Afterward, when Duncan finished everything on the plate, he let her lead him to a hot bath, where she’d gotten in behind him and gently started to run a sponge down his tired body.

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” Alice said quietly after a while, running the sponge down his chest again.

“It can’t,” he insisted, fear lacing his voice.

Alice felt his gentle grip on her thighs tighten, and she let out a soothing “shhh” as she ran her fingers through his wet hair.

“We do not need to talk about this now,” she coaxed, trying her best to make his tense muscles relax again.

“I cannot lose you, too,” he whispered, sounding more afraid now than ever before.

Alice wrapped her legs around his waist as she held him tighter to her chest and planted firm kisses on his ear and neck. “What is happening inside of your head, my love?” she asked gently, stroking his hair again for emphasis. “Tell me.”

“Maurice told me that my mother was excited to have me,” Duncan began, his confession finally spilling out. “He said my father did not show much enthusiasm, of course, but I’m told that she started talking to me in her stomach the moment she knew I was there.”

Alice held him closely, grateful that he was finally letting her in.

“She died before I came out. The servants say that I nearly died, too. And all my father cared about was whether or not I was a boy. Even then, when he was satisfied with that fact, he left me in the care of the staff almost immediately. He had her rooms closed and had my nursery set up in a different wing of the manor. I did not meet him until I was five, and he terrified me from the first day.

“He immediately demanded that I tell him all that I knew, and was very forthcoming about his disappointment when he discovered how little that was. He told me that I was weak, too small and fair like my mother to be the next Duke of Baxter.”

Duncan paused at the same time that Alice’s hand—the one holding the sponge—paused. He took it from her gently and placed her palm on his chest. Sorrow shot through Alice, and she let him show her how he needed to be held.

“Any normal child would have hated their father after that,” Duncan continued, “but I saw it as a challenge. I was small back then, but even at that age, I knew I could get bigger, smarter, stronger. I could be the son he needed. One he could be proud of. My mother was gone, but my father, even with his flaws, was still alive, and I was determined to prove my worth to him.”

“But you couldn’t,” Alice whispered, seeing the plot of his story flesh out in her mind.

Duncan nodded.

Outside, a summer storm began to brew off the cliffs. Through one of the open windows, the cool wind blew in the humid heat as a crack of thunder released its pent-up fury. A moment later, a rush of heavy rain came down on the windowpanes, creating a natural rhythm that made them cling tighter to one another.

“I could not,” Duncan agreed, his voice distant. “I grew bigger, stronger. I was at the top of my class in boarding school. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t get him to see my worth. The only time I saw him was during the summers. When I was fifteen, I felt more sure than ever that I was what my father wanted me to be, but when I was shown to him, he looked at me with disgust and sent me away.

“So I decided to start following him that summer. To meetings and social gatherings, always keeping just out of sight, hoping to learn what it was he wanted me to be. I was consumed… just like I became consumed with the fire that took him.

“When I followed him the morning of the fire, I knew right away something wasn’t right. We weren’t heading to his offices as usual but to a set of abandoned warehouses by the shore. My father was a man who liked his luxury, from offices to clothing to business partners, so this was all wrong.”

Alice could picture it—a young boy, barely a man, growing worried as he followed his unknowing father out of the safety of aprestigious neighborhood and into the most dangerous parts of the city. He must have been so confused, so curious as to why his father had gone there of all places.

“It was easy to find another way in, and I scaled the timbers with no problem to have a view of everything. My father wasn’t alone. His friends—Morgan, Ezra, and Ambrose’s fathers—were all with him, along with three other men I didn’t recognize. They certainly didn’t look like noblemeneither. I remember being so confused as to why my father and his friends were meeting with them when one of the men yelled out a curse and lunged at Ambrose’s father.

“There was a fight, a short one, where they attacked one another like they were animals. Then there was an explosion, a putrid smell, and the warehouse began to fill with flames and smoke. I watched just long enough to see everyone scramble away from one another and to their feet, but then I started focusing on finding my way out. I was almost there, or at least I thought I was, when I heard my father call out for help.”

Alice imagined fifteen-year-old Duncan, still gawky from his teenage years but slowly growing into a man, skidding to a stop as he heard his father’s pleas for help. The scene further unfolded as he went on about how he tried to go back and save him, and that was when he was crushed. The thought of him, small, sooty and burned, lying helplessly on the docks, had her turning her head to the side so she could let her tears fall freely without him knowing.

“He despised me and would have been eternally disappointed in me,” Duncan continued, subtly shifting his body so that his chest was now resting on her abdomen. “But he was all that I had. I became distant after that. Aggressive. Got into a bit of trouble. I demanded my friends leave me alone, but they wouldn’t. Even when I proved I wouldn’t let them or anyone else get too close. They kept me alive, and when I got better, they helped me start looking for whoever started the fire. But my obsession went from gaining my father’s approval to avenging his death, and after a few more years, I became lost in myself all over again. The report said it was an accident, but I could not let it rest for a long time.”

“You couldn’t let go of him,” Alice said softly, cupping some of the warm water and pouring it over his back.

He shivered at the sensation and burrowed deeper into her. “And it is why I didn’t want to get close to you,” he confessed, his lips brushing against her breast before claiming her nipple.

Alice shivered in delight but told her body to be patient.

“First, I was afraid that I would not be able to let go,” he continued. “Then I was terrified that you could be taken from me just like they were.”

“No one is taking me,” she whispered calmly.

She cupped his jaw in both hands and pulled his head away from her breasts so that his dark blue eyes could meet hers. They were no longer sparkling with dominance or passion, but were dull and wide with vulnerability. She could clearly see the fear trapped inside of him, and it broke her heart.

“I am yours,” she murmured, massaging his scalp with her fingertips as she held his gaze. “And I am not going anywhere.”

“You are careless with your safety,” Duncan bit out accusingly.

“I will never climb a ladder again unless I am in your presence,” she soothed. “Is that better?”

“No more running from your handmaid or guard either,” he added, some of his old spark returning to his eyes.

Alice was too relieved to see it to argue.

“No more sneaking off,” she promised, feeling their sexual energy begin to spark again as she rolled her hips against his.

She felt his member swell almost instantly to its full, somewhat intimidating size, and let her body open up for him as he slipped his hands beneath her backside and back, shielding her from the hard surfaces of the tub. With ease, Duncan slid into her always-ready sheath.

An emotional gasp caught in her throat as she felt her husband come back to her, and she gave herself over to him.

The release Duncan felt from finally laying his struggles bare to Alice was like giant chains being lifted off his chest. Air, fresher and sweeter from the storm, filled his lungs as began to make love to his wife with slow, purposeful thrusts, slowly coming back to life. Outside, the storm continued to rage, occasionally sending some raindrops into the room to cool down their steamy bath.

By now, he and Alice had made love dozens of times, but this felt different. This was a different need. Beyond flesh and into the soul. He felt as if Alice was giving herself to him entirely, completely, now that she knew and accepted all of his flaws and fears. There wasn’t a stitch of him she didn’t know, and she still wanted him. And he… well, he had wanted her since the first moment she’d annoyed him. He had fed himself small sips of her, trying not to get too addicted. She was too strong for him, though, and he happily gave himself over to her.

Their lovemaking was slow but powerful, making bathwater spill out onto the tiles with every thrust. There was no rush. No frenzy. Just a connection that formed deep and hot between them that pulled them together and apart, until Duncan’s hot seed shot pleasurably into her womb. Alice held him tightly, her heart beating fast in her chest as he rested his cheek on her breasts to catch his breath.

“Will you tell me what happened?” she asked later after they had dried off from their bath and crawled into his bed.

The storm was still raging outside, but with the wind gone now, it was a relaxed melody of rain and thunder. It was a sound Duncan had hated as a child. But now, with Alice naked and warm in his arms, he decided he loved it.

“It wasn’t anything dangerous,” he assured her, nuzzling her hair. “But it proved to be a very important trip to take.”

“Could you be any more vague?” Alice teased, squirming in his arms and making him chuckle.

“Oh, you want details?” he teased, squeezing her hip and making her yelp.

His smile widened as he tilted her chin up to his and kissed her deeply.

“Morgan was being Morgan, from what we were told, and was stumbling out of a bar in London when he collided with a child.”

“Oh, no,” Alice groaned, squeezing her eyes shut as she shook her head.

“Oh, it gets quite a bit more interesting,” he assured her. “The child was a nine-year-old girl who was with her twelve-year-old brother. Alice, the boy got enraged. He flew at Morgan, pulled out a pistol and everything. Luckily, Ezra was just inside settling the tab when he came out and snatched the pistol out of the boy’s hand.”

“A pistol?”Alice gasped.

Duncan nodded his head twice. He was thinking about what the last couple of days had been like for him. The boy had been a mirror image of his younger self, from his looks to his angered spirit. It had jarred him greatly to see his pain greatly replicated.

“Thomas Caine, the Duke of Chesterport, and his sister, Lady Camilla Caine,” Duncan continued to explain.

“A duke at twelve?” Alice asked, her brow furrowing in concern. “How is that allowed?”

“Ambrose, Ezra, Morgan, and I were all between thirteen and sixteen when we inherited our titles,” he pointed out with a shrug.

Alice looked at him with pity, and he chuckled as he brushed a kiss against her forehead.

“The difference between us and the young siblings, though, is that our fathers had done us the kindness of having more than their affairs in order. Schools, classes, a further education to be able to better handle our roles. Young Thomas’s father did not do that, and they have no other family. They have giant houses, full accounts, and a small army of servants. But no one how to teach them to grow up.”

“Ezra was more like the boy than all of us in this sense. While his father had left some instructions, he also left him with massive debt and issues best dealt with by a man. He knows Thomas’s struggle better than any of us, so he handled the boy while Morgan sent word for Ambrose and me to join the two of them in London to help the boy out.

“We’ve spent the last few days hiring a governess and a nanny for Lady Camilla, and a loyal accountant, steward, and tutor for Thomas. It turns out Chesterport is not a far ride, so twice a week Ezra and I shall be visiting with him to teach him how to box. Morgan and Ambrose go and teach him how to shoot.”

“What about his sister?” Alice asked him quickly.

Duncan pondered her question. He’d been so worried about the boy’s rage that he hadn’t given much thought to his little sister. The poor thing was probably living in a world of terror and loneliness, and he had completely overlooked her.

“We should have paid more attention to her,” he admitted.

“I would love to help,” Alice offered, leaning up on his chest so she could look down at him.

Duncan’s heart filled with relief as he saw the genuineness in her eyes. He didn’t know much about children, but Alice seemed very good with her little sister, and he was sure little Camilla would appreciate having a kind duchess like Alice to look up to.

“I was hoping you would say that,” he told her, pulling his wife in for a kiss. “Perhaps we can visit them next week? I would say this weekend, but if I’m being honest, I would much prefer to spend the rest of the week with you.”

“I think that would be for the best,” Alice agreed, sighing happily against his lips before they broke their kiss and snuggled with one another.