Chapter 5

“Well, at least our chambers are connected,” Alice grumbled as she opened the door hidden by a heavy, vast tapestry of a wildflower field.

“Of course, they are, Your Grace,” Rebecca assured her, setting her dinner tray down on the table by the fireplace. “You are his wife, after all.”

Am I?

Alice closed the adjoining door to her husband’s dark, empty bedroom.

Although she was a little put off by the way Mrs. Fletcher had spoken to her, she had chosen to accept the woman’s advice for the moment and move on with the evening. After being introduced to her handmaid, Rebecca, who spoke very politely in a hushed voice, and meeting the rest of the staff, Mrs. Fletcher and Rebecca led her up the long, seemingly never-ending flight of steps that would take them to her rooms.

With a flourish, Mrs. Fletcher had opened the doors to her rooms, and for a moment, Alice stopped thinking about her husband’s confusing behavior and took in the sight of her new life. Beautifully vibrant, stunningly detailed tapestries of the local landscapes hung from high stone walls, bringing some of the outside in. Big, healthy plants—many of which she’d never seen before—were scattered artfully in large pots, and the stone floors were covered by massive Persian rugs.

The Duchess’s Quarters consisted of four rooms—the sitting room, the washroom, the closet and ready room, and, lastly, the bedroom. Which immediately became her favorite place. A wide four-poster bed sat directly in the middle of the large space, its headboard facing the wall of windows that were covered with heavy curtains.

A large fireplace and more furniture to lounge on sat on the left of the bed, along with a drink cart and bookshelf already filled with books. She had been surprised even further when she looked closely and saw that they were her books from home, already unpacked and ready for another read.

To the right of the bed, to her amusement, was a wide, backed swing, with a bear rug underneath it. Curious, Alice walked over to it and gave it a tentative push. The gold-threaded ropes that suspended the seat creaked a little, but they appeared strong and capable of keeping a person in the air.

“It will not break, Your Grace,” Rebecca assured her, her soft voice teasing. “Shall I give you a push?”

“No, thank you,” Alice said slowly, still eyeing up the swing. “Why is it in here?”

For a moment, Rebecca and Mrs. Fletcher spoke over each other as they both tried to explain, but then Mrs. Fletcher glared at Rebecca, and the young girl quickly fell silent.

“These are the former Duchess’s quarters,” Mrs. Fletcher explained. “They have not been used since she passed.”

Alice’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “The Duke was previously married?” she forced herself to ask.

“Oh, heavens, no!” Mrs. Fletcher laughed loudly, making even Rebecca smile. “I am referring to His Grace’s honorable mother,” she explained, her tone becoming soft, reverent. “God rest her soul. She made these rooms her own, she did. Beautiful like she was. His Grace’s father locked it after she passed, and even when he followed her to the grave years later, the Young Master still kept it so.

“These rooms were not cleaned until this week, when we learned of your blessed union. We did not know what you would like, so we kept it as it was. If you want to redecorate it, we can have it done immediately.”

Duncan’s mother. Alice hadn’t asked about his parents, and he hadn’t shared any information. He had lost his mother, too?

“No, leave it as it is,” she decided. “Does the rope need mending or replaced?”

“No, Your Grace. It was replaced when we reopened the rooms,” Mrs. Fletcher reported.

Alice nodded, turning back to the housekeeper. “When did she pass?” she asked. “The previous Lady of the House?”

Like in the foyer earlier, the mirth in Mrs. Fletcher’s voice turned into mysterious worry when she asked another question about her husband’s life.

“We shall let the dead rest,” Mrs. Fletcher replied in a short tone, clenching her hands before her. “As we shall let you rest. Please, Your Grace, have a seat and enjoy your meal. When you are ready to be dressed for bed, just pull on this rope over here, and Rebecca will be up shortly to assist you.”

For a moment, Alice thought of cornering the young, mousy girl when she returned, but she was starting to understand the fiercely loyal housekeeper and figured that she’d have the girl scared into silence by then.

“I believe it might be best if I familiarize myself with my rooms and belongings tonight,” she replied, giving them both a nod. “Thank you for a lovely welcome, and for showing me my rooms. I shall see you in the morning.”

“Rest well, Your Grace,” Mrs. Fletcher replied sincerely, her usual warmth returning. “And welcome home.”

Alice waited until she heard the main door click shut, then walked out to the sitting room to ensure that they had actually left. Once she was sure she was alone, she hurried back to the bedroom, locked the door, and began to pace back and forth.

Scarred. A dead mother, and a dead father. Charming but distant. And what happened six months ago?

The mystery of Duncan Banfield continued to deepen.

Hungry, but too excited to sit still, Alice walked over to her tray and uncovered her plate. Her stomach growled in excitement when she saw a roasted chicken breast, roasted vegetables, and a bowl of fig pudding. Picking up the pudding first, she began to eat as she meandered around her new rooms.

After a bit of fumbling, she discovered how to open the curtains and let the beauty of the ocean and full moon shine into the room. Upon opening the windows, a fresh blast of warm ocean air blew in, and she inhaled deeply. Why, she’d smelled this before! But when?

Her mind raced as she tried to think of where she’d been when she’d caught such a lovely scent, and then it suddenly hit her. The night of the masked ball. She’d never smelled anything so enticing, and it was him. Duncan. Her husband.

Though her anger had been muted slightly by the beauty of her new home, it was renewed when she felt a pull of longing in her belly. She shifted her gaze from the view and to the tapestry that hid the door to her husband’s room. He had encouraged her to go to bed without him, but she decided then that she was not going to obey him.

She was frustrated, confused, and the sensations that flooded her body every time she thought of him were starting to become extremely annoying.

Deciding she needed to do something about it, Alice sat down by the fire, finished her meal, readied herself for bed, pulled down her favorite book from the shelf, and waited for her husband to return.

“What are you doing here?”

The words tumbled out of Duncan’s lips as he looked at Alice in weary surprise. He had not expected to see her again tonight. It was obvious that his brush-off had hurt her, and that bothered him more than he’d like to admit. But the ride in the carriage had come too close. He’d turned into his possessive self when he’d caught her chin, and the pleasure it brought him both excited and troubled him.

Alice had changed out of her wedding gown and into a lace white nightshift that showed glimpses of her tantalizing flesh. His mouth watered as he imagined what it would be like to sink his teeth into one of her succulent thighs, and he had to wrench his eyes back up to her face to stop his train of thought. The firelight danced in her light green eyes, making them look almost yellow. Her long brown hair was free from its pins as well, and it tumbled down her breasts, the ends stopping at her ribcage. She was breathtaking and distracting.

“I was waiting for you,” she told him, coming closer.

Duncan took a step back, not trusting himself to keep his hands off of her. She had made it clear that she wanted romance, not rough, twisted, if not deeply pleasurable sex. And that was all he could give her. And God did he want to.

It was late, nearly three in the morning, and he was beyond tired. But despite that, his body responded to the sight of her immediately. His muscles—and other places—tightened painfully as longing shot through him.

Mr. Fletcher had done excellent work in his absence, but there was still much to attend to. Duncan would have been done earlier had he not been so distracted by thoughts of his new wife. There had been a moment in the carriage—when he had reached for the door and caught a glimpse of her leaning forward, her lips parted—when wanted to kiss her.

The urge to do so had been great, but then he quickly reminded himself of their situation. He didn’t want to fool this woman into believing that he was any sort of a proper husband. He could provide things—many things. But he could not be a caring man. Not again. The kiss in the library had been an incredible moment, one he seemed to crave every quarter hour. But he couldn’t allow himself the pleasure.

Their marriage occurred simply because they were caught. There would be no love. Ever. He had already lost a mother and father. He was not going to add a wife and possible child to the list.

“How kind of you,” he managed to say, forcing himself to look away from her. “But unnecessary. I am going to bed soon, as you should have done many hours ago. Do you have any idea how late it is?”

“You are giving me a bedtime now?” she asked, looking him up and down as she crossed her arms indignantly.

“Do I need to?” He raised an intimidating eyebrow. “Because if so, please tell me. I have no issue with handling you properly for going against any rules I set for your protection.”

“Rules?” she scoffed indignantly, uncrossing her arms and balling her fists at her sides. “What about all of your talk about freedom?”

“I will set whatever rules necessary to ensure your safety if you want to act like this,” he retorted.

Even though he told himself not to, Duncan glanced down at Alice’s inviting form again, and he was swiftly rewarded with another exploding ache in his ball sack and shaft.

“And if you break the rules, and put yourself in danger, you will be punished,” he added.

“What danger is there at a late bedtime?” she asked incredulously, her eyebrow raised high as she gaped at him.

Despite his growing frustration with her and his annoyingly recurring needs, Duncan let out a rough chuckle. He could not let this continue. He had thought Alice was sweet. Innocent. But he was learning that he had been wrong. She was still worthy of his protection, no doubt, but there was a side of her most did not see.

“Do not be difficult,” he pleaded, rubbing the back of his neck wearily. He had to stop thinking about this. About her. “I am exhausted.”

“Good, then let us go to bed,” Alice agreed happily.

“Thank God,” he sighed, happy that they were finally understanding one another. “Well, sleep well. Perhaps we could break our fast together in the morning.”

With a smirk, Alice began to walk toward his bed, shocking him. Despite his fatigue, he stepped in front of her. He meant to reach for her shoulders but somehow his hands landed on the soft dip of her waist, stilling them both immediately.

Lust filled him as he heard her gasp, and his fingers immediately tightened on her curves of their own volition. She was so soft, supple, and warm beneath his hands… She tempted him, lured him toward insanity.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” he gritted out, almost vibrating with barely restrained desire.

This woman was unleashing something inside him, and he feared it was another demon that would once more consume his life. He wouldn’t let that happen again. He couldn’t. Not after working so hard to get everything under control again.

“I am going to bed with my husband,” she whispered, her sarcasm gone.

Alice continued to stare back at him, refusing to look away from his intimidating glare. It was he who broke the stare when her pink tongue slid slowly between her lips and then coaxed her bottom lip between her teeth. He could see her white pearly teeth bite softly into the delicate flesh, leaving four little crescents there. He ached to lean forward and swipe his tongue over the small wounds, but he willed himself not to move.

“Alice,” he pleaded, his voice raspy with his faltering self-restraint.

He needed her to leave, and soon. He wasn’t sure how much control he had, especially with how tired he was, and how long it had been since he’d boxed.

“Please. Go to your rooms. I wish to go to bed. Alone.”

He forced himself to release her, irritated at how hard he found it, and quickly put space between them. When he finally looked back at her, her eyes were bright with hurt, and she closed the distance he’d just put between them.

“I am your wife,” Alice stated adamantly, stopping an inch away from him. “I know we do not have a traditional marriage, but we can still go to bed together.”

As she said this, she stomped her foot defiantly, and the right strap of her nightgown slid down, exposing her full shoulder and the swell of her right breast. Her nipple, taut, small, and now free from the fabric, was barely covered by a lock of her dark hair.

Duncan’s mouth suddenly went dry as his gaze locked on the beautiful, soft curve of her exposed breast, and he nearly went down on his knees to take it into his mouth. Images of hauling her onto the bed and claiming her the way he truly wanted to flashed in his mind, and he had to will his body to stop vibrating.

“I will not,” he said, his breathing ragged.

Eventually, he dragged his eyes slowly back up, only to pause at her neckline and jaw. They curved so sweetly into the gorgeous, plump lips that he now craved. They had tasted like strawberries, cream, and icing the night they’d first kissed. What would she taste like now?

“Well, if you do not go to bed with me, then I shall need instruction,” Alice demanded.

“Instruction?” he echoed, still lost in his dark thoughts.

“Yes,” Alice all but hissed.

Hearing the anger in her voice, Duncan tore his gaze away from her enticingly exposed body and shifted it toward her face. The now familiar agitated look somehow only made her more beautiful.

“If you are not going to go to bed with me, then I shall need instruction on how to bed myself,” she demanded.

“Watch your mouth,” Duncan warned quickly, his mood darkening even more. “You have no idea what you are saying, and it is dangerous to tempt a man like that.”

As he said so, one erotic fantasy of her after another began to flood his mind, again, and this time he couldn’t control what he imagined. Alice’s body bare, her hair loose as she writhed on his bed, one hand between her legs. Another on her breast. Her back arched beautifully as her lips parted in a strangled moan. He pictured her bringing herself close, almost to release, but not being able to. He imagined her green eyes looking at him desperately, begging him to help.

While his friends knew many things about him, his sexual appetites were not one of them. He always kept quiet when they made jokes about his assumed celibacy, but the truth was, there had been many women who had found his mask enticing enough to invite him to their beds. He was nowhere near as innocent or hard up as his friends thought, and with his particular edification, he was quite sure that he could show Alice many devious little acts that could help her “bed herself.” He was, however, not going to do that.

“What else am I supposed to do?” she asked, looking almost hurt at the edge to his voice. This brought him back to reality.

Duncan let out a steadying breath. He was trying to determine if this was one of those moments where his new wife was being unbelievably naive as to what she was asking for, or if she was using her innocent looks to make him think that. It was hard as hell to weigh out, and with how wound up and exhausted he was, he found it impossible.

“Alice, you have no idea what you are asking for,” he insisted, struggling with his tone as his hand reached for her shoulder and carefully slid the sleeve of her nightgown back up, his fingers tingling just from the feel of her skin.

“Teach me then,” she countered quickly.

Duncan let out a growl of agitation, feeling his control slip by the moment.

“Here is your instruction,” he bit out. “Turn around, go back to your room, and do not come in here again. You may do whatever else you wish, Alice, I do not care.”

“How dare you!” Alice gasped, stomping her foot once more. “You don’t get to just send me away like that.”

“Trust me, Alice, it is for your own benefit,” he snarled, taking a predatory step toward her.

Alice’s fighting spirit seemed to wane a little as she instinctively took a step back. As soon as she did so, Duncan took another step toward her.

“I tried to tell you I was a beast, but it was you who insisted I was not. Even if that is so, I have limits, and you are pushing them.”

He backed her toward the door that connected their rooms, but her eyes stayed on him the whole time, looking at him with an array of emotions that made guilt shoot through him.

“Goodnight,” he gritted out, grabbing the doorhandle once she was back in her room.

Alice only continued to look back at him as he shut the door, and though his mind and body screamed at him to stop, his heart forced him to lock it from his side and lodge the key. He then looked at the secured door for a moment, his entire body vibrating with need. It seemed like minutes went by before he reminded himself to breathe, only then doing so because a knock sounded at the other door.

“Come in,” he commanded, the spell finally breaking around him.

He turned away from the door as he ran a hand through his hair, seeing Mr. Fletcher appear.

“Apologies, Your Grace,” his steward said apologetically, “but a rider has just approached. Apparently, there is trouble near the docks.”

Despite not having slept in almost thirty-six hours now, Duncan suddenly felt wide awake. He wanted the opportunity to let his frustrations out, to do something reckless and be useful for something. Going to his study, he removed his two pistols from their cases, a bag of bullets, and his dagger.

“What shape is the rider in?” Duncan asked, striding out of his rooms.

“Quite beaten, Your Grace,” Mr. Fletcher informed him, following closely behind. “Perhaps even a broken arm. The manor’s physician is seeing to him now.”

“Good.” Duncan nodded. “Get him fixed up, fed, and rested. I want to talk to him when you return. Do we know if Hamish and his men are already at the docks?” he asked, referring to the duchy’s Leader of the Guard.

“He is,” Mr. Fletcher assured him as they reached the front door.

Outside, Duncan’s horse was already saddled and waiting, along with two other guards.

“Is there anything else you need me to do, Your Grace?” Mr. Fletcher asked as Duncan mounted his horse. “Should I reach out to Lord Fernside and Lord Curtis?”

“Not yet,” Duncan replied, growing tired of the questions. “I need to assess the situation first.”

Done with the conversation, he kicked his heels into the flanks of his horse, and the three of them took off down the parkway. As he raced away, he felt the sudden need to look up. When he did, he saw his wife standing in her window, looking down at him.

He couldn’t see her face, just shadows, but even then he knew what she looked like. Those sea-foam green eyes were shining with hurt and confusion, looking at him as if to say, Why would you do this to me?