Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

" D uchess."

Duncan began, surprising Lucy as he broke the silence. "I believe it is time you familiarize yourself with your duties as the Lady of Northwick."

Lucy startled out of her reverie, looked up from her breakfast of bacon fried to a crisp, the sunniest eggs she had ever seen, rich sausages, and the most delicious beans she had ever eaten. Only her taste buds seemed not to be working. Her tongue felt like paper.

"My duties?" A flicker of curiosity sparked in her honey-colored eyes.

"Indeed," Duncan said, his gaze unwavering. "Managing the servants, overseeing household affairs, attending social gatherings – there is much to learn."

Several days had passed since her arrival at Northwick Estate. The initial awkwardness of their new life together had settled into a tense familiarity. Breakfast was usually a silent affair, the only sounds were the clinking of silverware against china and the occasional muffled cough from a nearby servant.

The prospect of Lucy managing his household filled Duncan with a dull pleasure he hated to admit. He wondered if she was pleased. Maybe it could be a welcome distraction from the melancholic routine they seemed to have developed since their wedding night. Not that he didn't like it as it was.

"I would love to learn," her small voice filtered through the air surprisingly steady.

Duncan nodded curtly and rose from the table. "Then shall we begin?" He waited a beat, debating whether to give her a hand. No. He wasn't changing for anyone, let alone her. He turned away but not before catching her crestfallen face. His heart threatened to pump harder at the sight, but he willed it away. This was who he was. There was no changing that.

"Follow along. We don't have all day."

And in the corner of his eye, he saw her face drop even further. Good, I guess?

The vastness of the estate unfolded before them as Duncan led Lucy on a tour. He pointed out the sprawling gardens, the meticulously maintained hunting grounds, and the impressive stables that housed a collection of magnificent horses.

Lucy stopped short at the stable entrance, her eyes widening in delight. "Oh, good heavens, they're magnificent!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.

She moved closer to one of the stalls, a powerful black stallion with a coat that shimmered like polished obsidian. Duncan, a flicker of unease crossing his features, placed a gloved hand between her and the stallion.

"Careful, Duchess," he cautioned, his voice devoid of warmth. "Horses can be unpredictable."

"I understand," she replied, a hint of defiance in her voice. "But surely a duchess should know how to handle a horse, wouldn't you agree?"

Duncan's jaw clenched. "There's a difference between understanding and actually riding them," he said stiffly. "It's hardly a ladylike pursuit."

Lucy's smile faltered. "Unladylike?" she echoed, a touch of offense coloring her voice. "Since when did a woman's worth depend on her riding a horse or not? Whether she can ride a horse?"

Duncan hesitated, surprised by the fire in her eyes. "It is simply not…customary."

"Customs be damned, be that the case," Lucy retorted, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes as a scandalous thought filtered into her head. "Tell you what, Your Grace, race."

"A what?" Duncan's eyes widened.

"A race, Your Grace! When I win, you will admit that horse riding does not diminish a lady's worth."

Duncan stared at her, momentarily stunned. He had to admit, he found her audacity and playful spirit strangely refreshing. Once again, he recalled the night they had met, and how much her eyes had glowed with a similar fire.

A smile, a genuine one, the first she had ever felt, tried worming its way to his face.

"A race?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. A picture was beginning to form in his head. Andliked he liked it. "Are you sure you would not be outmatched, Duchess?"

"Only one way to find out," Lucy said, her chin held high. "Do you accept my challenge, Your Grace?"

Duncan's smile widened. This was unlike any duchess he had ever known. Hell, she was unlike any lady he had ever heard of. Here was a woman who wasn't afraid to speak her mind, a woman who wasn't afraid of a little friendly competition. It was invigorating.

"Very well," he said, a glint in his eyes. "But be warned, Duchess, I do not lose."

"Neither do I."

"Then, it shall be a hefty price." Duncan's eyes went brilliantly dark. She trembled ever so slightly but he didn't miss it. He hardly missed anything.

"What shall it be, Your Grace?" Lucy whispered.

"I know mine. You better know yours." And he tore himself away from her, lest he did something stupid. He got himself busy summoning a groom to prepare two horses. And soon they were both mounted, side by side in the vast training arena. The crisp morning air whipped at Lucy's hair as she adjusted her reins, a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins.

"Ready, Duchess?" Duncan asked, his voice a low rumble.

Lucy met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. "Ready when you are, Your Grace."

And with a flick of his wrist, Duncan spurred his horse forward.

Lucy followed closely behind, the wind whistling past her ears as she urged her mount into a gallop. They were neck and neck, a blur of motion against the backdrop of the sprawling estate.

As they raced, the tension that had hung between them for days seemed to dissipate momentarily. Lucy reveled in the feeling of the wind in her hair, the sun on her face, the exhilarating freedom of the ride. Glancing over, she caught a glimpse of the duke on his horse, a rare smile playing on his lips.

With a renewed burst of energy, she nudged her horse forward, pushing it to its limits.

Just as the marker for the finish line came into view, Lucy surged ahead, her mount crossing the threshold a hair's breadth before Duncans. She reigned in her horse, a triumphant grin plastered across her face.

Turning in the saddle, she scanned the field, searching for Dunan. There he was, a few lengths behinds horse slowing t a trot. An unexpected pang of disappointment shot through her. He hadn't even tried to win.

He dismounted with a practiced grace, his tall, imposing figure silhouetted against the clear blue sky. Lucy hopped down from mount, a triumphant glint in her hazel eyes.

"Looks like I win, Your Grace," she declared, her voice slightly breathless but brimming with exhilaration.

Encouraged by their playful exchange, Lucy decided to savor the moment. Stepping away from her panting horse, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the crisp morning air. The sun, now climbing higher in the sky, cast a golden glow over the sprawling fields beyond the training arena. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, sending a symphony of rustling whispers through the air.

Duncan, having tethered their horses to a low-hanging branch of a nearby oak, walked towards her. As Lucy turned to face him, a shocking sensation shot through her. His hair, usually meticulously styled, was windblown and slightly disheveled, adding a touch of untamed charm to his handsome featues. The sunlight glinted off the silver embroidery that adorned his riding jacket, a stark contrast to the deep blue of his eyes.

Suddenly, she felt a warmth blooming in her chest, a feeling that went far beyond the thrill of victory. She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing a life wheredukeduke wasn't so distant, where their relationship wasn't built on a foundation of unfortunate circumstances and wary glances.

What if, she thought, his eyes were always filled with such amusement, what if his lips were always curved in a playful smile like they were moments ao? Could they build a life together, a life filled with laughter, shared dreams, and a love that defied the constraints of their prearranged marriage?

Just as quickly as the vision materialized, it dissolved. Opening her eyes, she found him standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable. The playful banter, the shared moment of connection, seemed like a distant dream.

He cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence. "So, Duchess," he said, his voice a low rumble, "enjoying the view?"

Lucy realized she had been staring at him, lost in thoughts. A blush crept up her cheeks as she forced a smile. "The view is lovely," she stammered, gesturing towards the sprawling fields that stretched out before them. A patchwork of emerald green and golden yellow, dotted with vibrant wildflowers, painted a breathtaking landscape. In the distance, a few chickens clucked around a makeshift coop, and a gaggle of ducks waddled toward a glistening pond. The scene was idyllic, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within her.

"Yes, it is," he said, his gaze following hers. His voice softened slightly, "These fields are the lifeblood of Northwick. Hard-working farmers who toil from sunrise to sunset."

His words brought her back to reality. "Farmers?" she echoed, a flicker of curiosity sparking in her eyes. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting any of the townspeople yet."

Duncan's expression turned slightly guarded. "There will be time for that soon enough, Duchess," he said, his voice regaining its usual formal tone. "There's much you need to learn about the responsibilities that come with your position."

Aglimmer of disappointment flickered across Lucy's features, a tiny flame extinguished before it could truly ignite. She had yearned for a more personal conversation, a glimpse of the man who resided beneath the duke's mask of stoicism. A connection, however fleeting, beyond the formalities and unspoken tension that hung heavy between them.

Just then, a group of men emerged from a nearby copse of trees, their faces etched with worry. Duncan's shoulders tensed as they approached, their caps clutched in their hands.

"Your Grace," one of them began, his voice raspy, "we were hoping to speak with you regarding the upcoming planting season."

Duncan nodded curtly. "What seems to be the problem, Thomas?"

"The grain stores, Your Grace," Thomas continued, his brow furrowed. "The harsh winter has depleted our reserves, and we fear there won't be enough for the coming planting season."

A thoughtful frown settled on Duncan's face. He glanced at Lucy, who was listening intently to the conversation. Her brow was furrowed in concern, and a flicker of something akin to admiration sparked in her eyes. Perhaps, he thought, there was more to her than he initially gave her credit for.

"Do not fret, Thomas," Duncan said finally, his voice firm yet reassuring. "We shall see to it that your stores are replenished. I shall have one of my merchants send a shipment from the reserve soon."

Relief washed over the men's faces, replaced by a chorus of grateful thanks. Lucy watched the exchange, a newfound respect for the duke blossoming within her. Here was a man who took his responsibility as duke seriously, a man who cared for the well-being of his people. It was a side he had kept from her.

Was he truly this compassionate and caring? If that were the case, was there a way to breach the walls of his heart?

As the farmers dispersed, Duncan turned back to Lucy, his expression unreadable. "There you have it, Duchess," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "A glimpse into the daily affairs of a duke."

Emboldened by their playful exchange, Lucy felt a surge of curiosity mixed with a newfound desire. She moved closer to Duncan, the air crackling with a sudden tension that wasn't entirely unwelcome. His presence was an irresistible force, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

Lucy's gaze drifted down to his hands, strong and sure in their leather riding gloves. They weren't the pale, delicate hands of the noblemen she was accustomed to. These hands spoke of a life lived beyond the confines of opulent drawing rooms, hands that had gripped reins and wielded swords, hands that held the strength of the land itself.

Driven by an irresistible urge, Lucy reached out, her fingers brushing against the worn leather of his forearm.A jolt shot through her, a spark of awareness that sent a blush creeping up her neck She could feel the solid muscle beneath the fabric, the undeniable strength coiled within hi.

Intrigued, she traced a finger along his arm, a silent question hanging in the ai. What secrets did these hands hold Somehow, she imagined they would be rough and weathered, a map of his experiences etched into every callus and crease.

Just as her fingertips brushed against his glove, a flicker of something dark crossed Duncan's features. His hand shot up, swatting hers away with a force that surprised her The warmth in his eyes was replaced by a chilling coldness that sent shivers down her spine.

"Don't," he said, his voice a low growl.The playful banter had evaporated, replaced by a tense silence that hung heavy in the air.

Lucy recoiled, her hand stinging from the unexpected contact. Confusion and hurt clouded her features. "What's wrong?" she stammered.

Duncan stared at her, his jaw clenched tight. He seemed to be battling an internal war, his emotions a tempestuous sea beneath the surface. Finally, he took a deep breath, his voice regaining a semblance of control.

"Just…stay away from me," he said, his words clipped.

Lucy stared at him, her heart sinking. The playful camaraderie they had shared moments ago felt like a cruel illusion. "But why?" she whispered.

Duncan turned away from her, his gaze fixed on a distant point. "It's not that simple, Duchess," he said, his voice laced with a weariness that belied his age. "There are… things you don't understand."

Lucy longed to press him, to demand an explanation, but something in his demeanor held her back. An unspoken plea, a vulnerability she hadn't seen before.

Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile, her voice trembling slightly. "Or what?" she challenged, a flicker of her earlier defiance returning.

For the first time since their wedding, a strange sense of pride settled in his stomach. Having her by his side, witnessing her concern for his people, filled him with a warmth he hadn't felt in years. It was a feeling he couldn't quite define, a tangled mess of emotions woven with a thread of… something more.

His gaze lingered on her slender arms, the way the sunlight danced across the soft skin peeking out from beneath the rolled sleeves of her riding dress. He was mesmerized by her boldness, by the way she challenged him with her playful banter and her unwavering curiosity. Only a few days ago, she had been a stranger. Now, he didn't know anymore.

He could not deny it – he liked the way her fingers felt against his arm, a fleeting brush that sent a jolt through him. It was a spark of awareness, a sudden awakening to a desire he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge. Standing perfectly still, every muscle in his body tensed with restraint. He yearned to reach for her, to press his body against hers and drown himself in the warmth he craved.

The air between them crackled with a forbidden desire, a tangible current that made his breath hitch. He watched, mesmerized, as her gaze drifted down to his hands. The boldness in her eyes sent a tremor through him.

He detested it. Hated it. But he ached for more. The touch, fleeting as it was, had ignited a fire within him, a hunger for a kind of intimacy he had long denied himself.

But as she attempted to remove his gloves, a sudden fear threatened to engulf him. Moved purely by instinct, he retreated. It was the only way he knew how to handle such matters. There was no telling how she would react if he were suddenly to freeze at her touch.

Then, Lucy's voice, laced with a hint of defiance, shattered the fragile tension. "Or what?" she challenged.

Duncan's blood ran cold. Here he was, trying to shield her from a curse he had come to claim as his own. Here he was, trying to keep his distance, to protect himself from her, and she went ahead and threw down a gauntlet. Frustration and anger flared within him.

He took a menacing step towards her, his jaw clenched tight. He saw the flicker of fear dance in her eyes – a fear he desperately wanted her to feel. If she were only a bit more wary, perhaps she wouldn't be so inclined to test his boundaries.

He closed the distance between them, his movements predatory. Her back hit the rough bark of a nearby tree, the sudden movement catching her breath. He leaned closer until his shadow engulfed her. He wanted to intimidate her, to make her understand the gravity of his warnings. But he saw no fear. Instead, he saw a spark of defiance ignite in her hazel eyes, eyes so deep and captivating they threatened to pull him under.

Why? Why was she so stubborn? Why wouldn't she see this was in her best interest? She was pushing him. And he could feel the fire raging in his blood. He had tried to keep his distance, to keep her away from him. But she just would not stay put.

And before he could fully comprehend his actions, he closed the remaining distance between them. Her skin was smooth and her lips… inviting. Her jutted chin, arched in defiance, called to him. The beating of his heart against his chest intensified, and Duncan feared for the thoughts that swirled within his head.

He wanted to take her there and then, to bend her to his will, to show her a tip of what would happen if he were to let himself go.

The thought of Lucy pinned beneath him lingered longer than he wished, and in that moment, the yearning simmering beneath the surface boiled over. He leaned in further, the space between them shrinking to a mere whisper. The curse, the danger – it all faded away as his lips met hers in a searing kiss.

Her lips were soft, parting in surprise at the suddenness of his advance. But the surprise quickly melted into a hesitant exploration.

His earlier frustration forgotten, Duncan devoured her response with a hunger that surprised even him. He tasted the sweetness of wild honey she'd enjoyed earlier that morning, a hint of rebellion dancing on her tongue.

It was a storm, a whirlwind of all the repressed desires and unspoken emotions he had felt. He pressed his body against hers, the solid warmth of him a stark contrast to the cool bark at her back. One hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the soft line of her jaw, a silent apology for his earlier brusqueness.

She responded with a fervor that mirrored his own. Her arms, which had been pinned by his proximity to the tree, snaked around his neck, her fingers digging into the crisp fabric of his riding jacket. She met his heated kiss with a passion that both surprised and exhilarated him.

The taste of her, the feel of her body pressed against his, sent a thrill of exquisite sensation coursing through him... It was a forbidden pleasure, a reckless indulgence he knew he shouldn't allow himself. Yet, he couldn't seem to tear himself away. The curse, the darkness he held within, seemed to recede for a moment, pushed back by the intensity of their connection.

The world around them faded, replaced only by the sound of their frantic panting hearts. The rustling leaves and chirping birds were muted by the intensity of the kiss.

Consumed by his passion, he traced the curves of Lucy's back, his touch sending shivers down her spine. Her fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer when suddenly, a chilling numbness spread through his hand like a wave of icy water, dousing the flames of desire and jolting him back to reality. He tore away from her, his breath ragged.

Lucy, confused and breathless, stared up at him with wide, questioning eyes. Shame washed over Duncan as he saw the disappointment cloud her features. He clenched his fists, the numbness creeping up his arm.

Keeping his distance, he realized with a jolt of fear, was far harder than he ever imagined.