Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

L ouise was happily ensconced in the garden with the Duke’s gardener, Neilson.

He was younger than she had expected, only five-and-thirty or so. His face was already weathered by the sun and much more tanned than her own. His hands, too, were leathery from the constant time outdoors, but his knowledge of plants was extensive.

The garden, like in many townhouses in London, was long and narrow. But the Duke boasted more space than most. Many of the trees had been pruned back, and several rose bushes lined the pathways between the beds, but many lay unused.

“And how long has this bed been empty for?” Louise asked, indicating a long, thin plot parallel to the back of the house.

“Many months, Your Grace,” the gardener answered, looking around him with a sigh. “The Duke does not spend a great deal of time in the garden. Until I have my instructions, I keep things ticking over, but I would not plant anything new without his say-so.”

“Well, I shall have some say in it from now on. I would be grateful for your opinion on what could be added here.”

He raised his eyebrows, scratching his head and almost dislodging his cap. It was clear that not many members of the household had asked for Neilson’s thoughts on the garden for many months.

“I’ve always felt a gooseberry bush or two would be a good addition, Your Grace.”

“Very good!” Louise said happily, picturing making her mother a gooseberry pie from her very own garden when she came to visit. “I would love to see some strawberries, too. We could add them to the walled garden, where they will get the most sunlight.”

Neilson looked surprised, but then a wide grin spread across his face. “I think that would be nice, Your Grace.”

“And what of the rest of the garden? March is a good time to plant. Potatoes, perhaps? I am sure the cook would not object to some of our homegrown produce coming to our table.”

“No indeed, Your Grace.”

“Excellent. Pass me a spade, please.”

He blinked at her. “I wouldn’t wish for you to ruin your clothes, Your Grace.”

“Nonsense. Mud will wash away. I adore working in the gardens. Let us prepare the bed, and we can discuss some flowers for the borders. There is much potential here.”

And she truly meant it. The garden was beautiful.

To her surprise, as she turned to grab the spade and get to work, she saw the Dowager Duchess crossing the lawn toward them.

“Good afternoon,” Louise greeted, slightly worried that the older woman would frown upon her getting involved in gardening.

However, although she showed no intention of joining her, the Dowager Duchess appeared more intrigued than scandalized by Louise’s behavior.

“Good afternoon, Duchess,” she said with a warm smile. “Good afternoon, Neilson.”

The gardener dutifully doffed his cap and continued working.

“You are fond of plants, Duchess?” the Dowager Duchess asked Louise.

“I confess, I am. I adore being outside in the gardens. It is my favorite thing in the world.”

The Dowager gave her a soft smile and nodded, her eyes twinkling.

“This garden is beautifully designed,” Louise said happily.

“Thank you. I do not get to enjoy it much these days.”

“Did you design it, Your Grace?”

The Dowager Duchess nodded. “I did. I used to spend a great deal of time in the garden when I was younger. Plants hold no judgment and make no noise. It was a suitable retreat from the rigors of Society.”

Louise examined her carefully as she spoke, detecting a subtle pain in her voice that she couldn’t quite place.

“It is glorious. I love the roses along the hedge line. I was speaking to Neilson about adding gooseberry bushes, and I would love to plant some marigolds and hollyhocks in summer.” Louise pointed further down the garden. “The cherry trees will be in bloom in a few months. It will be lovely to have their blossoms sprinkled about.”

The Dowager Duchess laughed—it was a very pleasant change from her rather severe expression. “You really are fond of plants.”

“All types, yes. I had planned to write an encyclopedia. It is something I have been working on and researching for many years.” Neilson had stopped working and was now listening intently. “In fact, I promised Marcus that…” Louise paused, glancing at her mother-in-law guiltily.

The Dowager Duchess inclined her head. “Promised him what?”

“That he would be the first to read it. I have bored him many times with my love of flowers. I intended to reward his patience with a preview.”

The Dowager Duchess smiled at her fondly, before her expression became sad. “You have leave to do as you like with this garden, Duchess. I would be happy to see how it is transformed under your guidance.”

“I do not want to impose. I would welcome your input; this is your garden, too.”

“Oh yes, but I am too old to wander about and dig holes while I’m on my knees. I would happily watch you transform it. I believe you will alter many things for the better, now that you are with us. I am sure, even though he is not here, Marcus will enjoy the results when he returns to us.”

“He does love being outdoors,” Louise said wistfully, looking out at the long expanse of lawn before her.

“Wife, I would have a word with you.”

Louise started at the voice so close behind her and turned to find the Duke standing between Neilson and his mother. His dark gaze was fixed on her with all the brooding intensity it once had behind the wolf mask.

Without waiting for her reply, Christian turned on his heel and stalked into the house. Much to her irritation, Louise felt compelled to follow him.

Christian was still angry after his encounter with Lady Carruthers, and his mood had not improved upon seeing his wife.

Her skirt was six inches deep in mud while she brandished a spade, joking and laughing with his mother as though they had known one another forever.

She never laughs like that with me.

He had been approaching them, trying to reconcile this happy woman with the angry Ice Queen he had encountered at the ball. And then she had mentioned Marcus, and a tendril of something ugly and vicious unfurled in his chest.

It felt like jealousy—an emotion Christian had never experienced in his life.

Without waiting to see that she was following him, he walked to his study and poured himself a generous measure of brandy, not realizing that she was only five steps behind him.

He turned to find her standing before him, her hands on her hips, looking deeply unimpressed.

“If you want to have a ‘word’ with me because I got myself dirty, I am fully aware that?—”

He raised his hand. “I could not care less about your appearance. I can buy you a dozen dresses if you wish to play about in the mud.”

She lowered her arms, looking confused. “Then what is it you wish to say?”

His fingers clenched around his glass as he took a long sip.

Am I really going to lower myself to ? —

“What was the nature of your relationship with my brother? Did you lie to me when you told me there is nothing between the two of you?”

Louise’s eyes went wide. “What?”

Christian slammed his glass on his desk, watching the amber liquid slosh over the rim, and then walked toward her. He gripped her waist roughly and pulled her against him.

“Is he the reason you will not let me touch you?”

Her hands came up to rest on his forearms as she leaned away from him. “You will release me, Your Grace. You have this all wrong!”

He pulled her against him again, hardening in an instant as she shuddered in his arms. Her eyes widened when she felt the evidence of his arousal.

“So, you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “Because I’ve been thinking about it ever since you talked back to me at the masquerade ball.”

“You are mad,” she huffed, trying to free herself again, but he was too strong for her.

“Then you have driven me mad,” he said softly.

Louise let out a choked cry as he pushed her back toward the desk and her back connected with it. He thrust his hips forward, and she let out a gasp as he lowered his face to hers, their lips a hair’s breadth apart.

Her breath mingled with his as one of his hands remained on the small of her back and the other trailed down her waist. His eyes never left hers, and she was unable to look away.

Control this . Push him away.

But her body would not obey her mind. She could only wait and watch as he slowly trailed his hand down her thigh and inward toward her core.

Her jaw was slack with shock, but her body burned bright for him even now. Her skin was alight with need, and despite her uncertainty about what might happen next, she could feel a pulse of heat building within her that was impossible to deny.

His lips brushed hers as he spoke again.

“I told you that you would beg me, woman,” he muttered. “So, beg me.”

“I would never,” she said weakly.

“Is that so?”

His lips moved to her neck, the touch like a rose petal brushing over her flesh, but it made her heart beat erratically all the same. His fingers curled inward, and she shuddered, a moan escaping her lips as a lightning rod of pleasure juddered through her.

“Beg.”

Her hands moved around his arms and shoulders to settle on his back, her body already a slave to his will even as her mind attempted to rebel against him. He brought his lips back to hers, and their eyes met and held as he hovered above her. Louise felt the exquisite touch of his hand through the folds of her dress, and she couldn’t bear it any longer as her lips parted on words she had always sworn she would never say.

“Please…” she breathed. “Christian.”

With a deep groan, he lowered his lips to hers, moving her so that she was pinned between his body and the desk.

Letting out a cry, she threw out her hand behind her as he bent her backward, supporting her lower back as he removed his hand from between her legs and pushed it roughly into her hair.

She felt the ribbons come loose instantly as her long locks cascaded about her face and he pushed his fingers into the strands.

Maintaining a punishing grip, he ground his hips against hers, and she gasped in surprised pleasure at the wicked sensation it elicited. As the sound left her lips, his tongue thrust into her mouth without mercy.

She moaned as he tightened his grip on her hair, controlling the kiss, not allowing her a single quarter of movement. His knee moved between her legs, and he thrust his hips against her thigh. She broke free of him, panting in the silent room, wishing she had the strength to push him away but knowing she did not.

As both her hands fell behind her for support, he lifted her onto the desk, moving between her spread thighs and taking her mouth again. He pushed his tongue inside, sending wicked shivers through her, and his fingers threaded through the long strands of her hair again.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, and he chuckled against her neck as he licked his way back to her mouth. She was under his command, for good or ill, and her mind gave up the battle as she gave in to the pleasure.