Chapter 3

3

The most gorgeousman Emma had ever seen removed the noose from her neck. His fingers brushed her skin briefly as he did, sending a thrill through her. The scratchy, itchy hell that had rubbed her neck for hours was finally gone and the air was a blessed relief on her skin.

The voices, laughing, birdsong, and animal sounds in the market square became a muffled, gurgling river of sound around her. She stood in front of someone she could describe only as her savior, and even through the stench of her clothes, she could smell him—a good soap and the scent of shaving foam.

He’d saved her, not only from those men insulting her like she was a common whore, but also from Sir Jasper. That must be why she’d said yes.

Everything around her was a blur of the reds, browns, and blues of clothing as the crowd dissolved, going on with their activities.

And even among all that, she couldn’t look away from his beautiful eyes. There ought to be some sort of a rule in the world against having men like him roam free…high-cheekboned and with a mane of thick hair the color of old gold. He was towering over her, broad-shouldered and more muscular than any gentleman had the right to be. His features were stark and chiseled, with a classic Roman nose, a square jaw, and a broad mouth with sensual lips. Long, thick eyebrows furrowed above his pretty, surprisingly long-lashed eyes the color of amber in the sun. Having them stare at her with that intensity felt like licking the first honey of the year. Fresh. Delicious. Decadent.

When he offered her his elbow, like a true gentleman, she stared at it without understanding at first. It must be the shock. This odd numbness in her limbs, like she wasn’t standing on the ground at all but floating in the air, melting under his gaze. That, along with the tingling all over her body. And the strange sensation that a hole had been cut right through her middle.

The shock was not just from the notion that someone would pay a fortune for her.

But that she had said yes.

She had believed all along that either Sir Jasper or she would stop it at any minute.

And yet, there was something about the idea of leaving Sir Jasper. And going with this handsome man with an intense stare that brought chills down her body made excitement spread through her in warm tingles.

The man, however, clearly didn’t share her enthusiasm nor her tingles. His frown should have told her everything.

“I’m the Duke of Loxchester,” he said.

He was a duke! She swallowed hard, licking her lips. A duke had bought her at an auction. A new wave of shock added to her previous one.

She’d just exchanged Sir Jasper for a duke! He was the first one she’d ever met. And she was dressed in this? She smelled like a pigsty and looked like a farmer’s wife.

So…why would a duke buy someone like her?

“What is your name?” he asked softly.

Through her dry, parched throat she said, “Emma.” Not Lady Bardsley, like she should have. Just Emma, like a swineherd’s wife, indeed.

His eyebrow cocked and he continued to offer her his elbow. Nearby, a man as tall and muscular as him, but with much darker hair, lingered with a terrible frown. “Well, Emma,” the duke said. “I left your husband my steward’s address to arrange payment. Would you please come with me? I believe you’re now mine.”

As she wrapped her hand through his bent elbow and they began walking, the words thundered in her head… You’re now mine…

Why that would make her knees weak the way Sir Jasper never could, she didn’t know.

Then the Duke of Loxchester stopped to introduce her to the Duke of Grandhampton, a large, tall man of incredible beauty, and his brother Lord Preston Seaton, who had followed them from the auction. It must have been her shock, because she barely remembered their reactions except for their wide eyes and their tense manners. They must be in shock, too.

The only one who appeared to be unaffected was her new husband.

The Duke of Loxchester.

And then, minutes, or perhaps years, later, she and the duke were alone in his carriage.

The carriage was so much bigger and richer than anything she’d ever seen. Real leather covered the seats, which were soft like velvet under the tips of her fingers.

The rumble of the road under the wheels and the hooves of four fresh horses powerfully tugging the carriage were muffled. The walls of the duke’s carriage were covered in dark velvet with the patterns of golden birds drinking from lilies and vines. There were two gas lamps secured above each of the seats. Despite it being late August, warmers under their feet gave a pleasant heat. It was such a stark contrast to Sir Jasper’s old carriage, which felt like it was about to fall apart. And unlike Sir Jasper’s carriage, this one smelled fresh and delicious…like vanilla and sandalwood—exotics reserved for the very wealthy—and something male that one could never buy. This was a world she’d never imagined she would enter.

The second carriage with the Duke of Grandhampton and his brother drove somewhere ahead of them.

The world shrank around her. The countryside passing by in the two windows was nothing but an illustration in a book. All that existed were the four carriage walls and the rattling floor under her, and this man, long and muscular and as present as a tiger in a cage.

His scent, the bulge of his thigh muscles under the buckskins that stretched over every ridge. Her whole being tingled with nerves, the meaning of her life unraveling into the unknown. And it wasn’t just him.

The pig farmer’s wife’s clothes, rough and coarse and too short and too tight, smelled like animals and like a different life.

As the carriage shook and bounced, he picked up a newspaper from the seat. Once there was a wall of paper between them, he said, “You will do fine.”

Could he have been any more dismissive of her? Yes, she was dressed poorly…so what? He’d bought her for some reason she didn’t know.

Arrogant aristocrats. Arrogant, good-looking aristocrats! Where were his manners? Even though he thought she was working class, he couldn’t just behave as though she was an object he was satisfied with purchasing.

She needed to know more. She straightened her shoulders. “What are your intentions with me, Duke?”

He lowered his newspaper, and his eyes narrowed on her with suspicion. His amber stare brought warmth into her whole body. “Forgive me, you sound too educated for a swineherd’s wife. Why is that?”

She gulped. Was that a good thing or not? Making an attempt at a Bedfordshire accent, she said, “Must have picked it up from my mother. She was a lady’s maid.”

He frowned, looking her over with a grunt that sent anger through her, and returned to his paper. She studied the long, masculine fingers holding the paper, the muscular crossed legs stretched across the small space between their opposite seats.

She wouldn’t take him ignoring her like that. No. This was her life, and she needed to know what he had in mind.

“What do you want with me, Your Grace?” she asked. “A good-looking, rich man like you surely doesn’t need to buy a wife. Can’t you have any woman you want?”

He lowered his newspaper, his amber eyes as dark as chestnuts, watching her. “Like I said, you will do fine.”

“For what, my lord?”

“For what I have in mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “And what’s that?”

“To put you in silks and the latest fashions and tell the whole ton you’re my wife.”

With that, he reopened his newspaper and buried his nose in it as though she didn’t exist.

The charm he’d had over her evaporated. He couldn’t be the gallant protector she’d thought he was. He had bought her for his own purposes, whatever they were. They had nothing to do with him being kind to her or his valor. He was as arrogant and selfish as any aristocrat. He may be even worse than her husband.

She couldn’t see his face behind the double sheet of paper. It was perfectly ironed, like any gentleman’s, and it was like a slap in her face. She deserved more than that. Swineherd’s wife or not, she had the right to know what he had planned for her.

And if he was going to ignore her like that, as though she were a piece of furniture he had just purchased, she’d annoy him. She’d dig information out of him whatever it took. After all, this was her future, and it was quite unfair that he was not giving her the information that would define her whole life.

She lifted herself from the seat and shifted her bottom to the opposite seat and plumped herself right next to him. His profile was like a Roman statue against the backdrop of the sunlit window.

“But why do you need me for that? To put someone in silks and the latest fashions and tell the whole ton she’s your wife, you don’t need a swineherd’s wife.”

From behind the newspaper came a lazy, cold reply. “I fail to see why it concerns you. Please let me read in peace.”

She scoffed. Quite unladylike. Perfect for a farmer’s wife. “It concerns me because it’s my life.”

He lowered the newspaper to his lap and looked at her, his amber glare as sharp as shards. “Please return to the opposite seat, madam.”

“Not until you tell me the whole truth. And where are your manners?”

“My manners?” His upper lip crawled to his nose. “My manners are being suffocated by your horrendous stink.”

Ah! Finally, she’d gotten him with something. She’d roused some sort of feeling from the cold, unyielding duke. Pig’s shit—that was what had him react! A smile blossomed on her lips.

Giving him a wee bit of a break, she returned to the opposite seat and looked out the window. They drove through the woods now, trees and bushes passing by.

Completely uninterested in the landscape outside, the duke opened his newspaper again. “Please refrain from speaking to me again until we arrive and you have bathed.”

“No,” she said. “I will not let you scare me with your gorgeous, handsome demeanor until you tell me your reason for buying me. What if you’re a murderer?”

He raised his brows at her over the newspaper. “You think I’d tell you if I were a murderer?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Well, I’m not one. I’m also trying not to breathe too much.”

She was not trying to breathe, either. She hid her smile. “So tell me, then. Why?”

His eyes became so murderous she wondered if he’d lied just now. “You will be dressed in the best dresses. You will be fed dishes you’ve never tried. You will sleep in a feather bed. You will be safe, protected, and, I daresay, bathed. What you will not do is get into my business.”

“Your Grace, Duke of Cheerfulton, aren’t you?” she said. “You seem like a good man with your manners, but deep down, you despise everyone that’s beneath your rank, don’t you?”

He jerked his head up as though to say something but stopped himself. His jaw muscles jumped up and down.

“Just tell me why!” she yelled.

“I am very much starting to regret buying you,” he said through gritted teeth. “And understand why your husband couldn’t tolerate a day more being married to you! You’re a devil in a woman’s form, aren’t you?”

Like Sir Jasper’s words, these jabbed her in the chest. Sir Jasper bickered, criticized her, and tried to control her. He’d even told her she ate her breakfast wrong. One does not butter the toast with such a thick layer. It’s unladylike and will make you fat.

But just as with Sir Jasper, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. And just as with Sir Jasper, she’d be fine. Somehow, everything would be all right as long as she maintained a positive attitude. She squared her shoulders.

Until she could find a way to escape him without returning to Sir Jasper, she needed to let him know the boundaries she would not permit him to cross.

“Do not dare to hope you will lay with me as my husband,” she said.

His darkening eyes traveled over her body.

“I need you to be my wife in every way, Duchess. It may take time to end your marriage and to legally marry you, but we will tell everyone we’re already wed. In the eyes of society, you will be my wife. And I expect you to be—in every way.”

It sounded like another cage. Every marriage was a prison. She’d always be a husband’s property.

He looked her up and down.

She swallowed hard. The way he affected her was incredible. A dark, dangerous desire boiled in her stomach.

No. That was wrong. What she wanted was not a husband. Not another jailor like Sir Jasper.

What she wanted was to get away. Now that she had escaped her horrible marriage, she didn’t want to go back. But she’d need to get away from the duke, too. They weren’t really married. They hadn’t signed a church register. Selling a wife was just a silly tradition.

As soon as she was in London, she’d run away. She wanted to be free and strong and independent so that no one could hurt her or manipulate her like Sir Jasper had.

But, just for now, she needed to keep pretending to be a swineherd’s wife.

Surely, a duke wouldn’t want to bed a swineherd’s wife.

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you not telling me?”

His face hardened into a grim expression. “My mother will not find it agreeable.”

“But I am not your true duchess, am I? You bought me. We’re not wed.”

He leaned his head back against the glimmering wall of the carriage. “Not yet.”

“Then let me go, Your Grace,” she pleaded, realizing her accent was slipping back into an educated one, but not caring. “I just want to get away from my husband. I will serve you as your servant until I repay you my price.”

There was now a pained and a dangerous look on his face. “I bought you, and you said yes. There’s no running away from me now, wife.”