Chapter 6 #3
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Lilliana,” he said as he began to stand, with his voice slightly raised.
She jumped up. “Fine,” she said tearfully. She sniffled and wiped her tears, but they wouldn’t stop. She stomped her foot delicately then petulantly. “You are being so mean to me when I am not at my best.”
“Sweetheart, you are exhausted. Come with me and we will retire to the room.”
Her tears continued as she stood and let him lead her out of the room, through the common area, and up the stairs.
“Good girl. I will have something a little stronger sent to us. And some hot water for cleaning up with.”
She said nothing. He followed behind her with a triumphant smile. He knew she had gone through a terrible ordeal, but he needed to establish the rules and expectations early because this little lost spitfire was going to be his.
“Now tell me about what happened today.”
Sighing she sat in the chair and carefully told the main highlights only.
"That’s only part of it,” he whispered, voice taut with unspoken fear. His hand wove through her tangled hair, then cupped her face, thumb brushing away a clammy curl. His hand smoothed her hair and cupped the side of her face. “Tell me everything, sweetheart.”
Her lips trembled. “When the robbers surprised us, I was frozen in place, reliving Mother’s death, but then I remembered my guns.”
“Guns?”
Her eyes burned with the painful memory. “After they killed Mother, and I was sent to Heatherfield, my grandparents insisted I learn to shoot. They gave me two derringers. One of which you confiscated earlier,” she accused.
She dared look up at him.
“And returned,” he said thoughtfully.
He paced the cramped cabin, fists clenched, and his muscle strung tight.
His hair was mussed, his coat wrinkled—he looked as battered as she felt.
And in that moment, she knew how far he’d come to rescue her.
A slow smile curved his lips, brittle and wary.
“Ah yes, when you pointed your pistol at that… persistent gentleman. I’ve never approved of women brandishing firearms. Especially in public.
” He gave her a hard stare. “Still, I returned it—foolishly, it seems. You carried both on this trip?”
Her cheeks burned. “Yes. I can barely manage a carbine—too unwieldy, so I taught myself to conceal one under my skirt.” She touched her thigh as if to prove the point, flushing scarlet. “The other was stashed in my bag. I have to have protection, because of Mother.”
His jaw clenched. Tears trembled on her lashes; her chest heaved. He brushed a tear away with surprising gentleness. “My god, I never knew the full story nor the full extent that happening has affected you.”
“Why would you?” she whispered.
“I am to pay attention to all things about you. Darling girl, what if someone had overpowered you and taken them from you?”
“No one knew I had them until it counted. I was careful.” Her indignation shone through.
“My darling, I had no idea.”
She sucked in a steadying breath. “Why would you? My mother shoved me under the seat in the carriage, and she and the maid sat on top to stop anyone from knowing I was there. They would have found me eventually but a gentleman and those with him came along, frightening the bandits and they ran away. He was a large man. When he discovered me, he lifted me out and drew me onto his knee and wrapped me in the coach blanket. He was a kind man and sat with me until Father arrived.”
“That man was my father,” said Oliver.
“Yes. Your father was such a nice man to have saved me and stayed with me as though I were his. Ironic, isn’t it? I was later thrown away by my own father.”
“Darling,” he said tenderly. “Yes, he was a man who showed much kindness to those around him. Can you finish this dreadful tale?”
“Well, my money was kept in a multitude of places, so I didn’t worry about its loss. When they stopped the coach, I froze.
She dared look up at him. He paced the cramped cabin, fists clenched, his every muscle strung tight. His hair was mussed, his coat wrinkled—he looked as battered as she felt. And in that moment, she knew how far he’d come to rescue her.
“Your Grace, why have you come? Why are you here?”
“I am Oliver when we are alone.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper that did wild things to her special place. “Or Daddy. I came to find you, of course.”
“Ah, the guardianship,” she breathed, unable to look away from his penetrating gaze and too knowledgeable eyes.
His hand shot out to cup her chin, fingers pressing into her skin as he forced her face upward.
His eyes burned into hers. “No, not the guardianship. You have slipped under my skin and invaded my life so thoroughly that I couldn’t bear to think of some harm coming to you.
I was sick with worry. Imagine coming home from the continent and my business only to find the chit I expected to stay in her county to have taken off.
Alone. Traveling to places she was never meant to go.
What madness possessed you to go about the country without escort or permission? ”
“To find my father. I wanted to prove he was alive. But I’m not sure he is. His family hasn’t seen him in several years. It all sounds fruitless and such an immense folly now. But I never needed permission.”
“The desire to find your father, I understand, but your methods are reckless. And being frivolous with your safety stops now. Tonight, I will leave the room while you prepare for bed. I feel compelled to admonish you not to leave from here.”
“Where would I go?” She wrenched away from him.
“I am exhausted! Why do you torment me? Kind then cruel, gentle then harsh! I still must find father, but this village is my last hope. It has all become more difficult and I am putting myself in more danger. It seems foolish now. Utterly hopeless. I do not know if it is even worth my sacrifice.” Her defeat resounded in his ears.
“Lilli, it isn’t. I understand your reasoning, but you mean too much to me. I must know you are safe. Always. None of what you have done thus far is.”
She slammed her palm against the wall. “I want nothing more than to go home, rest my mind and find comfort in the familiar but now.” She shook her head. “Now, how do I do that without feeling as though I have surrendered because my duke has demanded it?”
“Your duke, eh?” His eyes darkened with possession, ownership.
“I like that.” He leaned in until his lips nearly brushed her ear.
She shivered. “I would like your Daddy even better, but we will leave that for another time. For now, I shall leave you to freshen up and prepare for bed. And if you think, my little darling, that I will not sleep in that bed with you, you would be wrong. I do not intend on deflowering you, but I do intend on holding you close while we sleep.”
“Because you don’t trust me?”
“Because we both need it.”
She cleaned up and shared the hot water after Oliver returned.
The room was well done and not as some coachhouses were.
She still only had one bed, though. She would sleep in that comfy chair in the corner no matter what his edict of sharing a bed.
She settled into it and drew a blanket over herself as soon as His Grace left the room to make sure his horses, men, and the carriage were well secured.
She thought she was dreaming and snuggled into the strong arms and warmth of the man of her dreams. It was not a proper thought but dreams seldom were.
She dosed back off in the improper but oh-so-luscious dream where the gentleman was not gentle but passionate, holding her in place while he did outrageously naughty things to her.
Her back arched in the most delicious way as her body reacted to his hands on her breasts and touching her most intimate places.
Her cry was real as violent shockwaves of sensation rocked her body.
“Shhh, my naughty beauty. Relax now and sleep. Daddy has you and he isn’t letting you go.”
The deep baritone rumbled against her spine—unmistakably the Duke’s voice.
Oliver had invaded even this most private sanctuary.
The man whose amber eyes always regarded her as if she were already his?
It couldn’t be, yet her barely conscious mind recognized the sandalwood scent of his skin, the precise rhythm of his breathing, the knowing touch of his fingers as they coaxed her body to sing.
The realization that she was truly in his care washed over her like warm honey, drawing her back into velvet darkness as she surrendered all her needs to his masterful hands in her dreaming slumber.
If only it could happen in just that way.