Chapter Fifteen

Kitty had been at the Castle McMullen for four days. In that time, she’d hardly seen the duke.

Each day, Alexander disappeared behind the beautifully carved door of his treasure room for hours. It had been one of the most exquisite rooms she had ever seen. Three floors of books, ancient artifacts and relics, paintings, sculptures, and scrolls. When not in his treasure room, he retired to his study. In there, Kitty assumed he did whatever dukes did in overseeing their vast estates.

The constant rains had kept her indoors, and that was entirely unsuited for her disposition. Kitty loved the outdoors, riding, taking long walks, inhaling the various fragrant flowers redolent in the air, and just basking in the beauty of nature. She, however, tried to endure the restrictions with some cheer, and most of her time had been spent reading Sense and Sensibility, which she had found in the castle’s original library.

She had discovered another splendid room in the castle and one of the reasons she would wish to stay there forever if she were the silly, romantic sort. Three stories high, the library was resplendent with shelves lining all the walls, and every one of them filled with fascinating books. Beautiful books, lavishly bound in the finest gilded, embossed leather. A wheeled ladder hung on runners, which could be moved back and forth to reach the books on the highest shelves.

Kitty also enjoyed chatting and playing parlor games with Penny, who was a charming girl, even if rather garrulous. It was through her that Kitty learned that Mr. Eugene Collins was first cousin to Alexander, their fathers having been brothers. Mr. Collins’s father had gone to his final rest only a year after his brother had died in the fire at this castle, so he was now Alexander’s heir.

Penny’s eyes had been wide and wounded as she reflected on their tragedy, though she had tried to sound unaffected. Kitty had gently shifted the conversation toward the history of the castle. That had been a few hours ago, and the young girl had disappeared for the rest of the day with her governess and tutors, while Kitty had retired to her chambers with a novel.

Today dragged on most unsatisfactorily, and unexpectedly Kitty felt bored with reading. The book was unable to turn her mind away from the duke and why she was still at his castle. After dreading this possible visit and what the duke would do with her, the absence of anything happening puzzled her immensely.

What if I interest you forever, Alexander?

How hungry he’d looked at her question. How frightened, as if she offered him a hope that could be ripped away.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky took on a darker cast. It was barely noon yet it appeared to be late evening. Kitty placed the book on the bed, then selected a shawl from the armoire and made her way from the chamber. Perhaps she needed a more diverting novel to engage her thoughts. She passed a few servants in the hallway, who bobbed and smiled at her. The longcase clock on the landing chimed. She entered the library and let the heavy oak door close behind her. It took a while to understand the sight before her.

“Your Grace?” Kitty questioned sharply.

He was sprawled on his back on the floor, his legs spread open, his hands behind his head. Kitty couldn’t determine if his repose on the carpeted floor had been chosen on purpose or if he had taken a fall. His chair was several feet away by the fire, and he was in the center of the room, with four thick leather-bound books scattered around him.

“Shall I summon your manservant?” she asked tentatively.

He grunted a reply that she missed. Worried that he might be hurt, she spun around and gripped the doorknob. A book slammed into the door above the handle. She whirled toward him. “Alexander!”

“Summon no one,” he growled irritably. “I shall be able to move soon.”

She marched over to him. “You threw a book at me, Your Grace.”

“At the door, Miss Danvers. At the door. I was quite confident it would not hit you or else I would not have risked it. Now stop shooting daggers at me with your eyes.”

This was said with wry amusement, but in the gaze that peered at her, she spied discomfort and a simmering anger. That slow brew of emotions she could hardly understand had her stomach fluttering in nervousness.

The duke was not pleased she’d come upon him in this vulnerable state.

She removed the shawl and let it drop onto the sofa, then glanced around the library. “I came to borrow a book.”

“Did you now?”

How cutting his tone sounded.

She paused, hesitating for a moment or two, and then said, “I was dreadfully bored holed up in my room. The constant rain is ghastly, and I daresay you are a poor host. I am not at all surprised you receive little to no visitors.”

His lips twisted in a cynical smile. “You are not my guest.”

She folded her arms and scowled. “I’m not?”

“You are my captive,” he said repressively.

“You are the most provoking creature I’ve ever encountered!”

Kitty lay down on the carpet beside him. She mimicked his posture by lacing her fingers together and placing them behind her head. They did not speak for several moments, and Kitty was acutely conscious that if she shifted ever so slightly, her shoes might brush his.

Acting on the impulse, she inched her booted feet over and nudged his shin. “So, you fell,” she finally murmured.

“So, I fell.”

Her heart squeezed at the dry flatness in his tone.

“How long have you been lying here?”

“You ask too many questions.”

“You are boorish whenever you are embarrassed.”

He grunted, and her lips twitched. “Would you like me to summon Hoyt or one of the other servants now?”

“No.”

“Whyever not?”

“The reason is irrelevant. Simply know that is my wish and you will obey.”

She turned her head on the carpet and stared at the starkness of his profile, which spoke of an ageless strength. An unexpected admiration for him swelled within her heart. “Would you like me to leave?” Her stomach went tight at his quiet contemplation.

“No, it would please me for you to stay.”

It was hard to explain the happiness that swarmed through her veins. “But you do not wish my help, either,” she murmured.

“You are getting to know me, Miss Danvers.”

Kitty scoffed. “I doubt that. I’ve barely scratched at your surface, though I daresay I would like to.”

“To scratch me? How unusual.”

She was maddeningly conscious of his body next to hers. “To get to know you.”

As if sensing the weight of her curiosity, he slowly turned to look at her, his gaze flickering over her in a thorough appraisal. His eyes glittered with such intensity, Kitty was almost discomfited. She became flushed and breathless but filled with a strange sense of anticipation. With a muttered, indiscernible curse, he glanced away. What are you afraid of, Alexander?

“Ask me any question and I shall answer.”

“Truly?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think of our time in the cabin?” And Kitty had not realized those words had escaped. Her cheeks grew hot, and she instinctively pressed her hands to them. Why had she asked that?

His seemingly bemused silence encouraged her mortification.

“I do,” he finally answered.

Kitty waited a few beats before saying, “That is all you have to say on the matter?”

“Yes.”

“You are a maddening creature!”

“You still like me,” he said with rough amusement. “It is a part of my charm.”

He had a rare gift for rattling her nerves and causing her to blush. Kitty swore that before the duke, she had never blushed more than once per year. “I… One of the old rumors when I announced our engagement was that you had been poised to marry the Countess Lynwood.”

“Lady Daphne, a lady of exaggerated sensibilities and a propensity for crying pretty tears.”

“Did you love her?”

“I enjoyed her company, but it was not love. It was a match encouraged by our parents. Our joint holdings would have been one of the most powerful in England. I agreed with my father’s suggestion of Lady Daphne as my bride, and she was content to marry for the sake of a great position.”

Kitty shifted slightly on the carpet so she could observe his expression better. “Do you regret not marrying her?”

“No.”

The swift reply and surety soothed the unexplained ache that had risen inside her.

“The lady cried off after seeing my scars and broken body. The memory is hazy because of the laudanum, but I still recall her fainting at least three times and wailing to her father that she would not marry a monster.”

“But you are such a charming monster,” she murmured.

His lips twitched; he tugged one of his hands from behind his head and ran a finger over his scarred cheek. “Besides Penny, you may be the only woman of my acquaintance who looks upon me and does not flinch from my ugliness. Quite admirable.”

“I believe people look away because it is uncomfortable to gaze upon another’s pain when it is bare for the world to see. How do they relate? Or offer words of compassion when they truly cannot understand your pain? It would seem pretentious to say the least, and they are aware of it, and thus become flummoxed and perhaps act like fools. You are one of the most handsome men of my acquaintance.”

“I can easily believe it is your eyesight that is sorely compromised.”

With a grunt, he pushed himself to his elbows and closed his eyes. His jaw clenched against the pain he must be feeling, but he did not ask for her help. Frustration bit at her, and she wanted to shout that she did not pity him but quite admired his fortitude, yet she knew he would reject such assurances.

Kitty swung herself into an elegant sitting pose and watched as he grunted and heaved himself into the same. She stood, walked over to the wheelchair, and rolled it over to him. She expected to see anger in the gaze staring up at her, but instead there was warm amusement. It flustered her, and she walked around the chair and held out her hand.

“You are determined to help me, hmm?”

“I daresay it equals your desire to not ask for it.”

She held out her hand; he grasped it and tugged her to him so she tumbled onto the floor into his lap. With a pained groan, he fell back and she sprawled over him, quite inelegantly. Her face was pressed to his chest, one of her legs draped across his thighs. Kitty was practically lying on top of the duke, and the shock of the position froze her for several moments.

A choked noise, which suspiciously sounded like laughter, came from his chest.

“I cannot find anything humorous in the situation,” she gasped, trying to scramble off him, pressing her palms flat against his chest and rearing upward.

An exaggerated moan of agony slipped from him. “Dear God, Miss Danvers, pray do not move.”

“Good heavens! I am hurting you,” Kitty cried and remained still atop him. “I’ll be gentler,” she breathed, trying to reassure him. Except with each minute shift atop him, another overly long groan came from him, and Kitty found herself unable to move for fear of hurting him. “I am going to ease toward your left side; please remain still and—”

A perfunctory knock sounded, and with a gasp, she turned her head to the door. It opened and the housekeeper bustled inside. “Your Grace, I—”

She gaped at them, and then to Kitty’s astonishment the most delighted smile creased the woman’s face and she clapped her hands together twice in her excitement, for it was certainly not alarm at a witnessed impropriety. Without another word, the housekeeper turned and hurried away, closing the door behind her.

“Why, I cannot credit it!” Kitty gasped.

She snapped her gaze to the man beneath her and stilled. His eyes were glowing with something wicked. “You wretched tease, you are in no pain! And your servants are in serious need of correction!”

Ignoring his laughter, she pushed herself off his body, uncaring her knees went perilously close to his man’s part. Kitty stood, fisted a hand on her hip, and sent him a glare that promised retribution, before storming away and out of the library.

She did not make it far before she paused and pressed a hand over her mouth, stifling her laugh.

The odious man.

She hurried back and gently eased the door open. He was in the wheeled chair, clasping the edges in a white-knuckled grip, bracing against whatever pain ravaged his body.

Understanding dawned, and her throat burned. Alexander had not wanted her to witness this pain…that he possibly saw as weakness.

His head was tipped back against the headrest, and his chest rose and fell rapidly as he conquered the pain. She made her way over to him, uncaring he would want her gone, desperate to offer some comfort.

She stepped behind him, and the eyes that had been shut and lifted to the ceiling snapped open.

“You came back,” he grunted, his lips tightening.

She brushed a damp tendril of hair from his forehead with acute tenderness. “I came back.”

He stared at her, and she wished he would voice the questions in his gaze. Perhaps then clarity would come to her heart and she would understand the feelings growing for him. She leaned down. “I forgot my book.”

Appreciation lit in his eyes, but the pain lingered.

“I’ll sing for you,” she offered.

“Dear God, no, I am already in enough agony.”

Kitty gasped in outrage and started to sing. He shrugged in mock resignation, as if he would just have to bear it. But upon his lips a smile curved, the hand that had gripped the chair loosened, and the frown that had split his brows disappeared.

An odd sense of happiness and belonging burst inside her when he started to laugh, realizing the song was about a young lady who ended up strangling a duke while he slept.

A short while later, Kitty left the duke nursing a whiskey and reading a book, a small smile seeming to be permanently affixed to his lips. She grinned, knowing she had put it there.

She settled into a chaise longue beneath one of the wide windows in the parlor, peering out into the rainy landscape.

“Ahem,” a voice said, dragging her from her whimsical musings.

She glanced at the butler, startled to see him with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“These are for you, milady. And is there anything special you would like for supper?” he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Behind him, the housekeeper lingered, beaming at Kitty. She flushed, recalling the compromising position the woman had seen them in earlier. Surely, they would think her a doxy. Yet all the servants seemed to stare at her with a bewildering degree of pride and hopeful excitement.

A couple of the servants were hastily dabbing at their eyes and noses with handkerchiefs. It occurred to her that her presence meant something profound to them. A blanket of hope had settled over the castle, infusing the servants with fresh smiles and far more solicitous natures than she’d ever witnessed. Kitty had even heard a maid singing while she dusted.

Do not be so silly in your hopes, she warned the servants silently, accepting the flowers.

Though if she admitted it, the warning was more for herself.

Kitty tethered on the edge of a most dangerous precipice—falling in love with a man who had no lasting interest in her.