Page 26 of An Inconvenient Duke

“You will tell me if anyone threatens you.” Not a question, an order. “If you need my help.”

His concern might have been genuine, but all the worry in the world wasn’t enough to make her be so foolish as to let down her guard again. Next time, she wasn’t certain her heart could survive it.

She flung open the door and hurried to the ground so quickly that she surprised the horses. Leaving Marcus to pay the driver, she rushed along the avenue toward the little side street where she’d left her carriage. She didn’t glance behind to see if he was following and tried to convince herself that she didn’t care either way.

Apparently, now she was even lying to herself.

Nine

Gritting his teeth, Marcus slammed his fist into the large leather bag filled with sawdust and grain that dangled on a chain from the overhead beam. Then again. And again.

The frustration inside him from kissing Danielle was still too hot, too raw, and he needed to purge it completely before he could return home to Charlton Place tonight. Despite the sweat that rolled down his face and bare back, he wasn’t anywhere near reaching that point.

Around him, the old armory building was dark and silent. Its ten-foot-thick, windowless stone walls and iron doors kept out the noise and confusion of London and provided a place of sanctuary. The only light came from the lamps he’d lit and placed around this part of the central octagonal-shaped room that he’d turned into a training area. The only sounds were the rattling of the chain with each punch or kick to the bag. Exactly how he preferred it.

That was why he’d kept this property as it was instead of turning it into a warehouse, even though its location just north of the City made it financially valuable. He needed somewhere he could go to get away from Charlton Place and from society, in a way he couldn’t by going to the club or taking a long ride. And that was why he came here tonight after returning to the Strand to fetch his horse once he’d made certain that Danielle was safely back home. Only here could he let out his frustrations and pent-up energies like this.

Only here could he be himself.

But if anyone at court or in the Lords ever saw what he’d done with the building—how he’d hung bags from the rafters to practice fisticuffs, how he’d constructed men from sawdust and thick leather coverings that he could attack with swords and axes, how he’d put together a collection of various weights and clubs meant to enhance his agility and build sheer strength—they’d think him mad. But he couldn’t survive without this place to escape to.

Especiallytonight.

Kissing Danielle like that… What thehellhad he been thinking?

He punched the bag with all the force he could muster. The jolt of contact reverberated up his arm and shuddered painfully through his shoulder.

He’d been caught up in his grief for his sister, in the shock of watching Danielle being threatened in that alley, in the betrayal he felt that she’d been keeping such dangerous secrets—

Lies.He’d kissed her because he’d wanted to. No other reason.

Clenching his jaw, he kicked at the bag, driving his bare heel deep into it. So hard that it went sailing in a wide arc away from him and jounced noisily on its chain.

He was a damned fool to kiss her.

When the bag swung back toward him, he pivoted in a circle and kicked at it again with the same foot from behind, sending it arcing high into the air.

And an even bigger fool to let her run away.

The large metal door to the outer courtyard clattered loudly as it opened and closed, followed a few seconds later by the creak of rusty hinges on the inner door to the building itself. He didn’t need guards to keep anyone from sneaking inside. The old building announced visitors’ arrivals on its own.

“We were summoned here by General Braddock,” Merritt called out as he and Pearce walked into the central room from the narrow entry hall. “Looks like we found Gentleman Jackson instead.”

Marcus grimaced as he grabbed the bag to stop it from swinging.

“No,” Pearce corrected as his gaze roamed around the room and took in all the training paraphernalia and weaponry. “I’ve been to Jackson’s saloon. It isn’t half as good as this.” Then his attention landed on Marcus, and he arched a brow. “What is this place?”

My sanctuary.“A former armory.” He reached for a towel lying over a rack of metal weights and wiped off the sweat clinging to his bare chest. He was soaked with perspiration, including his loose-fitting trousers that hung low around his hips and were the only piece of clothing he wore, but the frustrations inside him had barely eased. “I purchased it last winter to turn into a warehouse.”

“But you turned it into something else.” Merritt muttered with a faint trace of awe as he scrutinized the weapons on the wall, “A fortress.”

Marcus unwound the long strips of cloth he’d wrapped around his hands as mufflers to protect his knuckles. “A place to escape to.” During the past few months since his return, this place had become a safe haven for him. That he’d turned it into a small arsenal meant nothing. “Some place where I can work my muscles and maintain my fighting edge.” Perhapsalmostnothing. Since he’d returned, he’d also felt hunted, and keeping his edge by training here put him at ease. “And Claudia thinks claymores clash with the wallpaper at Charlton Place.”

“And the rifles over the door with the Aubusson rugs,” Merritt agreed as he pulled a war rapier down from the wall and examined it.

“Do you often feel the need to escape, General?” Pearce’s somber gaze narrowed on him.

Marcus answered with brutal honesty, “Don’t you?”