Page 16 of Kidnapping the Duchess
CHAPTER NINE
Daria
“This is a mistake,” I repeat for the dozenth time, hoping Izak will believe me this time. But just as before, he gives me an impossibly calm look of reassurance.
“It’s not.”
“I should be the one to tell him. He won’t murder me, but I can’t promise he’ll show the same mercy for you.”
My weekend as a willing captive was a mix of positively earth-shattering and surprisingly…comfortable. When Izak wasn’t showing me new and creative ways he could make me come, we had a ridiculous amount of fun together. We explored the babbling brook that wound its way through the property, and I picked a bouquet of flowers from the garden as he strolled alongside me.
We prepared our own meals as there were no staff on the premises, though I’ll admit that he was more than competent in the kitchen and I was rather clueless. One morning, he even tried teaching me how to flip a pancake in the pan. Most of them landed on the floor, and I laughed so hard my sides hurt—until I suddenly ended up naked and spread on the table with Izak’s head between my legs for what he later claimed as his new favorite breakfast.
But some of my favorite times we shared were the quiet times, where we simply stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms content, peaceful, and yes, wonderfully comfortable. It took less than two days for me to fall in love with my bodyguard and kidnapper. Though, if I’m truly honest, I started falling when I saw him in my father’s study on his first day at Copeland Manor, and I never stopped.
Now here we are, back in front of the study as we argue over how best to handle my father with his stubborn and absurd opinion that I should be married off to a nobleman for my own good. Because I don’t want any of the men my father approved for me.
I want my bodyguard.
Izak smiles down at me and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “God, baby, I can’t tell you how much I admire your willingness to give up your title to be with me.”
“It’s not about that; it’s about what I’m not willing to give up, and that’s you. My parents enjoyed a strong and loving marriage. I want that same happiness with the man I love, regardless of what station it affords me.” Looking up into the warmth of his hazel eyes, I’ve never felt more certain about anything or anyone, ever. “I no longer care about having a title, as long as I get to spend my life with you.”
He releases a slow breath, then raises our laced fingers between us to place a kiss on the top of my hands. “You’re so much more than I ever hoped for, Daria. And I wouldn’t be worthy of you if I didn’t speak to your father on my own behalf. This is something I have to do, something I want to do.”
My brow knits together. “But…he…”
“I won’t let him murder me, I promise,” he says with an amused twist of his lips. Then he cups my face and kisses me, slow and sensual, his tongue gliding over mine with a subtle possession that made my knees—and my resolve—weak.
Pulling away, I sigh in resignation and step aside. Izak knocks firmly on the thick door, then enters at my father’s gruff command to enter. As soon as the door closes behind him, I start to pace. Back and forth, the strike of stilettos on marble echoing in the cavernous hall barely heard above the deafening pounding of my heart.
Why is it taking so long? What could they possibly still be talking about? Panic starts to settle beneath my sternum. I never should have agreed to let him go in alone, I should’ve insisted—
The double doors swing open, and the sound of my father’s deep laughter spills out before I see him clapping Izak on the shoulder and looking at him with what I can only describe as great fondness.
“Welcome to the family, son, you’re going to fit right in.”
My jaw unhinges in the most unladylike of ways, and I can’t stop staring at whatever miracle is before me.
Dad catches sight of me and frowns. “Darling, close your mouth, you look like a fish.”
My teeth clap shut, but words still escape me. Luckily, Izak hasn’t been rendered mute as well. “Thank you again, sir. I appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice.”
“Please, I’m the one who is grateful. You’ve put an old man’s mind at ease,” Dad says with a wide grin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to deliver some bad news to a duke and send him off with a fruit basket or some other consolation gift. I’ll see the both of you at dinner.”
Kissing me on the forehead, my father gently squeezes my arms, silently communicating so many things I don’t understand, then walks down the corridor with a little bounce in his step.
“What kind of spell did you cast on the Duke of Geneva?” I ask Izak, only half-joking. “Are you a warlock who practices black magic? Because I have literally no idea what just happened.”
Izak chuckles and pulls me into his arms for a quick embrace, then holds my hand and starts off in the direction of my room. “No magic was necessary, black or otherwise. I simply told him that I was madly in love with his eldest daughter and stated my intentions to marry her and spend the rest of my days making her happy. Your father is a very reasonable man.”
“No, Izak, he’s not,” I say with a shake of my head. “Not about this, he isn’t. He made my mum a promise on her deathbed. He would never break that promise unless…”
I look up at him and study his intense hazel eyes, the strong set of his jaw, the full lips that kick up on one side in that jaunty way of his that ties my stomach in knots. It’s then I realize that for as much as I know who Izak is as a man and, after this weekend, know every gorgeous inch of his body, his entire past remains a mystery. Any time I asked him questions about where he grew up or about his family, he somehow managed to steer the conversation back to me.
“Unless he thought a marriage to you was keeping his promise.”
He nods. “It’s true. He didn’t warm up to my proposal for your hand until I told him I was a prince of Danataria. And since prince trumps duke, he was all too anxious to give us his blessing.”
