Page 73 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Is he close?’
‘Yes. Go on into the back garden and follow the sound.’
She went outside and heard the sound of a musket fire.
She headed down his direction, her skirts gathered in her hands. The ground was soft today, owing to a bit of rain from the previous night.
‘Your Grace,’ she said. She saw him there, wearing a navy-blue jacket.
And she wondered if it was because he had finally told the truth. It wasn’t black, though it was close enough as to seem respectful. But she knew.
He lifted the gun and fired, the intensely masculine act sending a wash of heat through her.
What was wrong with her? Usually, she was not compelled by such things in the least.
But she had learned that there was nousuallywith him.
She was at the mercy of whatever his presence did to her body, and it was not anything that she could properly attribute.
He turned towards her, his expression fierce. ‘Are the children with you?’
‘No. I am allowing them to take their tea without me hovering over them. But... They were wondering if you would join us on a walk today. They had a wonderful time with you yesterday.’
He was devastating in the sunlight. His dark hair was tousled, as if he had run his fingers through it. His eyes were mesmerising. She could not look away from him. The brilliant square cut of his jaw. His broad shoulders. Broad chest.
She was so fascinated by his strength. By the physicality of him.
‘You know, very few aristocrats enjoy the outdoors as much as you.’
‘I doubt that’s true. Many of them like a hound hunt.’
‘I only meant,’ she said, feeling her face grow hot, ‘you seem a bit more physically active than most.’
‘My brother and I spent a great deal of time outdoors when we were children. It was better that way.’
‘You said your father was not a kind man.’
He shook his head. ‘He was volatile.’
‘I am sorry. I... I am sorry.’
‘It is the way of things, is it not. You are a peasant girl from Scotland, and your father used his fists. I am a duke from England, and my father used his.’
And she had been raped in a field in Scotland. And she had been threatened by a man in a duke’s home in England.
Men were devastatinglythe same. The world over. Regardless of class, wealth, beauty or otherwise.
But he was not.
He was not, and she knew that. Definitively.
His children wanted to be around him and she...
She knew enough about men to have known from the moment that she saw him that he would never use his strength against her.
What she had not known was how much she would want to feel his strength around her.
Just thinking of that night in the study made her dizzy.
