“It was a terrible accident near the cliffs. She fell. His Grace and his brother almost perished as well.”
“His Grace was present when she died?”
“He was.” Mrs. Breland’s brusque tone warned Harriet that she would have no more luck in obtaining answers on the subject. Mrs. Breland showed her the rest of the house, including the library. After that, the housekeeper left her on her own.
Harriet trod softly now on the carpets in the corridors as she returned to the great hall, where she found the duke engaged in a game of tug-of-war with his giant schnauzer. Devil was growling and tugging hard on a large knotted rope. Devil thrashed his head from side to side, trying to wrench the rope away from his master, but without success.
“Come on, boy. I won’t let you win that easily!” The duke’s laugh was deep and hearty, not the cold laugh she remembered from last night. Harriet lingered in the shadows at the top of the stairs, not wanting to intrude upon the happy scene. Finally, Lord Frostmore relinquished his hold on the rope, and Devil trotted off to another room with his prize. Harriet chose that moment to come down. Lord Frostmore’s back was to her, but he spoke as she reached the last stair.
“I trust you slept well, Miss Russell?” His tone was soft, carrying a slight sensuality that made her think of beds and activities other than sleeping. She froze. She hadn’t made a sound on the steps, yet he had sensed her.
“I slept tolerably well, but my head still pains me. No doubt a parting gift from the laudanum you gave me,” she replied coldly as he turned to face her. He wore no coat, only buff breeches, a white shirt, and a silver waistcoat. Seeing him dressed like this, more free to move about, made her stomach flutter with nerves. For a long moment his gaze swept over her, and she wondered what he could be thinking as he saw her in his wife’s old gown. But his contemplative look revealed nothing of his thoughts.
“I gave you only a little laudanum. I wouldn’t wish your pain upon anyone, and you were in terrible pain.”
“You could have asked me,” she argued.
“You have my deepest apologies, but you wouldn’t have trusted me. We battled only minutes before.”
Harriet stiffened as he approached her. “Because you threatened to ravish me.”
“My solitude had been disturbed, and I was angry. I would never have harmed you.” He stepped closer into her space until she came level with his shoulders.
“And how was I to know that?”
He shrugged. “You couldn’t have, not with my reputation and the rather theatrical weather outside to enhance your mistrust. Hence my course of action. As frightening as it seemed at the time, I assure you my intention was only to assist you.” His topaz-colored eyes searched her face for something; for what she wasn’t sure, but it made her feel small and feminine in a way that excited her.
She couldn’t deny her attraction to him now. He lacked the finesse a London dandy might possess, nor did he have the angelic beauty of his brother. But there was a raw, untarnished purity in his looks that made him physically admirable. With his red hair and proud patrician features, he was beautiful in his own way.
He clasped his hands behind his back. “You are welcome to stay for a time. I’ve decided it has been good for my staff to have someone else to fuss over.”
“But I can’t. I must leave for Calais.”
Lord Frostmore placed a palm on the banister next to her. Her heart jumped wildly, and her mouth went dry as he leaned in toward her. A strange yet exciting magnetism held her still as he peered at her. Other than her stepfather, she’d never been the focus of a man before, and she found that she liked the duke’s attention, even if it was a little frightening.
“What awaits you in Calais?”
The pit of her stomach tingled, and she couldn’t help but stare at his mouth, the full lips that looked impossibly soft. “My father had family there,” she whispered as his focus drifted down along the length of her body. The duke disturbed her in ways she had never imagined, yet he inspired more longing than fear in her. Such an attraction was nothing short of perilous, yet she could feel it building within her.
“Stay.” He spoke the word as a mixture of a command and a plea.
“Why? We are strangers, and hostile ones at that,” she reminded him.
His lips twitched. “Oh, nonsense. I greet everyone like that.” He leaned in slightly, enough that the heat of his body emanated off him, warming her in the most delicious way.
“With a sword fight?” She almost smiled, damn him.
“No, that was only for you. But everyone who visits tastes my lack of charm and overall displeasure. You see, I’m a wicked man. A wicked man with wicked desires and a terrible past that is only whispered about in the shadows. But I’m sure you’re familiar with the stories.”
“I have heard…,” she admitted.
With their faces so close, there was a brief and wild moment she thought about kissing him, thought about how it had felt last night even when she’d been afraid of him. What would it feel like to kiss him now when she wasn’t?
“Tell me, what do the villagers say of me these days? The stories seem to be getting positively Gothic as of late.”
His scent enveloped her as he raised her chin so their eyes locked. She could smell leather and rain. Had he been outside recently?
“They say…you killed your brother and your wife.”
