She closed her eyes tight, but it only made the tears build faster, her breathing more erratic, made her feel more out of control. White rage ripped through her. At the injustice of it all. At her loss of control.
“I cannot—will not—live that life. It will destroy me.” Her voice came out low, tortured even to her own ears. “I will not be subject to ridicule and pitying whispers as Colborn has affair after affair, littering the country with his bastards, while I am forced to sit at home inside my gilt cage, while I am forced to endure his attentions, his wants, his desires, while mine will never see the light of day.”
He watched her, studied her, hands gripping her waist. But he remained silent.
“I pity the fool who underestimates me.” She slammed her palms against the trunk on either side of his head, bringing their faces inches apart again. “I. Will. Not.”
He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, his eyes unreadable.
“Colborn will rue that day four years ago when he chose me as his possession. I will make his life unbearable, and he will never see it coming. I will silently slice away at him, small, calculated cuts that accumulate over time. He needs an heir? There are countless ways to prevent pregnancy. He forbids me from taking a lover? Thwarts my attempts? Then he better not hire any male staff. Dear God, I will turn into a bloody monster. I won’t even be able to look at myself. I…I…”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, sticky and itchy against her skin, and she couldn’t seem to draw in air. The Duke tucked her to his chest, and the sobs finally came, uncontrolled and ugly, wrenched from her.
“I don’t want to turn into that person,” she choked out. But she knew she would. She felt the cynicism creeping in now, building, taking over.
She shook in his arms, and he held her silently, forearms digging into her back, nose buried in her hair, surrounding her. Feeling so unfairly like safety. Like home.
Eventually her sobs quieted to soft shudders, her tears slowed and began to dry. She leaned back and met his unreadable gaze. His knuckles gently brushed away the remaining tears from her cheeks, his gaze locked on the movement.
“Your Grace, I…” Remorse, embarrassment, and bone-deep exhaustion fell over her.
He looked up at her, his eyes turbulent blue waters. And then he spoke, low and barely more than a rumble, “Ash. Call me, Ash.”
“Ash,” she said in a weak whisper, and the minute his name left her lips, her heart stumbled. “Are you—are you not angry at me? For saying such things about your son.”
His grip on her waist tightened. “I would never fault you for protecting yourself, fighting for yourself, when no one else will. When the one person in the world who is supposed to protect you fails in that regard. When he is the one who causes you pain.”
Her lips trembled. “I don’t want to face a future alone.”
He nodded, murmuring, “I know,” then pushed back the locks of hair on either side of her face that had fallen free at some point during her tirade. “I understand all too well.”
His hands never fell away, instead sliding to frame her face.
“You are trapped,” he whispered. “Backed into a corner. At some point, everyone reaches their limit.”
His gaze dipped to her mouth, and her pulse took off.
Her gaze locked on Ash’s lips as they curled around his soft words.
“There is only so much a person can withstand. Until they finally break.”
His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, and her eyes fluttered shut.
His breath coasted over her lips.
“I believe I have found mine.”
His lips met hers.
21
Ash
Ash’sheartfeltasthough it had been torn from his chest and rammed over a stake. Watching Felicity fall apart—her eyes more frantic, more panicked than any horse he’d ever worked with—it destroyed him. He felt her pain acutely, two like souls: lonely, aching, starved.
Their shared turmoil swirled around them, sending unstable emotions spinning wild and unrestrained.
Resentment raged, fueled by the impossibility of having her, of her being promised to his son while she yearned for anything but.
