The Duke went back to studying her swollen ankle. It was black and blue, and it throbbed terribly. In truth, Yvette hardly noticed the pain. She was far too preoccupied with the situation at hand. The Duke, on his knees before her. Her leg in his hands. How soft and tender was his touch; his fingers traced her skin, and she trembled from it.
Beyond that, she watched his face. His brow was furrowed, he was deep in thought, and she could sense a question coming long before he spoke it. A question that, no doubt, took him much effort to ask.
“Might I… might I ask you a personal question, Miss Norleigh?” he said eventually, his voice soft, speaking into his chest as if he hoped she might not hear.
“Anything.”
“I have wondered… not too much, but the thought has crossed my mind.” He hesitated as he stared at her ankle, unable to bring himself to look at her. “Have you married before?”
“What?” she said with surprise.
“I meant nothing by it,” he hurried to explain. “It is just strange to me that someone of your… beauty might not have found themselves a man to wed. And I have seen how you are with Hugh, and heard how you were with the children that your parish fed. You seem to have a natural inclination toward motherhood…”
“Which requires me to marry?”
“It is natural, no?” His cheeks turned a light shade of red, and still he could not bring himself to look at her. “To wish for a family. One that includes a husband, as well as children.”
“Perhaps there is something wrong with me?” she said defensively.
He laughed. “I doubt that very much.”
Yvette considered dismissing the question. She had a good inclination as to why the Duke was asking this, but she would not dare to push further on it. Better to leave such wonderings alone and do as she always did when this topic was raised: ignore it.
And she almost did just that… until she looked closer at the Duke.
She noticed how nervous he had suddenly become. She noticed how much he focused on her ankle, unable to meet her eyes. She thought back to what had happened just now with Carrowell, the Duke’s apparent anger when he thought that Carrowell was stealing her away. And she knew, as she knew anything, why that was.
For weeks now, Yvette had dared to imagine that there might be more between herself and the Duke than what should have been possible. She had sensed it there. She had felt it beneath thesurface of their interactions, a force waiting to explode, should she let it.
But how could such a thing happen if she ran from it whenever it presented itself? How could she get to know the Duke better if she refused to give him the chance? If she refused to give herself a chance, for that matter,
I do not know what the Duke wants. I do not know what might happen. But I do know that nothing ever will, unless I take the risk…
It was time that she stopped running. It was time that she stood up for what she wanted, whatever the cost might be.
“I have not married before,” she said with a deep sigh. “Nor have I ever meant to. But it has nothing to do with being unable to find the right man. In fact…” She laughed bitterly. “I do wonder sometimes if there is something wrong with me.”
“It is not your fault.” His head snapped up, and he fixed her in a determined look. “What man would not have you?”
She rolled her eyes. “I never said that. The reason is…” Her heart started to race as the memories took hold of her. “You have no way of knowing this, but my mother died when I was very young.”
“She did?”
“I was close with my mother,” she answered with a soft smile. “She was my hero, and I wanted to be just like her. And when she fell pregnant, I was so excited…” Her smile grew at the memory. “A sister or a brother, she promised me. Another addition to our happy family.”
She let that sit between them, expecting the next question, while hoping it was not asked.
“What happened?”
Her chest tightened. “She died giving birth…” Her breathing grew heavy, and she felt as if the walls were closing in around her. “I was there when it happened. I…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I saw it… the pain it put my mother through… the suffering… the blood…”
As always happened when she thought of that moment, memories of what was the worst day of her life crashed upon her. She could hear her mother’s wailings. She could hear her father’s cries of misery. And she could remember how she felt when she realized that her mother had slipped from this world.
A cold shudder ran up her body.
“The child died.” She spoke into the void, unable to look the Duke in the eyes. “And it broke my father, as it did me. He started to drink, while I…” She laughed bitterly. “I convinced myself that I would never allow such a thing to happen again.”
“That is why…” He did not finish the question.
