His hand reached my neck, stroking that spot, that gullet exposed by mycoiffe, the silky mobcap covering my braided chignon. “You’re not going to let me waste away. You’re going to force me to live, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I do like knowing where you are. And that you won’t be leaving me. I like not being afraid to touch you even more.”
With my pinkie, I traced his cheek. “Rough, very different, you not in full compliance.”
He brushed my knuckles against his lips. “This beard won’t last. Don’t get used to it.”
Clear blue eyes settled on me. The shadows I saw in the carriage and when I stood at the footboard seemed to have lessened.
Yet, a shadow was still a shadow. Regret or mistrust still remained. It was time for a full confession; well, an admission of the truths I knew.
“I went with the barrister to two gaming hells to search for a man named Sullivan. We found him. He runs credit at the Piccadilly gaming hell. I think he’s changing the amounts owed and pocketing the money. I believe Colin and Markham were extorting him.”
“That’s a serious accusation. A man’s debt are a matter of honor.”
“Colin kept a record of these transactions. We found a diary. The notations in it are confusing. I want to think Colin’s moods got to him. The latter pages show the trembling of his hand, must be from his deepening depression.”
“My cousin’s script was something he prided himself. You’re sure it’s not some sort of misunderstanding with Sullivan? I didn’t think Colin would threaten someone for money.”
“Threats sounds like Markham. I think this is why he had to get rid of me. I can identify Sullivan. I must be a witness to the conspiracy.”
He clasped my fingers. “You’re rocking. Snuggle close, then don’t move.”
Those were orders I could follow. Lying beside him, I put my cheek to his shoulder. “Rattle off more commands, and come up with a strategy on how to win this war and prove Markham’s guilt.”
“I’ll stew on this and review the diary. But I’m intrigued about your new willingness to follow orders, Patience.”
With my chin tucked high on his shoulder, I didn’t resist when his other arm found me.
The gown I’d pressed, each gather at the bodice, the lacy puffy sleeves, would wrinkle and deflate within the heat of his hold. I cared not.
The drumming of his heart, the rhythm mirrored what I felt down deep in my battered soul.
His moan was loud when he held me. It wasn’t pleasure. He’d forced himself to move, slipping his mouth along my jaw until he’d taken full possession of our kiss.
I wanted him to command me, to tell me what to do to make his pain go away. In this instance, I’d let him mold me into the woman he needed.
A loud groan like a cannon’s belch ripped from my duke. He eased back onto his pillow. “Well, that’s enough seduction for me. I’m glad you found me. I’m glad, but you can go.”
Kneeling over him again, I put my hands to his sides, soft and easy, all those years of walking on shells put to good use. “You know I don’t do well with orders.”
Then I arched my back and stretched and finished this kiss that needed to be his. Three days of fearing for him, of hating myself for his injuries disappeared in the taste of him.
“With you rallying me to health, I’ll walk again.”
One palm cinching my waist, expert fingers scorched my melting spine. The duke’s silent commands encouraged me to continue.
“I’m not hurting you?”
“Of course you are, but that doesn’t mean I want you to stop. With pleasure, sometimes there’s pain. I’ll let you know when I’ve had my fill.”
Lionel’s sweet cry filtered into the room.
“Or he will let us know. Take care of my boy. Tell him to enjoy the good stuff.”
Easing from this mattress made for two, I smoothed my gown, but before I went to my son, he stopped. I peeked through the door, and he’d fallen back to sleep, thumb in mouth.
The duke chuckled. “I need to speak to him about sharing. I’m beginning to take these interruptions personally.”
