Awakening His Duchess (18 page)

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Authors: Katy Madison

Tags: #duke, #vodou, #England, #Regency, #secret baby, #Gothic, #reunion, #voodoo, #saint-domingue, #zombie

BOOK: Awakening His Duchess
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He waited on an answer, his jaw ticking.

“Etienne had nightmares about...about what he saw.” She
shook her head and crossed the room to put her load on the bed. Etienne wasn’t
the only one who had nightmares. Sometimes she dreamed he’d been sliced by
machetes too and after the horror of those dreams, she had to see him, watch
him sleep much like Beau had done. “I need to stay close.”

She dropped her load on the narrow bed. He crossed behind
her with his uneven gait and deposited three stockings on the pile. She must
have been dropping them as she walked and he had collected them. An odd lurch
hit her as if she’d walked out into a hurricane and the wind punched her with
the force of a gale. Her face stung as if she’d been hit with a thousand bits
of debris. Only wind like that didn’t blow here in England. Storms here were
tame and quiet, never so unmannerly as to rip apart houses or bend trees nearly
in half.

His brows drew together as he stared at the mound of
clothing. “We can have Etienne brought near our rooms. He is old enough to move
off the nursery floor.”

She folded her arms across her aching chest and shook her
head. Did he
want
her in his rooms? Everything to this point made her
believe he wanted nothing to do with her. Even when she was on his lap on the
horse, his body betrayed that he might want her as a man wants a woman—any
woman.

Was she so desperate she would have taken base desire as a
hopeful sign? But the stiffness of his mouth, his refusal to meet her eyes, the
dismissal when he didn’t need help all pointed toward a man who was repulsed by
her. And that left her feeling like her insides had been scraped raw.

She stared at the bare floorboards. The rolled carpet rested
against the wall. The servants had cleared the room so quickly. Why hadn’t Beau
objected to her being in his room? “Why? You don’t want me there.”

“Yvette,” he sighed.

“I think you tell your father to take back this order to
share rooms, but no.” She released her arms and waved her hands wildly.

She had his attention now. His gaze fixed on her face and
his blue eyes seemingly became bluer, the indigo spokes standing out in sharp
relief. “My father ordered you into my rooms?”

“Yes. He order me. He order you. Like puppets.”

An expression flashed on Beau’s tanned face that looked like
dismay. The way her English deserted her when she was upset, no doubt.

“I do not wish there. You do not wish me there. Why
pretend?”

“For Etienne’s sake.” He stared the mound of clothing and
rubbed his leg. A dusky red dusted his cheeks. He gestured toward the door.
“And he would like you to learn to ride.”

Her head felt as if it would spin off her neck. She stormed
toward him and smacked him in the upper arm. “How do you know what Etienne
would want? You have one day with him, no?”

Touching him made her hand tingle, and she fought the urge
to rub his hard arm where she’d rapped him.

“We could ask him. Although I’m certain that is what he
meant.” Beau looked down on her, but then his expression turned pained and he
shifted his gaze away. “Yvette, the footman is standing outside holding our
horses, not that Daisy is going to give him any trouble, but my mount should be
walked if it isn’t being ridden.”

“Why? Why you insist this ride?” Her hands circled and she
quickly folded them, the proper deportment lessons echoing in her head. “Is it
because I embarrass you with not being a proper English lady?”

His head tilted. “No-o. Why would you think that?”

“You look at me as if I were nothing.” That wasn’t exactly
what she meant. “Or you won’t look at me.”

His chin jutted forward. “You poisoned me, Yvette. How the
hell am I supposed to look at you?”

She blanched. “I only give you herbs to help you breathe—”

“Not last night. Nine years ago. After our night together.”

Even now he didn’t refer to it as their wedding night. That
he’d decided to claim her as his wife now was solely because of Etienne.

After the shock of his belief filtered through, she nudged
up her chin. “I did not poison you then. I do not know who did. I thought you
died. You are the one who knew I lived, yet you did not try to find me.”

The complaint felt petty the minute she uttered it.

His color grew high and he thrust his chin toward her. “I
was a slave. How the hell was I to find you?” His voice vibrated with raw
anger. “When I wasn’t manacled, I was drugged.”

If he truly thought she had been part of poisoning him...he
would want nothing to do with her. Why would he have bothered to seek her out?
But how could he think that? After what they shared, how could he think she
would do anything to hurt him?

He wrapped his hand around her upper arm. “We are going for
a riding lesson because we need to talk, damn it. And away from the house where
no one will interrupt or overhear is best.”

And she’d be trapped on a horse she couldn’t control.

He dragged her toward the door, his grip tight but not
bruising. She wondered if he didn’t limp so, would he have just tossed her over
his shoulder?

Her maid stood wringing her hands in the passageway. “My
lord—”

“Not now,” said Beau before the girl could voice a question.
“We will let you know where my wife will be staying when we return.”

Yvette’s mouth dropped open. Would he really allow her to
move back into her old room?
Mon Dieu
, he confused her.

As they went down the stairs, he transferred his hand to the
small of her back, guiding her instead of compelling her. Her heart flipped in
her chest and she quivered all over.

“We both know I would have died last night if you hadn’t
been near.” His low spoken words were grudging, as if he resented her help.

Her descent stopped.

A step below her, he turned. “Would you stay in the suite?
If not for my sake then for Etienne’s?”

It didn’t answer whether or not he was embarrassed by her or
whether he meant for her to be anything more than a nurse. His tactics were
unfair, but how could she say no?

A steely glint to his eyes, a flicker of resentment wavered
behind his expression.

The acquiescence froze on her lips. She continued her descent,
her limbs feeling wooden and stiff. She couldn’t even trust herself to be
around him and not betray the love she once harbored for him. “I am certain we
could arrange for a nurse or a minder to watch over you.”

 

 

Chapter Ten

Beau could hardly believe he was asking Yvette to stay in
the suite with him. She was giving him what he wanted, moving into another
room, avoiding him, but part of his brain went missing when he put his hand on
the small of her back. Or perhaps earlier when he had pulled her onto his lap
on top of his horse. Or perhaps in his perverse way he didn’t want to let her
do what she wanted to do.

Then again she was making him crazy with her running away
from the problem before he could fully explain. She’d done it in Saint-Domingue
with dire consequences to him, but he wouldn’t let her storm away angry now. He
couldn’t wait until she was
ready
to hash things out. He might not be
around when she calmed down—if she ever calmed.

“You have no right to be angry with me after all you did to
me,” he said in a low tone.

She opened her mouth.

Another maid scooted around a corner out of sight.

“Not here.” He pushed his hand against the small of her
back, the heat of her skin burning through the layers of material to his palm.
“Outside.”

She shuddered. “You cannot force me out of Etienne’s life. I
am his mother.”

For that reason he would at least try to find a way to get
along with her. “Save it until we are riding.”

He glanced back to see if Yvette’s maid was still in hearing
distance. He didn’t relish the idea of his controlling father learning all
their secrets via the staff. Besides, he and Yvette had things to discuss,
things he didn’t want anyone overhearing.

They were going to have this out once and for all. For
Etienne’s sake they had to find a way to get along with each other—or at least
not kill each other.

Her hair slid across his hand as he guided her down the
stairs. The silken caress was a reminder of things he didn’t want to remember,
the heady feel of her hair dragging across his skin when they both lay naked on
the ship. Just her disheveled appearance was playing havoc with his libido.
More than he needed to straighten things out with her, he needed her at a safe
distance so he could think straight.

Putting more pressure on the curve of her back he increased
his pace and hers. His heart thudded harder in his chest and his breaths were
coming hard, but he didn’t feel the lung tightness of the night before.

He probably should have let her straighten up, but she’d
taken the time before he’d come after her to start moving her things out of
their suite, as if to annoy him. Still his head was swirling and his blood was
thick and hot in his veins. He believed that she had known about the bokor, for
all her protestations of innocence. Still there were questions he had to know
the answers to, questions he would not ask where they might get back to the
duke.

When she crossed the hall to the open front door, her angry
steps slowed, thankfully. He was having a devil of a time trying to match her
across the flat marble expanse with his leg protesting every step.

A footman stepped out of the shadows to open the door for
them.

Finley appeared to his left and reached for the library
door. “His grace would like to speak with you.”

“Later, Mr. Finley.”

Yvette stopped. “Do you care that I do not wish to do this?”

“No.” Ah, she was more interested in protesting where his
father might hear her. He caught her arm and tugged her through the front door
and down the steps, trying hard not to put his weight on her. “You shall ride
the same horse Etienne did. She’s old and slow. There is no reason to be
afraid.”

Her lips pressed together. “I am not afraid,” she said
between gritted teeth. She tossed her head and that glorious unrestrained mass
of dark curls stole his breath.

The footman’s too, if his delay averting his head was any
indication. He stared at the two horses he held, red creeping up his neck.

If she’d mounted the hunter, she wasn’t afraid of horses
even though she’d damn near staged an opera singing out about the dangers for
Etienne. Her objection was merely a means of keeping him from spending time
alone with their son. Although she had to rid herself of the ridiculous notion
he might want to harm the boy. Now that he claimed her as his wife, their marriage
couldn’t easily be put aside regardless of what happened with Etienne.

He led her to Daisy’s side and laced his hands together to
boost her into the saddle.

When she didn’t put her foot in his hand he looked up. “If
you make me pick you up and we both fall over because my leg gives out, you
won’t like it.”

Her forehead furled. “I do not wish to ride.”

Stubborn woman. He stood straight, gripped her around the
waist and half tossed her up into the saddle. His relief at not losing his balance
jumbled with the flare of heat he felt from bodily handling his wife. His angry
wife.

Yvette tugged at her too-short jacket, hastily covering the
stripe of skin he’d exposed at her waist. What in heaven’s name was she not
wearing under that tight riding habit? He swallowed hard and turned to see the
footman staring at Yvette as if he’d never seen her before.

Admittedly, Yvette was beautiful, but surely the male
servants had noticed before now. Beau tried to quiet his breathing and get
control of himself. He didn’t need the man running back inside and telling
everyone he was mishandling his wife.

“I have it from here,” he told the man. He’d nearly
forgotten how the staff hovered about, always near. Reporting his misdeeds to
his father. Gossiping in the servants’ hall. Observing, always observing and
speculating.

Having a private conversation with Yvette would be deuced
hard. But they couldn’t go around fighting all the time. Riding was one way he
and his brothers had managed to get free long enough to speak their mind. Arri
had complained about the duke’s controlling his every action.

Now that Beau was the heir, apparently the duke would try to
manage his life down to every little detail. But damn it, this was his life,
his decision, his wife. He didn’t need the duke ordering Yvette into his suite.

Beau grabbed the reins and handed them to Yvette. “Hold them
firmly, but don’t yank and tug. You’ll only hurt the horse’s mouth.”

“How do I control him then?” she asked.

“Her. Daisy is a mare.” He squinted at how Yvette sat in the
saddle, her leg hanging down while Daisy placidly waited. “Put your foot in the
stirrup.”

“Where is this stupid stirrup?” Yvette hissed.

He reached below her skirts, finding the ring and holding it
out for her to put her foot in. Had she not had her foot in the stirrup earlier
when riding the hunter? When she had her shoe tucked in the iron, he frowned.
Her knee was bent up too high to allow her any control. “No wonder you nearly
fell off. This saddle is adjusted for a child. What the devil were you
thinking?”

What had Gates been thinking?
Beau swallowed back the
jolt of unease. An accident had almost been guaranteed.

“I know not these things,” said Yvette in a tight voice.

“Which is why you shouldn’t have tried to ride without
instruction.” He grabbed her ankle.

She yanked it out of his grip, kicking Daisy. The old girl
took a shuffling step sideways. Yvette squeaked.

“Whoa,” said Beau, catching Daisy’s bridle.

The horse was no doubt confused by the odd array of commands
she was getting.

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