Awakening His Duchess (19 page)

“Sit still for one damn minute,” he clipped out. Who knew
how long it would take him to get the stirrup adjusted?

The sensible thing would be to call for a groom to take care
of it, but Beau wasn’t willing for the servants to witness their spat. In the days
in Port-au-Prince he had learned to quell her flashes of temper with a
compliment, kiss, or a caress, but that wasn’t going to happen now.

Yvette flipped to her belly and slid off the horse’s back,
landing in front of him. “I am done.”

Grabbing the saddle on either side of her and using his
body, he cornered her against the horse.

Her back went stiff as a ramrod. “Let me go.”

“No. We are going to talk. Away from the house” —he resisted
the urge to press his thighs into her backside, to push her into the horse or
force her to back into him— “and servants constantly underfoot.”

She bumped him, but he held his arms stiff, not restraining
her so much as trapping her between him and Daisy.

He kept his tone low and calmer then he felt. “The easiest
way to talk will be to ride. And if you want to discuss moving out of the
suite, then we shall do it now.”

Lifting the saddle skirt, he tightened his arms around her
and leaned around her. He wasn’t so much holding her as just adjusting the
stirrup strap. If she truly struggled he wouldn’t be able to stop her from
escaping. Her bright yellow skirts brushed his legs and her arms touched his,
but he kept a modicum of space between them.

“You would allow this?” she asked sounding skeptical and
reluctant to believe.

Unfair since he had never lied to her. Deceived her by
omission perhaps, but never lied. “I won’t force you to sleep where you are not
comfortable.”

He made the mistake of inhaling. Her scent filled his nostrils,
faintly exotic like a flower of the tropics with a woman’s heady undertones
reminding him of the night in her arms. The heat of her body swarmed his senses
and his head spun.

No, he would not allow his control to be breached by lust.
It didn’t mean anything. It had just been a long time, and she was an
attractive woman, but not one he thought much of right now.

He wouldn’t force her to have relations if she didn’t want
him. But could he persuade her? He glanced toward the house and the open windows.
Even now, they could be being observed, eavesdropped upon. Christ, he did not
want witnesses to the necessity of seducing his wife. Assuming he even could.
Wasn’t as if he was throwing any softer feelings her way, and he wouldn’t
pretend affection. All he felt was lust, irritation, and frustration. While
indulging in the first might alleviate the others, he doubted she’d see it that
way.

He struggled to release the buckle but the strap slipped
from his hand. As usual his right hand refused to grip tightly enough to be of
much use. He fumbled and the strap slid away again. Bloody hell.

With her standing between him and the saddle, she had a
bird’s eye view of his weakness. Heat burned up his neck to the tips of his
ears. He leaned in closer, ignored her faint gasp, and grabbed the end of the
strap with his teeth. Working the leather free with his left hand, he jerked
the stirrup to a lower setting.

All too aware of her stiff back and the incongruent sleek
hair hanging between them, he startled each time his face brushed against the
fragrant, silky strands.

Daisy shifted. Poor horse had to wonder what insanity had
invaded her world. Yvette trembled.

Was she truly afraid of horses? She must be. He wasn’t
having the same effect on her that she was having on him. Not once had she
looked at him with that sultry gaze she had given him too many times in the
days before their marriage. No surprise really. He certainly was a far cry from
the spoilt and foppish youth she’d fallen for. He was too rough and ragged compared
to what he’d been to have the same effect on her as he’d had in the past. Hell,
his jacket was courtesy of a nearby squire.

“We could walk through the gardens,” Yvette offered meekly.

The strap length adjusted, he let go of it with his mouth.
“No. Walking is not easy for me.”

Was it possible to appear any weaker in front of her? With
her face inches from where he buckled the leather she had to see how useless
his right hand was. Last night she’d seen him at his lowest and now he was
forced to admit that his overtaxed leg wouldn’t be good for much until he
recovered from the excessive walking yesterday.

“What happen to your leg?” She tilted to the side and
studied him with her dark sloe eyes.

“It never woke up from the poisoning.” Tugging the stirrup,
he answered matter-of-factly. Nor had his hand entirely. Actually most of his
right side had been dormant, but he’d regained most of the use of it if not the
strength. But he didn’t want to talk about it anymore or the dark ball of anger
in his stomach would ignite and burn in his gut.

She jerked and turned her head, facing Daisy again. He
should step back and help her onto the horse, but for one second he wanted to
measure the dismay on her face. Was it real or an act? Had she not understood
the consequences of the poisoning?

Then again he’d seen another man, an African, who’d gone
through being buried and resurrected and lost his mind. He had to be led like a
small child to do everything and he cried all the time until one day he lay
down and wouldn’t get up. At least Beau’s mind had remained intact, even if it
was trapped in a body that no longer worked perfectly.

She smoothed her hand over the leather he had touched and
his thoughts circled viscously to how close they stood, how her touch might
soothe the rage inside him. His heart took an extra skip. He tried to remind
himself that remorse was small consolation for the evil choice she’d made. Even
if she hadn’t chosen to see him poisoned she’d done nothing to warn him either.

How he could want her while knowing what she was baffled
him. Heat slid up his neck and across his face. He stepped to the side, bent
and laced his fingers together. “Let’s try this again.”

Her mouth tightened and she looked off toward the horizon,
her lush lashes fluttering down a couple of times over glassy eyes. He hated
that when he looked at her face he measured every nuance of her expression.
What he hoped to find, he didn’t know. He silently cursed the hope of seeing
guilt or shame. It wouldn’t matter.

“Very well,” she said with a shaky resignation. She gathered
her skirts and slipped her foot into his offered hands.

He made sure his right leg was braced then boosted her onto
Daisy. With Yvette in the saddle, her foot in the properly adjusted stirrup, he
crossed to his own horse. “Digby tells me it is fashionable for gentlemen to
use walking sticks.”

“But you prefer to appear not weak,” she said.

He paused in throwing his leg over his horse and looked at
her. Was that why he had objected? He’d gone round in circles with Digby trying
to explain why he didn’t care to be fashionable. That fashion was silly, no
matter how practical. How did she cut through that? “Perhaps.”

How many of the servants knew of his episode last night? He
might not want to appear weak, but he was. “Give Daisy a tap and we’ll be on
our way.”

The horses meandered across the park. Beau deliberately kept
their pace slow and a close eye on Yvette for any signs of trouble. Now that
the time had come to talk with her, the questions that had burned in him for
nearly a decade seemed unaskable. But they had to clear the air. “We shall have
to find a way to rub along, Yvette.”

She gave him a look of astonishment. “I try to get along,
but you care not what I think is best for Etienne.”

“That’s not true. I used every caution with him. He may very
well be the only child I ever know.” His lungs were too weak for him to believe
he’d live a long life.

Her chin tucked down and her expression turned bleak. He
couldn’t fathom what that was about. “Look. You should stay in the suite. There
will be fewer questions that way, and if I have another...episode you’ll be
summoned to help anyway.”

She cast a sharp look in his direction and then back to
watching where Daisy was heading as if the horse might carry her into danger.
“I will need to replenish my supplies of those herbs. They are old and I have
not used them since leaving home.”

Home. Did she still think of Saint-Domingue as home? If she
did it was just another mark of how far apart they were. That place for all its
beauty had a cancerous core of evil and if he never saw it again, it would be
too soon.

“Yvette, this is your home now. And you can decorate your
room and the sitting room any way you like. I will see to it that your wishes are
carried out.” He knew what he had to say, that he wouldn’t take her against her
will, but the words twisted in his mouth and stuck like sand.

She shrugged with one shoulder. “Doors?”

The rejection sizzled under his skin. He sighed. When he
didn’t want her—other than for just a physical release—it shouldn’t matter. His
nature wasn’t to force a woman. Although if ever a woman deserved her will
ignored, Yvette did, but he found the idea of taking an unwilling woman beyond
morally repugnant. Especially after having so little control over his own
person for the last decade, he couldn’t stomach the thought, no matter whether
he had the right. “Doors would take time to install, but I suppose. But you
don’t need one to keep me out—”

Her glacial look made his tongue thick and his reassurance
was clumsy. Why would his assurance of distance anger her? Unless of course she
wanted...him in her bed.

Once upon a time they had barely been able to keep their
hands off each other. While he’d had years of hate to temper his lust for her,
what had she thought for all this time? Had she missed his touch or found
adequate replacement in her husband’s arms?

“Your father wants grandsons.” She waved one hand wildly.
“He order—”

“I’ll take care of my father. This is between you and me.
Our affairs are none of his concern.” Beau felt sick. His father ordering a
woman, even if she was his wife, to have relations with him was outside of
enough. Was that why she had pushed herself against his lap earlier? Or did she
want to and his father only supplied a convenient excuse?

“I do what I am supposed to, but you—you—”

He winced. “I would never force—”

But Yvette gathered steam like a pot ready to boil. “This
marriage, I know it is never meant to be real.”

“—you or require—”

“I know you only want...seduce...seduction...when you took
me to the ship and have the captain say we are man and wife.”

“No.” He’d loved her, or at least he’d thought he loved her,
but then he hadn’t really known who she was and what she was capable of doing.

“But now you want Etienne, and you must take me too. I know
you never want marriage to me—”

“Yvette!” What kind of mad notion had she imagined?

“—I did not come here and say I am your wife. I only come to
ask for the help to get Henri’s money. I have to eat. I have to take care of
Etienne.”

He wheeled his horse around and brought it in front of
Daisy, forcing the placid mare to stop and bringing Yvette and him face to
face. “Slow down.”

Her jaw thrust forward. “Because horse is going so fast.”

His lips twitched. She glared as if defying him to laugh,
but it wasn’t truly funny. Besides, her words and his thoughts were swirling
faster than he could keep up with and that sobered him quickly. “Listen.”

She opened her mouth.

He held up his hand. “Let us settle the room first. I would
never require you to submit as a condition of our marriage. You are safe from
molestation, so would you just stay in the suite?”

She looked away. Her skin had lost some of the golden
tropical hue and become pale, but she looked even paler with bright spots of
color standing out on her cheekbones.

“I’d rather not be fighting with my father about it
constantly. I’m certain it will go easier on you too. And Etienne should not
feel as if we will tear him in two.”

She didn’t answer and stared off into the distance.

His insides dropped. “Very well, I shall tell my father it
is my decision. Then instruct your maid to move your things, but to a room more
in keeping with your station.”

She jerked back toward him. “I stay.”

Her dark gaze seemed to search his face and then lowered.
The meekness didn’t match his memories of her.

The urge to console her baffled him. He hated her, hated
what she’d done to him or what she’d stood by and watched done to him. Besides
they had things to settle. “About the marriage.”

She pulled the reins to the side. “How I control this
beast?”

Daisy executed a shuffling turn. Once the mare and her rider
were facing the house, Yvette kicked the animal into a half trot toward the
house.

Beau growled and took off after her but nearly cantered past
because Daisy slowed to a walk within a few steps. Yvette turned her face away.

“Don’t run away. We need to talk about the state of our
marriage.”

“What marriage?” Then words flew from her mouth. “I think
the marriage is not real, just a trick. A trick there was no need for.” Her
color came up, her cheeks turning crimson.

Whoa! Would she have given him her virginity without a
marriage? A jolt of desire stabbed him. Her name came out like a sigh. “Yvette.”

He had wanted her more than anything back then, but he’d
wanted to do it right. He shook off the idea that it meant anything more than
she was a woman without morals. Those days he should have spent a little less
time kissing her and more talking so he knew what she was.

But she was building steam again, her words coming in a
torrent. “I come here and they take one look at Etienne. He is your son and the
last heir. He is next Anglais duke.” Her hands waved, confusing Daisy with the
absurd manipulation of the reins. “They say the marriage is real. So I think
marriage was real, not a trick. Then you come and say it was not so, but change
when you see Etienne.”