Authors: Gaelen Foley
The Duke (38 page)
“Yes, Dolph, I know,” the earl said in cool satisfaction.
Dolph suddenly began to wheeze and choke.
His second cried out and looked in panic at the doctor. The head surgeon swept to Dolph’s side, but there was nothing to be done. Bel stared at her tormentor as the spark of life vanished from his eyes and his grip on her hand slackened.
He was gone.
She stared, frozen, for she had never been this close to death before. Robert parted the crowd and came to get her, drawing her to her feet. He slipped his arm around her waist and steadied her as he led her away from the crowd. She leaned her forehead against his chest, taking shelter against him.
“Hawkscliffe!”
They turned and found Lord Coldfell pursuing them. Bel felt Robert’s posture stiffen beside her.
“Well done, Robert,” the old man said in a low, hearty tone when he reached them. His pale blue eyes gleamed. “You’ve done justice this day, Robert. Your father would be proud. I won’t forget it. There’s a great deal I can do for you.”
He shook his head wearily. “It’s not necessary.”
Bel tightened her hold around Robert’s waist, appalled by the earl’s satisfaction at the death of his own heir. “My lord, if you’ll excuse us, His Grace needs to rest. Come, darling,” she murmured.
Robert nodded farewell to the earl and draped his arm over her shoulders. Together they walked back to the coach, but when she stole a quick look over her shoulder, Lord Coldfell was still standing where they’d left him, staring at Bel with a sharp, calculating look of displeasure.
About an hour later Hawk lay holding a scantily clad Belinda in his arms as they both attempted to rest after the night’s ordeal. The morning sun filled her bedroom and danced on her warm, silky skin, which he stroked as he pondered the events of the past twelve hours. Her right arm was thrown across his bare chest; her head nestled in the crook of his neck. The fragrance of her hair wafted up to his nostrils and every now and then he kissed her head, breathing her scent, savoring her softness.
His body was weary but it was his heart that was emotionally exhausted after the extremes of rage and anguish, guilt and love that he had experienced within the past twelve hours—her shattering confession, the uneasy aftermath of the barbaric violence he had unleashed on the warden, the sharp taste of his own mortality left over from his battle with Dolph. Yet the vengeance he’d exacted could not erase what Bel had suffered and all of it left him feeling rather empty and sad, but for the treasure of her in his arms.
The fear that surged through him at the thought of any future harm coming to her made him enfold her lithe body more snugly in his embrace. Their agreement was complete, but he could not bear to think of her leaving him. He could never let her go back to that courtesan’s mode of life with all its dangers, but who was he to tell her what to do? She was, as ever, “free and independent.”
“Robert?” she spoke up, breaking into his tangled thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“I’ve been thinking.” She came up and braced her elbow under her, propping her chin on her hand. He gazed at her in silent, mystified delight. “I’m still a little confused about Lady Coldfell.
Was
her death an accident, then, like the coroner said it was?”
He shrugged. “That’s the best that I can make of it.”
She frowned with perplexity, her eyebrows knitted. “I still don’t understand why she seduced Dolph, if it was you she wanted.”
“Having judged her so completely wrong, I daren’t even venture a guess as to her motives,” he sighed as he toyed with a length of her pale flaxen hair.
“Well, I have a hypothesis, though you’re not going to like it.” At his questioning glance, she continued. “Dolph said Lady Coldfell aspired to become your duchess.”
“Yes.”
“But what about Lord Coldfell? He’s advanced in years, but aside from his limp, his health appears good.”
He lifted his eyebrow skeptically.
“I know it’s farfetched,” she continued, “but suppose Lady Coldfell was genuinely desirous to be rid of her elderly husband as quickly and expediently as possible so that she could snare
you
for a husband before you turned your attention to someone more eligible. At the same time, she has Dolph at her beck and call—an expert killer, eager to come into his inheritance. Now, I’m sorry, but I simply don’t believe Lady Coldfell wanted Dolph merely for her pleasure. Women aren’t like that. When we seduce a man, it is for a purpose.”
“Are you suggesting . . . that they conspired together to
kill
Lord Coldfell?”
“Just think on it for a moment. With the earl laid to rest, Lucy would have been free to marry the man she truly wanted—you—while Dolph would have come into his title and fortune. Didn’t Dolph mention something just before he died about setting a fire at Seven Oaks? Perhaps Lucy put him up to it.”
He shook his head, chilled by the ruthless scenario she posed. “If you had known Lucy, you would realize how impossible it is, what you’re suggesting. She was no murderess—”
“Yes, she was virtuous and demure, too, for all you knew,” she retorted. “With all due respect, my dear, I don’t think you knew Lady Coldfell at all.”
This silenced him briefly. “Lucy might have had a secret life of conquests and affairs, but I cannot believe she would even contemplate murder. As for old Coldfell,
I’m
certainly not going to tell him the truth about Lucy’s affair with Dolph. Some secrets are better taken to the grave.”
“What if he already knows? That’s what I’m saying, Robert. Coldfell is the one who started all this, by coming to you for help, as you told me. Frankly, I don’t trust the old schemer.”
“Belinda, Coldfell has been a friend of my family since I was in leading strings. He knew my father. He wouldn’t lie to me.”
Sighing away her exasperation, she reached up and gently petted his hair. “Darling, you have so much honor in you that you can’t believe anyone you care for would be capable of wickedness. You are too generous with your trust. You saw how happy the earl was today when Dolph died of his wound. Didn’t it strike you as unnatural?”
“What was unnatural was Dolph’s bedding his aunt, even if she was only an aunt by marriage. Coldfell’s behavior today was perfectly consistent with his belief that Dolph had killed Lucy. You’re the one whose judgment is off in this matter, Miss Hamilton—your problem is you don’t trust anyone.” He waved off the subject. “Now, I don’t want to talk about this anymore, especially if we can’t agree. It’s
over.
Lucy and Dolph are both dead. Neither of them can come between us anymore, so let’s just put all this behind us and concentrate on you and me.”
“Oh, Robert,” she sighed, giving him a chiding smile.
“That’s better. If you don’t mind, I’ve had a bit of a brush with death today and it tends to put matters into perspective.” He leaned closer, cupped her face in his palm, and kissed her lips. “Stay with me,” he whispered, stroking her sunlight-colored hair. “I want to take you to my home in Cumberland. I want to show you the lakes and mountains and fells and all the places that I love. They are almost as beautiful as you. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
She stared at him in distress then looked away. “Oh, Robert.”
“What is it, bluebell?” he asked with the gentlest possible smile.
“I’m confused.”
“About what?”
“You.”
“Why? There’s nothing to be confused about.” He cupped her chin, staring into her eyes. “Stay with me. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.”
“What do you mean?” She held very still, staring at him with fathomless violet shadows in the depths of her eyes.
Instantly Hawk realized his appalling mistake.
Dear God, she thought he was offering marriage.
Paling, he stared at her without knowing what he could possibly say.
He watched her absorb his silent, helpless stare and draw her own conclusions. Her lips were parted slightly as if to speak, but whatever she might have said, she discarded it and merely gave him a wry half smile.
He suppressed a groan of remorse, sliding down her body to kiss the pale silken skin between her breasts. “Oh, angel, the last damned thing I want to do is hurt you,” he said miserably as he laid his head on her chest and clamped his arms around her waist to prevent her angry exit, which he expected within seconds.
“I know,” she whispered, draping her arms softly around his shoulders.
“If it were possible—”
“I know.”
“There are limits to what I can do.”
“I
know,
Hawk, it’s all right,” she snapped, blushing red with angry embarrassment as she started to get up. “Speak of it no more. God’s teeth, I never presumed you would marry me and if you think I have been angling for it, I will leave now and you shall not see me again—”
“Stay!” He held her down beside him, his heart pounding fiercely at the threat of losing her. “I don’t think that. Don’t go. Bel—stay.”
Warily she eased back onto her elbows on the bed, holding his gaze in guarded hostile warning. His heart clenched at the world of vulnerability behind the blue blaze of her eyes. God forbid he give offense. Such pride, such fire beneath your ice, he thought.
“Truly, I have never known anyone like you, Miss Hamilton,” he said softly.
“No, you have not,” she agreed, then tossed her head. “I have no use for marriage, anyway, not even to a duke. I control my own life—I make my own decisions, and I wouldn’t give up my independence for the strawberry vines on your ducal coronet even if you begged me to.”
He smiled at her, chastened. A very brave speech, he thought, loving her. He touched her hair. “Will you stay?”
She held his gaze, her tone and expression both softening. “I’m sure it’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is.” He laid his hand on her hip, gripping her gently through her whisper-soft satin peignoir. “Damn your courtesan’s rules, Bel. Don’t I deserve a chance?” His hold on her hip became a caress. “I’ll never leave you. I’ll never mistreat you. I think you know that by now. Try with me. Let us find what we may find.”
“What do you expect to find, Robert?”
“How should I know? I’ve never experienced anything like this before in my life.”
Tears shone briefly under her graceful long lashes before she blinked them away and glanced at him again with a reluctant twist of a smile. Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees and sighed. “You are asking us both to set ourselves up for great hurt when it comes time for me to leave.”
“Leave? Don’t speak of leaving, angel. You must stay forever.” He smiled at her, a little shocked himself at his words.
“As your mistress.”
“As my love,” he countered insistently.
“I don’t know what to do. I’ve grown so fond of you and . . .” She ran her hand through her hair, then lowered her face into the crook of her elbow, resting her forehead on her bent knee. “When I think of how I almost lost you today . . . well, it’s like being given a second chance, isn’t it? You know I want to be with you, it’s just. . .”
“It’s what?” he asked, gazing patiently at her as she struggled with herself.
“Unprofessional.”
“Is it the money? If you want me to pay off your father’s debts, I will—”
“No! It has nothing to do with money.” She shot him an appalled look. “As for Papa, maybe he deserves to suffer a bit for what’s happened. Perhaps then he’ll learn. He got himself into it, let him get himself out of it. That’s what my mother would say.”
He touched her shoulder comfortingly, then caressed the smooth, sinuous line of her back. “Bel, I think you should know that I told your father everything.”
She seemed to weigh this news for a moment, not turning to him, her delicate shoulders hunched self-protectively around her bent knees. “How did he take it?”
“About as well as you might expect.”
She buried her face against her knee again as if to hide from the world.
“He’ll be all right, sweeting.”
“I have a feeling you did something terrible to the warden,” she said, her voice muffled by her stance. “I don’t mind that you did, but what if the authorities come after you for it?”
“They won’t,” he said gently. “You need never fear him or even think of him again. You’re safe now .. . and I love you.”
She lifted her face and turned to him, her eyes wide at his words, her lips soft and trembling. “I love you, too, Robert,” she said very quietly. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”
A wide smile spread slowly over his face. Ignoring her fussing frown, he gathered her into his arms and pulled her back down onto the mattress. “Shouldn’t? Yes, you should, you little cockle-brain. Shouldn’t love me,” he snorted, his voice soft and scratchy. “What bad form. Why shouldn’t you love me?”
“Because you’ll never really be mine.”
He scowled at her without menace. “I took you for a smart woman until now.” She laughed. He traced the curve of her cheek, gazing at her. “Stay with me. I am yours already and have been for some time, if you haven’t noticed.”