Four Nights With the Duke(60)

She couldn't bring herself to speak; she just leaned against his chest, eyes closed.

"Don't worry about Jafeer," she heard Vander say above her head. Had he  dropped a kiss on her hair? "Sir Richard will sell him when he reaches  the coast, but I'll offer a reward that will have every man in England  looking for him."

Boots sounded on the cobblestones, and a disgruntled voice growled, "I hope to hell that wasn't Sir Richard Magruder."

"Charlie is too young to hear that sort of language," Mia said, opening her eyes.

"I apologize." Edward was looking with narrowed eyes at Vander's arms around her.

"Sir Richard has the justice of the peace for Berkshire in his pocket,"  Vander said. "Although that does not explain why he knew we could be  found here."

"I expect that he was looking for me," Edward said. "He made a number of  threats against me last night. After he was in custody, I told the  sheriff that I would be staying here in case I was needed to testify."

Mulberry came back into the yard. "He's taken the road toward Dover," he said, panting. "Trying to get to France, I expect."

Vander nodded and turned to Edward. "If you will forgive me, Mr. Reeve, I should like to take my wife for a short drive."

The courtyard was silent for a long second.

"Right," Edward said. His voice was expressionless, but his eyes were  bleak. "Charlie, old man, why don't you come inside with me?"

"Did you see what I did?" Charlie demanded. "The way I stabbed Sir  Richard?" He didn't seem in the least shaken by the experience.

Vander moved away from Mia, picking up Charlie's crutch, which had  apparently fallen in two pieces. She watched numbly as he screwed a  little dagger into the crutch, where there had been no dagger before.

"It sounds as if you saved yourself," Edward told Charlie.

"No," he replied cheerfully, "the duke saved me. But I stabbed Sir  Richard!" He took his crutch from Vander, stuck it under his arm, and  started toward the inn door. Then he turned back. "You are coming back,  aren't you?" he asked, the faintest quaver in his voice.

"Within the hour," Vander promised. That seemed enough for the boy. He  swung away with Edward, the story tumbling out all over again.

"Sir Richard was about to kill Charlie," Mia moaned, swaying where she  stood. "No, he couldn't have meant it! He is Charlie's uncle, his own  blood relative!"

Vander picked her up and strode across the courtyard toward his  carriage. Mia should have struggled. In a few minutes, she would  definitely assert herself and become her own woman as she had planned.

But right now she was trembling from head to foot, and it felt wonderful  to be held by a man of strength, a warrior who had protected her and  her child.

"Sir Richard is mad," Vander said, seating himself in the corner of the  carriage and pulling her onto his lap, "and he may well have meant his  threat. Apparently, my father posed a danger to me. I have no memory of  it, but Chuffy says the duke periodically tried to reach the nursery,  and they had to put footmen on the door day and night."

"That's awful!" Mia choked. "Thank goodness your father didn't manage to  injure you! I'm sure it would have broken his heart." Something in his  eyes made her add firmly, "And thank goodness you didn't inherit his  condition."

"I inherited his temper," Vander said flatly, thumping the roof to tell  Mulberry that they were ready. "I used to break furniture, but these  days the worst I do is occasionally engage in fisticuffs with Thorn."

The image of two beautiful men grappling with each other came to Mia but  she pushed it away. "You would never injure someone in a rage," she  replied with utter certainty. She leaned her cheek against the crook of  his shoulder, soaking in his strength.

"But I do say things that I don't mean. I've been a bastard to you,  Mia," Vander said, pulling away just enough so that their eyes met.  "You're the most beautiful, intelligent woman I've ever met, and I have  hurt your feelings. I'm sorry." The words were gruff, with an edge of  ferocity.                       
       
           



       

She knew instinctively that Vander had never spoken words like this  before. Mia swallowed hard. How could she reject him? But she had to.

"After I make love to you," Vander said, bringing one of her palms to  his lips, "the only thing in my head is the desire to be inside you  again, any way I can."

This was the hardest thing she'd ever done. "I can't," she whispered. It  was what she'd dreamed of-but not in the right way. The aching tone in  her voice was humiliating, and he remained silent, so she kept talking  to fill the charged air. "It's not enough." Tears pricked her eyes. "I  can't just be a woman in your bed."

Vander's voice sounded like a rusty gate. "My love for you has nothing to do with my bed."

"What did you say?" Mia gasped.

"I haven't loved many people, and I'm not very good at it. I loved my  father, but he tried to kill me several times. I loved my mother, but I  was caught between my parents, so I always felt as if I was betraying my  father by being civil to her."

He paused, his eyes searching hers. "I love Thorn. I love India. Chuffy, of course. Charlie. And you. You most of all, Mia."

Mia's mind reeled. "But you said things that hurt me." That sounded like  a petulant child. "You always called me ‘Duchess,' as if I were merely  the role, not the person."

"When I call you my duchess, I meant that you were mine to love, to  hold, to make love to. That means- That means everything to me." She  could hear the deep truth in his words. "Do you love me, Mia? If you  don't, I'll walk away and I won't bother you again. I promise you that."

Her heart pounded as indecision swept through her.

"But if you do love me," he said, his hands tightening on hers, "I'll  never let you go. Not until the end of our lives. Not if Reeve writes  you a hundred love poems and says all the things I can't. Not if that  blasted Frederic himself shows up. Do you understand?" His eyes burned  into hers.

Biting her lip, she looked away. "It's not just-"

His hand cupped her cheek and gently turned her back to him. "There's only one important question, Mia. Do you love me?"

The words were a demand, yes, but she heard a trace of vulnerability as  well, as if she were seeing deep inside him, a part of him that he had  rarely if ever shown anyone. She couldn't lie to him.

"Yes," she said huskily. "I do love you, Vander. I'm yours."

"Thank God," he said, low and rough, pulling her close and burying his  face in her hair. "I've been such a fool. Tell me that you will never  leave me." His voice was raw with emotion, as if the ferocious warrior  had finally been brought to his knees.

"Never." The word felt as right as sunshine, as right as Charlie's  smile. "I love you," Mia told him again. "Always." What had seemed  shameful was now a simple fact. "In fact, I have loved you since we were  both fifteen years old, if you want the truth of it. Perhaps even  before that."

"I don't deserve you," Vander said, pulling back, under control once  more. "But I have this." He reached into his coat pocket, and brought  out a handful of yellowed and torn scraps of paper.

The handwriting on them wasn't elegant, but it was earnest.

It was her handwriting.

"I fancied you back then," Vander said, spilling the poem into her  hands. "Mostly your breasts, but I liked your laugh, and the way you  made me less angry even if your father was in the room."

"Oh," Mia breathed.

"One of the worst things that can happen to a boy is to be mocked. I had  had so much of it in school that by fifteen I had a very thin skin.  After Rotter came in the library that day, I couldn't think straight. He  said he was going to tell everyone. You would have been ruined, so I  said the only thing I could think of to make him stop. Of course, it  made everything worse."

Mia stared down at the scraps of paper. "You kept my poem all these years?"

Vander nodded. "I'd be damned if I would let my poem-the only poem  anyone would ever write for me-be swept up like rubbish. So I took it."

Mia's smile was so large that it felt as if her face might crack. "Where has it been, all this time?"

"I put it in a box, and there it stayed. Until Thorn said I should make a  grand gesture, and write a poem. Charlie helped me, but we both knew  our verse was a failure. Then I thought of this."

"How on earth did you come up with the idea of wooing me with poetry?"  She couldn't help giggling. The smile in her heart couldn't be kept  down.