The Haunting of a Duke(78)

Emme sat up and met his gaze. She knew that he would be reluctant, but she also knew what needed to be done. “Rhys, I need to go into the tunnels with you. I can take you to the place where I awoke that first evening."

"No,” he said, emphatically.

Emme's breath huffed out as she glared at him. “It must be important Rhys or I would never have been led there! There is something that we are meant to find!"

He rose from the bed, seemingly oblivious to his nudity as he strode toward the window. “It's impossible. The tunnels are too dangerous. Half of them are crumbling, some have flooded. What if you were injured?"

"What if you are injured? You've already been shot by this madman! The longer this goes on the more desperate he will become!” she retorted.

Anger, hot and dark, coursed through him. He couldn't believe how reckless she was being. When he managed to rein in his temper enough to speak, his voice was cold and laced with steel. “Need I remind you that you are carrying our child? If you were to fall—It is impossible. Do not suggest it again."

"Are you my husband or are you my keeper?"

He strode back toward the bed and donned his discarded breeches. His jaw had hardened and his voice was clipped when he spoke. “I am both. If you think to defy me I will have you locked in this room. I will protect you with or without your approval."

"You sound like my stepfather. Am I not capable of making up my own mind? Of knowing what is best for me?"

"Do not dare compare me to that man. I have never misused or abused you. My only concern is for your safety. I am your husband and it is my duty to protect you, even when you haven't the sense to protect yourself!"

The last words were flung out angrily as he quickly pulled on his clothes and stormed from the room.

Emme glared at his departing back. Tears burned her eyes, but she angrily dashed them away. She would not give into melancholy and spend her day weeping just because he was being a bore. She climbed from the bed and rang for Gussy. If Gussy noted her mood, she wisely chose to ignore it as she helped her bathe and dress.

By the time her toilette was completed she had regained her composure but was still quietly furious at him. She was also determined. She could not shake the feeling that there was something in those tunnels that she needed to discover, and she would not allow either his protective instincts or his high-handed manner to deter her from her course.

Determined, Emme made her way down the stairs to the breakfast room. Rhys was there ahead of her. He looked up as she entered and took in the set of her shoulders and stubborn tilt of her chin. His lips firmed in response and he returned to his coffee and the neatly pressed newspaper in front of him. Emme ignored him as well and filled her plate. Michael outwardly appeared to be oblivious to the tension between them and filled the silence with idle chatter.

"Emme, Rhys was telling me how charming your younger sister is. I understand she is to make her come out next year?” Michael queried, sipping his coffee and praying that it would ease his aching head.

He had imbibed far too much the previous evening, dulling physical pain and the twisting knife blade of old memories as well.

Emme looked at Michael sharply. “Lord Ellersleigh, I would caution you to behave when my sister is present. I don't wish to do injury to you, but given the appropriate provocation—"

"Pax, pax!” he said, chuckling. “It was idle conversation, Your Grace and not indicative of my intentions. For once my intentions are completely honorable. It was simply curiosity."

Emme leveled a dubious stare at him. She detected no sarcasm in him, but then with Michael she could never be certain. He was so innately charming that it was difficult to see beneath the surface.

"Of course, forgive my presumption."

He shrugged. “It isn't actually presumption. Historically speaking, my motives usually are suspect. However, I have no wish for your scowling husband to shoot me and at your request I am sure he would."

Emme was on the verge of retorting that her requests meant little to her husband, but Lady Eleanor entered the room escorted by Lord Alistair. Lord Pommeroy trailed in behind them, looking sallow and grotesque. He and Alistair had arrived together that morning, both of them dressed in their clothes from the night before. While Lord Alistair was only beginning to show the signs of dissipation, Lord Pommeroy's face had become a testament to his excesses.

She swallowed the retort in deference to the newly arrived and cast a disparaging glance at her husband. He met it with a raised eyebrow that both challenged and provoked her. She said a quiet good morning to the newcomers. She didn't wish to give Eleanor more ammunition by displaying a lack of manners.