Page 4 of His Abandoned Duchess

Richard’s entire body ached from the jostle of the long carriage ride, and he rubbed absently at his shoulder as he found the handle to his bedroom door, his body carrying him there by rote. The floor creaked as he pressed inside the dark space, nary a single candle lit to guide him once in the room.

Which, of course, made sense. The space was left to be unused since his departure, and it would be a silly notion to light an unused bedroom. Still, a chill rippled over him as the darkness settled over his form, and Richard was quick to pull the remainder of his sodden clothes from himself.

Oh, at last. All I want is rest.

Stumbling a bit over the pile of garments he’d created on the floor, Richard made his way to the bed and flopped down onto the surprisingly warm fabric. Undoubtedly, he was chilled from standing in the blasted rain, and the contrast of the dry sheets was only magnified by his situation.

Before long, Richard’s breathing evened out, the slow rise and fall of his chest signaling his desperately sought-after relaxation. But just as the pull of slumber reached an apex, Richard sure he would sleep until an ungodly hour, even greater warmth surged around him—accompanied by the softness of unfamiliar skin.

“Bloody hell!”

Richard jumped up in the bed, flailing out as he sought to grab and overpower whoever dared to enter his bedroom. His hand met with force against the slender arm that had draped over him, and in the moment that it took for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light, a scream bellowed out into the room, along with several swatting blows in his direction.

“Ahh! Get out! Wins?—”

But the high-pitched voice was cut off as Richard reared up, swiveling over the petite figure and pinning it down to the bed. He straddled the intruder, immobilizing them by securing the thin wrists that were attached to the violent hands with one of his own over their owner’s head.

Attempts to scream at him again were foiled as Richard clamped a hand down over the offender’s mouth, and it was then that he was finally able to make out the dark shape beneath him.

“Amelia?” Richard’s brow met his hairline, but he was quick to school himself, shaking his head as the woman’s thrashing stilled. “Good. Are you quite through with that, then? Seeing as it is the master of this house you’ve chosen to assault?”

The slender woman looked up at him, her own eyes most likely able to process his identity now. As she focused on his face, her brows rose in a mirrored gesture, and the muffled sound of her yelling died out behind his palm.

Amelia was still rigid as a pole, however, and Richard leaned back, giving her more space.

“I shall remove my hand so long as you can agree to silence your screaming. Yes?”

She nodded, surrendering more to the situation the Duchess had found herself in. The thread of release that wormed through her muscles hit Richard with a swell of something unexpected—and vexing.

Having her pliant body beneath him stirred something primordial within him, and Richard swallowed hard. He disliked the odd state Amelia’s mere presence appeared to put in him, and the Duke began to slowly remove his hand as he forced himself to remember the cause of his arrival.

“What are you doing in here? And,” Amelia looked down his chest, pulling her chin in, “why are you wet?”

Annoyance flared within Richard’s chest, and despite the previous intrigue of finding himself in such a precarious situation, he was confident that the fault of the encounter lay squarely on Amelia’s delicate shoulders.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?”

She gaped at him before shaking herself and pulling against Richard’s hold once more. “Yourbedroom? Excuse me, Your Grace, but the master bed was claimed by myself when you saw fit not to use it as confirmed by your immediate departure from Heartwick on the day of our nuptials.”

Richard frowned, narrowing his eyes on his wife as they adjusted more and more to the lack of light.

“Itisthe master suite, and yet somehow, the Duchess of the house finds herself using it when the Duke is residing in the country for a time. If you’d taken up your place in your?—”

“For a time?” She squirmed against him, trying to gain a position of intimidation or control, most likely. “You have been absent for these five years. Furthermore, you have provided no reference to your arrival and have, in fact, never spoken or written of your potential return. I had little cause to think you wouldeverbe back.”

“Clearly,” Richard squeezed tighter as Amelia threatened to pull her arms free and use them against him, “I have returned. And this remainsmybedroom as Duke of this estate. And furthermore, you have only yourself to blame that I have returned to Heartwick at all.”

Gawking at him with those plump lips parted, Amelia regarded Richard as if he’d been responsible for the most heinous set-down.

“Me? What on earth have I done to merit being accosted during the middle of the night by a near stranger?”

Richard rolled his eyes at her. “Hardly. I only wish to get rest after a rather arduous and, as you pointed out, damp journey. My attempt was interrupted when it was discovered that my wifewas present by way of colliding her arm with my face. Several times, in fact.”

Huffing out a breath of air, Amelia fought for her hands, whining like an impetuous school maid when she couldn’t break herself free.

“I thought you were a burglar or assailant. I was asleep, for Christ’s sake, and you scared the daylights out of me.”

The air pinched tight with a layer of tension that sat over the top of them like an oppressive leather skin. Richard grumbled to himself, shaking his head as he ran over the facts of the situation again in his mind.

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