Page 30 of Taken By the Broken Duke
“Your beauty drew my eye. Your character drew my thoughts,” Horatio said eventually.
“Mycharacter?” Juliet wondered aloud, genuinely perplexed.
She did not see anything in her character to attract such a man. A man of nobility and wealth who could command the attention of the finest beauties in England if he so chose. A man who would not be out of place in court.
“You are independent. Intelligent and compassionate. I saw that in your concern for a tiny mouse to a stray fox. You have imagination and a depth of soul that most of our rank lack. I saw that in the way you looked at my art.”
Juliet smiled beneath closed eyes. “It was wonderful. You drew the magical from the mundane. Made me want to be amongst those people that you painted, though I know I would not like their company in truth.”
Horatio barked a laugh that sounded genuine. Juliet opened her eyes. His eyes twinkled with mirth and his grin was that of a boy.
“I wholeheartedly agree. Why do you think I made the annual Ravenscourt Ball a masked affair? To hide their tawdry politics behind a glamor of something more romantic.”
The prow of the boat suddenly ground into the shale floor of the lake. Horatio drew in the oars and leaped down, hauling at the boat to draw it further up onto the lakeshore. Juliet rose, shakily and with one hand on the side of the boat but still under her own power.
Horatio stepped forward, and without waiting for permission, once again scooped Juliet into his arms. She obediently put her arms about his neck, feeling lightheaded—but only partly as a result of her earlier faint.
For a long moment, he looked down at her. The proximity of his fathomless dark eyes was intoxicating. Her scandalous dream returned to her. The memory of kissing him and being kissed was so strong, it was almost indistinguishable from reality.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Part of her longed for him to lower his head to her and press his lips to hers. Then he was looking away and walking towards the trees. She let her head fall to rest against his chest.
His heartbeat was strong and rhythmic, making her feel safe. It was also rapid and she wondered if it was the exertion of rowing or their proximity. It struck her as a trifle arrogant to assume that she would be making his heart beat faster. Nevertheless, it was an attractive thought.
As they breached the treeline, a sound reached her which made her raise her head. It was a sound she knew well and which made her heart stop. She could no more ignore it than she could have ignored a lion stepping onto the path in front of them.
“Stop!” she cried.
The sound was of an animal in distress. It was a soft plaintive squeak. A desperate sound of a creature running out of strength and almost overcome by fear. Horatio looked confused.
“Please, put me down,” Juliet breathed, trying to listen for the source of the sound.
“I do not think that is wise…” Horatio began.
“It is important. Put me down, and please be silent.”
She knew that she was being rude, that she was commanding a Duke where she had no right or authority. But the thought of an animal in pain, an animal that she may be able to aid, overrode all other considerations. Including her own health.
Horatio obeyed, watching her carefully and with a ghost of a smile. Juliet closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds of the woodland around her. She heard Horatio draw breath and clicked her fingers sharply at him, drowning him out. Then she heard it again.
Spinning in the direction of the sound, she hunted for a moment among the dense undergrowth. She saw the run almost immediately, a path made by something small. A rabbit, weasel, or ferret. Drifting carefully through the grass and ferns, she followed it, heedless of her stockinged feet or state of undress. After a few more yards, she saw it. A rabbit caught in a snare. She turned to glare at Horatio.
“Are you partial to rabbit?” she accused.
“No,” Horatio defended, hands in the air, “as a matter of fact, I have no fondness for meat at all, except fish.”
“Then your gamekeeper did not set this snare to fill your table?”
“I have no gamekeeper,” he replied. “I don’t so much manage my estates as allow them to manage themselves. I allow no poaching on my land but let my tenants keep livestock for their own tables. This is not my doing.”
Juliet had dropped to her knees and was carefully reaching for the rabbit, knowing that its terror could easily stop its heart. She looked back over her shoulder at him.
“Then someone is poaching on your land.”
“It seems so. They will not be allowed to continue. Should I put this poor creature out of its misery?”
“No!” Juliet cried. “The snare has cut its hindquarters but I don't think the wound is too deep. It can be nursed back to health.”
