Page 21 of Taken By the Broken Duke
His breath caught as Juliet’s bare, shapely leg swung idly from her window, pale and perfect against the dark stone of the castle wall. His body tensed as he took in the delicate curve of her calf, the pointed arch of her foot flexing lightly in the cool night air. The soft lamplight silhouetted her figure, the thin fabric of her nightdress clinging indecently to her form and riding high on her thighs, revealing the perfect line of her flesh. Heat shot through him, fast and unrelenting, as his mind filled with images he should not entertain.
She shifted, her hand running absentmindedly down the curve of her calf, over her thigh, before disappearing into the folds of her nightdress. Horatio gripped the cold stone frame, unable to tear his eyes away, as his imagination ran wild, filling in the rest. What he wouldn’t give to trace that same path himself, to feel the smooth warmth of her skin beneath his hands, to watch her tremble as he explored further...
A groan escaped him, low and frustrated, as he tore his gaze away, pressing his forehead to the cold stone of the embrasure.This was madness.Dangerous madness. His body ached with desire, a craving so sharp it threatened to unmake him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to look away, to master the madness overtaking him.
But he couldn’t. Against his better judgment, he stole another glance.
She moved again, the delicate rise of her arm and the slow stretch of her leg, as if reaching for something unseen. His breath hitched. Was she thinking of him? His jaw clenched as he imagined her fingers drifting higher, exploring, seeking. The thought of her alone in her chamber, touching herself while he stood here, helpless and tormented, was maddening. If he were closer, would he hear her soft sighs? Would she whisper his name, her voice husky with longing…
A sudden crack sounded through the still night as his knee knocked hard against the edge of the embrasure. The humming stopped abruptly.
His pulse leaped into his throat. She must have heard. He froze, the silence stretching unbearably thin, before panic took over. Moving swiftly, he stumbled back from the window, his heart pounding as he cursed himself for his carelessness. The ache within him was unbearable, but staying here—unthinkable.
Without a second glance, he spun on his heel and hurried from the room. He needed distance, a distraction, anything to smother the maddening hold she had on him. Somewhere far from that window, far from that manipulative creature!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
3 DAYS LATER
“Don’t go too far now, Juliet! I will not have you disgrace our name further. Not when your uncle and I stand on the brink of achieving all that we have desired!”
The shrill voice of Lady Margaret held Juliet like a chain about her neck. She had been walking along an overgrown path that led into the gardens of Ravenscourt. The sun was shining after three days of rain. Juliet stopped, her obedience to her aunt a matter of instinct after so many years. She looked longingly at the path, which meandered out of sight amid trees and bushes.
Since becoming a guest at Ravenscourt, she had seen foxes and badgers, stoats and rabbits. A plethora of birdlife that she would normally not expect to see so close to human habitation. It gave the castle a magical air for her. The woods that swathed the castle’s gardens were enticing, calling her to explore and discover the wildlife and plant life they held. But Aunt Margaret would not countenance it. She kept a close eye on herniece. Uncle Gilbert and Edith had both returned to Wetherby. Margaret and Frances remained at Ravenscourt though.
“Are you concerned that I will be assaulted, Aunt Margaret?” Juliet asked sweetly, turning, but not walking back to the table at which her Aunt sat.
“It has already happened once. I am more concerned with the further tarnishing of our good name,” her aunt retorted sharply.
Aunt Margaret sat with a pince-nez perched on her nose, a quill poised in her hand. Before her lay an open writing box, the ink bottle uncorked, and a half-written page waiting for her attention. She had been engrossed in letter-writing for the past three days, refusing to divulge the recipients. Juliet doubted all of them were intended for Uncle Gilbert.
The sight of the letters stirred a memory, and Juliet thought of her own—a letter she had written before leaving for the ball, now surely on its way to Carlisle. Had enough time passed for a reply? The question lingered as she slowly began walking back toward her aunt.
“Have you received any letters from Uncle Gilbert?” she asked innocently.
Aunt Margaret looked up sharply. “Why do you wish to know?”
“I only wondered if there had been any correspondence received for me.”
“And who would be writing to you? Lord Hemsworth perhaps?”
There was a glint in Aunt Margaret’s eye and a half smile. She sat back in her wrought iron chair, removing the spectacles from her nose. There was a look of sly triumph on her face. Juliet stopped, frowning.
“Yes,” she lied, “I had written to him and was expecting a reply.”
“You needn’t worry. I have written to him on your behalf, apprising him of your new… circumstances. He will not interfere, you may rest assured.”
Now, Juliet understood the look of almost vulpine satisfaction on her Aunt’s face. Margaret believed that she had destroyed Juliet’s relationship with her suitor—doubtless believed she had done something to hurt Juliet. It was cruel and Juliet did not want to believe anyone capable of such malice. But, it was depressingly in character for her Aunt.
“I was not afraid of that,” Juliet began awkwardly, “he will be concerned, but…”
“But I have assured him that this was your own decision. That you and the Duke are in the grip of a whirlwind romance and that it would be wrong of him to hold you to any previous promises,” Aunt Margaret finished.
Juliet stifled a laugh. Nigel would be concerned, but hardly heartbroken. And neither was Juliet. They were good friendsand confidantes. Nigel would be worried for her, especially if the rumors reached him. The gossip of Juliet being forced to marry the Duke of Ravenscourt simply to protect her reputation. Concerned that the plan the two of them had concocted together was now ruined. A plan to protect Nigel’s reputation while allowing him to be with the person he loved. Juliet felt guilty, blaming herself. Her actions in allowing herself to be alone with the Duke had now harmed more than just the two of them.
Nigel was her good friend. How must he be feeling now?
“Sit down, please,” Aunt Margaret said in a tone that made it clear she was giving orders.
