Page 130 of How to Love a Duke in Ten Days
He cupped her head to him, not wanting her to see the wells of his own emotion. His tear didn’t take the track it should down his cheek, but was interrupted by the grooves of his scar, diverted somewhere into his beard.
He’d trade his castle just to erase her memory of the deed. He’d offer his name, his title, his fortune to turn back the sands of time, to prevent it from ever happening. Nay, he’d give his life for it.
For her.
Christ, how brave she’d been. Selling herself to the Terror of Torcliff, trading her ill-treated body to a monster in order to save her family’s honor.
She’d built a life before him, filled it with unique and singular accomplishments.
There was no one like her, andshe’daskedhimto be hers.
He’d not seen the offer as the gift it was, not at the time.
What an undeserving fool he was. An utter, unmitigated ass. Why had he been so worried about his legacy in the first place? What small and ridiculous thing would his revenge against his cousin accomplish? Come to think of it, what hadheever accomplished? He’d done little more than be born to please himself. His birthright was nothing more than an unbroken line of barbarians who’d once killed enough people to indebt a king to them.
He may be a duke, butshewas the prize. A doctor, a linguist, and a lady. Someone with purpose and meaning.
As her tempest of grief and rage fizzled down to a misting, hiccupping cry, he crooned softly to her, humbled in a way he’d never before imagined.
She was his.
Beyond that, he was hers. And, if she wanted, he would remain so, no matter what.
For he’d blessed few virtues, but faithfulness was one of them.
“I’ll never touch you like that again,” he vowed, lifting her chin with the crook of his finger, thumbing away a stray tear. “Alexandra, you’ll never have to fear me. I’ll be your husband in all ways, but I’ll never require you to share my bed.”
She gave a watery sniff as more tears leaked into her hair and it took her several shuddering breaths to speak. “Wh-what about… your title?” she whispered. “Your heirs?”
“Let Patrick have the whole bleeding thing,” he murmured. “I care not anymore. These past few days with you have showed me what really matters, and my legacy, such as it is, is of little consequence.”
“R-really?” She dashed away some of the moisture on her cheeks, moisture he longed to kiss and taste and soothe with his lips and body. For that, unfortunately, was how he communicated, what he understood. Things that were unspoken. Conveyed with touch and looks and gestures.
This would be a sacrifice. One he gladly made for her.
“I know the past is important to you, and the future was just as much an obsession of mine. But after today, I’ve come to realize that it’s right now that matters.” He searched her dear face, daring to brush at her cheeks with his knuckles.
“The man in that tomb, my ancestor, he never saw the glory his son brought his name. And the strangers who buried him cared not for his traditions, they simply walled him away on unholy ground. And all I can think is… does it even matter? What will I care for my castle and mytitle when I am gone? Why live only to make my holdings greater when I die? Why not, instead, spend my life, my fortune, giving you the life you want? The experiences you deserve.”
Some of the warmth of epiphany left him as his dark thoughts turned to the reason they were sprawled on the floor thusly. “Right after I reap a very Viking form of justice on the man who—”
“I can’t—I can’t talk about that just now.” Her voice broke, and Piers swallowed a surge of a temper he thought he’d exhausted.
“I’m sorry.”
“Piers?” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. “I—I don’t want you to stop touching me. I liked it. I needed it. I didn’t know that about myself before. But you were so gentle—and skilled…” She ducked her head low again, hiding her features from him. “You made me feel beautiful,” she said against his chest. “You made me forget.”
Her words ignited a spark of hope not only in his heart, but in his body. One he quelled with brutal will.
“I frightened you today… and I know I have been pitiless with you before. I accused you of lying, when you were only protecting a painful secret. All I could see were the reasons I had to mistrust you. I never considered your reasons not to trust me might have been even more powerful. And for that, I am more sorry than you know.”
She gave a shaky sigh, expelling the exhaustion of a good cry and, he liked to think, the relief of an unburdened conscience. “I don’t want to have a secret. Any secret. But for so long, I’ve felt much like an open book with a page torn out. I appear completely ordinary. But if you try to read me, to know me, it’s impossible, because there’s something missing. Something lost.”
Pressing his lips to her damp hairline, Piers savored the fragrance of her. “You, my wife, are anything but ordinary. You’re perfect.”
She pulled back a little, gazing up at him with those dark, assessing eyes. He wondered what she could see in the gathering shadows. Probably more than most could at noonday.
She swallowed twice before she could bring herself to speak. “I’d like to hope nothing much has changed between us. I still want a family. Children.Yourchildren, I mean. I want to… to make love to you. I just don’t… I don’t know how.”
