Page 27 of Disguised Desires of a Scarred Duke
“You heard him, Montrose! The beast thinks he can take all three of us! And he’d better, or whoever survives him will get to take his pretty lady home.”
William’s blood pressure rose with fury until he felt superhuman strength coursing through his veins. He slowly lifted his chin, then locked eyes with the rude chap who dared mention Eleanor with disrespect.
When the boy saw the murderous look in the duke’s eyes, he stepped backward. Then, he nearly toppled into his friends behind him when William spoke just one thundering word.
“Run.”
Chapter 12
Eleanor clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming when Anthony bolted from their picnic blanket and chased after the horrible boys who mocked him. All four of them disappeared into the trees, followed by the muted sounds of shouting and splashing at the stream’s edge.
Other than a few curious people around them wondering what had just happened, the play continued without pause.
“Oh, Mr Montrose! What shall we do?” Regina gasped and clicked open her fan. She waved it so vigorously in front of her face that she almost clipped her nose.
Edward scanned the crowd and gave a reassuring wave to an elderly couple that looked like they’d seen a ghost.
Or a scarred man with wild black hair chasing a few hoodlums into the woods.
“By the sounds of grunting and frantic apologies coming from the trees, I’d say Mr Black has it all in hand,” Edward said. He sat back down and poured more lemonade into the emptied glasses.
“My apologies you had to witness such a display that distracted from the show. It’s unfortunate that my friend is sometimes the target of unkind remarks since the accident. But I owe my life to him because of it.”
Eleanor tilted her head as her eyebrows knitted together. “Mr Black saved your life? What happened?”
Edward took a long drink and closed his eyes for a few seconds before continuing.
“I must apologize again. I’ve said too much, for this is Mr Black’s story to tell when he’s ready. However, I will say that it’s no surprise he didn’t hesitate to defend your honour over his own, Miss Whitfield. There is no braver man more willing to put his life on the line for others than that one. Though his distaste for gardening is something I may never forgive.”
Edward grinned and raised his glass. “Let’s toast to good friends. And tulips, a friendly flower!”
Eleanor and Regina giggled and clinked their glasses with Edward’s despite the uncomfortable situation. Anthony hadn’t returned yet, but the sounds of him dealing with his tormentors had died away.
Eleanor didn’t know whether to weep or laugh at the day’s outcome, but she knew one thing for certain. She would happily toast to her obsidian-eyed pirate. Who, as fate would have it, didn’t exist only in her wildest dreams after all.
He was very, daringly, inexplicably real.
And she was at risk of loving him now more than ever.
…
The carriage ride back to the Whitfield townhome was a solemn one. Though William said he successfully taught those boys a lesson, some bruising had started to appear around his left eye. He also kept shaking his right hand before clenching it into a fist.
“Did you break any bones, Mr Black?”
Eleanor watched Mr Montrose try to assess the injury, but Anthony shook his head. He shoved his reddened hand into his jacket and pressed it against his chest.
Before they’d left the park, Mr Black had finally limped back to their blanket and apologized multiple times for the spectacle. He insisted that they continue watching the play as if nothing had happened. There was no sense in letting rude people like that ruin their outing.
But Eleanor could tell that he was in a state that would fare better in the privacy of his own home.
She didn’t know quite how to do it, but at that moment, she had wanted to take care of Anthony as much as he had just taken care of her. So she’d touched his hand again and gently pulled him back to his feet. With only a look, she convinced him it was time to go.
He deserved some peace and time to recover from the aftermath of his valiant act. When they were next alone together, she would thank him properly for what she couldn’t yet find the words to express in front of her sister and Mr Montrose.
The words she had for Anthony now were too intimate and personal to share other than whispered directly into his ear. Or against his musky skin.
As quietly as possible during the play’s middle acts, they’d gathered their things and slipped out of the park. The colour of the sky had turned to the shadowy grey of evening, matching their shared sober mood.
