Page 23 of Lusting for the Duke's Kiss
He was silent for a moment. And then, his voice came in an ardent whisper. “Surely, you must know?”
Her mouth fell open as she gazed at him. His hand dropped to his side, and his face was solemn. The moment stretched between them, taut as a string. But before she could say anything, her father and mother walked into the space. They jumped apart, almost guiltily.
“Well, that was quite a hike,” puffed her father, leaning against a wall for support. “I thought that I was going to have apoplexy for a moment there.”
Her mother was fanning herself vigorously, gazing around. “It is so very old,” she said, not sounding impressed, at all. “I wonder why people like to look at such things. It is only a pile of stones to me.”
Hetty gazed back at the Duke. He smiled slightly. She smiled, too. It was as if they were sharing a secret that no one else was privy to.
There wasn’t a chance to talk privately for the rest of the excursion. But Hetty could feel his eyes upon her, from time to time, and that shared sense of connection throbbed between them again.
She felt as if a glow had settled around her. A halo, enshrouding her, almost in a protective way. And she knew that it was all because of him.
***
Back at Hillsworth House, they had a late dinner, before retiring to the drawing room. Her mother was openly yawning after the exertions of the day, and her father looked quite weary, too. Both called an early evening.
In her bedchamber, she sat at her dressing table, as her maid brushed her hair, readying her for sleep. When Bessie finally left, closing the door firmly behind her, she stared at the bed. She didn’t feel like retiring, yet. Strangely, she was not tired at all. She was possessed of a curious energy, which swirled around her body like awind.
Placing a shawl around her shoulders, she crept out of the room, making her way quietly down the stairs. There was a full moon tonight. Sometimes, when she could not sleep, she would sit on a garden bench, staring up at the stars. Somehow, it always settled her.
The garden path was brightly lit as she stole her way down the path and sat down, gazing up at the heavens. There were a thousand or more stars, blinking, looking like fireflies in the navy sky. The moon hung low, so white and luminous that she felt like she could almost reach out and touch it.
She sat there, lost in contemplation, for several moments. The stars were glittering so brightly. For some reason, she was reminded of something that Shakespeare had written inThe Tempest.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
Abruptly, she jumped when she heard a rustling just behind her. The sharp snap of a twig.
“Who is there?” she whispered, a little fearfully.
A figure stepped out of the shadows. It was the Duke.
“Can you not sleep, either?” he asked, in a quiet voice, sitting beside her. “I find that I am not tired in the least. Which is odd, given we walked up that hill, and for a few miles around the castle.”
She smiled faintly. “No, I am not tired,” she said, shaking her head. “On the contrary. I feel as if I could sprint through the fields.” She laughed a little self-consciously. “I have this strange desire to run as if I might somehow catch the moon, within my grasp.”
He nodded, staring up into the night sky. “It is a splendid moon this evening,” he said, almost wistfully. “A most wondrous sight. On nights like these, it seems a crying shame to be inside and not a part of it.”
“Would it not be pleasant,” she mused, lost in the fullness of the moon, once again, “to just keep going? To leave all of it behind …”
He reached out, suddenly, taking her hand within his own. Her heart quickened. The touch – the feel of his hand – was warm and comforting. But it was also disturbing her. She shuddered, feeling that warm glow again that had enshrouded her when they had been at the castle.
“You do not need to leave the world behind, Hetty,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. “It can still be a safe place if you are in the righthands.” He hesitated. “I want you to feel that you are safe with me. That I shall always be here for you.”
She did not know what to say to him. A strong desire suddenly burned in her chest. A desire to believe him. A desire to believe that there was good in this world and good people. That the man sitting beside herwasa good man who would never do her wrong.
But there was still so much that she didn’t know about him. She thought of the impetuous way that he always left Hillsworth House. The vagueness about what he was doing when he wasn’t here. It could be nothing, of course. She was probably overly suspicious. But still, the sense of unease lingered when she thought about it. She was almost certain that there was something that he wasn’t telling her, and there didn’t seem to be a way to approach the subject, where she could get any clear answers from him.
Was he hiding something? Was there something in his past, or his present, that he did not wish to talk with her about?
“You said that your mother once tried to arrange a marriage for you,” she said slowly, staring down at their joined hands. “Why did you not want it? Was there someone else that you wished to marry?”
He shrugged, but she sensed a sudden tension within him. “The lady my mother tried to betroth me to was not someone I was interested in,” he replied eventually. “And I was a younger man at the time. I had no desire to marry, then.”
She took a deep breath. “And there has been no one since then, who you have desired to marry? A lady who you have been fond of?”
He shook his head. “No. There was only ever one woman for me. But I lost my chance with her, many years ago, and have been ruining it, ever since.” He gazed at her intently, as the words left his mouth. She felt a sudden jolt run through her, from where their hands were joined.
