Page 67 of Her Tiger of a Duke
Mrs. Pendle laughed as she left them.
Outside, the air had cooled. The sky had turned a deep, cloud-streaked blue, and children played near the well while women chatted beside baskets of apples. A few men bowed as they passed, which Owen knew was only happening because Beatrice was present. Had he been alone, they would have greeted him as if he were anyone else.
He watched Beatrice as she spoke to a group of village women, not needing his assistance after meeting them. She had taken to her role beautifully, and it was better than Owen could have imagined. The villagers truly enjoyed her company, and she enjoyed theirs in return. By the time they returned to their room, the sky was dark, and they were ready to sleep and not much beyond.
Before they could enter, however, Beatrice paused beside him.
“I have enjoyed today,” she said softly.
“As have I. I am pleased I decided to bring you.”
“I was wondering why,” she continued, and he pushed the door open and led her inside. “And now I know. You want me to know who you are.”
He froze. That was the very opposite of what he wanted. He had brought her to quell her desire to learn the truth about him, not to interest her more.
“Beatrice, I–”
“I know that you are only here so that I will not see the fencing. I know that we have come to the village so that I cannot ask you questions about the estate.”
She looked up at him, her chin tilted upward so that he saw her lips, slightly parted and awfully tempting.
“My only question,” she continued, “is why?”
“Because--” he replied, more roughly than he expected, “I cannot let you see me. If I do that, everything will be ruined.”
“But it will not. I want to see all sides of you, Owen. Why are you hiding so much?”
“For your sake,” he explained. “I cannot tell you who I am, nor what I have done. I have been trying to keep it from you withouthaving to say it, but as you insist, I will have to tell you. I do not want you to know me.”
“Why?” she whispered, suddenly trembling. “Do you not trust me?”
He wanted to. Truly, he did.
“No,” he replied curtly. “I do not trust anyone. No matter who they are, I will end up hurt, and so it is better that I do not let myself think that will not happen.”
In an instant, he regretted it. Her face fell, and he had done the one thing he swore to himself that he would not do.
In protecting himself, he had hurt her instead.
CHAPTER 27
Beatrice knew that she could never expect anything more than her husband already offered, but that did not make it easier to accept.
It did not make any sense. They were friendly to one another, and when they danced together and laughed with each other she thought that they may truly come to feel something more.
Then, he would pull away once more. Beatrice wondered if he knew what he was doing, and she hoped that he did not, for she could not bear the thought of him hurting her so deliberately.
“Last night was rather fun,” he said over breakfast, looking at his plate rather than at her. “You did well.”
“You say that as though you were not expecting me to.”
He looked at her then, undoubtedly surprised by her more biting tone.
“No, I know that you can be very capable in company. It was a compliment.”
“Well, I do not need one. I am perfectly able to tell myself such things.”
“Beatrice, what has gotten into you?” he asked.
