Page 81 of The Heart of an Earl

Des stood, frozen in place.

Frozen in time. In air.

What had he just done?

Ruined his daughter to him forever?

A deep breath and he watched her through the French doors until he saw her make her way through the crush of people and find Sloane. Good. Maybe the duchess could talk some sense into his daughter.

He blinked.

Jules.

He jerked around. Lord Flouten had disappeared. Probably crawling to a burrow to cower in.

Des ran down the stairs and through the gardens to the alcove where he’d just abandoned Jules without a word.

Out of breath, he brushed past the yews that framed the entrance to the alcove.

Empty.

It was empty. Jules was gone.

{ Chapter 24 }

Dumbstruck at how he’d just left her without a second glance, without a word, Jules watched Des dart across the garden and jump in between a man and a woman strolling toward the maze.

What in hades?

He dipped out of view and she stepped to the end of the row of evergreens, her look trained on Des.

Des reached back, punching the man in the jaw and then whipped toward the rather beautiful woman with dark hair.

“Come with me right now before you make an utter fool of yourself and me.” The roar of Des’s voice vibrated through the air to her—an unmistakable growl she could hear over the cacophony of people and string ensemble spilling out from the ballroom. A growl of possession. Of every right to the woman standing next to him, fighting the grip he had on her arm.

Des yanked the woman toward the ballroom, dragging her back to the party.

No.

Jules’s hands flew up to her open mouth and she staggered a step backward.

Des was married.

Married to a young woman. A beautiful young woman.

And he had just…just…just been deep inside of her.No.

The core of her twanged, an intermittent wave of the orgasm still playing within her body.

Another step backward and the prickles of the cold yew needles dug into her bare shoulders.

A dream. All of this had to be a dream. A hallucination. A nightmare.

She had to get out of here for she truly was going mad.

Without another glance back to the ballroom, she ran as fast as her legs—still weak from clutching onto Des’s body—could carry her. Darting around the hexagonal castle she found the waiting line of carriages that snaked along the lone lane to the castle.

Black—carriage after carriage—all of them black.

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