Heartless (28 page)

Derringer lifted his head just enough to see her face, his hands still threaded through her dark brown locks. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly and swollen from his kiss. Her hands had slipped down to his shoulders, using him as support. His shoulder protested but he grinned at her reaction regardless.

Finally regaining some of her scattered wits, Leandra opened her eyes. She saw the look on her husband’s face and felt her lips twitch up in amusement.

“I wonder,” Derringer said seductively, one hand leaving her glorious mane of hair to move slowly along her neck, over her shoulder and down the front of her gown. She gasped as his hand closed over her breast. “I wonder,” he repeated slowly, but he didn’t go on.

She could barely think with his fingers making smooth circles over her breast. He seemed to realize that she was not in a state of mind to ask him what it was he wondered. He didn’t seem to require a reply. “I think you do,” he said. She was sure she heard surprise in his words but before she could comment on this, he slipped one arm around her waist and scooped her up against his chest.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been wanting this, Merri,” he said huskily, carrying her to his bed.

She didn’t deny it. And as his lips met hers in another demanding kiss, she knew it would be everything that was wonderful.

21

Although the duke managed to suitably prove his point, he wondered if he might really die, as he’d jested earlier, when he collapsed, rolling slightly to lie at his wife’s side. His breath came in staccato gasps, his heart trying to beat from his body.

He was laughing… and thinking that if he did die, he’d have proven just how stupid men could be.

Leandra, dazed at what had just happened, smiling and nearly laughing herself, smacked him lightly on his uninjured shoulder.

“Abuse!” he croaked out, another pained laugh escaping. He grabbed at his sore ribs, amazed he’d actually managed to successfully bed his wife when just breathing hurt like the devil.

Thank God—or somebody—that he had a high tolerance for pain.

Leandra turned to gaze at her husband. It was wonderful to hear his laugh, even if it was so painful for him.

She reached out and brushed a lock of silky black hair from his cheek, her fingers skimming his warm flesh. Not too warm, thankfully, she reflected. It would be terrible if he were to develop a fever.

Derringer let his head flop to the side, his laughter finally spent. His smile remained, however. Looking at his wife—in truth now—he couldn’t help but smile.

He caught her hand when she would have pulled away, twining his fingers with hers. “Did I prove my point, lovely one?” he asked lightly, placing a kiss on her knuckles.

His duchess, smiling hugely, nodded her head. A pink haze crept over her features and she dropped her eyes, embarrassed… realizing she was naked as the day she was born. With a gasp, she pulled the bedsheets up over herself.

Derringer shook his head in mock reproof. “I’ll never be able to properly corrupt you if simple nudity makes you skittish as a colt.”

Leandra responded in quite the most adult manner she could—by sticking out her tongue.

The duke leered at her. “Is that an invitation?”

His bride rolled her eyes heavenward and edged off the high bed, the sheet wrapped securely around her. Derringer propped himself up on an elbow, ignoring the vehement protesting in his ribs. He watched as she scurried around, replacing the clothing that he had so recently removed from her delectable person.

As much as he regretted the necessity, however, there was something he had to discuss with her—and he was not looking forward to it.

“Tell me,” he began curiously, “why is Vi here?”

“I invited him,” she stated simply, not bothering to look up. She was trying to pull up her pantalets without dropping the sheet first. The duke was very interested to see who would win the battle.

“Why?”

Leandra frowned at him, pausing in her dressing to meet his eyes. “Why not? They are your friends, are they not?”

“Yes, they are. That still doesn’t explain why you invited them.”

He saw her shrug and, staring up into her face, he saw a stubborn look settle in her eyes. “Do I need a reason, your grace?”

The use of his title annoyed him and he had no doubt that annoyance showed in his eyes. At least he could easily tell when she was angry with him, he thought wryly.

After a moment, she asked, “Should I ask them to leave?”

Derringer sighed, shoved a hand through his dark hair, and shook his head, firmly repressing the twinge of pain in his much-abused shoulder. “No, Vi will be of some use to me, I think. And it was only a matter of time before he showed up anyway, demanding to know why he keeps hearing about my near-fatal accidents.”

The blood drained from the duchess’s face. “Near-fatal
accidents
? What
near-fatal
accidents
?” Her voice was a trifle shrill and even she winced to hear it.

Vaguely, Derringer noted the panic in her tone but he was distracted by the fact that the sheet had won the battle, pooling at his wife’s tiny feet. He sighed a little, wishing he could drag her back into bed. But he knew his shoulder and ribs were not up to it—even if other parts of him were more than willing.

“I exaggerate, sweeting,” he told her with as much conviction as he could muster, which was significant, considering he’d been in so many accidents that he’d lost count. The need to keep her safe and unconcerned was paramount.

“You, exaggerate? But you don’t! Exaggerate, I mean,” she protested, still adorably unaware that she stood before him in her altogether. “You were attacked in your own home. It’s clear to the veriest lackwit—and I assure you, I am not—that someone desires your immediate departure from this world.”

Derringer stifled a smile and gestured toward her. “Merri, my love, perhaps you should pick up your sheet. I can’t concentrate with so much bounty before me.”

She snapped her mouth shut and bent to retrieve her covering, presenting the duke with the alluring sight of her curved backside. Her husband groaned.

Hearing the sound, Leandra straightened and asked, “What is it?”

“Muscle spasm,” Derringer said, straight-faced.

Her expression implied disbelief. Securing her covering snugly around her and tucking the end in so both hands were free, she slipped on her pantalets. Her chemise took a little more effort but she managed.

The duke’s shoulder started to protest vehemently, so he dropped back down on his back, noticing idly that he’d actually made the damned wound bleed again. He distractedly pressed a hand into the bandage, ignoring the pain that lanced through his upper body. He watched his duchess dress. She was quick about it, he thought with some disappointment. He had actually missed most of the spectacle. Comes from having to do for oneself, he reflected.

She moved to sit beside him on the bed. He took her hand and pulled her close, saying, “Merri, I should not have said anything. I didn’t mean to frighten you. And there is really nothing to worry about.”

She pulled roughly away from him, jarring his shoulder and making him inhale sharply. Leandra was too incensed to notice. “What do you mean there’s nothing to worry about? Are you daft? Someone is trying to kill you. It was attempted last night and God only knows how many times before that, and you tell me there’s nothing to worry about? What kind of simpleton do you take me for? Ugh! You make me want to scream!”

As she talked, Derringer’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly. His little wife was turning into a shrew and he thought he rather liked it. Her anger made her face light up and her eyes turned that deep emerald green he found so fascinating.

And in the face of her discomposure, he realized that she just might do something foolish like try to protect him or hunt down his villain herself. That was out of the question. He had no desire to lose her when he’d only just found her.

A horrifying realization shook him. Lady Greville was in the castle. Derringer nearly groaned aloud. If she got wind of it—and according to Greville it was already too late for that—these two harebrained females would probably try to take matters into their own hands. He had no doubt the two women were already thick as thieves and that could only mean trouble.

“Merri, if you get involved in this, I swear I will beat you.”

She reared back, mouth falling open in outraged shock. “Well, I like that! I express my worry for my husband and he threatens to beat me.” She mumbled something under her breath that Derringer surprisingly didn’t catch.

“What was that?” he asked silkily. He pushed himself upright, sitting against the pillows. He drew a blanket over his nakedness even as he reached out and took hold of her wrist none too gently.

“I said, your grace, that you are a damned nodcock,” she told him fearlessly, chin tipped at a stubborn angle. Her eyes flashed. “You are completely attics to let if you think that for one second I am just going to pretend nothing is wrong.”

Fascinated by his wife or not, Derringer was losing patience. “Such language, Merri? I’m surprised at you. Where did you learn such gutter talk?”

Leandra tried to hold back as he drew her closer but he was much too strong for her. His eyes glinted with anger. Had she pushed him too far? He threatened to beat her and she knew with a sudden sicking feeling that it was more than just empty words.

But she refused to sit around like a good little wife while her husband was murdered in his bed! And so she informed him before he could scatter her wits again by kissing her or touching her or… or… looking at her.

Derringer pulled her forward until she was forced to kneel beside him on the bed. He sat up straighter, bringing their faces within inches of each other. “And just how would you protect me, my little Valkyrie?” he asked, a thread of amusement coloring each word. 

His lips waited only a hairsbreadth from her own. Coherent thought fled from her brain at his nearness. His eyes searched hers with mocking contempt and somewhere in the back of those inky depths she saw desire held rigidly in check.

A smile touched his lips. Anger flared in her breast. The cad knew what he was doing to her! If he thought seducing her would change her mind about doing what she could to protect him, he was vastly mistaken!

“Your grace—” she began, but he cut her off.

“Merri, if you call me that one more time, so help me God, I’ll…” He stopped talking as if suddenly unsure exactly what he would do to her—which was exactly the case.

“You’ll
what
, Lord Derringer?” she dared to ask.

“I’ll lock you up until you’re old and gray, Merri, see if I don’t.”

She laughed. “Is that a threat, Hart? I’d have to say I prefer the one where you’ll beat me. It is far more in keeping with your dastardly reputation, you know.”