The Duke Can Go to the Devil (18 page)

May bit down on the inside of her cheek. It was pointless to argue with the woman. Of course she couldn't know that May's refusal to meet the duke's demands had resulted in her being left alone—something she was regretting right about then. And she sure as hades wasn't going to tell the duchess about the unbelievably passionate kiss they had shared earlier. Honestly, her toes curled just thinking about the way the duke had responded to her.

Still, the suggestion chafed. Pasting a polite smile on her lips, she said sweetly, “Whatever his motives, I'm happy to be here.”

“And we are so happy to have you. I will admit, I have half a mind to invite some more guests. If he insists on ignoring us in favor of his duties, what should he care if we find a way to entertain ourselves?” There was a slight edge of petulance to her tone, as though she were personally exasperated with him.

The scrape of the opening door interrupted the conversation and they both turned to see who had entered. The devil himself strode inside, his clothes and hair dripping with moisture. His eyes found May's immediately, and she was hit with a dizzying rush of awareness.

He possessed a dastardly ability to appear more handsome every time she saw him.

Pulling off his hat, he swiped the moisture from his face before offering them both a shallow dip of his head. “Good afternoon, ladies. I thought I saw the pair of you slip in here.” He held his shoulders stiff and straight despite the exhaustion she saw in his eyes.

The duchess gave a delicate sniff. “What else had we to do? We have been confined inside with little hope of entertainment. How nice that you could finally see fit to join us.”

There was that edge again. May slid a curious glance toward the other woman. Why would she be so short with her stepson? There was a certain sulkiness in her voice that May was determined not to echo.

Offering a small, neutral smile, she lifted her chin and said, “I'm so glad Lady Radcliffe suggested we come. It was an astonishing surprise to walk through those doors into such a place.” She left the part about the duchess attempting to undermine May's confidence to herself.

Though he didn't quite return her smile, his jaw did soften as his gaze wandered over the trees and ferns filling the space. “So you have discovered the famous Radcliffe Conservatory. My father's contribution to the ducal legacy.”

May tilted her head, confused. “But I thought your father had little interest in it.”

“For visiting, yes, but when it came to showcasing the estate's wealth, he was terribly proud of the place.” He shifted on his feet, squishing a little as he moved. How was it that he was soaked and tired and yet still looked so self-possessed? “I won't keep you. I need to change into something dry before dinner. Until then.” He offered another abbreviated nod before retracing his steps back outside.

May let out a disappointed little sigh. Damn it all. The encounter was much too short and impersonal. Surely he wasn't as unaffected by her as he acted. It was impossible to reconcile the man with such passion from this morning with the staid and detached peer who had just left them. She watched him for a moment as his blurry figure slipped through the yard toward the house. He didn't bother with the covered walkway. It was unlikely he could be any wetter than he already was, the poor man.

“Do you see?” the duchess said, her mouth pinched in displeasure. “He has precious little time for anyone else in his day.”

May ignored her. What she saw was a man who bore the evidence of a very long day. She suddenly was ravenously curious to know what he had been doing with his time. What projects could have sparked his passion and elicited such dedication? She wanted to hear more about it from him, not the duchess with all her negativity. Moreover, the older woman was obviously attempting to
establish some sort of subtle dominance, and that was one thing May had no intention of bowing to.

She didn't plan to stir the pot, so to speak, but she wasn't going to give the duchess any power over her. Smiling blandly at her companion, she said, “I should probably go see to my aunt so that we may make preparations for dinner as well. Will you excuse me?”

At the duchess's nod, May hurried back toward the house. There was a whole other dimension to the duke, and she was determined to discover more about it. More than that, she needed to apologize to him for being so flippant with his concerns. And, more selfishly, she needed to get back into his good graces so he wouldn't leave her to the duchess's company again.

May groaned aloud. She really, really hated the taste of crow.

*   *   *

Dinner had been surprisingly enjoyable. Or rather, May had been enjoyable, and her aunt neutral, for lack of a better word. Vivian had been sulky, but that had little bearing on him.

William hadn't been sure what to expect from May. Of course, he
never
knew what to expect from her, but after she had kissed him this morning and he had left her to her own devices for the day, it was impossible to predict whether she would be angry or not.

Fortunately, she had been pleasant. Demure, even. Which, now that he really thought about it, was rather suspect. What was she up to now? Softening him up so that she could blindside him later? Or worse, softening him up so that she could push his boundaries again?

He had spent the entire day attempting to push that kiss from his mind. It had proved to be an impossible task. No matter how busy he was, his mind seemed to
reserve some small niche in which to examine it. To turn it over again and again, to revisit the feel of her lips upon his, the heat of her body pressed fully against his. Clenching his jaw, he drew in a long, slow breath. The woman was custom-made to drive him to distraction.

A soft tap at the door caught his attention. As he glanced up, he already knew who would be there, and he was right. May stood framed in the oversize doorway, a tentative smile lifting those beautiful lips.

Of course, who else would it be other than his own personal tormentor?

Her femininity had never been more apparent, juxtaposed as it was to the masculine inner sanctum that had served each of the last three dukes of Radcliffe. The study was intended to exude power and wealth, and its wide, substantial furnishings, austere portraits, and gold fixtures accomplished exactly that. Standing before them in her shimmery pink-and-ivory gown, with her wheat-blond hair entwined with ropes of pearls and the single gold cross hung from a slender chain around her neck, she looked the very picture of loveliness.

He came to his feet and nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “Good evening, Miss Bradford. Is there something you require?” He didn't want to sound too curt, but he definitely did not need her battering away at his defenses now, when exhaustion weighed like stones on his shoulders. With all of the rain, the canal downstream from the mill had become blocked with a fallen tree.

Wallace Perkins and he had spent much of the day frantically directing the workers as they tried to clear the blockage. It was the sort of disaster where rank had no place—all available hands had been needed. Though it had been cleared, it was plain that they needed some
sort of spillway in place should something like that happen again.

“No requirement,” she replied, her smile firmly in place. “I merely wished to say, with as much privacy as I could find without compromising propriety, that I agree to your terms.”

His eyebrows lifted before he could think better of it. Why would she care about propriety all of a sudden? She was the least concerned about respectability of any female he had ever met, outside of the demimonde. As for the second part of her statement, he probably should have known what she was talking about, but he was drawing a complete blank. “Those terms being?”

She backed up a step, glanced in both directions down the corridor, then made her way toward the desk. “That I wouldn't try to kiss you again.” Her voice was hushed and furtive, and she barely more than breathed the word
kiss.

Why was she acting so strangely? Leaning forward, he said, “Why are we whispering?” He used the same quiet voice as she, teasing her.

Her hands went to her waist. “I am trying to be discreet.”

“I wasn't aware that you were familiar with the concept.”

Her scowl was immediate, but its effect was softened by the humor that pulled at the corners of her lips. “I beg your pardon. I am
attempting
to behave in the manner in which you have repeatedly requested of me.”

So indignant, as though he didn't know how out of character that was. He came around to the front of the desk, leaving a good three feet between them. “Which only serves to inspire wariness as to your motives.”

“What kind of logic is that? A person attempts to play
by your rules, and becomes suspect because of it?” She made a
hmph
sound like a disapproving old maid. “Not exactly the most fair-minded person on the planet, are we?”

“If such behavior is so far from said person's nature, then, whether it's fair or not, it is generally warranted.” He grinned then, happy to see that he had drawn her out of the odd demureness.

She threw up her hands in a show of vexation. “If I have failed to mention in the past just how exasperating you can be, allow me to remedy the oversight now.” Her eyes flashed brilliant blue in the dim light of the lamp by his desk. He had to bite back a smile. She was happiest when she was arguing, he'd wager his horse on it.

“Duly noted. Back to your original point, then. Are you saying that I have your word that you will not attempt to take advantage of my person for the remainder of your stay?”

“Take
advantage
?” She rolled her eyes, but didn't stifle her small chuckle. “For God's sake, listen to you. I had no idea you were such a shrinking violet. And by the way, I distinctly recall participation from both parties, but, yes, I hereby give you my word.”

William didn't feel nearly as much relief as he would have hoped. Instead, he found himself recalling the moment her lips had finally touched his, and the cascade of sensation that had raced through him at the time. They echoed through him now, in fact, just thinking about it.

Clearing his throat, he dipped his head in a single munificent nod. “Very well, I am glad to hear it.” He really wished he would have put a little more space between them. Three feet was more or less an arm's length away, a distance so very easily bridged.

She smiled then, easily and with that very un-English
openness that he was slowly getting used to. “Does that mean that you will rescue me from having to spend the day with Lady Radcliffe and my aunt again tomorrow?”

He pretended to consider it. Everything within him wanted exactly that, but he wasn't going to allow himself to look so eager. “Possibly. I have much to do, but perhaps I could give you a tour of the estate, weather allowing? After breakfast, we could set aside a few hours to ride to the north end and back.” Assuming he didn't receive word from the mill. Things were well in hand when he left, but nature was unpredictable.

The idea of them riding across the grounds, side by side and alone on the lands he had loved since childhood, held great appeal. He wanted to show her the beauty of the land, the vitality of the soil, and the crops it supported. He wanted to see her eyes widen with the vastness of his holdings, of all that he was steward of.

She worried her lip, not appearing at all excited by the prospect. “I don't exactly ride. There wasn't much need growing up, and I never learned.”

“Really? Well then, I suppose we could saddle one of the ponies and have a nice slow trot. I imagine it wouldn't take but an hour or so for you to feel comfortable in the saddle.” They wouldn't be able to see as much of the property, but it could still be a nice outing.

Brushing at a speck on her gown, she shook her head. “No, thank you. I didn't bring anything appropriate to wear. And it could be raining again tomorrow, for all we know.”

He tilted his head, eyeing her suspiciously. He might be wrong, but he was fairly certain he heard what she
wasn't saying. “Don't tell me that the fearless, brash, and headstrong Miss Bradford is afraid of a
horse
.”

It was immediately apparent that he'd guessed correctly as her cheeks actually flushed.
Flamed
, really. “Of all things to be afraid of, having a fear of horses is completely rational. They have the ability to bite, kick, throw, and trample a person at will. They are huge beasts of uncommon muscle mass and they are too bloody fast for their own good.”

He just barely managed not to laugh out loud. He was so amused, he wasn't even bothered by her awful language. “This from a woman who lived among lions and tigers and elephants her whole life? Or God forbid, monkeys?” He gave a shudder just thinking of the clever, shrieking little beasts.

Her hands went to her waist, inadvertently diverting his attention to her figure. “Where did you learn your geography? I've never seen a lion in my life, let alone lived among them. Elephants are generally quite gentle, and I've never once heard of them kicking or biting a human. As for tigers, they are mostly skittish of humans, and more important, no one would ever try to
ride
one.”

“Yet, I would take horses every time over any of those others.” He shook his head slowly, as though terribly disappointed. “I must say, you have just gone and ruined your entire image. I'm not certain I will ever look at you in the same light again. However, I am nothing if not a thoughtful host, so I'll not force you to ride. Would you rather go to town tomorrow instead? We could take a nice, leisurely carriage ride.”

Codford was a lovely little town, with almost anything he ever had need for. He didn't spend a lot of time there himself, but he was perfectly willing to accompany her.

She set her jaw, staring back at him as though he'd just
thrown down a gauntlet right there on the priceless Persian rug. “Oh, for the love of Triton, don't patronize me. If you want to ride the estate, then we will ride the estate. Just be aware that it will be an exceedingly slow ride.”