A Measured Risk (27 page)

She flicked a glance at him but saw nothing but reddish swirls. All the blood left her head.

“Bend down.” He touched her head and gently urged her to lean over at the waist. He held her shoulders. “Now breathe deep and slow.”

With blood rushing to her head, she struggled to breathe slower. But her heart raced. A stomach
-
churning invitation to fully fledged, humiliating panic. Eventually, she brought herself under control.

“Better now?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

He eased her upright.

Crushing despondency overtook her. She’d failed. Utterly. Completely. She glanced up at his face and his soft expression only reinforced her crashing spirits. He remained so kind, so patient. But he had to be disappointed. Tears wetted the corners of her eyes and she blinked hard. “You despise me for my weakness, don’t you?”

He made a sibilant sound and enfolded her in his arms. “I think you’re very brave to keep trying.”

“Oh please, do not patronise me.” She gulped back against a lump in her throat.

“Did you cry when he died?”

“What?” she asked, bewildered by the change in topic.

“Did you allow yourself to show weakness then?”

“I never cried for William. I couldn’t.” Her voice sounded stark in her own ears.

“Well, then
,
cry now.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. Come now, I’ve got you.” He pressed his hands more tightly against her. “It is perfectly safe for you to cry here, alone with me.”

But the tears were dry now, burning her throat like acid. “I failed.”

“You mean you failed to save him?” he asked gently.

“No… I mean I don’t want to speak of the accident. It happened. It’s over.”

“It might help to speak of it. Maybe it would unlock the real reasons you are afraid.”

“I only meant that I have failed here today. Today is the only thing that matters now.”

He leant back and tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. His expression was both tender and serious. “There is no failing here.”

“I don’t understand why someone like you can be so brave and I cannot. I wanted to understand that most of all. If only I knew how, I could do it too.”

“Anne, it’s not a failing of yours. It is the difference in our natures. You think about everything, deeply and theoretically. I do not. I simply act when action is needed.”

She frowned. “Yes, that is difference. How do you manage that?”

“I decide upon the most expedient way to and implement it as soon as possible.” He released her chin and traced a fingertip between her eyes, down the bridge of her nose. “You can’t do that. You must look at each situation from every possible direction and examine it within the broad scope of your imagination. You get lost there, my lady.”

He smiled, his eyes glowing with something that tugged at her heart. However, she couldn’t focus on that now. She was too upset by his revelation. His knowing of her. He sounded so certain. “But you-you could teach me to be more like you.”

“No, I am afraid I can’t. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

He caressed her cheek, a gentle brushing of his fingertips. “Because I adore you—just as you are.”

Her shoulders sank even more. “So I shall never be brave.”

He put his arms about her and hugged her. “You
are
brave—in your own way. You must be patient. It will come.”

“But what now?” she asked, her insides all cold and deflated with her defeat.

“We simply try tomorrow.”

 
* * * *

Deep in the woods, Anne’s boots crunched on leaves and twigs as she trudged alongside Ruel. They’d spent the morning in the courtyard while he taught her how to load, aim and fire his shotgun. Then he’d taken her along with him and bagged her a quail. But even the prospect of a hare-less supper couldn’t cheer her. She’d failed for the third day in a row to even get near enough to Sally to mount in the saddle.

It was hopeless. She was hopeless. She would never overcome her fears. She was flawed in a way other people were not.

“I adore you just the way you are.”

Ruel’s words—spoken the day she’d first felt sure enough to walk onto the stable. She’d been too consumed with her own thoughts and feelings on that day to hear him. Yet some part of her had heard for now those words came back, haunting her. Taunting her with her deep, aching need to believe them.

But he’d meant them lightly.

He likely
adored
all the women who graced his bed. And he likely did adore them for a time. But he’d lose interest eventually. Probably sometime during the middle of that Scottish winter, if she were foolish enough to allow such a thing.

Ruel stopped and squeezed her hand. “Stop for a moment.” He tilted his head, as if listening intently. “Do you hear that?”

“I hear something.”

“It sounds like whimpering. A dog maybe.” He let go of her hand. “You stay here and I’ll have a look.”

She nodded
,
then watched him hurry off down the path.

Jon advanced towards the sound, peering closer into the small ravine off the side. Up ahead, a sable and white sheepdog was caught in a trap. He couldn’t tell how badly the creature was hurt.

He knelt down. Even from here, he saw extensive damage to the left rear leg. He compressed his lips. With a former cavalryman’s practicality, he knew the poor creature would be better off put out of its misery.

Christ, Anne was with him.

He whirled about and faced her as she hurried to him. “Go back to that clearing we were at earlier. Take the path and don’t deviate from it.” He squeezed her arm to emphasise his point.

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“Go back and wait for me.”

The dog whimpered louder, as if roused by their voices.

“It’s a dog.” She glanced up at him, her eyes wide and accusing. “What do you intend to do?”

“Go back, Nan.”

She pushed to go past him but he stopped her. “Don’t look, Anne, it’s too gruesome.”

Wasted words
,
for next he heard her sharp inhalation. Her body weakened against his.

“What can we do for it?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said flatly.

“We could try and free it. And take it back to the cottage to tend its wounds.”

“Anne, it would be kinder to end things here. That’s why I asked you to go back to the clearing.” Her sapphire eyes wouldn’t let his go. Something twisted in his guts and he sighed. “All right, I can try to set it free, but, I don’t know how it will react.” He released her. “Wait for me here.”

“But I can help you.”

He lost all patience. “If I wanted your help, I’d ask for it. I already told you what I need from you—I expect to be obeyed.”

He pushed her aside and went to see what could be done for the animal. He was utterly vexed with himself. In the dragoons, if a horse or a dog were injured badly, they simply dealt with the situation. It was the kindest and most expedient thing to do. Today, he’d given in to a wholly emotional impulse and he feared it would only drag out the cruelty done the animal.

* * * *

That evening, still convinced of his folly, Jon sat near where the dog lay on a blanket by the warm hearth. He’d treated and bandaged the wound as best he could. Now he stroked the shaggy head, frowning. All this fuss and bother and Anne would be hurt twice as badly when the damned dog died anyway. He pulled the saucer closer to its snout
,
then watched the spotted tongue lap up the water.

“We should give her some of the quail,” Anne said.

“It’s better if she doesn’t eat tonight.”

“But the poor thing must be starving.”

He cut his gaze to her. “Trust me, I know about animals and injuries. The best army surgeons say to let her lick her wounds and fast a bit. There will be less chance of infection.”

“What shall we do with her?” she asked.

“I shall take her back to London when I go, she should do fine in the carriage.” A harmless lie to spare her. No use dwelling on the negative any longer this evening. The dog had bled on him while he carried the animal on the long walk home and so he had already changed into his banyan. Now he wanted to get pleasantly drunk and forget the whole miserable day.

He was failing Anne. He’d honestly thought he could earn her trust enough that she would be able to at least ride on the horse with him. He’d thought if he could prove her capable of that, she would consider travelling to Scotland with him for the winter.

But she wouldn’t trust him. She submitted her body but still refused him the whole of herself.

The clatter of plates came from the table. He turned and saw her gathering their dirty dishes. “Leave them for the morning. Why don’t you go to bed? I shall stay up for a while.”

“I can wash them now and you won’t have to bother in the morning.”

“We discussed this before, Nan. I forbid you to wash a single dish.”

Her chin lifted in defiance. “Very well,” she said, and dropped the plates. They fell to the floor and smashed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Four more days and you will no longer have any say over anything I do.”

The truth of that seared into him. He’d dominated her body. Over and over again. Nevertheless, he’d been unable to reach her protected little heart. If he didn’t find a way to soon, she would slip away. And he didn’t want to let her go. Not yet.

“Yes, but I still have four days,” he said.

The haughty defiance drained from her face. She took a step back.

He took three steps towards her. “Four days of your obedience.”

Her eyes went glassy and her lips parted slightly. Then it came to him that while he’d been reacting out of his feelings, she’d been testing him. Then he knew exactly what he’d have to do to break through her walls. He’d been too easy on her. Thrown by her novel intellectualism. Distracted by his own burgeoning and unfamiliar emotional attachment to her. A strong-minded duke’s daughter, she was also a woman who craved to submit to a man while also fearing it. He needed to act accordingly if he wanted to reach her.

“You disobeyed me today. Several times. I have been patient and lenient with you but that’s at an end. Come now.” He held his hand out to her.

Chapter Fifteen

Anne stared at Jon’s hand, her heart pounding.

“H-how is it done?” Her throat went very dry and her breath came very short, so that she could barely speak. She’d been exasperated with his arrogance, his tyranny over her. She’d wanted to push him away. Now his firm refusal to budge sent a curl of warmth through her chest, something that utterly confused her. Why should she feel so tenderly towards him when he intended to punish her?

“Go into the bedchamber get ready. Undress
,
” he commanded in hard tones. She’d never heard him speak so. Never had anyone spoken so to her.

She jerked her gaze to his. Something about his resolute expression made her want to obey. But her feet were frozen. “I can’t seem to move.”

He nodded and closed the distance between them. He took her hand.

She felt such bonding to him that pure fear swept through her and she pulled her hand away. “No, I-I can’t…”

His expression softened and he pulled her into his embrace, caressing her back in slow
,
circular patterns. “Yes, you can. I am prepared to be lenient this time.”

She breathed a relieved sigh and relaxed against him. He was going to forget this madness.

“I shall strike you only ten times.”

She caught her breath. Apparently, his idea of being lenient differed a great deal from hers. In a rush of dizzying heartbeats, she clutched his shoulders. “Please don’t do this… I’ll do anything. I shall be good, from here on out.”