Lords of Honor-The Collection by Caldwell Christi

Author:Caldwell, Christi [Caldwell, Christi]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-08-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Lily stood in the corner of her rooms and peered down into the busy London streets. The duke’s man-of-affairs had gone. And yet, in the nearly twenty minutes since he’d walked stiffly from the townhouse, she’d not been summoned or tossed out. It was as though she’d been forgotten.

A knock sounded at the door.

Lily jumped. She slapped a hand to her heart. “Of course you’re not forgotten,” she muttered to herself. That would be far too easy; to go on as though she’d not kissed her employer, and invaded his private halls, and gone toe-to-toe with—

Knock.

“Open your goddamn door, Lily. I am not of a mind to stand out here in the hall while you sulk in your chambers.”

She stared wide-eyed at the wood panel and then resumed a frantic blinking. What in thunderation? Never had she known a man, gentleman or town villager in the duke’s parish, who’d speak with his coarseness. Lily took five long strides across the room and swiftly pulled the door open. “Your Grace, your language leaves—” Oh, my.

Derek limped past her and the sheer punishing size of him, stole her breath. This towering figure who’d surely terrified men in battle and earned countless ladies hearts, limped into her bedroom. Butterflies danced wildly in her belly. With his scars, Derek, the Duke of Blackthorne, would never possess the unflawed beauty of the rogues and rakes of the world. And yet, there was a primitive rawness to him; a rough-hewn strength and rugged masculinity that captivated.

Her breath caught hard in her chest as the same fierce glare he’d leveled on Davies, he now turned on her. And her skin tingled in remembrance of his touch and the burning feel of him. Warmth pooled in her belly. Unable to meet the intensity of his gaze, she dropped her stare.

But snagging her notice were his shirtsleeves. Lily started. For with his absence of a jacket on his broad frame, something pulled at her heart. The fierce, snarling beast was a good deal more tempered when he stood before her only partially clad.

“I do not care to be kept waiting,” he snapped and the gravelly quality of his baritone wrenched her head up. She winced as pain shot down her neck. “Your Grace,” she greeted, gripping the edge of the door. She borrowed purchase from the panel.

Derek spoke as casually as if he’d entered her parlor for tea and a bed even now did not sit at their backs. “Well?” he growled.

She cocked her head. What did he expect of her? He came charging in here after Davies’ vile, if true, accusations. And once more, guilt stabbed her for the plan she’d become embroiled in. Lily curled her toes into the soles of her slippers. Nay, the scheme she’d willingly agreed to take part in.

“Nothing to say?” he continued, gruffly.

It matters not. He shares the blood of the man who ruined me and the woman who turned me away. What guilt do I have for entering his home

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