The Duchess Read online

  “What do you want from me?”

  She shook her head. “If you don’t know, I can’t tell you.” She started to walk away but again he caught her.

  He moved so that he was in front of her. “Tell me what you expect of me. Would you like for me to beg you to live with me instead of Harry? Is that what you want? Would you like for me to ask you to give up your dream of being a duchess and go live in a hut on the edge of a jungle with me?”

  Claire’s head was spinning. There was a part of her that wanted to go with Trevelyan, wanted to spend all of her life with him, but there was another part that told her that the last few days she’d spent with him weren’t real. There was so much she didn’t know about him. He asked questions but he didn’t answer them.

  “I don’t know you,” she said and there was agony in her voice.

  “You know me as well as anyone ever has.”

  She raised furious eyes to his. “Don’t you understand that I’m not talking about what we’ve done in bed together? I’m talking about love.”

  “So am I.”

  Claire turned away. She didn’t want to cry now.

  Trevelyan put his hands on her shoulders and she rubbed her cheek against his hand. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Tell me what to do.”

  He turned her around to face him and stared into her eyes. “You have to make your own decision. I can’t make it for you. No one can live another person’s life.”

  It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Why couldn’t he be like other men and tell her that he loved her, that he wanted her? Why couldn’t he say that he’d kill her or Harry or both of them if they so much as looked at each other again?

  “Is that what you want?” he said, as though she’d spoken aloud. “Would you like for me to throw you over my horse and take you away from here? Would you like me to kidnap you and take you on my next trip? And if I did that, how long would it be before you began to hate me? Would you start hating me two years from now when you received a letter from your sister saying that your parents had spent every penny of your grandfather’s money and they were now destitute? Or would you begin to hate me before that, when I went away on an expedition and left you behind to imagine what I was doing when you weren’t there?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly.

  His fingers bit into her shoulders. “Do you love me?” he asked. “Me? Not Captain Baker, not some man you think you know because you’ve read his books, but me, Trevelyan?”

  She hesitated, and in her hesitation, he moved away from her. “Of course I love you. I couldn’t have done the things I did with you if I didn’t love you. I’ve never done those things with anyone else. How could I have gone to bed with you when I was engaged to someone else if I didn’t love you? If my parents had found out, if Harry knew, it would have hurt them very much. I couldn’t have—”

  When he looked at her his eyes were black with rage. He bent so his nose was nearly touching hers. “I have been to bed with hundreds of women. I have done things with them that you could never imagine, but I have not loved any of them, not as I have come to love you.”

  Claire took a step away from him. The intensity of him frightened her, and she knew that it was time for the truth. “You ask me if I love you. How do I know if I love you? I don’t know you at all. You keep yourself from me. I know more about Captain Baker than I do about Trevelyan. Where were you born? How are you related to Harry? Why do the crofters treat you with such respect? I never know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. You say that you love me. For how long have you known that you love me? Days? Weeks?”

  She looked at him, saw that he wasn’t planning to answer her. “You say that I have to make my own decision. Am I to decide that you want me, that you want me to go with you, spend my life with you? How am I to know that you want that? You haven’t told me that you want me. You haven’t told me anything. Nothing! If I weren’t such a snoop I doubt that I’d even know that you’re Captain Baker. I don’t think you would have told me.”

  When he spoke neither his look nor his voice had softened. “Do words mean so much to you? If the words are what you want, then I’ll give them to you. I love you. I love you as I have never loved another woman. I think that perhaps I have loved you for nearly as long as I’ve known you. I would like for you to go with me. Now. Tonight. Ride away from here and never look back. I don’t know what will happen in the future. I’m sure that I’ll make the worst husband in the world. I’ll leave you alone for years at a time while I travel. I’m cursed with bad moods. I’m a selfish bastard and I’m sure that I’ll make you cry a great deal. I don’t know what to say to you about other women. I think that monogamy will be difficult if not impossible for me, but I’ll try it.”

  Claire knew that if she had any sense she would now throw her arms about him and leave with him. She wanted to do just what he suggested: get on his horse with him and ride away. She would never look back at the MacArran lands. She’d never look back at her present life. How many women had the fortune to have a man like the great, the famous, the world renowned Captain Frank Baker fall in love with them?

  But Claire didn’t throw her arms around him. If she left with him it would mean turning her back on her family. She knew that Trevelyan ridiculed her parents, thought they were a worthless pair, but they were her family. Perhaps he could get along with just himself, but could she? Could she walk away, knowing, as he had pointed out, that she would be condemning her sister to a life of poverty?

  Trevelyan, watching her, started to walk away.

  “Wait!” she called and went to stand in front of him. “I…I don’t know what to do. I want to go with you but—”

  “If you wanted to go, you would do so.” His face suddenly softened and he smiled at her. “Your young duke is probably waiting for you. You’d better go to him.”

  She took a step backward. “You don’t care that I go to Harry?”

  “I don’t try to live other people’s lives for them. If you make up your mind, I will be here for…” He looked toward the house. “I will remain here for another few days. Good night, Miss Willoughby.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Claire cried herself to sleep that night, not falling into a deep sleep until early morning. She probably would have slept the morning away if Harry hadn’t come into her room. What with Miss Rogers confined downstairs with her uninjured leg still in a cast and no one inclined to tell her that her leg wasn’t broken, Claire was left alone. Even Brat, who often came to her room, didn’t. She was probably with Nyssa and Trevelyan and Oman, Claire thought with bitterness. Claire put the pillow over her head and tried to go back to sleep.

  At ten, a furious knocking at her door brought her out of her half sleep, but she didn’t bother to answer the door. She didn’t care who was there or who wanted to see her.

  When she didn’t get out of bed to answer the door, it was opened. Listlessly, Claire watched Harry enter her room. His arms were full of flowers and a large leather portfolio.

  The sight of the handsome young man did nothing to cheer Claire. She lay in the bed, blinking up at him, not smiling, feeling no happiness at seeing the man she was supposed to be in love with.

  Harry looked down at her for a moment then put his armload on the foot of the bed and went to open the curtains. Claire blinked at the bright light coming into the room and sat up, not bothering to pull the sheet about her.

  Harry took a seat by the bed and looked at her. It wasn’t difficult to see that she’d been crying. She looked much older than her nineteen years.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said.

  Claire waved her hand in dismissal. She opened her mouth to speak but as her eyes filled with tears again, she closed it.

  Harry started to hand her a handkerchief, but the one on the table by the bed was wet so he went to a tall chest of drawers and began frantically opening drawers until he found a clean stack of handkerchiefs. He handed her a wad of them an