insides seared with a mixture of shame and regret.
Garrett seized the miniature and placed it securely within his pocket. “Do show some respect, gentlemen,” he clipped. “The lady is the Duke of Kenbrook’s daughter.”
The Duke of Kenbrook’s daughter. Not the Duchess of Huntington. Silver gave the cloth another twist, unable to hold back the relief flooding her. Daniel was not married. Not yet, a tiny voice whispered. She bit her bottom lip. Even she, as far removed from Society as she was, knew of the powerful Duke of Kenbrook. His daughter must be the most sought after debutante in the whole country. Daniel obviously had his cap set on her. He did carry her portrait in his pocket after all. And why wouldn’t he wish to marry the beauty? Powerful families married into each other all the time. Another of society’s endless rules.
So why did he kiss her on the ship and nearly again in the carriage?
The answer came swiftly, filling her with bitter humiliation. Daniel wanted Fiona. The kiss had been nothing more than an act. Never mind he thought the horse belonged to her brother. She remembered his reaction when he thought she’d dissuade Duncan from selling.
Yes, the interest the duke showed in her had all been a lie. And she should have known it. After all, why would he want anything to do with her when he had a beautiful, wealthy goddess waiting for him back home?
Silver forced down the lump in her throat and turned away, lest her pain show. Then she noticed her aunt standing in the doorway, listening to every word. She had a sudden need to flee, to get as far away as she could.
“Go and rest, child. You’ve rarely left the duke’s side. I will see to it he isn’t left alone,” Prudence stated, as though reading her mind.
Grateful for once for her aunt’s sharp observations, Silver set the cloth aside and reached for the cane the doctor had insisted she use. Her bandaged ankle throbbed in agony as she limped from the room, but she didn’t halt until she found the sanctuary of her own bedchamber across the hall.
After easing onto her bed, Silver vowed to pluck the duke from her heart—from her very soul—or die trying.
****
Several hours later, as the shroud of sleep lifted, terrible pain wracked his body. Daniel parted his dry, cracked lips and moaned. He fought the pounding in his skull and the unbearable aches everywhere else. Uncertain exactly what was broken, he dared not move, but pried open his swollen, gritty eyes. Garrett stood over him grinning like a fool on May Day.
“Feeling more the thing?” his so-called friend asked.
“I was before seeing you standing there.” Daniel winced when a sharp stitch pierced his left side. A few ribs were broken, he decided with a slight frown. And that meant he’d not travel for a while.
Now why did that thought not bother him as much as it should?
Without probing for an answer to that question, he glanced around, careful to keep from moving his tender head, and noticed they were alone in the room. “Where’s Silver?” he asked before he thought better of it. She had been there before. He knew it.
Garrett’s smile vanished. “She is resting in her room.”
He did not like the guarded quality lacing his friend’s voice. “Is she all right?”
“Rest assured,” Garrett said quickly, “her injuries were not severe—”
“Injuries?” he interrupted, fighting a sudden swell of dizziness. His breath grew choppy from the effort. Dear God, Silver had been hurt?
Garrett sank into the chair beside the bed. “It took me a while to get the unhappy mare back into her stall. When I finally returned to assist you with the stallion, I watched Silver…”
He narrowed his eyes. “What?” he demanded, feeling fatigue trying to swallow him whole.
His friend took a deep breath before he continued. “She threw herself over you to spare you from further
Garrett seized the miniature and placed it securely within his pocket. “Do show some respect, gentlemen,” he clipped. “The lady is the Duke of Kenbrook’s daughter.”
The Duke of Kenbrook’s daughter. Not the Duchess of Huntington. Silver gave the cloth another twist, unable to hold back the relief flooding her. Daniel was not married. Not yet, a tiny voice whispered. She bit her bottom lip. Even she, as far removed from Society as she was, knew of the powerful Duke of Kenbrook. His daughter must be the most sought after debutante in the whole country. Daniel obviously had his cap set on her. He did carry her portrait in his pocket after all. And why wouldn’t he wish to marry the beauty? Powerful families married into each other all the time. Another of society’s endless rules.
So why did he kiss her on the ship and nearly again in the carriage?
The answer came swiftly, filling her with bitter humiliation. Daniel wanted Fiona. The kiss had been nothing more than an act. Never mind he thought the horse belonged to her brother. She remembered his reaction when he thought she’d dissuade Duncan from selling.
Yes, the interest the duke showed in her had all been a lie. And she should have known it. After all, why would he want anything to do with her when he had a beautiful, wealthy goddess waiting for him back home?
Silver forced down the lump in her throat and turned away, lest her pain show. Then she noticed her aunt standing in the doorway, listening to every word. She had a sudden need to flee, to get as far away as she could.
“Go and rest, child. You’ve rarely left the duke’s side. I will see to it he isn’t left alone,” Prudence stated, as though reading her mind.
Grateful for once for her aunt’s sharp observations, Silver set the cloth aside and reached for the cane the doctor had insisted she use. Her bandaged ankle throbbed in agony as she limped from the room, but she didn’t halt until she found the sanctuary of her own bedchamber across the hall.
After easing onto her bed, Silver vowed to pluck the duke from her heart—from her very soul—or die trying.
****
Several hours later, as the shroud of sleep lifted, terrible pain wracked his body. Daniel parted his dry, cracked lips and moaned. He fought the pounding in his skull and the unbearable aches everywhere else. Uncertain exactly what was broken, he dared not move, but pried open his swollen, gritty eyes. Garrett stood over him grinning like a fool on May Day.
“Feeling more the thing?” his so-called friend asked.
“I was before seeing you standing there.” Daniel winced when a sharp stitch pierced his left side. A few ribs were broken, he decided with a slight frown. And that meant he’d not travel for a while.
Now why did that thought not bother him as much as it should?
Without probing for an answer to that question, he glanced around, careful to keep from moving his tender head, and noticed they were alone in the room. “Where’s Silver?” he asked before he thought better of it. She had been there before. He knew it.
Garrett’s smile vanished. “She is resting in her room.”
He did not like the guarded quality lacing his friend’s voice. “Is she all right?”
“Rest assured,” Garrett said quickly, “her injuries were not severe—”
“Injuries?” he interrupted, fighting a sudden swell of dizziness. His breath grew choppy from the effort. Dear God, Silver had been hurt?
Garrett sank into the chair beside the bed. “It took me a while to get the unhappy mare back into her stall. When I finally returned to assist you with the stallion, I watched Silver…”
He narrowed his eyes. “What?” he demanded, feeling fatigue trying to swallow him whole.
His friend took a deep breath before he continued. “She threw herself over you to spare you from further
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