“Why are you looking at me like that?” Eleanor asked, one auburn brow arching.

“Like what?” Derek replied, absently twirling a sprig of clover between his fingers. The clover was the same color as her eyes, a deep emerald that reminded him of the rolling hills of Scotland right before the heather took bloom and everything was dark and rich and green.

It had been precisely thirteen days since their marriage had finally been consummated, but it already felt like a lifetime…in the best possible way. They spent every night wrapped in each other’s arms and every afternoon, after Eleanor had tended to her animals and he’d seen to his work, they explored the estate like children, each day seeking a new and exciting adventure.

Thus far they had gone galloping through the fields on horseback, climbed to the top of the highest turret, played a rousing game of chess in the library, and taken a (very cold) midnight dip in the pond sans clothing. Today they’d packed a picnic basket and taken an early dinner on one of the side lawns overlooking the horse pastures where a herd of mares and their foals frolicked and played.

Through Eleanor’s eyes he had begun to see Hawkridge in a new light. When he was with her the ghosts of his past faded away and he was able to appreciate the castle for what it was now instead of loathing what it had been.

Instead of a prison, he saw promise. Instead of inconvenience, he saw opportunity. And instead of a wife he wanted to forget, he saw a woman he always wanted to remember.

“Like you don’t hate me,” she said, leaning forward to pluck another piece of roasted chicken out of the basket. Ignoring the utensils a maid had thoughtfully packed, she ate with her bare hands, nibbling the chicken down to the bone before tossing the scraps to the two pigs that had followed them on their little excursion and were now sitting side by side like expertly trained dogs.

“I don’t hate you.” Derek’s stomach clenched unpleasantly. Is that what she still thought? That he hated her? He supposed he couldn’t blame her, given the monstrous way he’d behaved. He’d called Eleanor a savage, but in truth he was the barbaric one. By forcing himself to see her as nothing more than a means to an end, he had treated her with unnecessary cruelty. Cruelty that he now regretted down to the depths of his soul.

He’d tried to make up for his behavior the same way he always had: with expensive gifts. His mistresses had always forgiven him any transgression – real or imaginary – for a pretty piece of glitter. But his wife had gently declined each and every present he tried to give her.

‘I don’t need jewelry or furs or fancy dresses,’ she told him one morning when they’d lain sprawled on their backs on top of the coverlet, their bodies covered with a thin sheen of perspiration after making love as the sun rose in the east. ‘I would much rather have time.’

‘Time?’ he’d asked, his brow furrowing.

‘Time with you. Time with my animals. Time with myself. Time is more special than all the jewels in the world because it can never be bought, only given. Give me time, and I shall be the happiest woman in the world’.

So that’s what he’d done. He had given her time. It was the least expensive – albeit the most important – gift he had ever bestowed.

Their marriage was still far from perfect. They’d had an argument just that morning about where the new carriage barn was going to be built. And even though he had walked away in a fit of anger – Eleanor knew exactly what strings to pull to get under his skin – he had quickly returned. He would always return. Because for the first time in his life, he’d allowed a relationship to become personal. And it may not have been perfect or easy, but that was what made it so right.

“I’ve never hated you,” he continued, his gaze seeking and finding hers. “It’s just that…I was never expecting you. I wasn’t adequately prepared.”

A smile hovered in the corners of her mouth. “You make me sound like a storm.”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “That’s precisely what you are.”

Her smile was replaced with a perplexed frown. “Well that doesn’t sound very good. No one likes storms. They’re disruptive and damaging.”

“Yes,” he repeated. “They are. But sometimes they’re exactly what’s needed to wash away the old and make way for the new. Without storms we wouldn’t have lightning or thunder or the wild rush of cool rain on a hot summer’s night. Without storms nature would be dull and meaningless. One day running into the next with nothing to break up the monotony of it all.” Leaning over the basket he gently cupped her cheek and lowered his mouth to hers. “You’re my storm Eleanor,” he murmured against her lips. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

 

On a soft, dreamy sigh Eleanor leaned into the kiss.

A storm, she thought with no small amount of delight as Derek nibbled lazily at her bottom lip. It was the least complimentary compliment he’d ever given her. And all the more perfect because of it.

If someone told her she and the duke would be kissing over a picnic supper less than one month after his return to Hawkridge, she would have laughed herself into a fit. Yet here they were, sitting in the middle of the lawn with a basket between them and Sir Galahad and Lancelot chaperoning from a distance.

The last two weeks had been the most magical of her life. Not because she had discovered lovemaking – well, not only because she’d discovered lovemaking – but because she had finally discovered her husband. It may have taken eleven months and twenty-nine days, but at long last she’d found the man behind the mask. And he was everything she ever could have hoped for.

Gone was the cad who had mocked her and demanded she give up her animals. In his place was the man who had given her her very first kiss. The valiant knight who had saved Donald from the housekeeper and rescued Henny from the thunderstorm. The charming rogue who had, against all odds, managed to steal her heart.

All that being said, he was still a scoundrel and they still fought like cats and dogs. But that was part of their appeal. Despite what he’d said in the carriage barn out of anger, Derek did not want her to be anyone other than who she was. He told her as much the morning after they’d made love when the first light of dawn had yet to steal across the sky and she’d been tucked into the hard concave of his body.

‘You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before,’ he’d told her, one hand absently combing through her tangled curls. ‘I used to think that was a bad thing. But now I know it’s your greatest asset. Never change, Eleanor. Even if someone is stupid enough to ask you to.’

To date, it was the second best compliment he’d ever given her.

“We need to stop,” she murmured, pushing lightly against his chest when she felt his fingers unbuttoning the back of her dress.

“Why?” he asked as his lips worked their way down her throat.

“Because…because I think I hear someone coming up the drive.”

“Let them come. I certainly intend to,” he said, mouth curving in a wicked grin against her bare shoulder as he pulled her sleeve down. She batted his hand away.

“Derek, I’m serious.”

“So am I. Fine,” he sighed. Giving her one last kiss, he stood up and shrugged on his waistcoat. “But if this is anyone less than the king himself, I’m coming back here and – bloody hell.”

“What?” Alarmed by the dark shadow that stole across his countenance as he turned to look at the drive and the shiny black coach rolling up it, Eleanor scrambled to her feet and hastily straightened her bodice. “Do you know who that is?” she asked, watching as a tall, thin man alighted from the carriage and, after a surreptitious glance at the manor, proceeded directly inside.

“Yes,” Derek said grimly.

“And?”

“You’re better off not knowing. This will only take a few minutes.”

“I’ll go with you.” She started to follow him, but he stopped so abruptly she nearly ran into him. 

“It’s better if you remain here.”

“But I–”

“Eleanor.” His jaw tensed. “Please.”

“Very well,” she said, even though she had absolutely no intention of staying put. “But only if you promise to tell me who that man is when you return.”

He pressed a distracted kiss to her brow. “I promise.”

She waited until he’d gone around the front of the house before she picked up her skirts and dashed around the back. Using the servant’s entrance, she slipped through the kitchens and down the hall.

It was easy to find where her husband had gone. All she had to do was follow the sound of raised voices to the front drawing room. The door had been left slightly ajar and she felt only the slightest twinge of guilt as she peeked inside. If Derek hadn’t wanted her to eavesdrop then he should have at least told her who the man was that had instantly put him in such a bad mood. It wasn’t her fault she had a healthy dose of curiosity.

Her husband stood with his back to her, his rugged frame partially obscuring the thin stranger so all she saw was one sharp blue eye and a flattened lick of black hair. Georgiana, dressed in black and looking supremely bored, sat on the sofa with Mr. Pumpernickel perched on her lap. Over the past few weeks the two had taken a liking to one another and it was rare to see them apart.

“…know you’re not welcome here, Norton,” said Derek tersely. She couldn’t see his face, but his tension was obvious in the rigid line of his shoulders.

“I’m family, aren’t I?” The stranger – Norton – replied with an insolent sneer that immediately put a bad taste in Eleanor’s mouth. If he really was family it must have been a distant relation, for with the exception of their hair color he and Derek looked nothing alike.

“You should have sent a calling card, dear cousin.” This from Georgiana who was looking at Norton as if he were something she’d just had scraped off the bottom of her shoe. “At least then we would have known to hide the silver.”

“Georgie. Pleasant as ever, I see.” Norton’s attention flicked back to Derek. He smiled thinly. “You know very well why I’m here. The timing of the will was quite specific.”

The will? Eleanor’s brow knitted with confusion. What will?

“With one day to go, I decided to see for myself if you’ve met the terms our dearly departed grandfather set forth. I wish it didn’t have to come to this, Derek. Truly I don’t.” Norton’s sigh was annoyingly long. “But the will was quite clear, I’m afraid.”

“I know the bloody terms of the will,” Derek snapped. “Say what you’ve come to say and then get the hell out. My patience is wearing thin.”

“Very well. I hesitate to speak so bluntly in front of a lady.” His gaze swerved back to Georgiana as an insolent smirk twisted his narrow lips. “Which is why I’m glad there isn’t one here.”

A growl that was more beast than man tore bubbled up from Derek’s throat. “Insult my sister again,” he said in a deceptively soft voice, “and it will be the last thing you do.”

“What’s a little teasing between family? Fine, fine,” he said when Derek took a menacing step in his direction. “No need to get violent. No need at all. This is why Grandfather put that last little caveat in the will, you know. Because he knew you weren’t suited to be a duke. You haven’t the temperament for it.”

“You’d have Hawkridge run into the ground before the year was out,” Georgiana said disdainfully. “Everyone knows you’re out of money, Norton. And desperate enough to do anything to get your hands on my brother’s inheritance. I almost feel sorry for you.”

“Save your pity for yourself when I toss you out on your ear,” Norton spat as his face blanched and then turned a deep, dull red. “Enough of these games. The will was clear, and it will hold up in any court. So has the marriage been consummated or not? You’ve only two days left.”

Eleanor concealed her gasp just in time. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she stared at her husband in shocked silence as she began to understand just what Norton was talking about. There was a will, created by the late Duke of Hawkridge, Derek’s grandfather. And within in it he must have made some sort of stipulation that Derek had to marry before his twenty-ninth birthday. She didn’t know exactly what would happen if he didn’t meet the terms of the will…but it wasn’t hard to guess. The title would pass to the next male heir, in this case Norton. 

Was that why Derek had returned to Hawkridge? To consummate their marriage and make it legally binding? Had he been plotting to get her into his bed this entire time? Had the last two weeks meant nothing to him?

As she thought of every loving word and every gentle touch they’d exchanged, she felt a hard knot form in the middle of her chest. Lies, she thought as she reeled away from the door. It had all been nothing but one lie after another. Derek didn’t care for her. He never had. He simply hadn’t wanted to lose the dukedom. And as soon as he told his cousin the terms of the will had been met in full, he was going to return to London and she would never see him again.

With a muffled sob she turned on her heel and fled down the hall.

 

At the sound of a soft cry, Derek whirled around. Biting back a savage curse when he saw a flash of Eleanor’s blue dress as she bolted away from the door, he immediately went after her. He could hear Norton shouting something at him, but his cousin’s whiny voice paled in comparison the dull roaring in his ears.

“See that my cousin is immediately escorted off the property,” he told the first footman he came across. “And if he tries to return, shoot him.”

With that matter finished, he set off to find Eleanor. Knowing a search of the house would prove futile, he went immediately to the old carriage barn. She’d barred the door against him, but with one kick of his boot he sent it crashing open.

“Get out!” Eleanor she cried when he stepped inside, dashing at her cheeks as she rose from the pile of straw she’d been crouched in. Donald and Ronald stood on either side of her, their necks arched and their feathers raised. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“I know what you think you heard,” he began in a low, soothing tone. “But you have to let me explain–”

“Did you or did you not come here with the sole purpose of consummating our marriage so you wouldn’t lose your title to your cousin?” she demanded hotly.

“Yes, that’s why I came here,” he admitted, and pain sliced through him like a dagger to the heart when her bottom lip wobbled. He took a step towards her. Would have taken another if not for Donald and Ronald’s low warning hiss. Damned geese. The things were more dangerous than a pair of wolfhounds. “That’s why I came here,” he repeated, lifting his arms beseechingly. “But it’s not why I stayed.”

With an incredulous snort she turned her head to the side, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Eleanor, look at me,” he said softly. “Please. It’s not what you think.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she glared fiercely at him. It was the first time he had ever seen her cry, and his heart ached anew to know that he was the cause of all her pain. If only he’d explained the bloody will before now…but things had been going so well he’d been reluctant to bring it up for fear of this exact reaction.

“I thought – I thought you were falling in love with me,” she whispered.

“I am falling in love with you.” His hands curled into fists. “I have fallen in love with you.”

“No you haven’t,” she said, shaking her head from side to side. “It was all a ruse. An act. You played me like a fool, and the worst thing is that I let you do it.” 

“If you would just – dammit!” he exclaimed when he tried to get closer to her and one of the geese lashed out. “Call off your guard dogs, Red. Let me explain.”

Reaching into a metal bin, she picked up a handful of corn and tossed it behind her into the straw. “There,” she said as Ronald and Donald waddled away. “Now you can explain.”

“You’re right about the will. I discovered the terms shortly after my grandfather died and I inherited everything. My relationship with him was…let’s just say it was tumultuous. He knew the last thing I wanted to do was marry, at least before I turned thirty, and so that was the one thing he forced me to do.” Derek’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “He also knew I would never allow Hawkridge to go to Norton. As you saw for yourself, the conniving little bastard is even worse than I am.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Eleanor muttered under her breath. “Was it all planned then, from the very beginning?”

“No.” In two strides he was standing directly in front of her. Reaching out, he brushed his thumb across her damp cheek, catching a tear before it could roll down her chin. “You were never planned, Eleanor. I know I haven’t been a good husband to you. I know you have no reason to believe me, other than the fact that I have no reason to lie. So know that I speak the absolute truth when I tell you that you were never the wife I wanted. But you were always the wife I needed,” he murmured into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her gently against his chest. “I’m just so bloody sorry it took me a damned year to realize it.”

“Eleven months and fifteen days,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“What?” he said with a frown.

“Eleven months and fifteen days. That’s exactly how long it took you to realize that you’re hopelessly, helplessly in love with me.” When she tipped back her head all of her tears were gone and she was smiling the brightest, most beautiful smile he had ever seen. At the sight of it he exhaled the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding and tightened his grip.

“Do you forgive me then?” he asked, gazing down into her brilliant green eyes. Green eyes that were filled with more love and understanding than he had any right to deserve. “I know I should have told you about the will sooner. I was an idiot not to.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “You were. But I do forgive you. On one condition.”

“Anything,” he said instantly.

“Henny has been feeling rather lonely lately–”

“No,” he said, already shaking his head. “That hedgehog has already caused enough damage. We’re not getting another.”

“That hedgehog is the only reason we’re together,” she countered.

When she put it that way…

“Very well. You can have as many hedgehogs as your heart desires.” Lifting her chin, he grinned crookedly down into her beaming face. “But only if you kiss me first.”

With a musical laugh, she threw her arms around his neck. “I thought you’d never ask…”