Lady Vivian Defies a Duke - By Samantha Grace Page 0,73
a noncommittal sound and pressed harder against another knotted muscle she discovered. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were a tad anxious. That pile of post looks rather daunting.”
“I’m not anxious,” he snapped.
“Very well. Let’s call you surly instead.” She pushed her thumb along a ridge where his shoulder met neck.
He groaned again and sank against the seat. “Is that what you do for your cousin?”
“It seems to help her. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” He sounded surprised. “Where did you learn to do this?”
She faltered in her movement then pressed even harder. She wanted to forget Owen, but he had been a major influence in her life; it seemed impossible to banish him from her memory without forgetting the good parts, too. “When my horse had an injury, one of our grooms allowed me to watch as he made a poultice and rubbed it into Romie’s sore leg. It helped him tremendously, so I thought it should work as well for people.”
“Clever.” He caught her hand and brought it to his lips.
Triumph swelled within her. He was hers at last. Every caress, loving kiss, and soft endearment told her it was so.
She returned to the warmth of his embrace, leaned her head on his shoulder, and rested her hand on his chest. “Do you know what brings on your head pain?”
His body twitched beneath her fingers. “It just comes.”
She pulled back to look into his eyes. A dusky shadow had begun to form on his jaw and created a pleasant roughness against her palm when she caressed his cheek. He met her gaze for a second then looked away.
“What is wrong, my love? I can see something is bothering you.”
He grabbed her hand, encircling her wrist with his thumb and forefinger. A thousand emotions flashed in his blue eyes, every one of them troubling. Eventually, he released a weary breath. “I suppose you will find out at some point. It is best you know now.”
She sat up straighter and frowned. What horrible confession was he about to make, for his stricken expression left her with no doubt he had a terrible secret?
“I haven’t been able to read since the accident.”
“That cannot be true. You penned a note to me at Brighthurst.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t mean I am illiterate. Reading brings on my headaches. A short missive is manageable.”
“Oh.” Vivi didn’t see how this revelation was horrible in the least, aside from the discomfort he experienced. Still, that should be easy enough to avoid. “Then I recommend you don’t read.”
He laughed, but his usual cheerfulness was missing. “Do you see the pile of correspondence requiring my attention? This is the result of not reading. How am I to fulfill my duties when I can’t perform the most basic functions?”
She nibbled her bottom lip. Perhaps he had a point, but there must be some way to manage. “I could rub your neck every day if need be. I don’t mind.”
“Am I to smuggle you into the House of Lords under my cloak?” He flashed a real smile for the first time since she had entered his study. “Why does that thought bring me immense pleasure?”
Her belly flopped when her mind drifted to what she would find under his cloak. She cleared her throat. “I saw a woman leaving your study. Was it Miss Truax?”
His smile faded and he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not what it seems.”
“I’m not sure what it seems. Miss Truax was here, so I assume you spoke.” Vivi was more than curious to know what the other woman had to say. Had she told him about their exchange in the garden?
He released a long sigh. “We spoke of my mother. I think she is improving each day.”
This good news did not explain the deep lines between his brows.
“Is that all?” Her voice quivered.
“Not exactly.” He opened his arms. “Come here.”
She laid her cheek against his chest. His heartbeat echoed in her ear.
He kissed the top of her head and hugged her closer. “I became concerned about Miss Truax this evening when I saw her waltzing with Jonathan Collier. I warned her away from him.”
She drew back. “Why? What has he done?”
“It’s nothing you must worry about. Mr. Collier isn’t likely to bother you after our talk at the inn, unless he wishes to have a ball put in his chest.”
His stern frown startled her. She didn’t know if she could live with being the cause of another person’s injury or death. Nor could