The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2) by Meara Platt Read Free Book Online Page B

side of her neck. The pulse at its base began to throb and a deliciously hot tingle ran up her spine. Mercy!
    “Stop it, you clunch. And why don’t you care that you haven’t found out who was after you? If I were you, I’d make it a priority to run those villains to ground.”
    “But you’re not me.”
    He sounded quite smug. Had she felt sympathy for his plight? Well, no longer. She wanted to grab him by his exquisite lapels and shake him till his teeth rattled. “Fine, don’t look for them. I won’t save you the next time. No, I’ll stay cozy in my room and pop grapes in my mouth while I stand by my window and watch you slowly bleed to death.”
    He let out a deep, unrestrained laugh. “Dillie, you’re the farthest thing from a bloodthirsty wench I’ve ever met. Your instincts are to nurture and protect. You’re far too generous, you love faithfully, and you’ll protect even those you don’t like very much. Such as myself.”
    “Are you mocking me?”
    He took her hand and stuck it on his arm. “No, quite the opposite. I just gave you a compliment, you impertinent little baggage. You’re soft-hearted and yet quite fearless when you need to be. I’m still in awe of the way you chased off my attackers. Who taught you how to shoot an elephant gun?”
    “My Uncle George,” she admitted with a wince. “He caught Lily and me one morning trying to break into the cabinet where he stored his collection of weapons. Rather than scold us, he thought it safer to teach us how to use them. We were twelve years old at the time and that gun was enormous, much bigger than we were. He taught us how to load it, but wouldn’t allow us to fire it because he thought the force of the recoil would break our young bones.”
    He glanced at her shoulder and frowned suddenly. “I never thought to ask. You didn’t appear to be hurt, but—”
    “I wasn’t.” She shook her head and laughed lightly. “Although the force of the recoil did knock me onto my dainty derriere. Twice. The thick carpet in my bedchamber cushioned my fall. I’m surprised Uncle George didn’t come tearing into my room at the roar of that first shot, but he’d been up for two days straight with that important patient of his and was exhausted. He fell asleep fully clothed—jacket, cravat, boots—and was snoring before his head hit the pillow. Nothing was going to wake him up.”
    “Except your butler.”
    Still smiling, Dillie nodded. “Poor Pruitt, he had to duck my uncle’s fists as he shook him awake. But all turned out well, thank goodness. You’re alive.”
    He covered her hand with his own when she began to tremble, for it was still resting on his arm where he’d placed it when preparing to escort her into Daisy’s parlor. “Come along,” he said with unexpected tenderness, “or Daisy and Gabriel will wonder what’s become of us.”
    They managed only two steps before Dillie held him back. “I forgot to mention, Uncle George and I never said a word to anyone about... you know.”
    He arched an eyebrow. “About my week in your bed?”
    “I wish you wouldn’t put it quite like that. We thought it better to keep the incident to ourselves. No one knows but the three of us.”
    “And Pruitt. And Ashcroft,” he pointed out. “And your footmen and my coachman.”
    Dillie pursed her lips in thought. “But they’re all loyal. They wouldn’t tattle, would they?”
    He shrugged. “Let’s hope not.”
    ***
    The quiet afternoon Ian had hoped for turned out not to be so quiet after all. He had expected to meet Gabriel at his home to discuss business and other matters of national importance, including who had tried to kill him last November. He hadn’t expected to find Dillie there visiting her sister.
    The sight of Dillie standing in the entry hall, holding her niece in her arms, had sent his heart shooting into his throat. She had looked so happy. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever felt such joy. He didn’t think he ever