“You did speak with my brother about my hand in marriage, did you not?”
“Yes, I did but—”
“Well, if you should still desire my hand, then you should know Henry is coming with me. There is no question in regards to that.”
He considered the dog, now prone on the ground and staring adoringly up at his mistress.
“I can see that now, but—”
Her hands dropped, and she looked away so quickly he missed the expression on her face.
“I see then. You’ve changed your mind. Come, Henry. We shan’t take up any more of the duke’s time.”
He reached for her before he realized the error of it. He had thought the dog placid at his mistress’s feet but at his first reach, the dog lunged, surging to his feet and plunging toward Dax.
“Henry.” Eliza did not shout. She didn’t even raise her voice.
She turned ever so slightly and very slowly held out her hand. She was giving him something. He kept his eyes on Henry as he slowly reached out a hand. The dog growled, softly, menacingly, but there wasn’t anything aggressive about the noise. It was more defensive, a warning to whomever might hurt his mistress.
Something slightly slimy and smelling of salt landed in his palm. He finally averted his gaze to see what it was.
Ham.
He looked up and wished he hadn’t.
Unshed tears shone in Eliza’s eyes, the kind that spring up involuntarily in reaction to a palpable hurt. He’d done that. He’d put those tears there because she thought he had changed his mind.
He forgot about the dog. He forgot about the piece of ham in his hand and leaned forward.
“Eliza—”
Henry let out a warning growl, harsher and deeper this time.
He hesitated. “Eliza—”
The dog took the smallest of steps forward.
“Give him the ham.” She said the words with a low urgency, but guilt gnawed at him.
He turned and thrust out his hand to the dog, which again was the wrong thing to do. The dog moved to snap at his fingers before he must have caught a sniff of the ham because the snap turned into a lick. Immediately, Henry put his butt down, head up in a perfect sit, his gaze once more peaceful.
“Here.” This time Eliza thrust the piece of ham into his hand, and her fingers gently brushed his palm. That tiniest of touches sparked something within him, and he hurriedly gave the ham to Henry.
Henry licked satisfyingly at his jowls, the ham gone in an instant. He adjusted his great paws and looked up as if expecting more.
“Henry is very protective of me. He just needs to know you’re a friend.” Eliza’s words were rushed, so unlike the calm, cunning woman he was beginning to know.
He grabbed her. He just had to stop the flow of words.
Henry whined now, but he didn’t try to bite him, thank God. Instead, Eliza’s expression turned to stone. Her eyes went wide behind her lenses, and her small mouth all but disappeared as she sucked her lips in.
He remembered that ghost of a whimper when he’d touched her the night before in a way far more proper than this, and something sliced through him, hot and devouring.
“Eliza, I have not changed my mind. I simply didn’t realize you had a dog at all. Henry will love Ashbourne Manor.”
At the sound of his name, Henry thumped his tail against the floor as if he understood whatever that was being said of him was a positive thing.
The tears never slid their way from Eliza’s eyes, and he wondered at the strength there. How many other times had she been condemned because of her appearance alone? How many other times had she been rejected? Found wanting? He could easily forget the fragility that lay beneath her sharp tongue, and he would do better not to forget it.
“You have not changed your mind.”
It wasn’t a question, and he wondered if she spoke aloud as to reassure herself.
“I have not.” The words breathed out of him like the last puff of energy he held.
This was a far cry from the day he had imagined, but it struck him suddenly that perhaps it was better.
He held Eliza by the arms, and she stood mere inches from him so he could see the flecks of gold in her irises even behind the lenses of her spectacles. There was a small freckle by her left ear. Without thinking he let his gaze wander, and before he knew what he was about, he’d firmly imagined her wild hair loosened from its pins and blowing in the wind that swept along the cliffs of Ashbourne Manor. It suddenly wasn’t frizzy at all. It was wild and thick and luxurious, he just knew it.
He swallowed. This was not good. This was not good at all.
“Then I accept,” she said.
He forgot for an instant what it was she was agreeing to before he remembered he’d asked for her hand.
Later he would blame her hair and the transfixing quality it possessed, because otherwise, he couldn’t think of why he did what he did.
Because he said, “Then we should seal the bargain with a kiss, shan’t we?”
Chapter 3
Was that how one agreed to an offer of marriage?
Viv had not warned her of such.
Eliza would have felt inadequate if she had simply not dismissed the entire subject of relationships such as these as a matter with which she would have very little interaction.
“Is that customary?” The question seemed like a reasonable one, but a smile tipped the corners of Ashbourne’s mouth.
She wondered now if she might have made a misstep in inviting him to call her by her given name, but it was tedious to hear him say her moniker over and over like that when it was highly unnecessary. Except he hadn’t reciprocated the gesture, and she was left feeling hollow and unsure. No matter. As long as she could keep her mouth shut and maintain a civil distance from him until they were wed, she could get this matter over quickly.
And then she would have her baby.
There was just this kissing matter to get out of the way.
“I should think when two people pledge their lives to one another a sign of mutual respect is not out of line.”
She tilted her head. “This is hardly a pledge, Your Grace. You arranged the matter with my brother. I’m simply lucky to be the daughter of a forward-thinking family that allowed me to have a say on the subject.”
“Dax.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon.”
“You may address me by my given name.”
Her eyes widened. “Your given name is Dax? I thought you had sneezed or something.”
His laugh was startling, and Henry tensed beside her. She wiggled just enough in Ashbourne’s grasp to scratch at the dog’s head.
“The full name is Daxton Phillip Wilmington Kane, but my mother shortened it to Dax when she tired of calling out the entire thing in reprimand.”
“You were a naughty boy?” It was supposed to have been a curious question, but something tightened Ashbourne’s features, and he licked his lips nervously. How odd.
“Something like that.”
His face was marvelous. She had been overcome by the beauty of it, but now that the novelty had passed, she could better observe his features. He had a rather square face, and for once, she understood what artists meant when someone had a chiseled face. Ashbourne looked like he may have erupted straight from granite for the hard lines of his forehead and jaw. There was the cleft in his chin she found particularly remarkable, and his eyes were so, so deep.