My Heart's Desire (Barrett 1)

Drake walked over until he met Sebastian’s drunken gaze.

“Tomorrow,” he said in a lethal whisper. “At dawn. With pistols. T

o the death, brother:”

Sebastian’s watery eyes widened. “Are you calling me out, your grace?” He laughed. “I accept. It will be my pleasure to see you dead at my feet, Drake. Then it will all be mine.” He walked around Drake and staggered toward the door. When he reached it, he turned, a hateful gleam in his eyes. “Alexandria’s luscious body can be no more than a few months along. After I kill you, I can easily encourage her to wed me and then claim the child as mine. I will greatly enjoy possessing everything that was yours, not only your worldly goods but your exquisite wife and your unborn heir as well.”

Drake lunged at him with a wild growl, but Sebastian had anticipated the move and was gone long before his brother could reach him. Drake tore after him, murder in his heart. But, halfway down the hall, he got hold of himself. No, he thought, as the front door closed behind Sebastian’s retreating figure. Not this way. Killing Sebastian now would be too easy, too painless for the miserable bastard who had killed their father and coveted Drake’s wife and his world. Justice would be done, but in a most apt way.

Taking deep, calming breaths, Drake walked slowly up the steps and down the hall. They were all safe tonight. Sebastian would not return before dawn.

Richards saw Drake approaching and hurried to meet him.

“Yer grace? Are ye all right?”

Drake forced himself to focus on the concerned face of the footman. He nodded.

“Fine, Richards.” He glanced at Alex’s closed door. “Her grace?”

“The duchess ‘as not been disturbed, yer grace.”

“Thank you, Richards. I have one other favor to ask of you and then you may retire for the night.”

“Anythin’, yer grace,” the proud servant replied.

“Awaken Smitty and inform him that I need to speak with him at once.”

Richards blinked. “Now, yer grace?”

Drake nodded curtly, well aware of the lateness of the hour. “Yes, Richards. Now.”

“Very good, yer grace.” The firmness of the duke’s tone told Richards all he needed to know. In the blink of an eye he was gone.

Alex stirred as Drake slid back into bed beside her.

“Drake?” Her voice was sleepy, questioning.

“I’m here, love.” He drew her against him, deriving an inordinate amount of comfort from the feel of her small, soft body against him. After the events of the last hour, she was his haven.

Alex sensed Drake’s mood and rose up to look at him. “Where were you?”

He looked into her silvery eyes and knew he would never lie to her again.

“I had to see Sebastian.”

Alex’s face whitened. “And did you?”

“Yes.”

His terse answer forewarned her of what was to come.

“Drake … what did he say?”

“He killed my father.” Drake’s expression never changed.

Alex stared. “Oh, my God,” she breathed, at last. “He killed … How?”

“Poison.”