Claiming the Courtesan

Just as he’d locked her up at the hunting box.

His sigh was heavy. He couldn’t imprison her. He’d already used physical force to keep her with him. He couldn’t do it again.

Honor had never been a particularly hardy plant in the fetid garden of his soul, but somewhere in the last weeks, it had set roots he couldn’t eradicate. After what he’d done to Verity, after what she’d endured before becoming his mistress, he had no right to deny her what she wanted.

But it hurt. It hurt like hell.

Before noon on the second day, they reached Kylemore’s ancestral home. Grimly, he watched the fairy-tale jumble of towers and turrets come into view along the coast.

This was where he’d planned to establish a life with Verity as his unconventional duchess. But all his hopes had since disintegrated to dust.

The wind had blown fair and they’d made good time down to Inverathie, the village that clustered around the castle. Even so, he’d wished the boat could have grown wings and flown. Anything to save him from Verity’s silent, unhappy presence.

Then he’d realized that with every mile they traveled, they were a mile closer to parting. And he’d wished the voyage would never end.

Hamish stepped up to where Kylemore stood at the rail. Behind them, Angus and Andy took the ship into port with the skill of long practice.

“Am I still tae return tae the glen tomorrow, Your Grace?” Hamish asked.

Even his old mentor had gone back to addressing him formally. He’d only been allowed to feel part of humanity for a fleeting moment.

“Yes,” he said. “Take Angus with you. Andy comes with me when I escort madame back to Whitby.”

“Whitby?” Hamish frowned in confusion. “The lassie doesnae stay on at Inverathie?”

“Hasn’t she told you?” There was a bite to the question. “You’ve been clucking around her like a mother hen long enough on this voyage to exchange a parcel of confidences.”

He sounded jealous, he knew. But Verity had so carefully avoided him—a difficult feat on this small boat—while she’d readily accepted Hamish’s company.

Hamish eyed him with a disapproval familiar since they’d left the glen. “The lassie hasnae told me anything. Even when I’ve caught her crying.”

Kylemore’s gut twisted with anguish. He couldn’t take much more of this. Yet he must. He still had the long journey overland to Whitby ahead of him. He owed it to her to return her safely to her brother.

“I’m sure the lady’s tears are her own concern,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Hers and yours, Your Grace.”

“You presume too much,” he said coldly.

Hamish’s weathered features expressed a disappointment equal to his disapproval. “Aye, weel, I presume you’re a young fool who doesnae appreciate the bonny treasure he’s about tae lose. And, aye, Your Grace, there’s no need tae put me in my place. I’ll go away now before I presume you right intae the seas for a good dunking.”

Kylemore didn’t bother rebuking the older man for his insolence. Of course he knew the value of what he lost. The painful knowledge threatened to shatter him. But for all his cleverness, he couldn’t work out how to lure Verity back.

As Kylemore escorted Verity down the gangway to the small wharf, he noted a disturbance among the crowd milling around the dock. He paid little heed and concentrated instead on the woman who lightly held his arm.

This was the first time she’d touched him since she’d ended their affair. He resisted the urge to grab those fragile fingers and bundle her away to some place where she’d never escape him. To have her so close yet so unreachable was a punishment harsher than anything he could have devised even at the peak of his vengeful rage.

The hubbub below grew more insistent. The duke’s presence at his family seat was a rare enough occurrence to warrant curiosity from the locals, he supposed. He looked past the curtseying and bowing villagers in his immediate vicinity to see what caused the commotion.

“Are we to set out for Whitby immediately, Your Grace?” Verity asked in a husky voice.

They were the first words she’d addressed to him all day. She sounded as if she’d been crying. Hamish said she had been. The knot of pain in Kylemore’s belly tightened to agony.

Immediately he forgot the noise on the dock and focused on her. She looked pale and tired and sad, but determined.

He wondered what went on in her head. For a cruelly short interval, they’d been so close that he’d have known immediately.

“Wouldn’t you rather rest here today?”