Rescued by a Duke (3 page)

Sasha lifted the covers and gasped. She'd been changed from her dress and put in a nightgown. And her left ankle was covered in a white bandage. What
was
this place?

Startled, she rushed to sit up, but the maid stepped closer.

"Now, miss, you just lie still. His grace wishes you to stay off of your foot until you are healed."

Sasha's throat went dry. Her head spun. His grace? She couldn't have been referring to… a duke? And why was she in his house? In his
bed?
She needed to get out.
Now.

Large hands settled the tray on a side table. Toasted bread, a bit of butter. Steam floated up from a dainty cup. Tea? When was the last time Sasha had eaten anything other than meager scraps? Her stomach growled in response to the delicious aromas.

The maid chuckled. "Let's get you sitting up, shall we?" Strong hands, one behind her right shoulder, the other behind her neck, pulled her up. Slowly. "Are you dizzy?"

Sasha shook her head.

"Good." One hand supported her back, the other moving behind her. Something soft and large… and
wonderful,
pressed against her back and head. She glanced over her shoulder. Huge fluffy pillows were behind her. And took up the whole half of the bed!

Careful hands centered the tray on Sasha's lap. "Do you need help with the food?"

"No… thank you." Sasha eyed the toast and tea. She was famished. Maybe she could at least stay until after breakfast. What could it hurt? Then she'd find her way out of there. Grabbing the thin bread, she took a big bite.
Crunch. Crunch
. Taste buds sprung to life, thanking her. She closed her eyes. And sighed. Butter settled on her tongue. Warm. Wonderful.

Something brushed her hip. Startled, she opened her eyes. The maid smoothed the blankets, tucking them around her legs. "We can't have you catching a chill, miss." She stepped away from the bed. But not too far. Was she concerned Sasha would tumble onto the floor?

"Thank you."

"Certainly, miss."

Steam rose from the tea, beckoning. Setting down the bread, Sasha reached for the cup. Moist heat warmed her fingers. Tendrils of steam floated up, caressing her chin, nose, forehead. The first sip of liquid rolled around her mouth, floated across her tongue.
Heaven in a cup
. Warmth traveled down her throat, into her chest, as if embracing her in a comforting hug.

More bites of toast. More sips of tea. She glanced down. Already, the food and drink were gone. Just the act of eating and drinking had tired her. Hadn't she been fit and fine the day before? Now, she had the strength of no more than a newborn kitten, weak, helpless, depending on others for her every need.

The maid stepped forward. "Finished, miss?"

"Yes. Thank you."

The maid nodded and took the tray from Sasha's lap, placing it on the table. Then, holding Sasha steady with one arm, she reached around, plucking some of the pillows out from behind her. Gently, as if holding the delicate tea cup, the maid lowered Sasha to the remaining pillows. Sasha breathed deeply, snuggling into the bed as the covers were pulled up over her shoulders.

Her stomach full, her body warm, suddenly she was so drowsy. She closed her eyes.

Click
. The maid must have left. Sasha's eyes were too heavy to open them and check.

Knock. Knock.
A deep voice. "Miss, I'd like to speak with you." The door creaked. Sasha opened her eyes, drowsiness gone. She yanked the covers higher, up under her chin.

A man in well-fitting topcoat, white shirt, black pants, and shiny Hoby boots entered the room, preceded by the same maid as before. Surely this man was wealthy, dressed as he was, and to live in such a place! Such a far cry from her existence. Poor and often hungry. Being here, wherever
here
was, seemed as remote as foreign soil.

The man took another step toward her and stopped. What did he have in mind to do with her? Her fingers trembled as they clutched the covers tighter. She was trapped in this bed with an injured ankle. There was no way she could escape if she needed to. What could she do?
Samuel, why did you leave me?

The man tilted his head. He squinted his green eyes as he peered down at her. "Maryann tells me you've had a meal and are settled. I'm so pleased you have some color to your face. After we came out of the well, you were quite pale."

Sasha frowned.
We?
The well?
The man must have been mistaken. She couldn't have… A memory flashed across her mind. Grass, long grass, waving in a gentle breeze. A falcon overhead, screaming. Looking up at the bird, squinting into the sun. Gasping, suddenly no ground beneath her. Her boot caught beneath something. Falling… screaming… darkness… cold.
Pain.

She'd been sure it would have become her grave. And this man…
rescued
her? She bit her lower lip, trying to stop herself from trembling. Was she now in trouble with him? Would he be angry she'd been hurt while on his land? What if he discovered Samuel's debts that she'd tried to escape?

He took a step closer and lowered his voice, as if he spoke to a frightened animal. "May I ask your name, miss?"

She gazed into eyes so green it was as if the sea rested there. A memory of being held in his muscular arms in the well brought heat to her face. But allowing her mind to go such places was not to be. "M-my name is Sasha Douglas."

He gave a shallow bow. "And I am Garrett Rothchild Cantlebury, the Duke of Ravensworth."

Sasha inhaled sharply. Hearing him state his name made his title more real to her, somehow. She swallowed against the lump lodged in her throat. Averting her gaze, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves. She'd been pressed so close to him with the rope tying them together, it was as if they'd been intimate. "Forgive me, your grace, I did not realize—"

"Please, Miss Douglas, it is of no concern. You had no knowledge of who I was, as I did not of you. The circumstances were unique, to say the least. Quite the emergency." He pulled up a wooden straight-back chair and sat down beside the foot of the bed. "May I ask how you came to find yourself in such a dreadful predicament?"

Sasha's eyes widened. Was he angry that she caused him trouble? Would he contact the authorities if he found out about the debts owed? With her brother gone, there would be no one to save her if she were imprisoned. She had no money to repay the duke. Perhaps she could do some work for him in exchange for him rescuing and taking care of her. It was all she had to offer. Or at least, all she was willing to give. The previous year, the husband of the household where she'd briefly worked had wanted more than housework from her…

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "You are not in trouble. I only wish to know your circumstances and how you happened by the dreadful hole I pulled you from."

Her circumstances? A deep longing for her older brother burdened her heart and held the anger at arm's length. Anger about Samuel. His lies. His broken promises… Even with all of her hurt feelings toward him, her world had ended when he'd been killed. He was far too young. Though her situation was dire indeed, she didn't want to appear weak in front of the duke. She was on her own and needed to take care of herself.
I must not let him
see my fear of being here. Helpless. At his mercy
. She tilted her chin towards the duke. "I recently lost my brother, your grace. So I have no family to repay your kindness."

"There is no need for repayment. It is I who am responsible that you had the mishap of injuring your leg on my property."

Sasha shook her head. "You have been most kind to me, your grace, putting yourself at risk to save me when I was in the wrong. If it would be possible…"

He leaned closer. "Yes?"

"Is there room for me here—"

"Of course." He tilted his head.

"—to work as a maid perhaps?"

He frowned and sat back. "You owe me nothing, Miss Douglas. Believe me, my heart aches at the thought of what you have been through. Your injury will take time to heal. Until then, I insist you stay here, in my home, where you can be properly looked after."

"But—"

"
No
." He stood and pushed the chair back to its original place. His eyes flashed anger, the pupils enlarging. Had it been her offer to work for him that had caused this response? Perhaps the gentry handled such matters differently than the working class. Why hadn't she asked the kind maid?
No.
Instead she'd blurted out the question.
To him!
If only she could take back the words. Her eyes widened as he left the room, as stormy as a black cloud, the maid following in his wake. Sasha scooted down in the bed and drew the covers over her head as tears threatened to fall. Would he now demand she leave, even though she couldn't walk on her own? If that happened, what would she do?

****

Garrett's boots thudded against the floor as he paced around his study. With each turn of the room he became more irritated and confused. His mind raced. The beautiful woman in the green room, offering to work as a maid? It set his stomach to roiling. Had she worked in such a capacity before? Her clothing and thinness supported the probability that she had nothing to her name. But to work as his maid as his sister had been forced to do by that…?
No.
Not in a thousand lifetimes would he allow that of Miss Douglas.

Of course, there was no way she could know of his own family's circumstance. Of the trouble and heartache he'd suffered. If Garrett ever found the scoundrel who had lured his sister away from home then forced her into servitude, he'd have the man's hide on the wall. Garrett would probably never know why Agatha ran off, or the circumstances in which she met the man in question, but the day the constable came to Garrett's front door to tell him of his sister's demise…

He ground his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides, wanting to pummel the rogue who'd caused Agatha's death. His poor sister… just the thought of…
no
. It would do no good to allow memories of his dear Agatha to surface right now. If they did, the anger and sadness would be overwhelming. There wasn't time for that at present. There was nothing he could do to save his sister. But Miss Douglas… Could he do something to help her? Would that ease the guilt that plagued his heart from Agatha's death?

If Miss Douglas wished to leave his home once she was able, Garrett wouldn't stop her. But there was no way under Heaven he would have her working as a maid in his employ. No harm would come to her in his home, of course, but if he were to see her performing the daily duties of such a servant, he was sure to picture Agatha on every occasion. They were similar in build and hair color. It would break his heart. Was their physical resemblance the reason why Garrett was drawn to Miss Douglas? Or was it more?

He let out a bitter laugh and rubbed his eyes. Perhaps they resembled one another in face and form, but his immediate reaction to the attractive woman had been anything but brotherly affection. On cue lust shot straight through him as he recalled her large brown eyes and haunting stare.

He stopped his pacing and leaned against the desk. Glancing down, something caught his eye. A letter? The paper crinkled in his hands. It was from his younger brother. Quickly reading the lines, he should his head. It seemed Lucien planned a visit within the next few weeks. Garrett would welcome him of course, since they were family, but he always possessed hesitancy when his brother was close by. The man had a tendency to get into trouble, almost as if he wished it to be so, thereby inviting it into his realm.

It was no wonder Lucien had never married. That might foul his carefree existence. The freedom in which he took such delight. But then, Garrett had no wife, either. Not that he wouldn't like to, he just hadn't found anyone who set his heart to burning for more than acquaintanceship.

Would Miss Douglas still be in his home when Lucien arrived?
Miss
Douglas
. So lovely, yet so lost… and frightened, her eyes large and brown like a deer's. Garrett had longed to touch her hair, long, dark, curly at the ends. He frowned. It would not do, no, not at all, for Lucien to make her acquaintance. Who knew what his brother might try with a woman who, by all appearances, was an innocent.

Perhaps he could find somewhere safe for her to stay, even though he didn't want her to leave. His tenant, Mr. Templeton, would be discreet, and his wife was capable at nursing. It would be an acceptable place for Miss Douglas to stay. Because if Lucien saw her, he'd try to take advantage of her innocence the way he did every other beautiful young woman he met. Lucien was handsome and clever. Women were drawn to him. Too bad he was such a rogue. Sadly, his only remaining family member was not to be trusted with Miss Douglas.

Garrett peered up at the ceiling toward the upstairs, where she lay confined to the bed. Was she asleep? Glancing around the room at her strange surroundings? He longed to leave his study, climb the steps, go to the green room… he clenched his hands into fists. Even in the well, her small frame clinging to him, her breath whispering across his neck, ignited a passion in his chest, his belly, and lower… Her face had been mere inches from his, her full lips close, so close… if only he could have tasted them.