Page 62 of Project Duke

For now, his heart beat with a promise. He would always protect her. No matter the cost.

23

One moment Calliope was enveloped in the heaven of Nathaniel’s embrace, the next, he shoved her back, at arm’s length, frantically looking over her body.

Down the street, towards the river, muffled roars and cheers came from a building standing like a looming silhouette, its windows throwing out fractured glints of candlelight. Across the way, a tattered sign for a tavern creaked in the wind, while a stray cat, its eyes gleaming in the dimness, nosed at discarded fish scraps.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

“No.” She clenched and unclenched her fist.

He noticed, of course he would, and grabbed her hand, looking it over. The knuckles looked red and swollen.

He kissed her hand, and even despite her recent fear and the rush of danger, a shiver of pleasant awareness washed through her.

“You are hurt,” he said in an accusatory voice.

“I’m fine. I punched the smaller one in the nose.”

He growled, and her heart broke at the expression of real fear in his eyes. “Calliope!”

“I had to protect myself.”

“What were you doing?” he demanded. “I told you to stay at home. This is dangerous.”

“And if you hadn’t forbidden me from investigating, you’d have come with me and this wouldn’t have happened. Instead, I had to sneak out alone.”

He gave out an annoyed groan, grabbed her by the elbow, and tugged her after him.

“You could have been badly hurt,” he said.

“Where are you tugging me?” she demanded. “Isn’t that Portside right there?” She pointed at the looming building from which shouts and cries were still coming. “Let us go and ask around.”

“You are going nowhere.” He didn’t even look at her. Heavens, he was strong—a mountain, not a man. “Good Lord, Calliope, what if I hadn’t found you?”

“I have my pistol. I just didn’t have a chance to use it.”

“But can you even shoot it?”

“No. But I did manage to break his nose.” She rubbed her bruised knuckles. “I told you, Spencer taught me boxing.”

They reached Hermes, forlorn and untethered. It was unlike Nathaniel to leave his sole horse unsecured on a street, vulnerable to theft. Guilt stirred within Calliope.

“Your boxing can only get you so far against two men,” he rumbled. “Up on Hermes you go.”

She turned to him. Sex workers looked with interest at them. She didn’t bother to lower her voice anymore. “You can’t keep me locked in a house forever, Nathaniel. That is not who I am.”

He glared at her, his lips thin, his nostrils flaring. He could be the god of war, with that fury thundering behind his eyes.

“I will if I have to. You are a danger to yourself. You are leaving me no choice.”

“Leaving you no choice?” She shook her head. “Nathaniel, who do you think you married? A wallflower?”

“Yes,” he said. “That was who I had thought you were when we met. A wallflower.”

But there was no conviction in his voice.

She snickered. “I just pretended to be one when I went out into society so that everyone would leave me alone. I couldn’t care less for appearing to be a rule-obeying duchess.”