Page 86 of Duke of Rath

“Shall we wash out all that grime from your ducal fingernails, Your Grace?”

He grinned. He did feel warm; the sun was hot today. He had allowed her into the garden, the glasshouse…why not let her into the pond where he usually swam to numb himself?

Because there was not much he wanted to be numb from anymore.

“Excellent suggestion, Your Grace,” he chuckled, then scooped her into his arms.

Behind him, Titan barked. As Dorian ran towards the pond with Patience in his arms, Titan bounded alongside them, his long legs easily keeping pace. When they reached the water’s edge, Titan didn’t hesitate to plunge in after them, sending up a great splash that drenched them all. He paddled around the couple, his head held high above the water, his tail acting as a rudder. Every so often, he would swim close to Patience, gently nudging her with his nose as if to make sure she was safe and happy. Patience reached out to stroke his wet fur, marveling at the dog’s unwavering loyalty and love for his humans.

Dorian and Patience kissed, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him while he swam around with her as his passenger.

As the water glistened with reflections of the sun and he felt weightless, he was never as sure as he was then that he loved her.

And that one day he’d ruin everything.

Which scared him to death.

29

The next evening, Patience knocked softly on the door of Dorian’s study, the light of the candle in her hands trembling from her breath. It was late and Rath Hall was quiet, with all the servants having retired for the day.

“Come in,” came his voice from behind the polished mahogany, and she entered, her heart beating in her throat.

His study was dark, save for candelabras standing on the fireplace and on his desk, illuminating his serious face. Her stomach fluttered as she saw him studying a document, his gloved hand on his chin, deep in thought.

“Are you coming to bed?” she asked, and his face jerked up, surprised.

And terrified…?

“Patience…” he murmured as he snatched up the paper he had been studying and pushed it under the stack of books. “I thought it was Mrs. Knight.”

She frowned. Did he just hide something from her?

She approached him. The scent of his study was an extension of him—bergamot, pepper, and something musky, like leather. The scent that made her think of pure bliss, skin gliding against skin, lips brushing.

“No, it’s just me. All of the servants have retired.”

“Oh.” He licked his lips.

She cocked her head. “I came to fetch you to bed. You must rest before your long stay in London. All those business things you must do…”

He looked so lonely, sitting in the dark room with just a few candles illuminating his kingdom—the books, the stacks of paper, the quills and ink jars, the portraits of the previous dukes staring down at him with judgmental eyes.

“Are you certain you don’t want to come with me?” he asked. “Will you be able to sleep by yourself?”

She sighed and nodded. “I will try. I don’t want to leave the garden while there are still a few last weeks of spring to prune and to plant seeds.”

He nodded. “And I have business that I have been putting off for far too long.”

“Are you worried about something?” she asked. “Something in London?”

His gaze darkened as he rubbed his hand under the leather glove.

She put her candle on the sideboard next to the other candelabra, walked over to the desk, and leaned against its side. “Come to bed with me?” she asked. “You’re leaving for London tomorrow, and I’ll miss you.”

He stretched his hand out to her, his gaze softening. She laid her left hand in his, allowing skin-to-skin contact, and tingles danced through her blood.

“It’s me,” he purred as he pulled her to him. “It’s me who’ll miss you, sweet girl.”