Addicted to the Duke (Imperfect Lords #1)(56)

“We simply threaten to sink her. If I know anything of Fredrick Cary, he’s a coward at heart and he’d prefer to live to fight another day.”

“Sometimes you are bloody brilliant.”

Jacob gave a wry smile. “I didn’t think you kept me around for my scintillating conversation.”

Both men smiled with renewed vigor from arriving at a course of action and they both began eating with gusto.

At the end of the meal Jacob said, “You best go and alert Foxhall and her ladyship to our plan. The sooner we capture the sloop, the sooner we can focus on a more evil adversary.”

Alex looked down at his plate. “You can tell them.”

“You have to face her sometime. You have to face both of them. It was you who put the notion of a marriage to Lady Hestia in Foxhall’s head, and it looks as though he’s come to have feelings for the lass.”

Alex’s head whipped round. “Are you implying I should let him marry her as planned?”

Jacob shrugged. “Why do you care? Destroying Murad is all you care about, all you’ve thought about for four long years. You’ve not thought past the day you’ll face your nemesis.”

An image of Hestia large and round with child immediately flashed in his brain—his child. What would it be like to have a family, have her with him always?

He wasn’t a saint where women were concerned, but he’d never fathered a child, and his relationship with Tulay lasted almost two years before she was killed and she had had no issue. He wondered if he could. He’d never cared about children before, consumed with revenge instead. It bothered him that just as he was bent on seeking his revenge, thoughts of a life with Hestia had begun to intrude.

Damn her father. Over the years he had kept away from her on purpose, wanting nothing to confuse his need to slake his thirst for revenge.

The light in his heart was because he’d been Hestia’s first. His body screamed that she belonged to him. His heart slapped in his chest because he knew he did not deserve her. Even now he could not put her first.

“I’m not going to make any decision on who Hestia marries until we reach Pentati. Foxhall doesn’t need to know anything until I decide what to do.”

Jacob shook his head. “That decision speaks volumes. The old Alex would know honor dictates you do the right thing. Don’t let Murad warp you into a man I don’t recognize.” Jacob stood and walked to place a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Think carefully on what you really want. Revenge makes a cold bedfellow. Even colder if Murad kills you.” Jacob stood looking at him with pity in his eyes, and Alex almost choked on it. “Murad has taken so much from you already. I understand the burning pain and the desire to seek revenge, but wouldn’t the best revenge be to spit on Murad from afar and show him how he has not won? That you have not spent the last four years bitter and tormented but have in fact built a new life full of love and family?”

“I can’t…” Alex’s fists clenched. “I can’t forget…”

Jacob sighed, and his hand left Alex’s shoulder; the coldness crept back into Alex’s skin. “Aye, after what you’ve been through I daresay I’d feel the same.”

There was nothing more to say. Jacob left to go up on deck and Alex knew he had to face Hestia. He couldn’t wait any longer.

He made his way to her cabin and hesitated outside the door. Her supper tray lay on the floor, virtually untouched. Perhaps she was ill. He knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Again, he got no answer.

As quietly as he could, Alex opened the door and looked inside. There was a lantern lighting a strip on the cabin floor. He could just make out Hestia’s tiny frame curled like a child under the sheet.

He stood watching her for a moment, trying to decide if she was feigning sleep. She was breathing evenly. He tiptoed across the cabin until he reached her bunk. The light grazed her face and he could tell that she was indeed asleep.

Her hand was tucked under her cheek, her mouth was slightly open, and she was emitting soft little snuffles. She looked so much younger than twenty. Almost as young as the first time he’d seen her, when she’d stood naked and defiant before Murad.

He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and let his finger glide over her silky, soft cheek. His heart ached in his chest and he silently cursed his nemesis, wondering what his life could have been like if he had not been captured.

Could he have found happiness with a woman like Hestia?

Would his duties as a duke have sustained him?

He thought back over the last four years and all he’d accomplished for his family, tenants, and country. He took pride in the fact that he had worked extremely hard to ensure his estates were profitable. As for the House of Lords, he didn’t attend regularly, but when he did his peers took notice. When he was in attendance, it meant he had something to say and they sat and listened.

Yet deep in his soul all his accomplishments were not enough. They did not chase his nightmares away, nor did they give him peace. He was sure the only way to put the past behind him was to kill Murad with his own two hands. Only then would he find peace.

Not even the beautiful woman lying on this bunk, like an angel, could sway him from his course of action. What he had left of his heart could quite easily belong to her—if he let it. The devil on his shoulder whispered in his ear, If you could capture Fredrick there would be no need for her to marry Foxhall. The selfish man that he was, he realized that he had a chance with Hestia if he forswore Foxhall.