Addicted to the Duke (Imperfect Lords #1)(69)

“He might live,” she said softly, as if voicing the idea would make her wish come true.

“In his condition I think the odds are against him.”

She slowly withdrew her hand at the venom in David’s tone. “We cannot help who we fall in love with.”

He sighed. “Meeting you has taught me that lesson. I never dreamed I’d fall in love with a woman who could not love me back. Arrogance is humbling.” He sat staring into the night, obviously deep in thought. He pulled a flask from his inside jacket pocket. “I need this,” he said, and appeared to take a long swig. He handed it to her. “Shall we drink to our friendship then?”

She hesitated, but seeing the pain in his eyes, she took the flask and brought it to her lips. Before she could drink or react, David’s hand gripped her head and pulled it back, while his other hand forced the flask to her lips and poured the burning fluid down her throat. She tried to push the flask away, choking on the sweet liquid she knew was laudanum. Finally, once the flask was empty he let her go.

She leaned over the side of the bench and retched, trying to bring up as much of the sweet-tasting liquor as possible. “Why, David?” Already her head was feeling heavy and wooziness slipped across her senses.

“Life has also taught me that sometimes, when those you love are not thinking clearly, you have to protect them from themselves.” He pulled her toward him so she lay in his lap. “Don’t fight, sweetheart, sleep. When you wake up you’ll be safe. Safe from Fredrick Cary and Murad and also Alex, the damnable Duke of Bedford.”

The last thing she remembered was his hand gently stroking her face.





Chapter 19


Alex had finally returned from the church with good news. He began to strip off the layers of formal clothing that clung to his sweat-soaked skin and couldn’t wait to immerse himself in the bath Costa’s servant had filled for him.

The Reverend Roberts was overawed at meeting the Duke of Bedford, and saw no problem in performing the marriage ceremony the day after next. Alex wanted the wedding to take place tomorrow, but he sensed he’d lose the reverend’s support if he pushed. He did not wish the man of God to think there was anything scandalous about this marriage.

Alex had worked hard to convince him that Hestia wanted to get married in an area her father loved. He told the reverend Fredrick Cary’s version of events: that her father, the antiquities explorer, had died and that this was the place in Greece he loved most and Hestia felt closest to him here.

As Alex slipped into the cooling water, his shoulders and neck began to relax. His stomach was another story—it was tied up in knots. He was about to marry. He could not stop memories of Tulay—and the pledge they had made to each other. A pledge to help each other escape the horror of their lives and their captivity—filled his head.

He’d failed with a disastrous outcome.

If he still believed in God he’d pray that this wedding would have a better ending, at least for Hestia.

Hestia.

He smiled. Today she’d looked beautiful in her happiness at being on land again, and this being Costa’s house would not stop him from seeking Hestia out once he’d bathed. Only to talk of course. He needed to ensure she understood what she was getting into by marrying him.

Instead of David.

He wasn’t sure his friendship with David would survive his marriage to Hestia. David had fallen for her, and why wouldn’t he? She was beautiful, clever, compassionate, brave—all the things a man could love in a woman.

That is what ate at him. There was no doubt in his mind that David loved her. Yet Alex didn’t know if he could ever love anyone. After what had happened to him at the hands of Murad, how could he love anyone if he could not love himself?

He wondered if what he felt for Hestia was close to love. She certainly stirred something deep within him, but love? He did worry about her, but no more than he would about anyone close to him. He looked forward to seeing her, a lot more than he did most people. He loved making love to her—making love?

The soap slipped through his fingers and fell into the tub.

He’d never used that term with any other women. Mutual pleasure. Fantastic sex. Sensual gratification—but never making love. Yet what Hestia and he shared could not be called any of those things—or maybe they could be called all of those things and so much more. With Hestia it had been different.

Love. He loved Hestia.

The fact he loved her should have warmed him, because he thought he was incapable of love. Instead his blood ran cold. If Murad learned of this, she was not safe, regardless of whom she married or if she remained single. As long as she meant something to him, she would be a target.

He needed to talk to Hestia and explain the danger she was in if she stayed in Greece. He had to convince her that as soon as they married she should leave with Jacob on the Angelica. Jacob would sail to Corfu Town and pick up her father and then take them all home.

She would try to fight him on this, but if he had to, Jacob would drag her away.

He could not be responsible for Murad hurting another woman just because she had chosen Alex.

He felt around at his feet for the soap, cursing when it kept slipping away.

Just then Costa knocked and called through the door. “Are you alone?”

“Of course. Come in.”

Costa poked his head around the door, and seeing Alex alone in the tub, he frowned. “We may have a problem.”