The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(35)
Myn reached down and placed one hand between her breasts. “There is nothing in your heart. It is empty.”
His large palm warmed her through the nightrail. Anastasia had let men touch her, Myn was correct about that, but she always had to fight nausea when they did. She undertook what was necessary in her quest to keep the Austrians away from Nvengaria, and she hated the men who pawed at her, believing her a brainless courtesan.
Myn’s touch was different, neither possessive nor triumphant. His hand remained still, the callused palm between her breasts, warmth moving from her heart to the rest of her body.
Anastasia leaned slowly back on the pillows, trying to let him know that she no longer wanted him to pull away. “Why do you say Nvengaria is not in my heart? I love it. I loved it the moment Dimitri took me to it.”
“Because you are not there.”
She shook her head. “I am protecting it.”
“I protect Nvengaria. I and my people. You are of the outer lands.”
Anastasia sat up straight. “How dare you tell me what I love and what I do not? Get out of my rooms.”
Myn straightened up and made a brushing gesture behind him. Instantly, the candles in the room sprang to life, the flickering light illuminating his tall body and hard muscles under a thin linen shirt. Then he audaciously climbed upon the bed, sitting on the other end, facing her, stretching out his legs. He leaned on a bedpost and crossed his feet in scarred boots on the covers.
“Dimitri, he loved Nvengaria,” Myn said. “And you.”
Anastasia jammed her arms over her chest. “I do not wish to speak with you any longer.”
“I need you to speak with me. I do not understand your Austrian language, and you must tell me what something means.”
Anastasia regarded him in surprise, unnerved by his sudden change of subject. She understood he would not obey her wishes and that he was far too strong for her to fight. She’d finally confronted a man she could not control. “Something in German?”
“Two men, they were speaking. I did not understand what they said.”
Myn’s gaze took on a remote look, and he began to repeat, slowly and carefully, his pronunciation precise, a conversation in a Viennese dialect, to which Anastasia listened in amazement.
Chapter 10
Simone was pleased when Alexander sent his carriage for Meagan and her family the day of the garden fête but disappointed that he did not appear himself.
“A fiancé ought to escort his bride-to-be and future in-laws about town,” Simone said as they rolled away to Surrey in the quiet and comfortable chaise. “Sir Hilton Trask took me and my mother absolutely everywhere when we were engaged. Of course, after the wedding, I rarely saw the wretched man.”
Michael slid his arm around her shoulders. He always made a comforting gesture when Simone spoke of the hurts her first husband had given her. “The Grand Duke is busy, my love. He is a diplomat and must attend many meetings.”
“Yes, but I wish we could be seen more with him. I want the Duchess of Gower to be pea green with envy. It will ruin her complexion. Would that not be delightful?”
Michael only reiterated that a man in the Grand Duke’s position had little time for pleasure, but Meagan knew good and well why Alexander avoided being with them. The love spell wanted Meagan and Alexander in each other’s arms and cared nothing for how it got them there. If the short incident in Hyde Park were any indication, the spell would flog them with erotic visions until Alexander carried her off to act them out.
Meagan’s dreams had her constantly on edge, rendering her nights sleepless and her body aching. She wondered, once the bishop pronounced them man and wife at the altar, whether Alexander would simply throw her over his shoulder and run with her to his carriage, to consummate the marriage then and there.
When her imagination began to show her explicitly how this could be done, Meagan pinched her own leg, hard, through her skirts. She’d found pinching herself somewhat effective in stopping the visions. Her leg was already blue with bruises.
Meagan let out a breath of relief when the carriage rolled to a stop in the Talbot’s drive.
Lord Talbot, an earl of large means, had purchased a ruin of a house from an impoverished lord, the gardens of which had been designed in the last century by Capability Brown. Lord Talbot had spent a huge sum to restore the gardens and make them the best in England, outdoing even those at Chatsworth and Blenheim. Once a year, in the spring, the Talbots hosted a fête and allowed their friends to tramp through the garden for a fee. The proceeds went to Lady Talbot’s charities, of which she ran many. The Talbots were wealthy but also generous.
A soft arch of April sky extended to the horizon, the Talbots always lucky in their weather. Everyone who was anyone was here, Simone pointed out as they waited in the long line of carriages to descend.
“Is that not the Duke of York? Is that Princess Esterhazy?” Simone bounced from one side of the carriage to the other, peering out of the windows, while Meagan sat motionless, both longing and fearing to see Alexander. She wondered what the gossips would say when she and Alexander met—or say if Alexander decided to save his sanity and avoid her.
However, by the time the three of them descended the carriage, Meagan wondered if she’d even be able to find Alexander in the crush.
As usual, Dominic and another bodyguard pressed close to Meagan, giving dangerous glances to anyone who approached her. The Talbots always drew a crowd, but today the gardens seemed scarcely large enough to hold them all. Every lord, lady, heiress, and heir of the Upper Ten Thousand had descended upon the Talbots. Because they felt generous toward Lady Talbot’s charities? Or because they wanted to witness the fireworks between ladies over the upcoming marriage of Grand Duke Alexander? Meagan could scarcely guess.