The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(59)

Von Hohenzahl’s eyes gleamed in a way Alexander did not like. “Pledge yourself to me, Your Grace. It will be easier for you if you come to me willingly now. Later, it will not be so easy.”

Alexander speared him with a look. “If you threaten me, I ensure you will regret it.”

“I make no threats, Your Grace. I only state the truth. The danger will be lessened if you follow me, not only to yourself, but to your pretty new wife. And your son, he is barely six years old, I believe. So very young to be in danger.”

The need for blood rose inside Alexander again. Every Nvengarian had the blood-lust, a trait never stamped out in the eight hundred years since his people had left their mountain tribes to build communities in the river valley. Alexander had felt his native stirrings before, but this was different. He wanted to give in to the logosh inside him, a beast that would take control and rip von Hohenzahl apart before he could so much as scream.

Alexander saw in his mind exactly how he could do it, and knew he’d have the strength.

But Alexander the Grand Duke had been in charge of this body longer than the logosh had. He fought to cool himself, knowing that the game of politics he played was much more important than his need to hurt von Hohenzahl. Von Hohenzahl was an amateur in the grand game, that much was certain. Alexander would take care of him.

He gathered his control about himself once more, the meditation techniques Myn had taught him helping. “Twice since my arrival, you have tried to provoke me to rage,” he said to von Hohenzahl, his voice smooth and calm. “I must wonder why.”

“That you will discover, in time,” von Hohenzahl answered. “You will remember this conversation and regret that you did not take my offer.”

“I spit on your offer,” Alexander said and strode out of the room.

Outside, he summoned his bodyguard, a man called Julius, to ride with him inside the carriage. “Watch von Hohenzahl,” Alexander instructed when they were seated across from each other. “I want a report on where he goes, whom he speaks to, what he does. And if I tell you to question him, employ whatever method you think would be useful. Hurt no others, but if you need to torture him a bit, I will not mind.”

Julius, a huge man with glittering blue eyes and a friendly grin, nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Alexander’s heart pounded sickeningly as he reviewed the visit with von Hohenzahl and what he’d implied. He thought of Meagan’s pointed face, the pleasing way she’d snuggled against him in bed last night. Alexander pictured some Austrian thug with his hands around her slender throat, and rage twisted through him.

“Tell Dominic to put as many men to guard the Grand Duchess and my son as it takes,” he said. “No one is to approach them without my clearance. No one. Do you understand?”

Julius looked concerned, but asked no questions, as usual. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Alexander made himself sit back and look out the window at the passing sights of Mayfair. He wished he had the power to scry in stones like the mages did in Nvengaria, so he could watch Meagan no matter where she was. He needed to stay away from her and the bloody distracting love spell, not to mention his worry that he’d hurt her if he shifted to logosh in her presence.

But at the same time he disliked not knowing exactly where she was and what she was doing at that precise moment. He wished with all his heart he could see her, be with her, no matter what she was about.



* * *



“Fishing?” Young Alex’s tutor stared at Alex’s schedule as though the word had somehow crept onto it. “The Grand Duke said nothing about fishing, Your Grace.”

The tutor, a youngish man with thin limbs and a sallow complexion, was Nvengarian but spoke English expertly and looked as though he’d never lifted his nose from a book in his life. He’d gaped in astonishment to see the new Grand Duchess sashay into the schoolroom on the third floor that afternoon and begin asking about Alex’s curriculum.

“I find that His Grace’s ideas on education are a bit lacking,” Meagan said. She gave Alex a sly wink, and the boy looked back at her, wide-eyed.

The tutor gasped. “His Grace? Lacking?”

Meagan studied the schedule she held in her hand. “Latin on such a perfect fishing day should be outlawed. You have cancelled his ride in the park, and Alex needs some sort of fresh air. Fishing is perfect.”

“But it is raining,” the tutor pointed out, looking triumphant. Meagan could hardly dispute the rain.

“It has lightened, and the fish will be biting. At home in Oxfordshire, my father and I would have had our poles out and dangling over the river long before this. Alex’s father is busy, so I will take the lad.”

“Take him?” the tutor asked. “You?”

Alex followed their argument closely, his head going back and forth as each spoke.

“Yes, of course,” Meagan retorted. “I am his step-mama. I can certainly take my own stepson to Hyde Park for a bit of fishing.”

“Hyde Park? His Grace will never allow it. Not as far as Hyde Park.”

“It is not all that far, and we will go in the carriage,” Meagan said. “Alex was to have riding lessons in Hyde Park in any case.”

The tutor played his trump card. “His Grace will be very angry.”

Alex winced, hope dying on his face.