Chapter 29
Dawn.
Juliet was snuggled cozily against her husband's chest, her head pillowed in the cup of his shoulder, his arm cradling her body close to his, when something penetrated her slumber and nudged her awake. Blearily, she opened her eyes. In the early-morning stillness she could hear a commotion off in the direction of the manor house.
She didn't need to be a fortune teller to know what it was all about.
Lucien had arrived.
She lifted her head. Gareth, on his back, was sound asleep and snoring lightly, his eyelids dancing slightly in a dream. He felt warm and sleepy and delicious, and Juliet hated to wake him.
But the commotion was coming closer. She could hear a servant's voice raised in protest, Snelling's wheedling attempts to placate —
And the duke.
"Get in my way, Snelling, and I promise you my horse will take great pleasure in walking over you. Now, stand aside."
"Really, Your Grace, don't you think it's just a little bit early to go disturbing the lad, especially after he fought so well last night?"
"Your sniveling protests are beginning to irritate me beyond the restraints of my patience. I shall see my brother, and I shall see him now."
"But Y-Your Grace, he's working for me ..."
"Not any more, he's not!"
They were just outside the dower house now. On the steps. In the next second, the Duke of Blackheath would be pounding the door down.
"Gareth!" Juliet shook his shoulder, the powerful muscles wonderfully sculpted by the soft, buttery light of morning. "Gareth, wake up — Lucien's here."
"Hmmm?" He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling for a moment. Then the pounding downstairs started, and he flung a hand across his brow, wincing with each loud bang. "Oh bloody hell, my aching head ..."
"Gareth, you've got to see him. He'll break the door down if you don't."
But the duke was not so barbaric as all that. As Gareth crawled wearily from the bed, scowling and rubbing his bloodshot eyes, they both heard Lucien's terse orders.
"Bring me the key, Snelling."
"'Sdeath," Gareth swore and pulled on his breeches. He went to the window and flung it wide. "For God's sake, Lucien, do you know what time it is?" he shouted.
"Get down here now, Gareth!"
"Sod off — I'm going back to sleep."
And with that, Gareth yanked the window shut and sank down on the bed, elbows on his knees as he rubbed his aching temples.
Juliet sat beside him, curved an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him unresistingly close. She kissed his ear, the side of his head, the silky, sleep-mussed hair that hung over his brow. "Go; get it over with," she said quietly, sliding a hand across his chest and reveling in its breadth and strength as she rubbed it lightly. "You'll feel better afterward."
"Mmmmm. ..." He was kissing her back, now, his lips making trails of fire all down the side of her neck. "You think so, do you?"
"I do." She smiled and laid her cheek against his. "Besides, you know he's not going to go away. He's not going to leave you alone until he's satisfied that you're all right. So go down there, confront him, prove to him he has no reason to fear for you. He's your brother, Gareth. He's here because he loves you — not because he wants to make your life miserable."
"He's here because he's a right controlling bastard, Juliet. Nothing more."
"No, Gareth. He's here because he's your brother and he loves you."
He sat there beside her for a long moment, a hundred emotions playing over his face. Then, with a heavy sigh, he slid his palms up over his cheeks, blinked, and got to his feet. His shirt was draped across the back of a chair. When he picked it up and began to put it on, the big purple bruise visible beneath his right arm caused Juliet to wince as though it were her own. But he paid it no heed. He merely tucked the shirt into his breeches, raked a hand through his hair, and leaned down to kiss her. "Keep my side warm, all right?"
"Of course," she said softly.
And then, still in his bare feet, he opened the bedroom door and walked out.