“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Ana thought of Lady Claridge’s kindly blue eyes and nearly burst into tears, stopping herself by remembering that she couldn’t show any weakness. This man sitting across from her held her future in his battle-scarred hands. If she were to maintain even a modicum of control over her life, she must appear to be strong and capable.
“And so you returned to London?”
“I had no choice. Lady Claridge’s nephew, Lord Thomas Claridge, inherited her estate and he...”
She tried desperately not to think about it, but the memory crouched in her mind like a vulture, waiting to pick her apart.
Lord Claridge, weaving unsteadily on his feet after drinking half a bottle of brandy, chasing her down the hallway into her bedchamber, grabbing her by the hair, thrusting his hand down her bodice.
You’re a sly wee thing. Looks like I could break you in half. You’re going to scream nicely, aren’t you?
“What did he do to you?” Warburton’s voice was like tempered steel, his gaze boring into her.
You’re mine, Analise. I own you.
“He attempted to... He didn’t succeed. I-I struck him in a delicate area.”
Dex grimaced. “I recognize that maneuver. You do have a gift for close combat.”
Despite herself, she smiled. The brief flash of unexpected good humor fortified her. “I was able to lock him out of my chamber. Waited until he drank himself into a stupor. Left in the middle of the night under cover of darkness and fled to London.”
The stillness as she crept down the hall, his lordship’s snores echoing from his chamber. Her heart beating loudly in her ears. The terror. Fear roughly scouring away her good humor, her hope.
She stirred restlessly, waiting for the duke to say something, anything. Waiting for confirmation that she’d been in the right, that taking matters into her own hands to remove herself from the nightmare wasn’t too far outside the bounds of proper societal norms for him.
His silence deafened her.
“You’ve gone even more quiet and thundersome.”
“I’m making a list.”
“All of the ways I’m no longer an innocent young lady, fit for polite society?”
“A list of everyone who has wronged you.” He slammed his fist against the padded carriage wall. “You shall be avenged.”
His voice, his air of total authority. The way his dark brows knit together over cold silver eyes. He was the Dragon from her book, a creature of great power and purpose. The lines etched into his cheek, like claw marks.
She wrote about epic clashes and deadly curses. The duke had lived it. He had killed to survive. He bore the scars of battle. He had a wounded heart.
“You’re safe now, Miss Crewe. Do you hear me?” He leaned forward and his knees grazed hers. He held her gaze in a cold iron grip. “Nothing bad will ever happen to you again. Not on my watch.”
Chapter Five
From the far-off upper shadows of the cave, between two massive crystalline stalactites that dropped like inverted cathedral spires before her, the great golden eyes blinked quickly in succession, then narrowed in what might have passed for amusement.
“I’m afraid that you have been rather misinformed,” came the sonorous rumble. “I care little for humans and less for their silly mishaps. But you intrigue me. I think I’m inclined to keep you as my pet...”
—The Dragon and the Blue Starby Analise Crewe
“Your Grace!” a startled butler exclaimed as Warburton brought Ana inside his townhouse. “We expected you to be halfway to Drakefell Castle by now.”
“I took an unexpected detour. I’ve brought you a young lady, McArdle.”
“A young lady, Your Grace?” The long-faced butler stared at Ana with consternation.
“Miss Analise Crewe, my ward. I believe I mentioned my search for her.”