His features tightened in anger, or perhaps pain, as he crouched next to the grave. “All these past years, I wanted to leave the island. I cursed it. Cursed my fate. Hated it. But now that I’m here...I miss it. I miss the sky at night, the birds’ songs, and the warm sun on my skin, especially now that my mother and brother are dead.” He tilted his head up. Hot turmoil swirled in the depths of his sapphire gaze. “Does my wish to be there make me a terrible son and brother? I want to leave this city with its choking air and stupid rules. I wish for silence and the beauty of nature, instead of these dull buildings and the endless, meaningless chatter. People talk too much. Expect too much. And they are cruel to each other.” He shook his head. “Why do I feel like that? Why am I not happy to have returned? Am I as mad as Quentin says I am?”
“Good Lord, no.” She couldn’t stand the distance between them any longer and crouched next to him. A knot of emotion grew in her throat at his pain and confusion. “You aren’t a bad person, Hector. Quite the opposite. You’re the best gentleman I’ve ever met, and you aren’t mad or savage. Bad things happened to you. That’s all.”
He lowered his gaze, his eyelashes fanning over his cheek. Wasshea bad person for wanting to draw him now?
She stroked his sharp cheek. “You need time to adjust to London, but I agree. People do talk too much and are cruel to each other. You’ve met my mother, after all. I understand your lack of optimism about humans.”
He cracked a smile.
“But there are also good people. Ernest has a temper but is a kind soul. My sister is compassionate, and the sailors on theEmpressrisked their lives to rescue you. Even Dr. Landon helped you without asking anything. Not everything is rotten.”
“You’re right.” He pulled at another weed. “But what if it’s not a matter of time? I believe the island permanently changed me. I can’t be the same man as I was. Everything we do,” he gestured around, “the importance we give to propriety, the clothes, politics. Everything seems so meaningless to me. On the island, I had a reason for doing everything. I woke up knowing I had to catch fish or I wouldn’t eat. I listened to the wind to understand if a storm was coming. I watched the flowers grow, wilt, and give fruit. What is my purpose now?” He sounded so lost that a phantom pain stung her chest.
“Society is complicated. We have rules, but not all of them are useless. With so many people in one place, we must control what people can or can’t do, or we’d be at each other’s throats. Some rules are meaningless, but you saw those Irish workers. You felt their pain. You care for them. That’s why you wake up. You can make London a better place. This is something worth fighting for.” The rest of what she meant to say was cut off by his embrace.
Hector hugged her. He fully enveloped her in his strong arms and pulled her closer to his chest. Goodness, he smelled divine. Citrus and soap. And he was so warm she wanted to rest her head on his shoulder and think about the best way to paint the peculiar blue of his eyes, or how she’d draw his body. She leant against him and didn’t care if it was inappropriate or not, or if someone saw them. She needed the contact with him, and he sought comfort too.
“Thank you.” His lips brushed against her temple, and she couldn’t suppress a moan. “You truly are my angel. You keep saving me.”
She caressed his cheek. “I think we keep saving each other.”
He kissed her inner wrist. It wasn’t a sensual kiss, though, but a reverent one, like a sinner would kiss a saint. “Would you dance with me? I think my mother would like it.”
She laughed. “Here?”
“What better place?” He rose and offered her his hand.
The moment she took it, he drew her closer and twirled her around. The hem of her skirt lifted the dry leaves on the path. She stumbled and stomped on his feet, but he threw his head back and laughed, a laugh so filled with life that brightened the whole cemetery.
That was why she knew, without a doubt, she was falling for the Savage Duke.
twenty-one
MADDIE AND HECTOR returned to her house in silence, holding hands and sharing their burdens. As she rested her head on his shoulder and he caressed her hand, she didn’t mind the fact he seemed incapable of letting her go. She couldn’t let him go, either.
They remained in silence even when they sat in her drawing room, exchanging glances and little touches of their hands. The more she explored his fingers and knuckles, the less harsh his skin felt. Every hard spot and scar told a story she wanted to share with him. The pale sunlight danced on his profile, teasing her with the shadows cast over his features. A natural chiaroscuro—a game of shadows and light—tempting her.
“May I sketch you?” She rummaged through her bag for her sketchbook. “I don’t mean to steal a piece of your soul again.”
He laughed. “By all means. You stole my heart. You may as well steal my soul.”
“Oh, I…” Bother. Did he mean that? Most likely, yes, he did. He only said what he meant. “Then, I’ll sketch you now.”
He sat still, his chin casually resting on his open hand, and she did her best to capture his god-like beauty. His eyes were the most difficult to draw as usual because her stiff fingers traced lines too harsh for the softness of his eyelids. The shadows in his curly hair forced her fingers to tense in a painful manner.
“It looks better than you think.” He angled his head towards the sketch. “You might be disappointed, but you’re probably too critical.”
“I don’t know. I can’t control my hand as I’d like to do. But since I started to sketch more often, I can see a difference.”
“The academy won’t reject your application.” He spoke with absolute certainty, and she couldn’t ignore the fluttery feeling his words started in her chest.
“It’d be wonderful.” She paused when the doorbell rang.
Hurried footsteps sounded from the corridor, and a moment later, the maid knocked on the sitting room door.
“Miss?” Mary inched the door open. “There’s a message for you.” She handed her a cream-coloured envelope.
“Thank you.” She opened the envelope, still watching the shadows changing on Hector’s face. “Dr. Landon invited us for an afternoon tea.” She put the invitation on a table. “Would you like to go?”
