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She felt for one of his hands and raised it up. Lightly she trailed a finger over his bruised knuckles, feeling that his hand was swollen. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
“What chases you that you punish yourself so?”
“Dreams of the past,” he murmured. “A carriage accident.”
“The one that took Lord Preston’s life,” she said, recalling Catherine’s wild grief and desperation. “You were with him, and you were also hurt.”
His hands tightened on her shin. “Would that I could only take his place.”
Verity gasped at that harsh whisper. “Do not say it,” she hissed, startling him with her fierceness.
“The fault does lie with me,” he said, his tone suddenly chilled and indifferent.
“Were you the driver of the carriage?”
“No, however—”
“Were you the creature that reportedly ran across the road causing the carriage to careen?”
“No.”
“Are you God himself, to determine who lives and who dies?” she asked in a softer tone. “Accidents happen every day, Your Grace. Should we carry the burden for them, we would have no peace. I do not know your feelings fully, but I am here.”
Verity recalled the guilt and pain she had felt, thinking she had not done enough to stop Catherine from sneaking off to meet a known rake and libertine.
Silence fell, and it shocked her when his head dropped to her knees. Ethan shifted, and a sigh filled the air, a sound that echoed with peace inside of it. Verity smiled and gently traced her fingers through his damp hair. “You were hurt as well, I am sorry for it.”
“Just a few small scars.”
“I notice that sometimes you walk with a cane. Will you tell me about it please?”
“My left leg had broken in three places. Though those bones were healed, some days they hurt and using a cane help relieves it. The physicians said eventually I will not need it anymore,” he said gruffly.
Verity was glad he had not been hurt more seriously, but she did not tell him so, sensing he would not want to hear such words. Instead she asked,
“What else do you like, Ethan, other than boxing bare knuckles?”
“Riding at the crack of dawn, feeling the coldness of the day and racing across the lanes as if I am chasing the sun. Then I watch as it comes up over the horizon, painting the land in that vibrant cold, destroying the chill, and piercing me with…heat. It is a thing I enjoy, and I ride many early mornings.”
“I would like to accompany you,” she said softly.
She felt the curve of his mouth against her knees. Her duke smiled.
“You sleep late, Duchess, and do not seem to be a morning person.”
She wrinkled her nose. “How observant of you.”
“I have watched you splayed quite inelegantly over your bed. Surely you cannot have a bed companion. They will suffer.”
Everything inside Verity stilled, and sensual awareness tingled over every inch of her skin.
