for, Your Grace?’
Hawk’s hands clenched behind his back in a supreme effort to prevent himself from marching across the room and lifting Jane to her feet before shaking her unmercifully.
As he had known it would be, his night had been a disturbed rather than a restful one, as images of Jane, with her loosely curling red hair reaching to her slender waist, her breasts bared and pert, her thighs parted invitingly, had tortured and tormented him until morning light.
At which time he had finally given up all hope of sleeping and instead dressed before going down to the stables to saddle his stallion Gabriel and riding across the surrounding hillside for several hours. The brisk morning air had cleared his senses—if not his mind—of those tantalising memories of Jane in her half-naked abandon.
Not so now, as he looked at her sitting there so primly, her disapproving expression much like his old nanny’s had been when she’d wished to rebuke him for some childish misdemeanour. On Jane a totally ineffective expression—because memories of her sensual beauty the previous evening crowded his already tormented mind.
His mouth thinned, nostrils flaring, as he refused to let those memories deter him from the reason he had summoned her here this morning. ‘I have decided that it is time—past time—for us to discuss exactly why it was you decided to leave the home of your guardian so abruptly.’
Jane was so stunned by the Duke’s topic of conversation that for a moment she could think of no reply. She had thought—believed—he had asked her to come here so they might talk about the events of the previous evening. Had prepared herself for that as she had lingered in the breakfast parlour drinking her cup of tea—had even thought of several replies she might make on the subject.
She could not think of a single response to the question he had just asked her! Instead she answered with a question of her own. ‘Why, Your Grace…?’
‘Why.’ He nodded abruptly, his golden gaze totally unreadable as he looked down the long length of his nose at her.
Jane frowned. ‘But you know why, Your Grace.’
‘No, Jane, I do not,’ he rasped harshly. ‘As I recall, your only explanation at the time was that you no longer felt you could reside under the same roof as Lady Sulby.’
And that was true, as far as it went. But there was more, so much more, to Jane’s flight from Markham Park. Reasons she could not share with this stranger who looked at her so coldly. For at this moment he was every inch the haughtily superior Duke of Stourbridge.
‘I stated the truth,’ she confirmed tightly.
‘But what caused you to feel that way, Jane?’ He took two long steps so that he towered over her.
She blinked at the intensity of that golden gaze as it seemed to bore down into hers. ‘My reasons are entirely personal to me—’
‘Not when you now reside in my home!’
‘That can easily be remedied, sir!’ Jane stood up abruptly, too restless to remain seated any longer—although she had not been completely prepared for how close the Duke was now standing to her. Her arm brushed against his as she attempted to step past him, instantly sending a tingling thrill of awareness down to her fingers and up to her breasts.
The Duke reached out and curled steely fingers about one of her wrists, preventing her from moving away from him. ‘We will discuss the subject of your departure from Mulberry Hall later, Jane,’ he rasped coldly. ‘First I would like—I demand—a full explanation as to your reasons for leaving Markham Park.’
First? Hawk intended for her to go soon, then? Might even have made arrangements for her immediate departure once she had answered his questions…?
Because of what had occurred between them the previous evening? Or because of something else…?
Jane looked up searchingly into that hard, implacable face. Hawk’s gaze was coldly compelling as it met hers, his expression unreadable. ‘What has occurred, sir, to suddenly bring about the need for this conversation?’ she ventured cautiously.
Hawk had never for a moment during their acquaintance underestimated Jane’s intelligence. He did not underestimate it now. ‘This morning I received word of your guardians’ reaction to your disappearance.’
‘I did not disappear!’ Her cheeks were flushed with indignation. ‘I simply left a place where I had never been made welcome!’
‘Indeed, Jane?’
‘Indeed, Your Grace,’ she echoed impatiently. ‘I—Would you release my arm please? You are hurting me.’ She frowned up at him, and his fingers tightened briefly before he gave a disgusted snort of frustration and released her.
Hawk turned away, knowing that if he did not he might do a lot more to hurt Jane than merely grasp her wrist and hold her against her will.
He was furious. Livid. Wanted to hit out and hurt someone. Anyone. Even Jane. Especially Jane—for putting him in the untenable position he now found himself in.
He kept his back firmly turned towards her as he bit out, ‘No matter how unwelcoming, the Sulbys are nevertheless your guardians. Uncaring ones, perhaps—’
‘Perhaps?’ Jane scorned incredulously.
Hawk nodded abruptly. ‘You were fed and clothed within their home, Jane. Which is more than many other penniless orphans can boast.’
‘And I am to be grateful for that?’ she challenged contemptuously. ‘I am to bow and scrape and feel grateful for every morsel of food I have allowed to pass my lips these past twelve years?’
‘Yes!’ The Duke reached out once again to grasp her arm, his expression one of stingingly cold fury. ‘Admittedly, I too have found Lady Sulby to be a contemptible woman. I have no doubt that you felt wronged by her, but that cannot be offered as an excuse for your own actions!’
Jane blinked up at him, more than a little alarmed by the fierceness of his expression. She had seen the Duke’s anger before—had been the reason for that anger more times than she cared to remember!—but it had never been like this. Had never been underlined by this steely edge of absolute coldness.
‘My own actions…?’ she repeated slowly. ‘What did I do that was so wrong?’ She gave a puzzled shake of her head. ‘Exactly what have you learned of my guardians’ reaction to my sudden departure from their home, Your Grace? And from whom?’
His mouth tightened. ‘It does not matter from whom—’
‘It matters, Your Grace!’ Jane cried emotionally. ‘Your tone is accusing, and I believe it is unfair of you to talk to me in this way without first telling me the name of my accuser.’
He looked down at her wordlessly for several long, searching seconds before abruptly releasing her arm to turn sharply away and stride over to stand in front of the window once again, his back to the room. And to Jane.
‘When we returned here four days ago I sent word to Andrew Windham, my man of business in London, asking him to make enquiries—to ascertain, if he could, your guardians’ actions following your disappearance. I felt—justifiably, I believe—that it was wrong of me to harbour you within my household without
