Free The Duke's Gamble by Elyse Huntington Page A

under the combined effects of his distraction and preoccupation with Bella’s absence. Castor sighed, rubbing his temples as he tried yet again to focus on the first column of numbers. God, he was a pathetic shadow of his former self. It was mortifying. No, it was more than mortifying. It was terrifying.
    A soft knock sounded on the door before it swung open.  
    “What is it, Beecham?” asked Castor irritably, not looking up.  
    The door closed. “It is not Beecham.”
    Castor froze. Stopped breathing. It couldn’t be.
    “Castor?”  
    The faint rustle of fabric drew nearer and he swallowed, his fingers tightening on the sheet of paper. Was she really here?
    “Castor, won’t you look at me?”
    She sounded as if she was right there, on the other side of the desk.  
    “I don’t know if I’m dreaming but if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up,” he said slowly. He heard her draw in a sharp breath. A moment later, he felt a tentative touch on his forearm before it was removed. Slowly, so slowly, he turned his head, barely daring to hope, barely daring to breathe. Over her hand with those long, graceful fingers, up an arm covered by a pale blue velvet spencer, a shoulder and then the gentle curve of a jaw he knew as well as his own.
    Castor exhaled slowly as he stared at Bella, his eyes running hungrily over her. She was thinner than when she had left here, and she looked tired, mauve shadows lying under her eyes. She was silent, staring at him intently in return.
    Anxiety made his heart race and his palms damp. He didn’t know what to say, so he asked, “How is your father?”
    “Dreadful.” She pressed her lips together, anger flashing in her normally serene grey eyes. “Horrible. He is a horrible, horrible man. He never had a seizure. That was what the doctor told me when I finally asked him to come. Father faked his illness so I would return and do all the work for him again.”
    Anger rose in Castor but he ruthlessly tamped it down. He would deal with the issue of her father later. There was something he needed to know now. “Why are you here, Bella?” he asked quietly. He forced himself to remain stone-faced, because if he were a stone, then nothing she could say would devastate him. He had to pretend that was true.  
    She licked her lips. “You said …” Her voice trailed off. He watched as she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger. “You said that I could return if I wished to.”
    His heart jerked painfully.  
    “Well, I wish to return.”
    His throat swelled, making him unable to speak.
    When he failed to respond, she swallowed convulsively. “That is if you still want … want me here.” Her voice was husky, as if she, too, was overcome with emotion, and he dug his fingers into his palms to stop his hands from shaking. Bella’s eyes, those beautiful grey eyes, searched his with a desperation that made hope flicker to light. “But I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want me back. I know I hurt you and I’m so sorry,” she whispered brokenly.
    Her words broke the spell of silence that had him bound. “No.” He stood up, and she took a step back. “I was the one who hurt you. I should have told you the truth. I acted in a dishonourable manner so that I could have you. What’s worse, I would do it all again.” He steeled himself, waiting for her to castigate him; worse, to look at him with accusation and disgust.
    But Bella stepped closer, placing her hand on his chest over his heart, just like she had done that morning so long ago. And just like before, his heart raced as he waited for her to speak.  
    “You wanted me that badly?”
    He nodded jerkily. “I still do.” Please, God, don’t let this be a dream.  
    “And do you still love me?” Her voice trembled. Her entire body trembled and he put his hands on her arms to soothe her, unable to bear her agitation.
    “I will always love you.” His voice was strong and