Free Heartless by Jaimey Grant Page A

her, his arms enfolding her close to his chest. He stood holding her for a long moment before the impulsiveness of her actions struck him. His eyes widened to their fullest and he grinned. She’d called him Hart.
    He stared down into her eyes, dark green and gold, and was suddenly very, very glad he had decided to come home before going after Gabriel. Her mouth opened and he watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips. The sudden desire he felt for her took him completely by surprise.
    And so he kissed her. In full view of the servants and her family who had come out to see what all the ruckus was about. He kissed her the way he’d wanted to since that first time at the Maidstone Inn. His tongue swept the inside of her mouth and she moaned deep in her throat. And she kissed him back.
    He would have taken her up to his bed right then had not the dowager gasped and said in her strident tones, “Of all the disgraceful behavior! And what, Merri, do you suppose your husband will say if he walks in to see you kissing one of the outdoor help?”
    Derringer leaned his head back and smiled at his bride. “So, my Merri, did you miss me?” he asked unnecessarily. He looked down at her with something akin to tenderness, a soft smile on his lips.
    Leandra realized suddenly what a spectacle she had made of herself and him. She struggled out of his embrace and stepped back, smoothing her hands over her gown in an attempt to return some order to her appearance. It was then that her stepmother’s words finally sank in and she looked up at her husband.
    Then she laughed. Uncontrollably.

 

    8
     
    The duke, in the glory of his tattered and stained tavern attire with his long black hair in windblown disarray, stared at Leandra while she laughed. She laughed so hard that tears sprang to her eyes and ran down her cheeks. One hand covered her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle her own merriment while the other clutched her middle.
    Her laughter rang like music in Derringer’s ears.
    Then he noticed the ladies standing a few feet behind his wife and the unnatural silence of his servants. He studied the ladies for a full minute, an unpleasant smile finally settling on his lips.
    Leandra stopped laughing, her eyes fixing on the duke in trepidation.
    He recognized the older woman with the graying hair. Her son took after her quite a lot. The next oldest lady appeared to be Harwood’s sister. The blond had to be his wife since she resembled the rest not at all. And the young one that so resembled Leandra must be…
    “You are Harwood’s clan, are you not?” he asked.
    The dowager stiffened. “Who are you, sir, to address us so disrespectfully? I’ll have the duke toss you out on your ear for your impertinence.”
    Derringer turned his black eyes on Leandra. “Do you think he will, Merri?”
    Leandra shook her head as a hysterical laugh bubbled up and came out her nose in an unladylike snort—which only made her laugh harder.
    “How dare you address a duchess so, sir. You are dismissed immediately,” declared the Dowager Lady Harwood roundly. The other ladies just goggled at the way the situation was progressing.
    “Aw, Merri, now she’s gone and fired me,” complained Derringer. He was enjoying himself immensely.
    “And you, young lady,” said the dowager to Leandra, “ought not encourage him in this behavior. It really does not become you.”
    Derringer studied his wife until she blushed most becomingly. “I would have to disagree with you, ma’am. She is enchanting when she laughs.”
    The sincerity in his voice took Derringer and Leandra both by surprise. Her giggles ceased as she stared at him and he stared back with an expression of dawning realization on his face. He truly found her enchanting. How was that possible having only spent a handful of hours with her in the weeks since they’d married? She was an irritation, a necessity to secure his money, nothing more.
    And yet, he thought about her more often than he