Page 58 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

Brandon watched her as she worked. The concentration on her face and the cute little way that her tongue peeked out when she was fully focused. The sun hit her face just right and made her eyes look golden. He even noticed the soft curl that escaped her pin and fell on the nape of her neck.

“You are staring, Your Grace,” she said without looking up.

“I am wondering. How do you know how to do all this? Dress wounds, clean injuries. I am not complaining, it’s best that we didn’t involve a physician. I am just curious.”

Her hands stopped for a fraction of a second. She swallowed, and that’s how Brandon knew that he was touching on something tender. Her hands resumed taking care of his bruises.

“My father,” Marigold said, trying to keep her tone neutral. “He was sick and bedridden for more than a decade.”

Brandon waited, just listening, because he knew there was nothing right to say in this moment.

“He developed sores from lying in the bed so long. He was also weak and got hurt a lot. I just watched the physicians take care of him, and later, I did it myself. I dressed his wounds and kept them clean and prevented infection. I had to learn. No one else would.”

Brandon just looked at this woman who had the resilience of a mountain. He was already admiring her for putting up with the gang, taking care of the household, struggling to keep them afloat, and dealing with her malicious mother. And now, he learned that she had to endure the long illness of a parent.

Everyone in the ton was talking about how she was not fit to be a duchess, that he was way above her station, but Brandon started to see that maybe he would have to step up to be able to stand by His Duchess.

“He was the only one who was ever kind to me,” Marigold said as she wiped her hands on a towel.

She then looked up at him, finally, and Brandon could see that mask he admired so much crack a little.

“I loved my father so much, and I had to watch him die. Slowly. Daily. Eaten away piece by piece by something that couldn’t be stopped.”

He reached out and took her hand. Her eyes were bright as they stared back at him. Brandon was not sure what to say. He was not very good with words or feelings or considering other people and their struggles. But she was not just like other people.

“I am so sorry this happened to you. I cannot even imagine how it is.”

Marigold nodded and swallowed. He was happy that it seemed that his words were enough for her. Her eyes fluttered, and tears ran down her cheek. There was a sharp sting in his heart when he saw that they were slipping, as if it were a personal failure that he couldn’t prevent from happening.

“Thank you,” Marigold whispered.

That sting became an unbearable pain. He couldn’t bear seeing this admirable woman suffer. And the thought that his recklessness had triggered those memories and those emotions again. He had made her feel vulnerable and helpless. And no words could mend that.

He didn’t let go of her hand. Instead, he gently pulled her towards him as he sat up. His other hand cradled her face, his thumb against her chin. Marigold’s golden, bright eyes looked at him, caught between sorrow and surprise.

He leaned in and kissed her. He had kissed her before. God knows they had done way more than that. It was always a hungry kiss, needy and devouring. But not now. Not in this moment.

He kissed her softly, merely his lips against hers, touching her featherily. He pulled her lower lip with his mouth, just a grounding reassurance that he was still there. He tilted his head again and inhaled her breath.

Marigold responded in the same soft way, both hands resting on his shoulders. As he kept caressing her lips with his, her body melted into him, and her hand rested on his chest over his heart.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere, Marigold.”

Her hand still on his chest, she looked up at him for a fragment of a moment, looking like a girl lost in the world.

“Then don’t do any more reckless things. You promised. I cannot bear seeing you hurt, too.”

“It must have been so painful seeing your father go.” He put his hand on hers and let his thumb caress her knuckles. “I have lost people too, but I haven’t seen them decline for so long.”

The moment those words slipped out of his mouth, he realized without even knowing he had opened up to the thing that he had bottled in since he was a kid. He expected to clam up again and perhaps retreat back to his cold self, but as Marigold looked up at him, he felt none of these things.

“You loved someone too?” Marigold said with genuine interest. “Was it your parents?”

Before he could stop it, a bitter laugh gurgled up his throat. Marigold was taken aback by his reaction, but it would be even more painful to talk about that. It might scare her away.

“Yes, I have lost both my parents, but that is not the loss I am talking about.”

“Brandon?”