Sage Duke Romane & Geschichten

“I’m not telling you shit.” The guy turns, eyes red and bugged out. He’s on something, and it scares me even more. My hands go to my stomach on their own accord, protecting this little life inside of me. I know it takes a lot to hurt a baby at this time, but getting whacked by the door hurt. Bad. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” the guy says, twitching slightly. “Duke University,” he mumbles, reading the words on my shirt. “Archer went there.”

The bootmaker had informed Eastland that his new ward had very slender feet for a youth, and the Duke had seemed to find that irritating, too. Smith had Black saddled and ready, and was standing with him inside a railed enclosure, next to the stable. She strode toward the big black stallion with firm steps. She could see the duke from one corner of her eyes as he stood talking with Pym, the head groom, who was attired in a soft tweed jacket and felt hat. Eastland was bare headed, and the sun glided his head with a golden sheen that made her breath catch. He was really too handsome to be as arrogant and hateful as he was. And of course, he was English instead of American.