The Bard Speaks Read Online Free PDF Page A

handsome couple nearby. Her face was radiant with affection. She embraced the wife and clasped the husband’s hand with both of her own. The friends who introduced them glanced at each other and then to the Rogue with curiosity and surprise on their faces. Although she’d been subtle, there was no doubt the Duchess had just slighted him.
    The Rogue was taken aback, for he’d never suffered cold treatment from a woman in his life. Then his heart pulsed to the rhythm of a hunter’s call. The Rogue had to have her, and went to lengths he’d never gone before in his pursuit of another man’s wife. He studied her habits and interests, discovered her favorite cafes, found the Duchess loved theater more than opera. By the end of spring, there wasn’t a place the object of his passion could be where the Rogue wouldn’t be also. From the looks he received, he suspected the Duchess knew what he was up to. She seemed amused at times, but remained aloof. For the first time, the Rogue was caught in an intrigue of his own making and he was delighted. He thought about the Duchess all the time. Obsession was a new sensation for the Rogue, making him euphorically miserable.
    After several weeks of pursuit, the Duchess began to smile at him with warmth. Then she allowed the notorious Rogue close enough to call him friend, her manner charming during their brief chats. The Rogue was convinced he was falling in love. The novelty made him drunk; every word from the lips of the Duchess was the liquor of ecstasy.
    He made his move at a masquerade ball in honor of summer solstice. The Duchess never looked more beautiful, a vision in pure white from her gown to her mask. The Rogue recognized her from the veil of auburn hair falling down her back. He saw her slip away from the dancing to take a solitary amble through the gardens. He scanned the room and saw the silver hair of her elderly husband; he was engaged in deep conversation with another nobleman. Relying on the audacity and timing that had always served him well, the Rogue followed the Duchess.
    He caught up with her at the gazebo. He was uncertain how he would be received, but the Rogue couldn’t remember the last time he longed so much for a woman. His heart pounding, he removed his mask, approached the Duchess from behind, and spun her around. She was shocked when he pushed her mask over her brow, but he felt surrender in her kiss. The Duchess pulled away and slapped him across his face, her cheeks aflame. The Rogue gripped the hand that struck him and brought her fingers to his lips, declaring love as he had so many times before. But this time was different. This time he believed he’d go mad if she wouldn’t have him. Her lovely features contorted in an agony of resistance and tears streamed from those expressive eyes, but the radiance in her face had to come from the deepest passion. The Rogue thought his heart would burst when the Duchess finally dropped her head and nodded. She did love him.
    To his displeasure, their first rendezvous would not be for yet another two weeks. She was stubborn in her refusal to meet him any sooner. Her husband was very kind and the Duchess was fond of him. She hated herself for her betrayal. The Duke would return to the country in two weeks. Her husband had to be away before the Duchess could bring herself to go through with the dishonor that would poison her soul.
    “Then why meet with me at all?”
    “Because I would betray my heart if I didn’t.”
    Their affair was a tempest from the start. The Rogue sensed in the Duchess a kindred spirit. He had never known such hunger for a woman as he had in those months. He grew to despise her husband as a tiresome obstacle who denied the Rogue the passion of his wife. As the social season drew to a close, the couple was uncertain where they would spend autumn and winter. But if they chose the city, the Duke would stay without rest until spring.
    The Rogue was tormented thinking about the months he