Dukes by the Dozen

by Grace Burrowes

  “Tell me more about this island.”

  From an upper window, Taylor watched the duke arrive. No carriage, no valet, no formality. He traveled on the same ebony steed she’d seen him riding the first time they met.

  He seemed taller. His hair longer, his chest broader, his face handsomer. Taylor could see Millie and Dermot standing beneath the window, waiting to greet His Grace. Bamberg handed his mount’s reins to a groom and strode toward the house.

  He smiled at them, and Taylor clutched her chest and backed away. The chaotic entanglement of their first meeting was still fresh in her mind. His touch, their bodies dancing against each other. She wasn’t strong enough to meet him again. She couldn’t retain her outward indifference to him, and that would surely lead to disaster. Taylor didn’t want to wake up one morning and find herself married to someone who only wanted her money, and left alone in some cold, ruined castle in Bavaria.

  Evasion. That was still the best response.

  But why did he have to be so bloody perfect?

  When Millie arrived an hour later, Taylor told her what she’d decided.

  “Well, you can put that thought out of your head. You’re not leaving. I’ll not allow it. I could be delivering this baby any day now, and you promised you’d be here for me.”

  “But your whole family is coming. Your sister Jo is a five-minute walk from here. Your husband is a doctor.”

  “Stop whining. I refuse to accept any excuses. You’re my friend. Two days ago, you swore that you had come to the Abbey for me…but now…”

  Guilt squeezed Taylor’s heart. Last year, when Millie had gone through the frightening operation to have a breast removed, Taylor didn’t hear about it until later. Since then, she’d tried to find some opportunity of helping her best friend. She wanted to be here when she was needed, whatever the circumstances.

  She put an arm around Millie’s shoulder. “I saw you greeting the duke. Does he know I’m here?”

  “He does. If you recall, the two of us decided that your best course of action was to meet him.”

  It was true. She had to explain to him why he must withdraw. Millie had been coaching her for the past couple of days. It wasn’t that she was afraid of him. She was afraid of herself.

  Still, Millie’s words echoed in her mind. Seeing him is the best way to ditch the duke.

  Taylor had thought she could do it. That was until she saw him ride up and wedding bells began to ring in her ears.

  “How long do you think he’ll be staying?” she asked tentatively.

  “Probably as long as you’re staying, or until you reject him and send him away.”

  Taylor walked off and looked at the ceiling as she paced. How could she possibly face the man and reject him? She couldn’t.

  “I don’t know what to do. I’m torn. All those reasonable strategies we talked about suddenly seem frightening.”

  “He is certainly not frightening.” Millie walked to the wall and absently straightened a picture. “He is…well, quite handsome. And charming. And considerate.”

  “You had one brief introduction, and now you’re under his spell too.” Taylor threw her hands up.

  “He has placed no spell on me. I’m only relaying my observations.”

  Taylor shook her head and resumed her pacing. “The man may be impossible to resist in person. I’m afraid I shan’t be able to say no to him.”

  Millie sat on a chair and watched her go from the window to the door and back again.

  “Promise me that you’ll stay, and I’ll make the arrangements so you won’t have to see him.”

  It took a few moments for Millie’s words to sink in. “How?”

  “I’ll lie for you. I’ll make some excuse about an urgent letter arriving. I’ll tell him you needed to depart for Edinburgh.”

  That would be another snub to the duke, but as much as she hated it, she didn’t know what else to do. “I’ll stay here in this room. I’ll hide until he’s gone.”

  “Not here. I can hardly lie when everyone else knows you’re here. I have a reputation to protect.”

  “Where should I go?”

  “Do you recall the loch that is surrounded by forest just beyond Jo’s house? You and I walked there. It has that pretty island in the middle.”

  The shimmering lake had been their morning destination several times the first week after Taylor arrived. Since then, she’d been walking the path by herself on almost a daily basis. Millie was uncomfortable going so far. “I remember. Why?”

  “I didn’t take you to the island, but a quaint little cottage stands on the far side of it. Do you think you might be able to stay there until the duke is gone? It would only be for a day or two, I’m quite certain.”

  “Is it livable?”

  “Of course, it is. Dermot and I used to take a basket and have picnics out there before I grew this big. It’s a lovely place.” Millie struggled to her feet. “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll have one of the grooms row you out to the island? Inspect it, take an inventory of what you need, and send the man back with instructions. I’ll send your maid after you with the supplies.”

  “And you think this might work?”

  “Absolutely. Trust me.”

  Chapter 4

  How to Ditch A Duke

  – Step 4 –

  Choose the Most Advantageous Time and Place to Let Him Down

  * * *

  The summer air was unnaturally still, and the waters of the loch lay like silvery glass beyond the ripples sliding outward from the boat. In the distance, the round-shouldered peaks of the Cairngorms wore a mantle of thickening grey clouds.

  Taylor stared at the swirling pools formed by the oar blades and tried not to think of the ridiculousness of what she was doing. Never in her life had she been a coward. Never had she failed to rise to a challenge. She prided herself on her independence. On her willingness to stand up to the men in her family. Why she ran away from the duke was a mystery that plagued her.

  She turned her attention to the island ahead. It was indeed pretty and small. She’d admired it from afar when she walked along the shoreline. At one end, a copse of pine trees bordered a grassy meadow. At the other end, the land rose high above the loch, covered by another grove of trees. The refuge was just distant enough from the shore to require a boat and a pair of strong arms to row to it.

  As they approached, she was surprised to see another boat pulled up onto a beach of sand and stone. She turned to the wiry old groom who’d been tasked with bringing her out.

  “Does anyone live on the island?”

  “Nay, my lady.”

  “Whose boat is that, then?”

  The groom turned and squinted at the craft. “A few lads were out fixing a hole in the cottage roof last week, but they’re done with it. A maid out cleaning up, I’d wager. The isle has scant visitors. Family folk, mostly. Could be the Squire and the minister are out here.”

  Taylor had seen a great deal of Dermot McKendry’s uncles this past month, battling one another almost daily with their cleeks and mashies and niblicks in the meadows. And if it wasn’t some golf shot they happened to be arguing about at dinner, then it was a giant fish that got away back in the reign of Robert the Bruce.

  As the boat bumped onto the shore, the groom jumped out and pulled it up onto the sand. Taylor accepted the proffered hand and climbed out. She looked up the gentle incline and saw the peak of the cottage roof beyond the crest of the hill.

  “I’ll wait here, my lady.”

  It was an easy climb from the beach. The rippled clouds covering the sky had the look of fish scales, and Taylor breathed in the warm morning air. The smell of pine and earth surrounded her. She undid the ribbon and tore the bonnet from her head when she reached the top of the grassy knoll. Just beneath her, the thatched cottage was surrounded by a carpet of yellow, scarlet, and white flowers.

  The serenity of the view drew a breathy sigh from her. Small wonder Millie and her husband liked to
come here to spend a day.

  She scanned the shore but saw no sign of the elderly McKendry brothers.

  One or two days in such a place would be heaven. Taylor was born to privilege, but she was most comfortable when she was away from it. No foolish expectations. No contrived formality. No false vanity. Here, she could be herself with no one to judge her. No one to disapprove of her.

  A movement drew Taylor’s gaze to the cottage. The door stood open. Perhaps someone was working in the house. A tall boot appeared on the threshold. Above it, tight breeches that didn’t belong to any groom or farm worker. A head of dark hair ducked under the low doorway, emerging into the light, and broad muscled shoulders followed.

  He was here. Bamberg.

  The ribbons of the bonnet slipped through her fingers.

  Immediately, Taylor’s pounding heart rose into her throat, even as a delicious warmth spread through her body. When he lifted his face to the sun, the cottage and the flowers and everything else disappeared. Birds ceased singing. The long grass stopped waving. The earth stopped turning.

  She couldn’t move. The man enthralled her. Amid this moment of madness, Taylor suddenly knew that her own body was betraying her, robbing her of all sense of reason, leaving only desire.

  Bamberg lifted a hand to shade his eyes, and he saw her.

  Immediate panic seized her. She whirled, ready to run. But her feet refused to comply.

  Suddenly, her vision cleared and her eyes focused. Far from the beach, the old groom was rowing away from the island. And tied to the stern, the second boat trailed behind him.

  “Oh, Millie,” she murmured. “How could you!”

  Taylor closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She shouldn’t be surprised. Her friend faced life and its challenges head-on. No evasion. No time wasted on fears or heartache or second thoughts. Millie believed in drawing every bit of goodness from each day. Naturally, this would be her solution to Taylor’s dilemma.

  At the sound of approaching steps, Taylor pressed a hand to her stomach to ease the jitteriness and turned to face the duke.

  “Your Grace,” she murmured.

  “Lady Taylor. Finally, we meet again.”

  The first time they met, Bamberg had been taken with her courage. Her strength and character shone through, regardless of the unfortunate circumstances. And when it came to physical attraction, she was irresistibly beautiful, even knee-deep in mud.

  At this moment, however, standing on this island in these wild Highland hills, Taylor Fleming was nothing less than transcendent. From her hair of spun gold to her angelic face to her voluptuous curves, she was Aphrodite. She was Diana.

  But she was also the woman who’d successfully ditched him at every turn for the past three months. Her reticence only fueled his interest. His inquiries about her confirmed that she was a prize worth chasing. In coming to England and Scotland to choose a wife, he’d never imagined running into someone like her. Now that he’d met her, she was the only one who would do.

  Taylor had never flatly rejected him, but she was unconvinced, unwilling. So he had today, perhaps only until she made a dash for the beach, to convince her otherwise.

  “Your Grace, is that your boat departing with mine?”

  Her question forced Bamberg to tear his eyes from her and look out at the loch.

  “Damn…!” He took a couple of steps down the hill but immediately remembered his manners and turned around. “My apologies.”

  She smiled. “I believe our hosts are playing games with us.”

  Bamberg reluctantly looked away from the upturned corners of her lips and motioned toward the departing groom. “I’ll swim after him and bring a boat back if you ask me to. I have no desire for you to feel trapped or forced into meeting with me.”

  The prettiest of blushes bloomed on her face. How could she possibly get any more attractive?

  “That’s very kind of you. But I’m hardly a strong swimmer. I couldn’t come to your rescue you if you were to call for help.”

  He returned her smile. “An excellent point, because I would, without doubt, be calling out to you.”

  He picked up her bonnet, and their fingers brushed as he handed it to her. They both drew back at once. If a mere touch sparked the air around them, Bamberg wondered what would happen if they were to kiss.

  “What was their ploy in sending you here?” she asked.

  “Lady Millie’s family is arriving at any moment. The good doctor told me there are no available guest rooms at the Abbey. And you?”

  She started to say something but then shook her head. “I think my friend’s intention was for me to speak with you alone, without the presence of family.”

  “I’ve been hoping for the same thing.” He offered his arm. “Would you care to walk with me?”

  “Where to?”

  “We could see what the island has of interest to offer.”

  She looked around her. From where they stood at the crest of the hill, they could see the entire shoreline. Nevertheless, she took his arm, and they started down the slope.

  Bamberg felt the pressure of their limited time together, and he had so much he wanted to say. Dermot had hinted that they might have this moment when the men met in his office. He knew that somehow, somewhere, his friend and his wife would arrange for the two of them to meet. And Dermot had made good on it. But now that Taylor was here, Bamberg was already lamenting the moment when she’d be gone.

  “Your Grace—” she began before he interrupted.

  “Please. My friends call me Bamberg.”

  “Very well.” She nodded. “I owe you an apology for the way I’ve behaved toward you.”

  “I find no fault in anything you’ve done.”

  The hill was steep, and as they descended, she had no objection to an occasional touch along her waist to steady her step.

  “I’ve been avoiding you.”

  He smiled. “I thought you were avoiding your father. Or was it your brother? I certainly didn’t think I was the cause.”

  He hadn’t realized before that the sparkling blue irises of her eyes were encircled by a thin silvery band.

  “Now, I’m feeling especially guilty. I left you time and time again in their company.”

  “You should feel guilty about that.” He adjusted his hold on her, taking Taylor’s hand to assist her down a particularly slippery patch. At the bottom, he didn’t let go, telling himself it was because of the uneven ground. “I don’t care to talk about them. I endured them for you. Because frankly, from the moment I saw you pushing that carriage, I’ve been fascinated.”

  Her brows pulled together, and her eyes narrowed, conveying her skepticism. Discreetly, she withdrew her hand. “You have considerable charm, Your Grace, but you’re wasting it on me.”

  “I’m being honest, my lady.” He motioned to the waters of the loch. “I don’t know how much time we have here, and I’d like to speak plainly, if I may.”

  “These past months notwithstanding, I prefer straight talk as well.”

  “Thank you.” He faltered for a moment, wondering if the things he wanted to say would only serve to frighten her off. Casting doubt to the wind, he decided to dive in. “Aside from your obvious beauty, I already know that you’re highly intelligent and have a mind of your own. You are clearly a woman of courage. You have compassion for others, and you act on it. I don’t want to offend you in referring to your family, but you are, in fact, nothing like your male relations. If I may ask, were you a foundling?”

  Her surprised laughter filled the air, and the sound of it was music to his ear.

  “But seriously. Your mother. Was she, like you, one of the seraphim?”

  The smile stayed on her lips. They reached a pile of large stones, and he took her hand again to help her over them. She needed no assistance, but she allowed him to keep his hold as they continued on.

  “You are trying to charm me, and I need you to stop.”

  “Charm you? I just called you an orphan
,” he argued. “But I did take it back by recognizing the gratitude I owe to the parent who no longer graces us with her presence.”

  Bamberg wished he could retract the last words, as a shadow of sadness flitted across her face. It was too flippant a reference.

  “Did my father mention her to you?” she asked.

  “He did. He showed me her portrait when I visited your town house in Edinburgh. She had the same rare beauty that you possess. And Lord Lindsay told me you have inherited many of her qualities.” Bamberg didn’t care for the way Lindsay spoke disparagingly about his marriage, which had been the result of a financial arrangement, even as he acknowledged his wife’s value to him. “He clearly misses her.”

  “I’m too much of a reminder of her.” Taylor stopped and studied the shoreline across the water for a moment. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”

  He bowed. “As you wish.”

  “I have so many questions that I don’t know where to start.”

  Bamberg felt a sense of relief wash through him. She was interested. Perhaps she would stop running once she found out more about him. He sensed she didn’t really believe his compliments, but there was time for him to convince her.

  “Ask anything.” He looked directly into her blue eyes. “I shall be nothing but an open book for you.”

  Dermot searched the Abbey high and low for his wife. From the housekeeper he learned that Millie was revisiting the arrangements for her family, going room to room, even though she’d done the same thing last night and again this morning. He finally caught up to her, accompanied by a serving woman in the last apartment in the East Wing.

  “How long do you think we should give them before I send a boat back to the island?” he asked, after dismissing the servant.

  She stopped by the window, and the light coming through cast a glow around her beautiful face and round belly. “Before dinner, perhaps? Do you think that’s enough time?”