Dukes by the Dozen

by Grace Burrowes

  “He recognized me for my mother. He loved her.”

  “He loves you too, from the moment he held you.” She cupped his cheek noticing the slight stubble that was beginning to show on his face now. “Aye, he did love your mother very much. That is why you are so precious to him.” And why Dougray Firth, the Duke of Monreith, had never married. He still held a torch for Connie, Connor’s mother who had died in childbirth.

  “Did you know he has decided to marry?” His eyes narrowed. “Because he wasn’t married to my mother, I cannot be his heir. After all these years, suddenly he wants an heir. It would appear I am no longer enough.”

  So this was the reason Connor was acting up and trying to be the man he’d yet to become.

  She drew him into a hug. “It does not mean he loves you any less. You know it’s the duty of any peer to ensure the continuation of the title. Your father being one of only a few Scottish dukes has even more pressure to ensure his lineage continues. And with the King’s visit…”

  Connor pushed out of her embrace. “It has always just been father and I.”

  “Oh, Connor it still will be. You’re almost a man. If he marries and has a son, it will be years before your father can hunt, fish, and more with him. You’ll still have him to yourself and by the time a younger brother is grown, you’ll likely be married with your own family.”

  “But she will be my stepmother. Bruce got a stepmother and she was awful to him. What if she doesn’t like me and she convinces father to send me away?”

  “He’d never do that, and he’d never marry a woman who could not love you. You are too important to him.”

  Connor’s eyes filled with hope then she watched the hope drain away. He scuffed his boots along the Persian rug. Suddenly a grin replaced his scowl. “You could marry him. I like you. You’d never come between father and I.”

  A two-pronged pain almost ripped her apart. She’d been in love with Dougray for years, long before her family married her off to Viscount Iain Grafton. But Dougray’s heart closed after Connie’s death. Dougray was not there at the end of Connie’s life and he never really recovered from the role the late Duke of Monreith played in the sorry affair.

  Over the years Flora came to recognize that Dougray had not loved her enough. He had stood aside and watched as she married another.

  Besides, he would not want her now. She’d been married for over five years before her husband died, and the union never produced a child. She’d be a bad wager for a man needing an heir.

  Dougray must know that because she had been a widow for three years and he’d never come courting her. They were friends, but not the same as it had been before she wed. Flora almost thought he avoided her as much as possible.

  She wanted children more than anything. That was the main reason she would risk marriage again, but not to someone who would be devastated if she never bore them a child. She’d pick a widower who already had children.

  “You like my father, surely? You are good friends. Most women do find him handsome. Or is it me you would not want as a son.”

  She sighed. “I’d be honored to be your stepmother but it’s not possible.”

  His head tipped to the side. “You’re not that old, and you are very beautiful. I heard my father’s men say so.”

  “I don’t think I could marry a man who still loved a ghost.”

  Connor nodded. “I think he’s ready to move on. I heard him tell Mary.”

  Lady Mary was Dougray’s sister, and Flora’s best friend.

  If Dougray were ready to love again, the woman who could capture his battered heart would be one lucky woman indeed.

  “So why not you?” Connor pushed.

  “Think about it. I know your father has talked with you about men and women. I was married and yet I have no children.” Just saying the words filled her eyes with tears.

  The boy noticed and quickly hugged her this time. “I did not mean to upset you. Please don’t cry.”

  She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. “So you see your father is unlikely to consider me as potential marriage material.”

  “I wish he did.”

  She wished he did too, but if she married him and could not give him a child…he’d end up resenting her. Besides he did not love her, perhaps he never had. She’d had enough of loveless marriages. Her next marriage might last more than five years. Her previous marriage taught her that she could not bear a long loveless marriage. She would marry for love this time or not at all.

  “Now run along and go and find something useful to do. This is an important visit for your father and for Scotland. Please try to do him proud, and leave chasing the girls until next week.”

  His cheeky grin was back. “I’ll try, but that will likely break a few hearts.” He blew her a kiss as he went out the door. “You’re still my favorite.”

  She let out a sigh. Oh, to have a boy like Connor as her own.

  Busy. She needed to keep herself busy so she could push away the emptiness deep inside.

  Trouble was she could not get Connor’s words out of her head—Dougray wanted to marry. Finally he was ready, only now it was too late. Everyone knew she couldn’t give him what he needed. A child. The King would likely not allow the match.

  Chapter 2

  On the other side of the dining room Dougray stood just outside the door and listened to the conversation between his son and Lady Flora. His son had excellent taste; Flora was indeed a beautiful woman. And kind, and generous, and she owned his heart—Christ she was perfect. Perfect to take to wife.

  He’d loved her for years. He’d stayed away to protect her.

  Connor liked her, and she liked Connor. Dougray loved her, desired her more than any woman he knew. Her words spoken to Connor unlocked the chain he had wrapped tightly around his heart. Perhaps there was a way he could have his heart’s desire.

  Years ago he’d not married her to protect her, but now she did not need his protection. He staggered against the doorframe. Oh, my God, he was free to love her.

  It was safe to wed her because she was barren. She could not have a child. Therefore he could not kill her in childbirth as he had done to Connie.

  His world spun and his heart filled with hope. Why had he not understood the significance of her becoming a childless widow before?

  The King and the other Scottish dukes made it clear he must marry. His collar tightened at the memory of the dictatorial letter with the royal seal upon it. They wanted him to align with a highland clan. Flora was a Mackenzie before her marriage.

  It was almost too perfect.

  ‘The Scottish Dukedom must be preserved,’ the note had said. The King was not as stupid as many thought. His order to marry came with a suggested date for announcing his engagement. A pity that when he received the note nine months ago he’d not felt inclined to be forced into wedlock. He remembered what had happened to Connie, and to his mother, and the thought of putting any woman through that again…Guilt over Connie’s death constantly trampled him like a rampaging wild bull.

  These past three years he had not been engaging his brain. Why hadn’t he noticed that Flora bore Iain no children?

  His betrothal had to be announced in two days time at the diner for the King, and if he didn’t he could end up offending their royal guest. Not the done thing given it was the first time in almost two-hundred-years a King had set foot on Scottish soil. To defy his King’s wish at an event such as this…

  The idea of a marriage with the sole goal of producing a child made his stomach rollick with fear, and nausea rise up to choke him. He was a big man. Over six feet five inches and shoulders as wide as this door he hid behind. They had told him the baby was too big for Connie to birth and it had taken three days to bring Connor into this world. Three days for his love to die in agony and fear. The midwife Angus found for Connie said it was a miracle the baby boy survived.

  Dougray grimaced. Connor was a fighter all right. He was his son.

  Wh
en he’d learned any child of his was likely to be a big baby, he’d sworn on Connie’s grave he would never be the cause of another woman’s death. He could not go through that again, especially if the woman owned his heart. It had taken Flora to open his heart again, six years after Connie’s death. Flora had been only thirteen when Connie died. When she was nineteen he’d came to stay with her family. She helped him heal. Or so he’d thought.

  He pushed off the wall he was leaning against and watched Flora as she roamed around the huge table moving place settings. She was a sturdy lass. She was Angus’s sister all right. Tall, big hips, perhaps… he often wondered if she would have survived what Connie couldn’t, but he would not risk her life on a perhaps.

  She reached over the table and the movement pulled her gown tight over her bottom. And what a bottom it was. Plump and round just right to fill his hands. Her rich copper-golden hair floated around her shoulders like silk and his body heated at the idea of letting it slide over his naked skin. Her lips were full and firm and he’d often fantasied at what those lips would feel like wrapped around the hard length of him.

  He suddenly burned for her. He’d managed to keep his lust at bay these past years by occasionally taking lovers. He was always careful. What would it be like to make love to a woman and not have to worry about getting her with child? To be able to relax and not always think about having to withdraw before he reached his release. The idea of not having to wear a French glove appealed—a lot.

  Just then she looked over her shoulder and saw him standing there.

  “Why are you loitering in the doorway like your son?”

  He grinned stupidly at her. “The sight of your plump bottom was spell binding.”

  For one moment she looked shocked and then her creamy cheeks filled with color. She turned her back and continued brushing the table. “You need to have a word with Connor. He is far too much like his father and if you are not careful he’ll get some poor lass in trouble.”

  “He knows what will happen if he does. I’ve talked with him.”

  “But he follows your lead and you have not been that discreet of late. Your current paramour is flouting your relationship to everyone she meets.”

  His grin widened. “Jealousy does not become you, Flora. Besides, I broke off that—arrangement—over ten days ago.”

  He watched her back straighten and her shoulders tighten. She slowly turned to face him, surprised at how close he’d come. She had not heard him approach. He watched the vein at the base of her neck pulse.

  “You are so conceited. Jealous. Humph. I have no desire to be one of your conquests. Besides, you are the most fickle man I know. You taught me well.”

  He could not help himself. He reached out and ran a finger over her throat feeling the erratic beat of her blood. “I think your frantic heartbeat calls you a liar. Just my touch sets your skin on fire.” His groin tightened as her pink tongue slipped from between her lips to moisten them.

  “Don’t play your games with me, Dougray. Not again. We have been—friends for many years—and I will do nothing to let you ruin that just because you are bored.” She batted his hand away, a gloating smile upon her face. “Besides, Connor informed me you are looking for a wife. I wonder if the King’s visit has brought about this change of heart.”

  She was too clever. He stepped back and casually flicked lint from his sleeve. “Do I look like a man who can be forced to do anything he does not wish to do? You should know me better than that.”

  She looked him in the eye and he did not blink. “Then I am very happy for you. It’s about time you learned to open your heart again and let a woman in. Life is too long to be alone. I should know.” She clapped her hand over her mouth.

  He realized she had not meant to reveal that last part. She was too young and too beautiful to spend the rest of her life as a widow. He longed to love her. Longed to give her the dreams they once shared with each other. He had lived the last eight years knowing that for him to risk loving any woman was impossible.

  Barren. She was barren. It struck him like a sharp edged sword that he could finally risk loving Flora.

  His lonely life held the promise of more. If she could not bear him a child then he could afford the luxury of giving her his heart. That was worth more than his whole estate and title, for it would mean no heir. To feel that connection with her once again. To share all of his life with her. He could feel the fortress walls surrounding his heart cracking.

  But what if she could bear him a child, and that it was her husband’s seed that was useless. The idea of marrying Flora and getting her with child…the risk was great. Agreeing to become his wife could sign her death warrant.

  “Are you all right? You are looking at me very peculiarly.”

  Her words drew him up short. He’d speak to her brother Angus. He would not offer for Flora if her brother feared for her. Angus knew his history with Connie and Angus also knew his sister.

  He said, “I shall leave you to your duties. Mary is worrying herself silly over the Kings visit when I suspect all the King needs is good food, good whisky, and a pretty woman or two. He won’t notice how clean or cold the Palace is.”

  “Spoken like a man. Your sister is doing a marvelous job and I hope you thank her. We will notice if the Palace is not looking its best. We do not want the English to look down on us. We need to show we are not the heathen savages they think we are.”

  He laughed. “I’d love to see you act like a heathen savage.”

  To his delight she picked up a napkin and flicked him with it. Before he could reply Mary entered the room.

  “Oh, Dougray, stop annoying Flora. Have you organized the three extra spits for the kitchen like I asked?”

  “I was just on my way to do that when I was waylaid by Flora’s beauty and wit. She is most distracting today.”

  Mary rolled her eyes while Flora spluttered, “I’m not keeping you. I have more than enough to do than pander to your ego.”

  Mary flapped her hands at him as if he was a boy. “Away with you. Go and use your charms on women too stupid to see through your looks.”

  He pressed his hands to his heart. “Too cruel. From my sister as well.”

  Mary blew him a kiss. “Oh, and can you tell that son of yours that if I see him bothering the serving girls again I shall put him over my knee in front of them.”

  That stole his humor. Flora was right. It would seem Connor did need another talking to. He’d already told his son that this week was not the time or place for his usual antics, but boys becoming men tended to challenge their fathers. He should know. He’d challenged his and it cost Connor his mother’s life. His son would not make the mistakes he had.

  He bowed. “I shall leave you lovely ladies to your organizing then.”

  Mary stood looking at her brother’s departing back. “Have you noticed that my brother has been acting very strange of late?”

  Flora agreed. Since becoming a widow he had never flirted with her—not even once. But he was flirting today.

  “Connor told me he has decided to take a wife. The King’s visit most likely spurred his decision.” She ignored the dagger of pain that slice through her heart at the words.

  “I didn’t know how to tell you. I suspect Sir Walter has also been advising my brother to marry. A duke must have an heir. A legitimate heir.” She stopped polishing the candlestick and smacked her forehead. “So that is why Connor is out of sorts.”

  Flora nodded. “He’s always had Dougray to himself and he is worried a wife might banish him.” She took a deep breath. “Who do you think he will chose?”

  Mary looked at her sharply. “Oh, Flora. I’m so sorry. I know how you feel about Dougray.”

  “That was a girlish fantasy. He did not want me before, why would he want me this time. I could never be his wife now anyway. I am likely barren. Every man in Scotland knows that.” The look of pity Mary threw her way made her want to curl up in a ball and cry. Mary had two beautiful chil
dren, a boy and a girl, with her husband, Stuart Carmichael, the Earl of Rowland. She covered her pain saying, “We were once such good friends. Let’s put our heads together and find him a young lady that would make him happy. That can’t be too hard can it?”

  Mary gave her a hug. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Let’s go and have a cup of tea and make a list. We can see how the ladies on our list interact with Dougray at the ball tonight.” They left the room arm and arm heading for the small private drawing room on the floor above. “Plus, Lord Glengarry will be at the ball too.”

  “Oh, he is only recently widowed. Surely he is not looking for a wife so soon?”

  “He has three children under six plus an elder boy. I’d say he needs all the help he can get.”

  How did she tell practical Mary that a man who would wed simply to get himself a new mother for his children was not the man for her? Not this time. While the idea of raising those children as her own was appealing, would the love from his children replace the emptiness she felt inside if her husband did not love her?

  Mary read her face. “He’s always had a fondness for you but you were promised to another.”

  “We shall see. My father is dead so at least I won’t have any man forcing me into a marriage I do not want. I won’t be rushed or pushed this time.”

  Chapter 3

  God give him strength to get through this week, let alone this night. The King wasn’t even on Scottish soil yet, but Sir Walter Scott took the opportunity to bring the Scottish lord’s together in this evening’s glittering ball. Over cards the stuffed up peacock had lectured the men for almost an hour, insisting on what they could wear and what they could say in front of the King.

  Well, Dougray wasn’t a child. He was a duke and he would bloody well wear what he liked and say what he liked—within reason. Like he said, he wasn’t stupid. Scott’s lecture was almost enough to make him risk walking back into the ballroom to face the hell of having to dance.