Gambling on the Duke's Daughter

by Diana Bold

  “Patrick?” Her voice was old and faded. As she came closer, Natalia decided she looked like a grandmother out of a storybook. Plump, with white hair and red cheeks, her blue eyes sparkled despite her age. She approached slowly, a puzzled frown on her lovely old face. “Do we have guests, son?”

  A wide grin split Patrick’s handsome weathered face. “It’s our boy, Dylan. He’s come home, Mum. Home to stay. And he’s brought his new bride.”

  “Dylan?” The old woman shuffled a few steps closer and stared at Dylan’s face as though he were the savior. Her eyes filled with tears. Reaching up, she touched his cheek tenderly, as though afraid he’d vanish into thin air. “Oh, my sweet boy.”

  “How are you, ma’am?” Dylan smiled gently, but he shifted uncomfortably, as though uncertain how to handle such unconditional acceptance. Natalia wondered if he even remembered the old woman. He’d said he hadn’t been back here since he was seven.

  Apparently, he’d been a wonderful little boy, or these people wouldn’t be so glad to see him.

  Now it was her turn to shift uncomfortably because she’d always known this side of him existed. But if she’d married a truly kind and generous man, where did that leave her and her anger?

  “We kept everything nice for you.” The little woman blinked away her tears. “Patrick thought you’d never come back. But I always told him that you would. This is your home, isn’t it, dearie?”

  Dylan nodded and brought the old woman’s hand to his lips, kissing it with a tender smile. “It certainly is, Mrs. Macpherson. I always wanted to come back, but I didn’t find out my grandfather left Aldabaran to me until recently.”

  “Didn’t the earl tell you, then?” A thundercloud settled over Patrick’s face, and he muttered something wicked-sounding in Gaelic. “I never should have—” He broke off, once again managing to control his emotions. “Well, that’s neither here nor there. We’re just glad he finally told you.”

  Natalia laughed at Patrick’s audacity. Until now, she hadn’t known the earl had kept Dylan’s inheritance away from him.

  Dylan glanced down at her, a small smile curving his well-formed lips. “You have a lovely laugh. I hope to hear it more often.”

  Her own smile faded. She realized this was the first time she’d laughed in a very long time.

  He sighed, his disappointment obvious, and turned back to Patrick. “My father and I have never gotten along very well. He never had much use for me, after my mother died.”

  Patrick shared a swift pained look with his mother, and then placed his broad hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “Don’t fash yerself, lad. Come along. I’ll show you some of the changes I’ve made these past twenty years. There’s much I’d like your opinion of.”

  Dylan glanced over his shoulder at Natalia. “Will you be all right with Mrs. Macpherson? Perhaps she can give you a tour of the old place.”

  Natalia nodded. “I’ll be fine.” In truth, she was grateful to have a few moments to collect her thoughts. She hadn’t forgotten the promise she’d made to him on their wedding night. He obviously hadn’t forgotten it either.

  The two men departed through the open door and walked back to the coach side by side. Once again, their similarity struck her. They were the same height and had the same muscular build. Amazingly beautiful men, she thought with a sigh.

  Mrs. Macpherson seemed to be thinking similarly; as she watched, her face shimmered wistfully. She finally turned to Natalia. “Come with me, lass. I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

  “That would be lovely.” Natalia hoped the bedchambers were as charming as the great hall. She followed the old woman through the dining area and into a large, surprisingly modern kitchen, which was also on the first floor. She didn’t know much about kitchens, having rarely even entered one, but it looked well equipped and sparkled with cleanliness.

  “You’ve been taking care of this great big house all by yourself?” she asked, as they ascended a set of wide spiral stone steps toward the upper levels.

  Mrs. Macpherson scurried up the stairs with the speed of a woman half her age. “My Patrick helps, of course. When he’s not taking care of the gardens and the tenants.”

  “The tenants?” Natalia grew more impressed with Dylan’s caretakers by the moment.

  “Our dear Dylan owns all the land hereabouts. There’s a small settlement over the ridge. Good people, mostly. We haven’t had a bit of trouble with them paying their rents. Patrick goes to Edinburgh once a year to deposit the sums.”

  With Dylan having been such an absentee landlord, the Macphersons could have easily let the place go and skimmed the profits for themselves. But they seemed to care for Dylan and were strangely eager to please him.

  “We’ll have to see about getting you some help, perhaps a cook or a maid,” Natalia mused, as she hurried to keep up.

  Mrs. Macpherson cast her a grateful glance. “I am gettin’ up in years. A little help would be greatly appreciated. I can think of several village lasses who would do just fine.” Lasses. They were certainly informal around Aldabaran. Even Natalia had been addressed as lass. Still, she couldn’t work up the energy to be insulted. In fact, she rather preferred the informal atmosphere. At the duke’s home, no servant would even dream of meeting an aristocrat’s eyes, let alone addressing one with such familiarity.

  Mrs. Macpherson led her up yet another flight of stairs. A large library, which doubled as an office, and a cozy sitting room comprised the second floor, while four large bedchambers and two antiquated bathrooms were on the third.

  They briefly visited the servants’ quarters on the fourth floor. The Macphersons already occupied several rooms, but plenty of space remained for any others she might hire.

  Huge, barren, and sunlit, the tower solar was the only part of the keep that hadn’t been renovated. Natalia strolled across the dusty wood floor and wondered how she could use it.

  The tour complete, Mrs. Macpherson led her back down to the third floor for a closer inspection of the bedchambers.

  Natalia wandered through the four rooms, amazed by their simple beauty. Two were decidedly feminine, one decorated in various shades of green, the other pale peach. There was also a master suite, which she assumed had belonged to Dylan’s grandfather.

  The last room had obviously belonged to a little boy, Natalia stared at the fanciful paintings of jungle creatures on the walls and felt the strangest ache. One day very soon, her own child might fall asleep with lions and elephants watching over him.

  “I’ll have the master bedchamber made up for you and your husband in no time, lass.” Mrs. Macpherson had let Natalia explore the rooms at her leisure, but now the old woman seemed anxious to get to work.

  Despite the extra work it would cause the old woman, Natalia wasn’t brave enough to share a room with Dylan. She and her husband had come to a fragile truce, but in order to maintain it, she needed to keep him at a distance.

  She would share her bed with him tonight, because she couldn’t think of any way out of the promise she’d made. But after she’d done her marital duty, she needed at least the illusion of privacy.

  “I’d prefer to have my own bedchamber.” Seeing the old woman’s crestfallen face, she explained hurriedly, “I’ll air out the green bedchamber myself. You need only worry about the master suite.”

  Mrs. Macpherson seemed a little mollified by the offer, but she continued to frown. “I’m grateful for the help, lass. And it’s a good choice. Dylan’s mother used that room when she was a girl, and then later, when she’d return for the summers, after she married that dreadful man.”

  Only half listening, Natalia turned back to the green bedchamber, wondering where on earth she should start. She’d never cleaned her own room in her life.

  Mrs. Macpherson stepped in front of her, shaking her head as she peered up into Natalia’s face. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in the master suite, lass? Dinna young Dylan say the two of you were newlyweds? Surely, you want to spend some extra
time with the lad?”

  “I’m afraid our marriage is one of convenience,” she told a woman in order to quash any romantic fantasy the woman might have.

  “Ah. Highborn, are you, lass?”

  “My father is a duke.” Natalia felt uncomfortable with the old woman’s curiosity but couldn’t see the harm in answering her questions.

  “A duke!” Mrs. Macpherson chuckled. “Imagine that! Our little Dylan, marrying a duke’s daughter.”

  “He married me for my dowry.” Natalia related the news bitterly, wanting to deflate Dylan’s saintly image in some way. “All he cares about is the money.”

  “A duke’s daughter, and a large dowry, too?” Mrs. Macpherson couldn’t have been more delighted. “I must tell my Patrick. He’ll be so pleased.”

  Still muttering happily under her breath, the little old woman wandered down the hall, leaving Natalia alone.

  Mrs. Macpherson didn’t seem to care that Dylan had married her for her money. Embarrassed, Natalia realized she’d wanted the other woman’s sympathy. Why didn’t anyone else find the circumstances of her marriage as horrible and demeaning as she did?

  She flopped down on the bed, then sat bolt upright, coughing and choking at the cloud of dust she’d released. Resolutely, she stood and stripped off the covers until only the mattress remained. With a deep sigh, she gathered the blankets and carried them outside. Perhaps she’d be able to work out her frustrations by beating them into submission.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Patrick led Dylan on a very satisfying tour of Aldabaran’s grounds. The spotless stables contained magnificent blooded horses, and the outbuildings were in excellent repair. The dairy and chicken coop looked prosperous, and the gardens and flowerbeds bloomed profusely.

  After completing the tour, Patrick took Dylan to the village to meet some of the tenants. Dylan spent a few wonderful hours getting to know the people who called Aldabaran home.

  The afternoon flew by, and he noticed the sun sinking over the stormy sea in surprise. As he and Patrick returned to the keep, Dylan reflected that nothing else on earth could have diverted him from spending the evening in Natalia’s arms.

  For all intents and purposes, this was his wedding night, and with that thought in mind, he hurried his steps and earned a wide grin from his companion. “Eager to get back to your pretty young wife, are you, lad?”

  Dylan nodded. “Aye, I am. I hope she isn’t too upset that I’ve left her on her own for so long.” In truth, he imagined she’d been glad for the respite. But he couldn’t admit such a thing to Patrick.

  “I imagine Mum has kept her occupied. The lass will want to explore her new home.”

  They crested the hill and Aldabaran stood before them, its stone walls glowing blood-red in the last rays of the setting sun. Dylan paused for a moment, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of his new home.

  Patrick turned to see why he’d stopped. Then he stilled, too, and stared at Dylan’s face with an arrested expression. “You look so much like your mother. She’d always get the same look on her face whenever she returned home from London.”

  Dylan tore his gaze away from the keep, stunned by the yearning in the older man’s eyes. And in that one naked unguarded moment, Dylan understood why Patrick had stayed here all these years.

  “You loved my mother, didn’t you?” The words escaped before Dylan could think better of them.

  Patrick flinched and turned away. “Of course, I did,” he muttered, as he strode up the path that meandered along the edge of the cliff. “Everyone who knew Fiona loved her.”

  Dylan stared after him for a moment then hurried to catch up. “That’s not true,” he told the other man with a bitter laugh. “My father didn’t.”

  Patrick cast him a quick pained look. “Can we not talk of Warren, lad? The very thought of the man incites me to a murderous rage.”

  Dylan chuckled at Patrick’s audacity. He felt the same way about his father, most days.

  About a hundred yards from the keep, Patrick turned toward him once more. “I wanted to tell you, lad, how proud I was to hear of your accomplishments in the army. I followed your career as close as I could, Aldabaran being so remote.”

  Dylan blinked, caught off guard once more. A curious sense of warmth stole over him. Patrick had just gifted him with the very words he’d waited in vain to hear from his own father.

  He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  Patrick squeezed his shoulder and then smiled. “Let’s get up to the house. Mum should have dinner ready by now.”

  “Sounds good. I’m starving.” Though welcome, Patrick’s praise had embarrassed Dylan, and he was glad to bring the conversation back to the mundane.

  Within minutes, they’d reached the keep. When Dylan opened the wide front doors, an assortment of wonderful smells greeted him. Crystal and china covered one end of the massive table, and his lovely wife waited for him in one of the armchairs before a roaring fire.

  Her dark hair shone like satin in the firelight. She’d obviously bathed and changed since this morning. Now she wore a lovely, yet simple, green gown, which complemented the extraordinary color of her eyes. She couldn’t hide a momentary flicker of pleasure at the sight of him, and he grinned, thoroughly pleased.

  Life couldn’t get any better than this.

  Mrs. Macpherson bustled up to meet them, urging Dylan to take his place at the head of the huge table. “I’ve made some haggis,” she exclaimed, beaming at him. “I remember how much you liked it.”

  Dylan remembered no such thing, but he smiled back, charmed. “I’m sure it will be wonderful.” Glancing back at Natalia, he held out his arm. “I missed you,” he murmured, as he led her to her chair.

  She blushed a bit but made no comment. After she was seated, he took his own place. When the Macphersons turned to leave the room, he protested, “Have dinner with us. There’s plenty of room.”

  Patrick looked as if he’d like to agree, but Mrs. Macpherson pulled him toward the door that led to the kitchen. “Nonsense, young man. We wouldn’t dream of it. Have dinner with your lovely wife.”

  And so, at long last, Dylan was alone with Natalia.

  “How was your day? Did Mrs. Macpherson show you around?” As he spoke, Dylan began offering her the covered dishes spread in front of them.

  Natalia served herself, skipping the haggis. “Mrs. Macpherson was very helpful. This house is wonderful, Dylan. Truly. I like it very much.” She gave him a shy smile that warmed his heart.

  “Anything you’d like to change?” He hoped not, but he was more than willing to give her the opportunity. He hadn’t forgotten Basingstoke’s advice.

  She shook her head. “Everything is perfect, just the way it is. However, the solar is empty.”

  “Any thoughts on what you’d like to do with it?” Dylan smiled, amazed at how right it felt to have this boring little domestic discussion.

  “What was it used for when you were a child?”

  He thought for a moment, and an image came to him. He remembered racing around the great empty space, while his mother stood in a pool of light, her face and clothes covered in paint.

  “My mother was an artist. She used the solar as a studio.” How could he have forgotten such a thing? It unsettled him to realize how much of his childhood he’d locked away in the far corners of his mind. “I wonder if there are any of her paintings still in the house.”

  “We’ll look first thing tomorrow,” Natalia promised him. “It would be a way to get to know her better, wouldn’t it?”

  Once again, she surprised him. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand in an attempt to let her know how much her offer meant to him.

  “How old were you when you lost her?”

  Her question chased away the happy memories and brought forth the ones he tried so hard to forget. “I was seven.” He released her hand and returned his attention to his plate. “It was a long time ago. I don’t remember
much about her.”

  “I was four when my mother passed away.”

  Natalia’s soft comment reminded him he wasn’t the only one who’d dealt with loss.

  “She died in childbirth, trying yet again to give my father a male heir.” Her voice held a subtle prompt. She obviously wanted to know how Fiona Blake had died, but his mother’s suicide still hurt too much, so he changed the subject.

  “Did you have our things taken to my grandfather’s bedchamber?”

  Natalia looked away, and her cheeks flushed. “Your things are there. But I put my own in the green bedchamber.”

  Dylan mentally counted to ten, determined not to let his anger and disappointment get the best of him. “Separate rooms? I thought we’d reached an understanding in Edinburgh.”

  “We did.” Natalia turned even redder, if such a thing were possible. “I won’t turn you away tonight, should you still wish to come to me. But I’d like you to leave afterward.” Her voice turned accusatory. “Or am I to have no privacy at all?”

  She won’t turn me away. For a moment, nothing else registered. His immense relief briefly blocked the rest of what she’d said. But then the words sank in, and he glared down at his food in an attempt to keep from turning his anger and disappointment on her. So, she wanted privacy, did she?

  More likely, she just wanted to maintain the distance she’d tried to impose between them. She knew it would be impossible once he held her in his arms all night.

  Hopefully, she would change her mind after they’d made love.

  In any event, he decided not to argue the point. She’d been remarkably accommodating so far, but the stubborn set of her jaw convinced him she wouldn’t bend on this point.

  “I will come to you tonight. But I’ll leave afterward, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

  He no longer had the slightest interest in his meal. He was starving for something, but it wasn’t food.

  Natalia made one last desperate attempt. “You won’t change your mind and give me a little more time?”