by Amy Jarecki
When he touched her back, she slid farther away. She didn’t want his touch right now. How could he do this to her? Did he not love her? Did he not want marriage and a family?
“Please, Akira,” he pleaded. “We can work this out. My only desire is to see to your happiness. Let us take one thing at a time.”
With a stuttering exhale, she hid her face with her hand. Dear God, if ever she needed her mother’s counsel, it was now. But how could Akira tell Ma how stupid she’d been? She’d trusted Geordie, believed him to be pure of heart, believed he would treasure her as much as she treasured him.
Is that why he read her the play about deception?
And what did he mean, they could work it out? What was there to work out?
“Akira?”
She said not a word.
“Please, look at me,” he deplored, as if she was hurting him, not the other way around.
Wiping her eyes, she complied with his request.
Blast it, the sparkle in his eyes made her want to trust him. “I promise I will always care for you. Never again will you want for anything.”
“But—”
“Huntly Castle, m’lord,” the coachman shouted.
* * *
Of all the rotten timing. Just when he’d stuck his boot in his mouth, the damned coach had to pass through Huntly’s gates, proceeding with haste along the tree-lined drive. In minutes they would stop in the castle’s courtyard. How could he have been such an idiot? Akira was uneducated in the ways of the aristocracy. Why didn’t he realize the lass wouldn’t immediately warm to the idea of being a mistress?
Because he was a dolt. Every other peer he knew kept a mistress. He’d entertained more than one himself, though not recently.
In no way could they arrive at Huntly with this misunderstanding separating them.
Akira shrank low in the seat. “Perhaps ’tis time for me to return to Dunkeld.”
Geordie grasped her hand and held it over his heart. “Please don’t leave.”
“You expect me to stay here and forget that you insulted me to my very core? Just because I’m a poor healer doesn’t mean I have no pride.” She moved away from him and crossed her arms. “And there you sit, making decisions for me? How dare you!”
Geordie glanced out the window as the coach proceeded along the drive far too fast for him to beg, plead, and grovel for mercy. “You are right. I am a complete and utter nitwit. Clearly I haven’t thought this through.”
“No, you have not.”
“I cannot bear to have you angry. Please, all I ask is that you give me some time to set my affairs in order. If after a fortnight you still wish to return to Dunkeld, I shall accompany you home myself.”
When he reached for her hand, she snapped it away. “Is there not someone else who can take me?”
He reached for her hand again and squeezed it between his palms. “I would trust your care to no one else. A fortnight. That’s all I ask.”
She shook her head.
“Please. Before the driver reins the horses to a halt. I must have your word.”
She pursed her lips and gave him a heated glare, snatching her hand away again. “A fortnight, but you will promise not to ravish me again.”
Throughout the duration of the carriage ride, all Geordie had been able to think about was locking the door to his chamber and making sweet love to Akira hour after hour. It would kill him to abstain.
“You must agree, or I’ll have to insist you order an escort to take me back to Dunkeld with haste.”
God, he adored her. No woman he’d ever met in his life would have been able to command him so—but he could deny Akira nothing. She might even turn him into a decent man—if such a thing were possible. “Agreed.” Watching her eyes, he plucked a lock of her hair and plied it with a kiss. “I am yours to command, mo leannan.”
Before Geordie had a chance to compose himself, the coach came to a halt. Geordie’s gut clamped like a fist.
Damnation!
Dogs barked, Jane’s and Alexander’s high-pitched laughs carried through the window, while the servants clapped, shouting welcomes as they always did after he returned from a long journey. The coach door swung open.
“Your Grace!” A big grin spread across Oliver’s pockmarked visage. “Praises be, you live.”
“Was there any doubt?”
The man-at-arms stepped aside, allowing Geordie to alight. “Lord William said you disappeared after the first attack.”
“I was shot in the leg. Left alone to drag myself under a patch of broom.” Geordie motioned for Akira to take his hand. “If it weren’t for this healer, I would have perished for certain.”
Oliver bowed. “Pleased to meet you, miss.”
“Ayres,” she said. “Akira Ayres.”
Geordie blinked. He’d never heard her utter her last name before—a Gypsy name for certain.
“Da! Da!” Jane and Alexander dashed down from the entry steps.
Ignoring the twinge of pain in his thigh, he hefted seven-year-old Jane onto one hip and clutched eleven-year-old Alexander around the shoulders. “There you are, my beautiful children. What mischief have you been doing whilst I’ve been away?”
“Mostly worrying about you,” said Jane, tweaking his nose.
“Aye, even Mother returned from France.” Alexander rolled his eyes. “Said I needed to be readied to take my place as the next duke, but I told her you weren’t dead. I kent it right down to my toes.”
Tongue-tied, Geordie shot a panicked glance toward Akira.
With a pronounced start, the lass clapped her hand to her chest, then scanned the courtyard—looking for a duchess, no doubt. Or was it she was overwhelmed by the fifty or so servants who’d come to greet him?
The fist in his gut sank to his toes. Dear God, could things grow worse?
Geordie set the children down and introduced them. “Please show Miss Akira to the suite of rooms in the east tower.” He snapped his fingers at Byron, the valet. “Send a chambermaid to help Miss Akira settle in.”
“East tower?” Jane complained. “But that’s miles away.”
Thank God. He gave his daughter a stern look. “Do it, I say—you, too, Alexander.”
“But why can she not stay with me?” Jane asked.
“Because my word is law.” Geordie clasped Akira’s shoulder and turned his lips to her ear. “Remember what I said: Things will seem hectic at first, but pay it no mind. I will visit you in your chamber anon.”
She eyed him with a wary glare while Jane tugged her arm.
The lass took her hand without hesitation, and skipped along at her side. “Come. I think you’ll like the east tower. I’d stay there if Da would let me.”
Geordie watched his Gypsy rose follow the children, admiring the sway of her backside as she climbed the entry steps. But one upward glance instantly cooled his lust. Elizabeth stood in the window of an upper chamber with her hands on her hips, glowering straight at him. The witch.
Holy hellfire, the last thing he needed was to face that dragon.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Walking through the labyrinth of passageways and up and down the tower’s spiral stairs, Akira was completely lost. Not to mention completely staggered by her exchange with Geordie in the carriage. If only there had been more time to discuss this ridiculous state of affairs, she might feel a bit more confident, but presently, she followed the duke’s children with trepidation.
Lithe as a dancer, with taffeta skirts swishing around her long legs, Jane ran ahead, chattering like a finch while Alexander, a bit older, trailed behind with a very serious expression on his face—looking not unlike his father. Jane was fairer in complexion, with tawny tresses, whereas Alexander’s hair was dark. Neither one of them had Geordie’s eyes. Jane’s were blue as the sky and Alex had brooding gray eyes.
As they proceeded, Akira caught glimpses of opulence. Alcoves sporting ornate vases and furniture too lavish to sit upon. Some walls were lined with
rich silk tapestries, and others paneled with dark wood, displaying portraits of richly dressed men and women.
Merciful fairies, Geordie must be as wealthy as a king.
The deeper into the castle they walked, the more Akira’s insides churned. What on earth was she doing there? Worse, it hadn’t passed her notice that a woman stood in a second-floor window looking very angry. And Akira had no doubt it was the children’s mother—a duchess.
“How on earth does one venture outside?” she asked. Mayhap she’d need to steal away, run far from Huntly so His Grace could never find her. Dear Lord, she was so lost, she wouldn’t be able to make her way to Dunkeld if she tried, blast it all.
“There are plenty of doors everywhere,” said Alexander from behind, speaking for the first time.
“Well, I’m impressed you children can find your way around so easily.”
Jane glanced over her shoulder. “We go exploring all the time.”
“Aye, we thought we’d lost Jane once. Unfortunately, Da found her in the turret of the west tower.”
“Goodness, how awful to be lost in one’s own home.”
“I wasn’t lost.” Jane scrunched her nose at her brother and stuck out her tongue.
He gave her shoulder a playful shove. “Yes, you were.”
With a snort, Jane proceeded with her nose in the air. “You only thought I was lost. I was having a tea party with the pigeons.”
Before Alexander could come back with a testy remark, Jane opened a door and ushered them into a brilliant chamber.
Unable to breathe, Akira stopped inside the doorway.
“Do you not like it?” asked the heiress.
What was there not to like? The chamber shone as if lit by sunlight. The walls were painted white, with reliefs of birds and flowers in the arches near the ceiling, and white silk curtains framed a large bed. There was a marble hearth, two chairs, a table, a dresser painted white, an elegant settee, and more.
“’Tis amazing.” Akira wandered between the furnishings and traced her finger along a brass candlestick, polished to such a sheen it seemed to glow.
“Ma’s chamber is fancier,” said Alexander, who hadn’t moved from the doorway.
Akira’s face grew hot. Was the heir upset about his parents’ separation?
Poor lad. I’m sure the tragedy affected him a great deal.
She pressed her fingers to her lips and smiled. “I thank you and your parents for allowing me to stay for a wee while. And I’m happy to say your father’s injury is healing nicely.”
“What happened to him?” asked Jane.
“He was shot in battle. Took a musket ball to the thigh.”
The door closed behind Alexander as he moved forward, his expression taking on a hint of interest. “Did it hurt?”
“My oath, it did.” Akira sat on the settee and patted the cushions either side of her. “After the fighting ended, I ventured onto the battlefield with my healer’s basket and heard your da moan—found him half-conscious under a clump of broom.”
Eager to learn more, both children sat beside her and listened while Akira spun a tale of her battlefield surgery and their flight from the redcoats. She was careful to focus on her role as a healer and Geordie’s recovery, and the pair seemed to warm to her.
Jane jumped up and twirled across the floor. “You must be the best healer in the whole world.”
The lad puffed out his chest. “And Da took a shot to the leg whilst he fought off the bloody dragoons.”
Jane stopped and jammed her fists into her hips. “Alex, I’m going to tell Mrs. Finch you were swearing.”
Akira laughed. “I don’t think His Lordship’s curse was all that bad. After all, I would expect you pair to be terribly worried about your da.”
Jane skipped back to Akira. “Oh, we were.” She nodded at her brother. “We were, were we not?”
Alexander sniffed, his mouth forming a hard line. “Aye, and I’m angry with Ma for saying ’twas time to claim my inheritance.” He shook his head vehemently. “I’m not ready to bury my father yet. I want him to live forever.”
Akira patted the lad’s shoulder. “Of course you do, m’lord.” Sensing the need to change the subject, she leaned back and crossed her ankles. “So what do you like to do best?”
“I like drawing and riding my pony.” Jane swayed from side to side, looking ever so much like Akira’s youngest sister, Kynda. “Da gave me a bay garron for my birthday.”
“You are a lucky lass, indeed.” Akira turned her attention to the lad. “And you, Lord Alexander?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been learning swordplay from Master Oliver. He says I show promise. If I’m to be the next Duke of Gordon, I’d best ken how to defend my lands.”
Akira regarded the stoic future duke. The lad spoke too much like an adult. “I’d like to watch your lesson sometime. I’m sure you’re quite practiced.”
“I am.”
“Hello?” A chambermaid entered and curtsied. “I’m Fiona. His Grace has appointed me to your care.”
Standing, Akira greeted the lass. “I hope we can become good friends.”
“Och, you do not make friends with the servants,” said Jane.
“And whyever not?” Akira didn’t like that one bit. “Servants are God’s children, placed on this earth just like you, lass. Take note of what I say. ’Tis important to treat everyone with respect, no matter their station.”
“Even a beggar?” asked Alexander.
Akira gave him a stern eye. “Especially a beggar—for they have been met with the most unfortunate circumstances of all.”
Jane twirled in a circle. “I’ve never thought of it that way afore.”
Alexander sprang from the settee and yanked his sister’s arm, practically knocking her off kilter. “Aye, and do not mention a word of it to Ma, else she’ll become hysterical—ye ken how she flies off.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “I ken.”
Fiona pulled a bit of measuring ribbon from her apron pocket. “M’lord and m’lady, you’d best return to your lessons.”
“Curses. Always lessons.” Jane twisted her hands behind her back and focused her enormous blue eyes on Akira. “Will you watch me ride my pony later?”
“Certainly, I’d enjoy that.”
After the children took their leave, Akira heaved a sigh. Though endearing, they were both spoiled beyond imagination.
Fiona held up the ribbon. “His Grace has ordered a dozen gowns for you with all the trimmings.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“’Tis what he said, and when the duke orders something, everyone must act swiftly, or there will be hell to pay.”
Blinking, Akira regarded the chambermaid. Does Geordie rule his castle with an iron fist? “Is that so?”
Fiona ran the measure along the outside of Akira’s arm. “Aye, no one ever crosses the Duke of Gordon, at least not in these parts.”
Akira drummed her fingers against her lips. “Is that because there is hell to pay or because he is a generous man?”
“A bit of both, I’d reckon. Now, put your arms to your sides, please, so I can collect your measurements.”
Akira did as asked, watching the lass. “Aren’t you going to write them down?”
“Nay. I keep them in my head.”
“Do you write?”
Fiona shook her head, a hint of shame in her eyes.
“Neither do I.” Akira covered her giggle with her palm.
“Honestly?” Fiona bit her lip and grinned. “Do you mind if I say something familiar, miss?”
“Not at all—as I said, I hope we can become friends.”
“What you said to the children about respecting folk—I trust you meant it. Do not take me wrong: Lady Jane and Lord Alexander are lovely children, but living in this grand castle, they cannot possibly understand how it is to be a…a commoner.”
Akira nodded. “I thought so myself.”
“Well, ’twas what they needed to hear and I’
m glad you said it.”
“Thank you.” Akira sighed. Her mind in a total muddle, she was anything but glad about being at Huntly Castle. “You wouldn’t know how long the duchess will be here?”
“No, miss. Except, now the duke has returned, I’d reckon not long.”
Though she’d guessed the answer, she had to ask. “Why do you say that?”
“Did you ken they are divorced?” The maid spewed the word divorced like it was a curse.
“Aye.”
“Well, when she left, the duchess said she couldn’t even live on the same island as His Lordship.” Fiona shook her head. “They used to argue something awful, too. And Her Ladyship oft grew so enraged she threw things. Nay, ’tis best if she returns to Flanders with haste.”
* * *
Finally alone, Geordie removed his sword belt and weapons and slung them across his bed. Devil’s spit, he was bone weary. He hadn’t paid much attention to the wound in his thigh, but arriving home reminded him it still hadn’t completely healed. A stack of missives awaited him on the table before the hearth. He sank into his overstuffed chair and reached for the first, sliding his thumb under the wax seal.
“I wish I could say it is good to see you, George.” He could never mistake the loathed woman’s English accent.
Geordie’s skin crawled as if a rat had just skittered across the back of his neck. Elizabeth stepped out from the window embrasure—where she’d been lying in wait, no doubt.
He tossed the missive back on the table. “What the devil are you doing here?”
She smirked. “When word arrived that you were missing, and possibly killed in that vile Jacobite uprising, I had no recourse but to join my children.”
He crossed his legs and arms. “Och, so you care about them when you think I’m dead.”
She sniffed. “I always care about them.”
“If only your actions stated the same.”
“Good heavens. You’re stirring that up again? Are you turning my children against me because I cannot tolerate your whoring?”
Christ, the woman could raise his ire like none other. “The children will always respect you as their mother. If there is any discord between you, it is on account of your own doing.”
