He gave her a grin. “Just someone I met in my travels. I hope she thinks of me fondly. I never saw her again.” Until today, he added silently.
“Oh, you must find her. I was once rescued and I would give anything to meet the man who saved me.”
“A valiant knight who came to your rescue?” He grinned at her. “Do you wish to shower him with affection for his bravery?”
She blinked twice, her eyes darkening like the sea during a storm. “I don’t think so. Since you have answered me so honestly, I will do the same. I wish to ask him why he saved me and not my brother. Surely, it was a mistake.”
Chapter Two
Delia took in a breath even as everyone else seemed to let out a giant exhale.
“Delia!” Stone’s voice cut through the room.
“Crum,” Delia whispered. She rarely expressed this thought because it angered Stone beyond reason.
Manchester’s mouth hung open as he looked at her with shock. A small pang of regret made her grimace but she pushed it back down.
“Forgive my sister, she does not always think her thoughts through before she speaks,” Stone gritted out.
“There is nothing to forgive.” Manchester waved his hand, his look of shock vanishing. Delia looked at him in surprise. She had expected him to make a hasty retreat after that rather cryptic and honest admission.
“How…kind of you.” She gave him a falsely bright smile. If honesty would not work in scaring him off, she would have to try another way.
He gave her a brilliant smile in return. It made her toes curl and her nether region ache. Giving her head the tiniest shake, she tried to clear the feeling.
“Let’s speak of something else.” He nodded encouragingly.
Gathering her wits about her, she turned her head to assess him further. “Perhaps I can tell you a story.”
“Please do.” His smile broadened, making his eyes dance. Her insides clenched tighter.
“It is about a fair maiden.” She wiggled her eyebrows. A girl did not survive with five brothers by being a wilting flower. This story would sting.
“Was she the most beautiful in the land?” he gave her a devilish grin and she nearly giggled. Dear Lord, the man was handsome. But she wouldn’t allow him to distract her.
“She was fair enough. But she was held prisoner by no less than four boorish beasts who told her what to do all day and never took her anywhere fun. In fact, they even took to keeping her in the tallest, north tower of their dastardly castle.” She took a breath but her brother Stone interrupted.
“Delia, really, you’ve turned us into—”
“Shush, Stone, you are interrupting.” She held her finger up to her eldest brother and guardian. He grew silent but frowned terribly at her. Her other brothers shifted in discomfort and Matthew was eyeing her with suspicion across the room.
Manchester gave a look back over his shoulder, his lips pressing together as though he was trying not to laugh. “I have to admit, Lady Delia, this is a good story.”
Something in her warmed at those words. Her brother, Reginald, had always been her partner in crime, her confidante, the person to laugh at her jokes. But Reginald was the very reason she could not let this man into her heart. “Then one day, the boorish beasts unlocked the tower and announced they had finally found a use for the maiden. She was to be sold on the marriage market to His Grace, the fourth Duke of—”
“Delia!” Stone’s interruption was far louder, but her arrow had hit its mark. Manchester’s face went from laughing to hard as rock. He would have fit right in in the Alban family. Another pang of regret reverberated in her chest but she ignored it. Marriage to him was not an option.
Manchester stood, and Delia followed suit, certain she had killed any hope he may have harbored. Stone would have to find her a fat old earl that would make her perfectly miserable. It was the only way she could see a future for herself at all. Truth be told, she’d rather be a spinster, but Stone simply wouldn’t allow it.
“Lady Delia, it is always a pleasure. But I would ask, since I am sure we will be well acquainted, that you call me Roderick, rather than His Grace.”
She gave a nod even as she pursed her lips. Apparently, he wasn’t going to be so easy to scare off.
Rising early was Delia’s custom. So the next morning she was up before the sun. It was a chance for quiet reflection in a house that was often mad with people. And today, she had a great deal to think about. Namely, ridding herself of her pesky duke.
It also gave her the opportunity to participate in her one hobby since the death of brother, cooking. Strictly speaking, it was not considered a lady’s pursuit but she enjoyed it so much, and her brothers preferred she stayed close to the house, so they had allowed her as much time in the kitchen as she wanted.
Stone often grumbled about what a mistake it was. “You should be doing needlepoint or taking dancing lessons. Your husband is going to think he has married a peasant.”
She didn’t care at all. In fact, his comments only seemed to fuel her infatuation. Delia loved Stone with all of her heart but his ambitions near drove her mad at times. In the end, he always got his way, except for this one thing. The rest of the family liked her cooking so much, they overruled him, and Delia remained in the kitchen. And he didn’t admit it often, but he’d always loved it too.
Dressed in a simple gown with her hair loosely braided down her back, she tied an apron around her waist and began pulling out the flour and butter to make a nice pastry crust. She smiled with satisfaction as she worked the dough into a perfect ball, then she wrapped it in a cloth and set it aside, as she began to prepare the meat filling.
The sound of the back door made her glance up. Cook always joined her. With four brothers, their three wives, and seven children thus far, there was a great deal of food to be prepped.
But it wasn’t Cook. Her spoon paused mid-stir as Manchester walked into the kitchen. It could only be Stone who had told Roderick where she would be and given his permission for the duke to join her. The spoon clattered against the side of the bowl as she slammed it on the counter. “I’ll murder him,” she muttered.
She heard his chuckle. “Are you up this early every morning? I’m an early riser but land sakes. Is there tea anywhere?”
It took a moment for Delia to answer. Her head was at war with itself. One side desperately wished to tell him to get the devil out of her kitchen. The other warmed at his presence, with his broad chest and easy speech that made her want to share her darkest secrets. Instead, she sighed. “I’ll put on the kettle.”
The kitchen held a large table that the family often used instead of the formal dining room. It was most unconventional but their family was significantly larger than many within the aristocracy and it served the children well. Those meals were some of Delia’s favorite times. Roderick sat himself at the table nearest her, turning his chair so that he could see her. “You never did finish your story yesterday.”
“Alas, it has no ending…yet.” Did fairy tales ever end with the lady being married off to the aging marquess? Because Roderick would most certainly be the Prince Charming.
Having started the kettle, she picked her bowl back up and continued stirring. Cook walked in and, after giving a brief glance, took herself to the pantry to get ingredients. The older woman knew that Roderick would not be there without Stone’s permission. Her brother was a fair employer, but nothing happened without his knowledge.
“Ahhhh, a work in progress.” Roderick leaned back in his chair as he assessed her.
“You didn’t finish your story either. About the girl you rescued. What did you rescue her from? Will you ever see her again?” Finishing with the meat filling, she began rolling out the pasties. The work soothed her, and as she worked out a rhythm with the roller, she found herself smiling.
“I am certain I will see her, and I rescued her from drowning.” His rich voice flowed over her but her rolling pin stopped.
Squaring her shoulde
rs, she started rolling again. “Drowning? In what? A well? A bog? A pond? I must admit Your Grace, your storytelling skills require some improvement.”
He chuckled low and deep and it rippled through her, making the pit of her stomach near ache with something she didn’t understand. “Call me Roderick. It was a river, and I do believe you are right. My storytelling skills are in need of improvement in general, but this particular story pains me still.”
Her rolling pin paused again. This time she didn’t even try to finish the job, instead she turned toward him with rolling pin in hand. “Of course. I apologize. I can certainly understand why you wouldn’t want to share—“
“Delia,” his eyebrow quirked up as he gave her a cocky grin. “Your compassion is the fourth reason I will make you my wife.” The kettle whistled but she stood with her mouth open, rolling pin still held in the air. He glanced at her. “The kettle is ready.”
“I know that.” She slammed the pin down and grabbed a towel to pick up the hot kettle. But truth be told, he had gotten the upper hand. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what other reasons he had on his list for marrying a woman he had known a day. But her curiosity would look weak. Instead, working quickly, she added her unique mixture of tea and spices to the brew. Finishing it with a touch of honey, she set the pot along with a cup and saucer in front of him. Unable to hold it back, she bit out, “Fourth reason?”
His eyes travelled from her navel, slowly up her body to her face. His piercing green stare met hers, causing the ache, always present in his company, to throb. The strangest sensation of knowing him from somewhere rippled through her as well. His eyes tugging at the back of her mind. Like they had met before yesterday but that couldn’t be.
“Yes, fourth.”
“You have a list? We only just met.” Her breath caught on a short gasps and she tried to slow her racing heart. Why were his words affecting her so?
“I do indeed. Though seeing you yesterday has only lengthened it. You see, I am quite determined.”
“You and Stone.” She grimaced, placing a hand on her hip.
His hand reached up and touched hers on the hip. No man who wasn’t related to her had ever touched her like that. The ache pulsed between her thighs. “We will be a difficult combination to best.” His hand slid higher and rested on her waist. She moved to pull away but he held her firm.
Torn between indignation and a breathless need, she tried to think of something that would push him away. “I’ve heard about you, Your Grace. You’re not serious about marriage?”
“Roderick.” He was pulling her closer. “What have you heard about me?”
She’d always been one to speak her thoughts. But she wasn’t sure she dared to do this. Forcing herself to breathe, she pushed the words out. “That you are a rogue. Isn’t that what they call you? Will you continue your roguish ways after we’ve married?” Her stomach twisted after what she’d just said. But she couldn’t marry him. Her reaction to him was too intimate, too much like happiness. She simply had to push him away.
His other hand moved slowly and gently to her waist as well. He was holding her so close, his hands on her body made the room spin. “I have not been that waste of a man for a long time and I never will be again. There will only be you.”
His statement stole her words and her breath, and she gasped, her knees near buckling, but he held her firm. Instead of being angry, he had given her an honest and compassionate answer. Standing, his hands never left her body. Slowly, he placed a kiss on her forehead.
“I don’t know what to say.” He was deftly fighting off her attempts to push him away, stripping back each one of her defenses. Between that and her body’s physical reaction to him, he was difficult to fight.
And of course, Stone wasn’t playing fair either, allowing him this time that was unchaperoned. Drat but the two of them were difficult to best. She couldn’t think of a single defense now.
“Say that you will at least consider allowing me to court you.” He whispered close to her ear.
Another throb jolted between her thighs. How could she say no with her body betraying her as it was? “I will consider it, but I make no promises.” She was swaying closer to him, of that she was certain. If only she could press her body against his to see what it might feel like. Traitor, her mind taunted her even as her body threatened betrayal.
“Thank you,” he whispered, removing his hands and sitting back down to drink his tea.
She wobbled at the loss of his support but managed to recover and returned on unsteady legs to her pastries. After a few minutes of working the dough, she thought she had returned to normal but then his voice jarred her out of her rhythm again.
“I declare this the best tea I have ever had. What is in it?” She closed her eyes. Roderick was the most handsome man she had ever met but his voice, almost as much as his proximity, was making her weak in the knees. Think of Reginald, she chanted to herself.
“I never share my recipe. I have three sisters-in-law who have been trying to get it out of me for years.” She tried to roll again but he had stepped up behind her, hands on her hips. Her teeth snapped together. If he didn’t stop touching her, she might lose her mental faculties.
“I must warn you that former rogues have ways of extracting these types of secrets.” His breath tickled the skin of her neck and her insides melted into a puddle. She tried to summon the image of her brother. That was the only defense that would work now.
* * *
Roderick smiled to himself with a great deal of satisfaction. She was affected by him, he was certain. If he could only control his own attraction, he’d be able to win her hand for sure. He knew it was odd that he didn’t want to want the woman he wished to marry. But he’d promised to be a gentleman. Deserving of her hand.
She was breathing in short gasps and she nibbled at her lower lip. He’d like to nibble on her lower lip. He stopped himself. That wouldn’t do at all.
His status as a rogue seemed to bother her but he had answered honestly. In time she would learn that he had meant those words. He was not that man and never would be again.
Holding Delia in his arms all those years ago, had both made him realize what strength meant and how fleeting life could be. He had nearly lost her while he watched his best friend perish. Reginald was the best man he had ever known. Kind, generous, strong, handsome, he had never taken advantage of a woman. He’d respected them, cherished them. Roderick had laughed at him once but Reginald had been unfazed. “I have a sister with golden hair and bright blue eyes. She dances and sings and makes the world a happier place. I give women the respect that men should give to Delia.” Roderick had laughed harder, a little girl? Roderick closed his eyes. If only he could tell his friend that he had been right all along. But he’d never have the chance. She was not a little girl anymore and his initial feelings of protectiveness had been amplified by desire now that she was grown. Though that intense need to keep her safe remained. “That meat concoction smells delightful. May I try it?”
She nibbled harder on her lip but pulled a fresh spoon out and placed a generous amount of the filling on it. No wonder she smelled like confections. He would have to double his training and riding regimen to keep from getting fat if he succeeded in making her his wife. She made to pass him the spoon but he grabbed her hand instead and brought the instrument, now held by both of them, to his mouth. He knew he was being a cad but a rogue’s charm rarely had failed him in the past and it was a tactic he’d apply now.
Taking a bite, the meat was a perfect combination of savory with a touch of sweet and it melted on his tongue. He was going to have to triple his training. He closed his eyes savoring the flavor. “I may have to move cooking up the list.” He exhaled, as he swallowed the final piece.
Her eyes were huge as she looked at his mouth, her own lips softly parted. She was leaning her back against him, her blue grey eyes appearing stormy again. It would be so easy to dip down and steal the smallest kiss. Stone
may well murder him, because he might not be able to stop with just one kiss. And he’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t. She was burning every one of his senses until all he could see, taste, touch was her. Besides, Reginald would not have wanted him to. Roderick would restrain himself no matter the temptation.
“I am curious to know what else is on this list.” She was trying to sound scathing, her tone dropping to chastise him. But it came out breathy, giving her away.
“Each time we have an outing, I will tell you another. But for today, I have already shared one.” He had to find a way to gain another meeting. This seemed as good a method as any.
“Outing? My brothers don’t let me have outings. Not anymore, not after…” Her jaw snapped shut and her body pulled away. His hands were still on her waist but she grabbed the rolling pin and began attacking the pastry shell.
Most curious, he thought, but he didn’t pull away. What had he said that had caused her to stiffen so? Had it been her near mention of Reginald’s death? He skimmed his hands up her back and rested them on her shoulders. He began to knead her stiff muscles as she rolled out the dough. Touching her made every muscle tighten. Damn it all to hell.
“What are you doing?” she grated out between her clenched teeth.
He chuckled again, trying to remain casual. She had a little temper. He liked it. That may go sixth or seventh on the list. “You tensed up suddenly. I am trying to relax you again.”
“Then perhaps you should give me some room to work.”
“Does my presence make you tense? How curious.” He chuckled again. This was going even better than he had expected, though her sudden withdrawal was concerning. Like him, she likely still ached at Reginald’s loss. That much was becoming clear.
“Strange men touching me does, in fact, make me nervous. I would think a known rogue would understand women far better.” She went to use her hip to push him away but instead, her bottom came in contact with his member.
The Duke’s Scottish Lass: Brethren of Stone Page 2
