In the Bed of a Duke

by Cathy Maxwell

  “We will arrive before any messenger we send. Don’t worry,” he said in answer to her look of concern. “He’ll be happy to see us. He wants to curry favor. And his house would be the perfect place to spend some time and give Justin a bit of polish before taking him to London. We’ll go shopping for you, too. After all, I’ve lost your entire wardrobe with all of this,” he said, before dropping his voice to an intimate note. “Not that I don’t prefer you in absolutely nothing.” His hand at her waist pulled her closer.

  Her pulse quickened. He had that power over her. He wielded it effortlessly. But before she could answer, he was already turning away. “I’ll get the horses ready. You prepare yourself.”

  “What of Justin? Are you going to speak to him?”

  Phillip hesitated before saying, “He needs a moment to consider how much his life is changing. I don’t believe it wise to discuss this with him now.”

  As if he’d passed an edict she must obey, he left. A moment later, she heard the door to the inn open and close.

  She looked down at the remains of cold food from their mostly uneaten breakfast and wondered just how far she was going to follow him.

  “He can be a bastard, can’t he?” Justin’s voice said from the kitchen doorway.

  Startled, Charlotte turned to him. He leaned on the doorjamb. “How long have you been there?”

  Justin made a self-deprecating sound. “From the beginning.” He straightened. “I went storming off in the wrong direction and found myself in the kitchen with an innkeeper who is not fond of any of us.”

  His honesty made her smile. “I understand why.”

  He moved into the room. “Aye, I agree. What I don’t understand is how matters are between you and Lord Phillip.”

  She heard the mockery in his voice over his brother’s new title. “He’s a good man.”

  “He is. If he can get his head out of his—” He stopped, a gleam of mischief in his eye. “I should mind my manners. Not be so coarse.”

  “You aren’t a blacksmith anymore,” she agreed.

  The light in his eyes died. “What am I? A fool? A puppet?”

  Charlotte pushed a chair into the table. “You are what you wish to be.”

  “Will he let me?”

  “Does he have a choice?”

  “He could slit my throat and be done with me. No one but you would be the wiser.”

  “And you’d believe I would keep silent?”

  “Women do many foolish things for love.”

  “Not I,” Charlotte answered, offended.

  Justin’s face split into a grin. “I’ve got your back up, haven’t I?”

  “Are you saying you are deliberately being provoking?” she countered.

  “Aye.”

  Charlotte leaned back, considering him. “To what purpose?”

  “Perhaps for my own, Miss Cameron.”

  She nodded. “And what purpose could that be, Mr. Maddox?”

  The line of his mouth flattened. “I’m no Maddox. Mayhap I’ll be the duke, but that name has been burned in my soul as one of shame.”

  “Phillip said there was no shame. He defends his family’s reputation.”

  “Phillip and I disagree on many matters. We’ve only scratched the surface. You were right, Miss Cameron. I’m not a lapdog. Not anymore.”

  She believed him. This past week had changed all three of them, but he more than her and Phillip. “What shall I call you?” she asked quietly. “Are you ready to be referred to as the duke?”

  “Call me Justin.”

  Their gazes met with understanding. “You like the name.”

  “Aye, the man I was is dead. I’m no fool, Miss Cameron—”

  “Charlotte,” she corrected.

  He smiled. “Charlotte,” he said, testing the name. “I’m no fool although I realize I’ve been played one for years. The laird is a sly one. He knew from the beginning what he was doing. I see that now.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Moira. He arranged my marriage to Moira when we were both too young to know better, and I was happy to stay right where he wanted me.”

  “And then he took her away.”

  Justin shrugged, his expression hardening. “I don’t know if he was that clever. Once Bruce noticed her, she changed. It’s hard for a man who suspects his wife is being unfaithful. If he loves her, he wants to pretend ignorance.”

  Charlotte heard the pain of experience in his words. “Why would you want her to stay if she didn’t love you?”

  His gaze slid to hers. “Now you sound like the MacKenna. That was his question to me before he ordered me to divorce her. It’s all a game to him, and she is a prize. Bruce loves her as much as I did. Now she shackles him to the laird.”

  “But you’d go back to her.”

  He shook his head. “No. Never. Every time I look at the scar her knife will have left in my shoulder, I’ll remember she’d wanted to bury that dirk into my heart. Some things sober a man, Charlotte.”

  “It’s a pity it had to go to that extreme,” she agreed.

  He smiled, the expression bitter, before saying, “Don’t feel sorry for me, Charlotte. You love him, don’t you, lass? Ah, you don’t have to answer. I know the look. The first thing you lose is your principles. I begged for Moira back, Charlotte. I embarrassed myself. But I learned a valuable lesson.”

  “What lesson?” she asked, almost afraid to breathe until she heard the answer.

  He stepped closer, his words for only the two of them to hear. “I learned that you don’t settle. That you have the right to expect your lover to be as honest and open as you are. It doesn’t work when one has nothing to lose, and the other has everything.”

  Dear God, it was as if he’d read her fears and doubts.

  But before she could speak, Phillip’s voice came from the hallway door. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Both she and Justin turned away while heat surged to her cheeks. She hated blushing. It made her look guilty.

  “We were discussing my divorce,” Justin said, easily.

  Phillip walked into the room. Charlotte could feel him studying her. She met his eye.

  “I’ve been thinking about that, too,” Phillip said, returning his attention to his brother. “What conclusions did the two of you reach?” There was a challenge in his voice, a challenge Charlotte didn’t quite understand.

  But Justin did.

  “We’ve no conclusions,” he said. “Not yet.”

  “You won’t,” Phillip assured him.

  Charlotte looked from one to the other. There was a current flowing between them. They understand without words what was being said. She didn’t know if it was because they were twins, or men.

  Justin caught her confusion. “It’s fine, lass. All is well between us.”

  “Thus far,” Phillip amended with his customary caution. But then, he shifted his mood. “I’ve been thinking about the divorce.”

  “And?” Justin queried, the word testy.

  “We should follow it up with an annulment. I’ll make the arrangements. Divorce is a sticky problem in England. I know you Scots are more lenient—”

  “We’re not lenient at all. I know it cost the laird a pretty penny and me my pride.”

  “Well, it’s not done in England. Not done at all,” Phillip said decisively. “But if we put through an annulment, there will be no questions in the future.”

  “My marriage was consummated, well and good,” Justin declared. “I’ll not stand before any man and say I could not take care of my wife.”

  Phillip frowned his impatience. “You don’t have to stand before anyone. We’ll leave it to the lawyers. They will find a reason, and once they do, the clergy will agree. It will all be done very quietly.”

  “There is no reason. We were married right and proper.”

  “Leave it to the lawyers,” Phillip pressed again. “For the right price, everyone will agree, and we’ll not need to worry about this
matter.”

  “Why do I sense that you are rather happy to be giving up this ducal kingdom?” Justin asked.

  His shrewd insight caught both Phillip and Charlotte by surprise. Phillip’s twin was no fool. In some ways, he would make a more dangerous enemy than Phillip.

  “I’m doing what is right, brother,” Phillip said, using the word “brother” with deliberate intention. “And it is for that same reason I shall insist on an annulment.”

  Justin appeared ready to argue, but then capitulated. “Do as you wish.”

  “I usually do,” Phillip answered briskly. He clapped his hands together. “Are we ready to travel?”

  Charlotte realized she’d not done a thing to prepare. “Give me a moment,” she promised, and started out of the room toward the staircase.

  “Let me help,” Justin said, coming after her.

  “No, that’s fine,” she said. “I’ll only be few moments.”

  Phillip waited until she was gone to tell Justin what was really on his mind. “Stay away from her. She’s mine.”

  Justin walked over to the corner where he’d leaned the Sword of the MacKenna. He picked up the weapon before answering, “You have no claim on her, brother.”

  “And stop calling me brother in that tone of voice,” Phillip added.

  “What tone?” Justin asked, sounding innocent.

  Phillip couldn’t help but swear. “If I’d known a brother would be this much of an irritant, I would have left you where you were.”

  “I understand,” Justin said easily. “However, let us be honest with each other. Charlotte is not only beautiful but courageous. She deserves better than being played the doxy.”

  “I could call you out for that,” Phillip answered.

  “Call me out?” Justin lifted an eyebrow. “For what? Speaking the truth. You can go to the devil.” He started out of the room, the Sword of the MacKenna in his hand, not even bothering to choose a different direction. Instead, he walked right in front of Phillip.

  Phillip blocked his path with an arm across the doorway. “She’s mine,” he said.

  “She is yours,” Justin agreed. “But be careful you don’t lose her. After all, every woman wants to marry a duke.” He pushed his way past and went down the hall and out the door.

  Phillip stared after him, unable to move or think as he realized the truth in Justin’s words and exactly what he’d given up. Up until this moment, he’d been willing to hand his title to his brother. It was the right and honorable thing to do.

  However, it might cost him Charlotte.

  He’d not considered that possibility—not until he’d walked into this room and found her and Justin so cozy. The jealousy that had surged through him had been alarming, but he’d managed to keep appearances intact.

  Charlotte wanted to marry a duke…and he no longer was one.

  In fact, he no longer was sure what he was, a realization that shook him to his soul. For the first time, he realized he was going to have to be considered as a man, not a duke.

  A Cameron had already jilted him once. The scandal had humiliated him, but it had also prepared him for accepting his brother.

  However with Charlotte, his heart was involved.

  Footsteps warned him she was coming down the stairs. He turned to greet her. She smiled and his heart seemed to stop.

  It was then he also realized that his love for Charlotte Cameron wasn’t going to be a static thing. It grew and had been growing from that first kiss.

  If he wasn’t careful, she could crush him.

  She immediately sensed the change in him. “Phillip, is something wrong?”

  Yes, everything.

  He shook his head, more to clear his senses. “No, everything is fine,” he said.

  “Good. Is Justin waiting outside?”

  Justin. A man Phillip had pitied because he’d been willing to trust a woman he loved, a woman everyone but he could see was mercenary.

  “Yes, he is,” Phillip answered, sounding more curt than he intended. She was so beautiful…but what if she really wanted a duke? It had been her purpose, her dream.

  “Are you coming?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’ll be out in a moment,” he answered, wanting to put his jumbled thoughts together.

  “I’m going ahead,” she said with her customary independence.

  And watching her go, he knew he must be careful, or he could be played for a fool as his brother had been.

  He might not be a duke much longer, but he had a duke’s own pride…and a man’s realization that Charlotte was the one woman who could expose all his vulnerabilities. She could destroy him.

  And for that reason, Phillip would keep his heart secret. The risk was too great. Let her be the one to speak first. Then, and only then, would he allow himself the freedom of his heart.

  When he went outside, Justin and Charlotte were already on their horses and laughing companionably…and once again, he was the outsider.

  “Let’s go,” he said curtly. “We don’t have time to dawdle.” He didn’t wait for an answer but kicked Homer into a trot.

  Chapter 17

  Charlotte sensed a change in Phillip, but she couldn’t understand why. He’d become distant and yet, more protective. He kept himself between her and Justin and frowned anytime either of them laughed.

  It was as if they traveled with a Puritan.

  “He’s jealous,” Justin whispered to her.

  “Of what?” she wondered.

  “Me.”

  The idea was so outlandish, she laughed. They’d stopped for a moment on the road. Phillip had stepped away for some privacy. Otherwise, she could not have spoken to Justin at all.

  “It’s true,” Justin said. “I told him he didn’t deserve you.”

  Shocked, Charlotte asked, “Why did you say that?”

  “Because he doesn’t. You love him, don’t you?”

  She nodded, upset to realize how transparent she was…and how weak. She was now defenseless to the world, her reputation in tatters, and yet, she could not help herself. “He and I really don’t know each other.”

  Justin gave a bark of laughter. “What does that mean? That you haven’t formally been introduced?” He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all rot. If a man wants a woman, he should say so. Until he does, she’s fair game.”

  Her eyes widened. Was he saying he wanted to court her?

  He smiled, the expression sly. “You are a beautiful woman, Charlotte,” he said, his voice warm.

  She stumbled backward. “Oh, no. No. I’m not some game. If this is nonsense between you and Phillip, leave me out of it.”

  This time, Justin’s smile was genuine. “Come along, lass, you can’t expect me not to want to tweak his nose a bit.”

  She shook her head, uncertain. Justin was completely different than his twin. Phillip was straightforward. He said what he believed. She wasn’t so certain Justin did.

  However, before she could ask questions, Phillip returned. He took in the scene of Justin and Charlotte, and his scowl deepened.

  “Mount up,” he ordered, and practically manhandled Charlotte up on the back of her bay.

  Justin caught her eye and gave her an “I told you so” smile.

  However, for as difficult as Phillip was being to her, he and Justin actually started to become better acquainted. She and Phillip were both surprised at how quick Justin’s mind actually was. He told them about the priest’s teaching him to read. He didn’t know Greek, but he had a smattering of Latin and a head for figures honed by years of running his own smithy.

  That night, they stayed at a widow’s cottage. Justin and Phillip paid for their board by doing chores.

  “Which one of those bonny men are yours?” the widow asked Charlotte. “Or does it make a difference with them being twins?” She chuckled over her own humor.

  Heat rushed to Charlotte’s cheeks as she realized what the woman had really assumed.

  Charlotte prayed to God that Constance
never learn of this escapade. In fact, her big worry was Constance.

  Constance must marry and marry well. Charlotte would be mortified if her sister had such a relationship as the one she now had with Phillip.

  However, that evening, up in the widow’s hayloft, when Phillip held out his hand for her, she went. She couldn’t help herself.

  As for him, he made love to her as if this night was their last. He turned her inside out. In his arms she became a creature of passion…and yet, he never spoke of a future between them. When he talked about anything beyond the moment, it was his plans to stop MacKenna or for Justin’s future.

  He didn’t mention her and him together. No talk of love, and so she kept what was in her heart secret, where it would be safe.

  The next morning they were up at dawn. Phillip readied the horses. “Where is Justin?” Charlotte asked.

  A beat later she found out when the cottage door opened. Justin came swaggering out, tucking his shirt in his breeches, the Sword of the MacKenna hanging from his belt and a cloth sack in his hand. He’d not taken a step or two before the widow came hurrying out and gave him a passionate kiss.

  Phillip and Charlotte could do nothing but wait. At last, the widow had her fill. “Godspeed, my bonny man,” she said in her musical burr.

  Justin gave her a pat on the rear for remembrance. He mounted his horse, a grin on his face from ear to ear.

  Phillip waited until they were out of sight of the cottage before he said, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “Aye and so did she. Enough to feed us breakfast.” He held up the sack. “Bread, cheese, and a jar of cider.”

  “I thought you didn’t like cheese,” Phillip said.

  “I like anything that woman offered,” Justin said, and set his mare Butter off at a happy trot.

  They stayed the next night with a Presbyterian family. Again, Phillip introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

  And so, living hand to mouth, they made their way to Edinburgh. After that initial morning, Phillip and Justin didn’t fight. Not once. And it was sounding more and more like they had known each other all their lives. The most amazing moment to Charlotte was when they had a belching contest, and Phillip won.

  “Never, not even in my wildest imagination, would I have imagined you making such a rude noise,” Charlotte said to Phillip.