Say Yes to the Duke

by Kieran Kramer

  “I can’t believe that you do.” He chuckled. “You’re not a pushover, as I well know. You’ve got yourself a temper, my lady.”

  She raised her chin. “I only behave that way when I’m required to, Mr. Callahan. When I’m put into a corner and need to fight back. And so far, you’re the first man who’s ever brought that out in me.”

  “Oh.” He gave her a lazy grin. “You should behave that way more often.” There was smoke in his voice.

  Her heart beat faster. “You’re being silly.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Please change the subject.” Her voice came out as a mere squeak. She could have simply turned and left him, but—

  She couldn’t.

  She craved every second she could get in his company.

  It was foolish.

  But she couldn’t help herself. He was like a drug.

  “All right.” He stood up straight and folded those massive arms over his chest. “What do you think of the duke so far?”

  She blinked several times, overwhelmed by the leashed power she sensed in those muscles of his. She didn’t think Gregory could take him down, nor Daddy. And certainly not Peter or Robert.

  “His Grace,” she said in a thin voice, “is perfectly courteous and pleasant—if a bit demanding and unconventional.”

  She didn’t care about His Grace. Especially when she looked into this man’s sapphire blue eyes. She wanted to know how he could have possibly kissed a hundred women. Of course, she couldn’t ask. And she prayed he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said with a gleam in his eye.

  “You couldn’t possibly,” she said immediately, her pulse pounding in her throat.

  “Oh, yes, I do.” He grinned. “You want to know … how is it that this man has kissed so many women? He’s a groom, for goodness’ sake. He lives in the stables. Where in heaven’s name are all the women?”

  Mortification made her hot. “You’re—you’re wrong.”

  “Am I?” he said easily, as if he didn’t mind in the least her curiosity. “But we were discussing the duke.… What did he do to merit your observation that he’s demanding and unconventional?”

  She couldn’t understand how Mr. Callahan was nothing more than a groom—not that the position wasn’t respectable, but he radiated such intelligence and confidence, surely he could have become a scholarship student and become a country doctor, or, at the least, a tenant farmer who managed his own lands.

  She dragged her wandering thoughts, like rebellious runaway children, back to the question at hand. “His Grace wanted to show me his conservatory and the family portraits without anyone to chaperone us.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Mr. Callahan lifted and dropped his sculpted shoulders. “I told you—beware of him.”

  “It was enthusiasm for his treasures that caused him to forget the proprieties,” she said. “Nothing nefarious. Besides, he himself is arranging a chaperone for me.”

  “Which he hasn’t provided the other ladies, who should have them, too.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Yes, well, I haven’t deduced exactly why they’re here yet.”

  “Remain naïve,” the groom warned her, “but it will be at your peril.” He looked over her head. “Look. In all the commotion, we’ve missed something.” He turned her delicate shoulders—which stiffened immediately at his touch—so that she faced Esmeralda. “More puppies.”

  “Two more!” Janice cried softly. “But … one of them is … brown?” She turned to the groom and lofted a quizzical brow.

  “It must look like its father.”

  She gave a bright laugh. “How wonderful!”

  They watched in silence as another one was born, this one white with a large black spot on his side. Esmeralda went to work on him, nipping, cleaning, pushing him with her nose. But he didn’t respond the way the others did. There was no wriggling. No blind clawing about, seeking warmth and solace.

  He lay there in the straw, mute and motionless. But Esmeralda, dedicated mother that she was, wouldn’t stop trying. The other puppies stayed busy climbing over one another while she worked.

  “Mr. Callahan—,” Janice said, a catch in her voice.

  But he was already there, through the stall door and kneeling in the straw. He rubbed the newcomer’s belly, his tiny chest, and stroked his muzzle. “Come on,” he urged the puppy.

  But nothing happened. Esmeralda nosed around him, clearly worried.

  The groom picked up the scrawny parcel, cupped the puppy in his palm, and gave him another massage.

  “Oh, wake up,” Janice murmured. “Please, little one.”

  Nothing.

  It pained her to see the puppy so lifeless, but she couldn’t afford to succumb to the feeling. She couldn’t distract Mr. Callahan from saving him.

  “You’re going to wake up,” the groom told the prone pup. Opening the newborn’s mouth and clearing it, Mr. Callahan blew into it. The pup’s ribs expanded and sank back.

  One more try.

  No, two.

  And three. Why not? Janice was glad Mr. Callahan couldn’t bear to give up just yet.

  Four.

  The puppy gave a little start. A wriggle. A tiny yelp.

  “Yes!” said Janice. “Oh, please, be well.”

  Esmeralda nosed the tiny body cradled in Mr. Callahan’s hand with the impatience that any new mother would have when she wanted to connect with her baby.

  “Is it all right?” Janice couldn’t help hoping.

  “I believe so.” Mr. Callahan sounded well satisfied when he laid the now-wriggling newest member of the family in the straw next to his siblings.

  “Oh, thank God.” Janice shot through the door and wiped away a tear on her way to Mr. Callahan’s side again.

  Together they watched Esmeralda line up her troops. The one that had been ailing seemed as frantic to get to her teats as the rest now.

  “Thank you for saving it,” Janice quietly told the man beside her.

  “I was glad to do it.” They sat in silence a moment, watching the happy scene; then he added, “For Esmeralda.”

  Not for Janice, of course. He was making that clear. But she was so grateful to him for saving the puppy, she ignored the slight.

  “I’ve already named almost all of them,” she said. “Pinky, Walnut, Sweetie, and Beanie. Whether they’re boys or girls, the names will fit.”

  “How did you do that so fast?”

  “The names just came to me.” She grinned at him. “I left the last one for you.” She dared to touch the groom’s arm, and it instantly brought her back to that kiss in the road. “You saved him. He’s your puppy. Or she. So you’ll name that one.”

  And she stood before Mr. Callahan could react or respond.

  “Wait a minute.” He stood, too. “I don’t name puppies.”

  “You’ll name this one.” Despite her fascination with the canine family, Janice was even more fascinated with Mr. Callahan. She put the stall door between them. “I plan to tell your friends that you saved it and must name it—”

  “For the love of God, don’t do that.” He didn’t look a bit repentant when he opened the stall door and came around himself. “I’ll name the damned thing; just don’t go out there telling them I saved a puppy.”

  “Mr. Callahan.” His nearness set off alarms in her. “It is not a damned thing.”

  Funny squeaks started soft and grew insistent, near frantic—puppies seeking their mother’s warmth. The sounds made Janice’s whole being soften.

  Who couldn’t be moved by them?

  When she turned back to look at the groom, she saw that he was taking it all in, too.

  “Puppy noises,” he murmured, observing the little family with obvious pleasure. “Puppy noises and a strong, beautiful woman next to me. It does get better—when you get that particular woman alone, really alone. But this will do … in the meantime.”

  The meantime? Was there
going to be a time when he got her alone? “You can’t—” Janice felt her face heat up and her heart pound. “We can’t be alone. You shouldn’t say things like that. It’s wrong. I-I should report you, Mr. Callahan.”

  “But you won’t, will you?” He turned to look at her then, and it happened again, that odd, compelling connection, like a beam of invisible light suffusing her and him alone.

  “No.” The urge to reach up and lay her palms on his chest, lift her face, and part her lips for a kiss was so strong, she had to fight to contain it.

  Did he want to kiss her, too?

  Surely he must—this feeling couldn’t be one-sided. It wasn’t something she even wanted. It was silly of her to kiss a groom—not only would Mother be appalled; it would lead nowhere.

  But Janice wanted to. Oh, how she did!

  “You’re wondering how I’ve kissed so many women.” His voice was laced with cynical amusement. “It’s because I excel at attracting the type who needs comforting—and that’s an awful lot of women, Lady Janice. Every town is brimming with them, women who’ve been hurt. Who need reassurance. Who want to believe that there’s more to life than scrubbing and child rearing, hiking up their skirts and painting their faces to please men they don’t even like and who never thank them for anything they do.” He paused and tipped up her chin. “But you’re not one of those women. You don’t need me.”

  “Of course not.” But I want you.

  She couldn’t tell him so, of course.

  His gaze seared into her. Her pulse quickened at his nearness. She remembered the feel of his hard chest, the demanding pliancy of his lips.

  One side of his mouth lifted. “I still know what you’re thinking.” His voice was extra low now, and her belly did a little flip-flop of pleasure. “But the duke’s looking for you.”

  He took a step back, and she felt the vastness of the space separating them.

  Remember, he’s a groom. You’re a lady. And ne’er the twain shall meet.

  She pressed down her coat. “I’ll leave, sir, but if you have any concerns at all about Esmeralda and the puppies—or if there are any surprising developments—I expect to be alerted. If it’s too late to send a note, put a lantern in that large arched window facing the house.”

  She wouldn’t even say please. It was meant to be an order. It was all she had, really, to defend herself against him.

  He knew full well, too. “Very well, my lady,” he murmured, his eyes lingering too long on her to be considered proper.

  She whirled around and strode down the row, her back ramrod straight, her curls jouncing. The tips of her ears felt hot, and her fingers curled stiffly.

  Why couldn’t she be cool around him?

  He knew he’d gotten to her.

  Again.

  “Lady Janice!” he called after her.

  She stopped walking but didn’t look over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  She heard his boots move across the stone floor, coming closer. With every step he took, her belly clenched tighter. When he was at her back, she felt him lift that loose tendril of hair off her shoulder.

  Was he weighing it in his hand? She wouldn’t turn to see.

  “I told you that the puppies would serve to temporarily distract me from the ultimate pleasure of getting you alone,” he said. “But you mustn’t listen when I say such things, no matter how convincing I am.”

  “Of course I don’t.” Her palms were wet when she clenched her fists. “Aren’t you satisfied that you’ve won over all those other women? Why do you taunt me with such nonsense?”

  “Good.” He dropped the curl. “Keep fighting back,” he said in her ear. “Don’t give me an inch, because I’ll take it.” He ran a finger down the side of her face. “I’ll take more than an inch, my lady. I’ll take it all.”

  All? What did he mean by that?

  Her heart pounded in her ears. She gulped and took a step forward, away from him. “I really must be going.” Her voice sounded pinched, she knew.

  “You do that,” he said.

  And without another word, she stalked away from him, feeling decidedly unnerved.

  Chapter Six

  With a footman in tow, Janice returned to the house furious at herself. It appeared that kissing a groom and wanting to do it again because he’d saved a darling puppy was a more complicated scenario than she’d ever imagined. There was nothing easy about the charming Luke Callahan. He posed a threat that she wasn’t sure she understood.

  Think about the pups!

  She tried; she really did. But instead of focusing on images of tiny wet noses and scrabbling paws, her mind slid to recollections of Luke Callahan’s chiseled mouth, his strong back, and the way he lowered himself in the straw on muscular haunches to cradle a limp puppy in his hands.

  Janice actually smiled to herself thinking of how he’d appeared when the near-dead puppy stirred. Mr. Callahan had been shocked and pleased—and there was a brief moment when tenderness appeared around his eyes, in the curve of his lips.

  It had done something to Janice’s heart, that look. She’d felt an ache like nothing she’d ever known, a desire to touch that tenderness—

  To touch him.

  He’d charmed her thoroughly. But in the end, he’d made it clear that he wasn’t to be trusted. And yet … she couldn’t help being drawn to him, even so.

  Perhaps it was his honesty—she’d take an honest scoundrel over a sly one any day, she supposed.

  But what did that say about her, that she was attracted to a rogue of the worst sort, a self-confessed one who teased her one minute and pushed her away the next?

  When she entered Halsey House, she was still seething as the butler took her coat and bonnet. The hounds sniffed her up and down. They smelled dog. And hay.

  The butler shooed them away. “Everyone’s gone off to the billiard room,” he informed her quietly.

  “I think I’ll seek out the duchess, then.” Janice had yet to freshen up, but it was time to visit Her Grace—the sooner the better. She’d most certainly take Janice’s mind off what had happened in the stables.

  “Your chaperone, Mrs. Friday, is putting away her things,” the butler said. “She’ll be down for dinner.”

  “Oh. Very good.” The news was a boost to Janice’s spirits. Mrs. Friday’s presence would make everything easier.

  A maid led Janice up the enormous staircase, down two long corridors upstairs and around several corners, and finally across a balcony running the length of the ballroom. “Almost there, my lady.”

  “Goodness, the duchess appears far removed from the rest of the household,” Janice said, and surreptitiously smoothed down her skirt. She didn’t know why she should feel so nervous. She knew eccentric people. London abounded with them. This woman couldn’t be any more eccentric than they.

  “In her own wing, she is,” said the maid.

  “Why is that?”

  “The duke said it’s for her own protection. He thinks the quiet is good for her.”

  Was quiet beneficial for a person who didn’t live in her own mind? Shouldn’t there be distractions? Familiar sights and sounds? “I suppose the doctor agreed,” Janice said.

  “I have no idea if one’s been consulted.” The maid eyed her balefully. “This is a family matter, the duke told us, and we’re to remain silent about it.”

  Janice refused to cringe. So she’d been caught fishing, but who could blame her? She’d been invited by the dowager, and she had a right to know something of what was going on.

  Surely a doctor had been consulted if Her Grace’s condition was so dire. Janice felt a sudden sense of urgency to see her. This is why you’re here, she thought, to check on this woman. Not to win a duke. And definitely not to daydream about kissing a groom.

  Her heart lifted. Perhaps the complications she’d faced here would quickly fade away if she could be of real use. She hadn’t felt truly useful to anyone since Mama had left her sewing shop behind and married Daddy. Everyone around Ja
nice these days was entirely too competent. Even her younger siblings, Robert and Cynthia—despite their occasional foray into high jinx that made no sense to her—were generally sensible and able to handle their own business.

  The maid brought Janice to a large door and opened it quietly. “Lady Janice Sherwood to see you, Your Majesty.”

  “Send her in,” a tiny voice proclaimed with a great deal of haughtiness.

  Janice walked shyly into the room, which was small and dark, entirely inappropriate for an elderly convalescent or a queen.

  A nurse stood in the corner, folding cloths. Deep in the pillows was a petite elderly lady with a proud chin and nose. She had silver hair and wore a beautiful mauve muslin dressing gown. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival.” Her eyes were narrowed, her gaze unrelenting. “Don’t you know that one must never, ever keep a queen waiting?”

  Janice felt a moment’s shock but tried not to show it. Without hesitating, she went to the woman’s bedside and sat down in a chair already placed there. “I’m so glad to be here, Your … Majesty.”

  The old lady extended her tiny, wrinkled hand. There was a giant ruby ring upon it.

  The duchess might be frail, but she managed to keep her hand aloft. Obviously, she wanted Janice to kiss that ring. Gingerly, Janice lifted the bony fingers to her mouth and pressed her lips to the cold red stone. She felt silly. But immediately the dowager withdrew her hand, so Janice supposed she’d done the right thing.

  “I didn’t send for you so that I can reminisce of my childhood and bore you to tears,” her hostess said testily, “so don’t you dare imagine we’ll be sitting here all day wasting time. I’m not an invalid. I have things to do. Places to be. If only Halsey would let me out.”

  “Won’t he?” Janice didn’t know what to think.

  “No, he won’t.” The dowager’s eyes filled with the most interesting mix of scorn and bravado. “How does he expect me to find my crown jewels?”

  “Oh.…”

  “Do you know where they are?” Her tone was accusing.

  “I-I don’t at the moment.” It must be awful to be so worried about something that is entirely in one’s head, Janice thought. “But I’m sure they can be found.”