His chest shook with laughter. “You can scream all you want, Duchess, but nobody will hear you. You’re too far away from the house and the stable.
“What—what do you want with me?” she asked in a hoarse voice.
“You’ll soon understand. But for now, I need to get you out of here.
Out of here? What did he mean by that?
The man finally stopped dragging her, but it was only to wrap a large woolen horse-blanket around her, covering her head and arms, and then winding rope around her arms to secure the covering. She tilted a few times, thinking she’d plummet to the ground, but he continued to hold her and keep her upright.
Before she knew it, he was lifting her in his arms and flinging her over a horse. As her stomach hit the animal, her breath whooshed from her lungs, but she kept still. Wiggling wasn’t doing any good anyway, and she needed to save her strength for later when she attempted to escape his clutches again.
He mounted behind her and then lifted her effortlessly, adjusting her body to sit on his lap. Her cheeks burned from imagining what she must look like right now, but she pushed the embarrassment aside and concentrated on breathing normally even if panic plunged through her body right now and caused her limbs to tremble.
A quick thought skipped through her mind that this would make a great scene in one of her stories. For once she was actually experiencing something she could write about.
Rolling her eyes, she quickly ushered the idea from her head. What was she thinking when it was obvious she was being kidnapped? This wasn’t something she was prepared for, and shy little Alexandria Templeton would never be able to handle this. If the man had friends back at his hideout, how would she be able to communicate with them? Hopefully, there was a woman in his gang of criminals because at least that would give her someone to talk to.
For a little while, she concentrated on the sounds around her, and the rhythm of the horse as they rode. She had no idea in what direction they were headed, but she guessed they had been riding a good hour already. Nothing sounded familiar at all, yet all she could hear were birds chirping occasionally, and of course, the huffing noise from the horse.
A few times, her eye-lids grew heavy and she was tempted to sleep, but she couldn’t do that. She needed to be alert to whatever was happening to her, and alert to how far they were riding.
After what seemed forever, the horse began to slow. “Whoa, boy,” the man said, his tone deeper than it had been earlier.
She stiffened, preparing for the worst…but she hoped he wouldn’t hurt her.
As he dismounted, he kept one hand on her, keeping her from tipping over. Then he lifted her from the animal as if she was a sack of feathers. He set her on her feet, and within seconds, the ropes around her loosened and came off. Next, the blanket was removed.
She blinked against the sudden brightness until her vision adjusted. They were at a small, rundown, cottage out in the middle of nowhere. For a moment, she wondered if anyone lived here, but then she noticed the smoke rising from the broken chimney, and detected the scent of bread coming from within. Her stomach grumbled. How long had it been since she’d last eaten? It couldn’t have been more than two hours, yet, the terror she’d been through since this man took her, made her feel weak and hungry in the worst way.
“Duchess, may I present your new castle for the next few days.” He swept his hand toward the cottage and bowed slightly as if he were a humble servant.
She was finally able to get a good look at him. He wore the clothes of one of the stable boys, but he was in no way a boy. His dark brown hair was tousled from riding his horse too fast, and there was a day’s stubble on his face, making his upper lip and around his mouth and chin a charcoal color against his tanned skin. As she’s surmised from being held by him, he was all muscle, from his strong arms to his strong legs.
When she caught herself gawking, she blushed profoundly. Good heavens! This man—her kidnapper, no less—was so very handsome. Devilishly so! But she’d never seen him before in her life. Although…he sure looked a lot like some of the men in her stories.
“You’re probably wondering who I am,” he said.
Her cheeks continued to burn, but she nodded.
“For now, you may call me gray.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Gray—as in the color?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, Grey—as in the man’s name.”
Embarrassment washed over her. She hated feeling stupid, and he sure was making her feel that way now. “Fine,” she mumbled.
He grasped her upper arm and led her to the front door, opened it, and shoved her inside. She stumbled, but thankfully, didn’t fall. That, too, would have been humiliating.
The furnishings in this front room were few, and extremely worn. There was only one couch that had once been red and gold, she was certain, but it was frayed around the edges, and sections of the cushion were worn so badly the stuffing was coming out. There was another cushioned chair against the other wall. She had no idea what color it used to be, but it had turned brown over the years. Spots of yellow were littered over it and she wasn’t certain if those splotches were supposed to be there or not. Two regular wooden chairs were near the fireplace, but they looked so rickety, she didn’t dare sit on them.
So many questions ran through her head, and yet she couldn’t ask. It wasn’t her personality to question authority…or question anything, really. Unfortunately, the man named Grey wasn’t supplying her with answers, either, and the curiosity would drive her insane, she was certain.
Her sister’s words echoed through Alexandria’s head. For once, you need to put yourself in your character’s role and talk to a man. I think you’d be surprised how easy it is.
Her heartbeat quickened and moisture grew on her palms. Oh, could she really do that? Could she indeed talk to a strange man like her characters did and have the self-confidence she needed?
She glanced at Grey. He’d moved to the fireplace and broke the burning logs with the poker. Indeed, he was powerfully handsome. She could never talk to a man who looked that good. If she were to talk to him, she couldn’t look directly at him. If she met his stare, she’d become tongue-tied for sure.
There was no other way, through her mess, though. She must become one of her characters. The sooner the better.
Chapter 2
Julian Grey Stratford watched the Duchess of Linden and inwardly seethed. He’d actually expected more from this woman—more screaming, kicking, and biting. But once he had placed her on his horse, she’d ceased from resisting his kidnapping attempts. At the cottage and he’d untied her, he’d expected her to spout words no respectable lady would say, or at least threaten him in some way—not that any of it would matter—but again, the female surprised him by doing none of that.
Her beauty also surprised him. His cousin, Walter, would have certainly found a lovely lady to claim as his wife, but Julian never figured her to be this beautiful.
The Duchess of Linden wore a light purple riding habit, and the outfit fit her slender form quite nicely. The hat she’d first had on, had fallen off her head. Locks of her blonde hair had come out of the bun, which had been loosened considerably, giving her a disheveled appearance.
He bit the side of his cheek to keep from grinning when she’d gazed upon him moments earlier as if he was nothing but sweetmeats she’d wanted to devour. Well, perhaps devour wasn’t quite the word since she’d looked flabbergasted by her indecent thoughts only seconds ago.
Her gaze studied the floor for several awkward moments before she took several deep breaths and then cleared her throat. “Do…do you intend to starve me, sir?”
He arched an eyebrow. What an odd thing to ask. “No.”
“Then…would it be permissible to…eat something now?” Her voice squeaked.
He couldn’t understand why she’d be hungry now when he’d seen her earlier sitting near the dining room window, eating her breakfast not more than two hours ago when he was spying
on the house.
“You are hungry?”
Her head snapped up and she met his stare with wide eyes. “But of course! Would I have asked otherwise?”
The sudden snip in her tone shocked him at first, only because she’d been so shy thus far. Yet, she was now beginning to look like the duchess he’d been told about.
Julian folded his arms over his chest and lifted his chin. “Well, Your Grace, if you will come with me into the kitchen—”
“Why can I not stay here by the fire?”
“I don’t trust you not to escape. Although, I’m certain you won’t get very far before I catch you, I’m really not in the mood to go after you right now.”
She huffed and threw him a scowl. “I assure you, I’m very hungry!”
“Then please,” he swept his arm toward the kitchen, “let’s adjourn into the other room so I can prepare you something to eat.”
Her mouth tightened and she stomped past him and into the room. Grinning, he followed. Soon she’d learn who was in command here, and it wasn’t the high and mighty Duchess of Linden, either.
As she walked into the kitchen, she came to an abrupt stop. He side-stepped her quickly to keep from bumping into her. He studied her disgusted expression as her gaze swept around the room, and he tried to see this room as she was seeing it for the first time. So perhaps he should have cleaned a little better, but considering this cottage was on his friend’s estate and it hadn’t been used for several years, it was no wonder the place was filthy.
Pans hung on the walls, but they were dented, the copper faded, and they appeared well-used. The shelves on the walls were in need of dusting—as were the canisters and bowls filling them—and the floor needed to be swept and mopped, as well. At least the fireplaces worked properly. One held a large black kettle of boiling water, and the other held the baking bread that smelled as if it might be done. The table near the only window in the room was as rickety as the three chairs standing around it.
He moved to the fireplace that held the baking bread he’d prepared earlier this morning, and used a cloth to slowly lift the lid. The heavenly aroma filled the air, and he closed his eyes, breathing in the scent deeply. It smelled just like the way he’d made it while in the military. In his early years, his regiment had praised him countless times on how excellent his cooking were. As he’d climbed the ranks, there was little time to cook and he had to rely on his men. Strange to think that none were as good at cooking as Major Stratford.
He glanced around the small space and up on the shelves, searching for some plates, but so far he was yet to see any.
“Is there something I can do to help?” she asked in a small voice.
He peeked at her and crinkled his forehead. A duchess offering to help in a kitchen? How odd. “If you can find some plates for our bread and some cups for our tea, that would be helpful.”
She moved past him, and the skirt of her riding habit brushed across his legs. The sweet fragrance of her soap lifted around her and filled his head. Lavender. As much as he enjoyed a woman’s scent, he tried really hard not to like this particular woman’s smell. He didn’t want to like her. She was the enemy’s wife, and he only wanted one thing from her.
The truth.
Julian was convinced Walter was the reason the original Duke of Linden—Julian’s father—and his brother, Forbes, had died so quickly. The doctors had written Julian and explained his family’s sickness was a form of the plague. But what confused Julian was wondering why this illness only took Father and Forbes’ lives, and yet it hadn’t made anyone else in the estate sick.
Another thing that made Julian curious was when not long after hearing the news of his father and brother, his own life was almost taken in a very suspicious accident. He had been with a few of his men in town trying to locate a soldier who’d gone missing. Out of nowhere a cannon hit near the tavern where Julian and his men had been, killing several of his soldiers, but only injuring Julian along with several other civilians.
He rubbed his left leg, grateful that the surgeon hadn’t removed his limb. By the grace of God, his leg was saved—as well as his own life. At this point, Julian realized none of these mishaps were accidental, especially since they were only targeted to the Stratford men.
“I can’t find any dishes,” the duchess said in an irritable voice. “It’s hard to believe you would plan a kidnapping and not have the supplies to take care of your victim.”
Julian studied the woman, not quite sure how to take her. Although her words were what he’d expected from such a high-and-mighty woman, her voice still lacked confidence, as did her gaze. Her eyes were downcast and she rarely looked at him.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but this cottage was supposed to have been stocked. I assure you, I’ll take care of the matter after I feed you.”
He turned back to the bread. Taking the pot from the fire, he slowly carried it to the cooking table, and placed it on top. He used a knife to cut out chunks of the bread, careful not to burn his fingers.
He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to his friend, Roland Moore, Earl of Trent. The earl was supposed to have stocked the small cottage in preparation for the kidnapping. Where was his friend now? If it wasn’t for Roland, Julian would have not suspected Walter of killing his family—at least for a few months. The earl had watched Walter since he took over as duke, and Roland had become suspicious of the newly awarded duke’s actions. Julian didn’t know what he’d do without his friend and the assistance he had offered in catching the murderous cousin.
“We’ll make do without dishes,” he grumbled, keeping his eyes on the bread. “Sit at the table and I’ll serve you.”
Silence filled the room. He couldn’t even hear the duchess breathing. Panic gripped his chest and he swung around, looking for her. She was gone!
How long had it been since he’d last spoken to her? Good heavens, he couldn’t remember. But he shouldn’t fear because she wouldn’t have gotten very far.
He dropped the knife back to the table, and rushed out of the room. The pain in his knee he’d had earlier returned, and he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t worry about his injury now.
Keeping his ears in check, he listened for any sounds at all that would tell him where she’s gone. The front door was open. That was an indicator of where she was headed.
Hurrying outside, he stopped and scoped his surroundings. His knee throbbed and he rubbed it, praying the pain would disappear soon. Where’s my horse? No way would the duchess have had time to mount by herself in just a few minutes, and if she had, he would still be able to see her.
He whistled for his horse. By now, the animal knew when to come to his master. Immediately, he heard the animal’s neigh and he swung his head toward the sound. The horse was grazing in a nearby pasture…without the duchess. Would she have been so foolish to try and escape on foot?
“Duchess? Where are you? It’s impossible for you to get very far, you know. You may as well come back now.” Within seconds, there was a sharp point jabbing the middle of his back. He stiffened.
“I haven’t gone anywhere. Yet,” she said roughly. Her voice was almost foreign. “But I now have a knife, and so I suggest you take me back to the estate immediately.”
Even though she didn’t stutter as she’d done so far since he’d met her, the tone of her voice shook. Her words were strong, but obviously, she was still one very frightened young lady.
This wasn’t the first time someone had held a knife to his back—and it probably wouldn’t be the last time in his life, either. Releasing a heavy sigh of defeat, he raised his hands in surrender. “It appears you’re in control now, Duchess. I suppose I have no choice but to comply with your demands.”
He gave her only three seconds to experience the powerful feeling she thought she held, and then drop her arm, removing the knife at his back. Just as he figured, the pressure from the tip of the knife lessened. Taking advantage of the moment, he swung around and grasped her wrist
. She screamed and dropped the knife. He yanked her against him.
Wide, frightened eyes stared at him, framed by a pale face. He shouldn’t have scared her, yet he must let her know who was in control…and it wasn’t her. The lesson he was teaching her was one she’d never forget. By the look of her expression, he highly doubted she’d be pulling this stunt on him again.
For a split second, guilt rode through him. He shouldn’t treat her as he had other people who had tried to pull a weapon on him. She was naïve and had been protected all of her life. He needed to keep that in mind in the future. She was a delicate as a flower, and smelled just as delectable. For some odd reason, she fit remarkably well in his arms and against his body. So soft…even though she was trembling.
“Now, my little duchess,” he said in a softer voice, sweeping a finger across her pale cheek as he pushed back a stray lock of hair, “shall we return to the kitchen and feed you?”
Her body quaked, but she nodded.
He kept her in his arms as he led her into the house and to the kitchen. She stumbled a couple of times, but he suspected she wouldn’t gain her full strength for a few more minutes. “Let’s sit you down right here before you end up on the floor.” He helped her to the table, continuing to hold both of her wrists in his large hand. “Now, if I let you go, will you be a good girl?”
Her head nodded quickly.
“Very well then.”
He released her and stepped back to the baker’s counter. He found another knife, turned back to the bread, and cut a chunk out of it. Using the kettle’s lid as a plate, he brought it to the table and set it down. Pointing, he said, “Eat.”
He turned from her again and moved to the kettle heating the water. At least there was a tea kettle and cup—but only one. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t hungry, anyway. He swiftly prepared the tea for her and placed the cup in front of her, noticing she had started to eat her bread.
Standing back, he folded his arms and scowled. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long before she confessed to him what her husband was up to. Julian didn’t really blame her for wanting to be Duchess of Linden, but she would soon find out she’d married the wrong man. Walter would not make a good duke, and as long as Julian was alive, he’d make certain his cousin would never kill another person again.
Sweet Summer Kisses Page 26
