The Reluctant Duke

by Blaise Kilgallen

  Antonio still didn’t drink, but continued. “Caro—if I may…” he said, pausing for permission as if he weren't already accustomed to using her pet name.

  She nodded. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t upbraid him for using it.

  “This evening is for you,” Antonio announced in low, caressing tones.

  Caroline was startled.

  “Me, Your Grace?” she asked, her brows lifting. “I don’t…”

  “Tonio,” he reminded her with a sly wink and a wicked grin.

  She stuttered in confusion. “Really, Your Grace, I-I don't understand.”

  “We learned a secret of yours tonight, Caro.”

  Oh, for good heavens!

  Caroline didn’t catch his meaning unless he was going to taunt her again about her trespass in the meadow. Caroline looked and felt…baffled.

  Gazing deep into her puzzled eyes, Antonio hesitated while his lips twitched with mischief. “Tonight, we celebrate!” he exclaimed. “Feliz compleanos, Caro! Happy birthday!”

  Omigod.

  Caroline felt a rosy blush tinting her neck and cheeks although her greenish eyes shone with pleasure.

  Everyone raised their glass and drank to her health. Hal grinned from ear to ear. Antonio hadn’t taken his eyes off of her yet.

  To learn tonight’s festivities were in her honor was very unsettling. He, Antonio, was very unsettling—as always—surprising her anew when he did things she thought so out of character for him.

  When Caroline looked at him, he tipped his glass to her in an individual salute. Slowly savoring a long draught of wine, rolling it around in his mouth, she watched him run the tip of his tongue between his lips. She was unable to pull her gaze off of his sensual mouth, remembering how those lips felt caressing hers, his tongue dancing and teasing inside her mouth and driving her to the edge of submission. Flushing hotter, Caroline had read a similar gesture in the meadow. This time, he promised more than simply good wishes.

  Covering up her discomfiture, Caroline turned to her brother and scolded, “For heaven’s sake, Hal! Why didn’t you warn me?”

  Her brother just laughed.

  Caroline threw a flustered smile at those facing her. All of the others smiled back. “Thank you so much, everyone…er… Gracias,” she answered in tentative Spanish. Friendly laughter carried on the evening air; the Thorndykes and de la Torres were pleased at her simple attempts at Spanish.

  Briella spoke next. “Caroline and Hal…we want to show you,” she said, turning to include Elizabeth, “and you, too, Grandmama, the other half of our cultural upbringing. So tonight you’ll dine on Spanish food, drink Spanish wine, and listen to Spanish music! Perhaps, we may even show you how to dance our flamenco! Eh, Tonio?” She grinned at her brother, a hint of mischief shining out of her brown eyes.

  Two of the young Spanish caballeros that were part of the Andalusian training staff made their way up the stone steps and onto the terrace with guitars. They, too, were in native attire. As they strolled slowly around the perimeter of the terrace, ten talented fingers strummed soft, haunting melodies on the strings.

  By now, the sun was a hot, red ball in the purple sky as it slid slowly behind the western hills. An orange glow burst into flame, mirrored in the twelve-foot high windows of the hall and reflecting the sun’s dying rays. Darkness fell rapidly after that, and servants hurried to light the candles in the glass-chimneyed holders resting on the railing and tables. Gently cooling the night air, the faint smell of new grass and flowery perfume was borne by a mild breeze teasing the senses and flapping the silken banners.

  Aunt Mari herded everyone toward the hot buffet delivered by a dozen liveried servants. Tantalizing aromas crept from underneath the silver lids. Everyone was hungry enough to choose hearty portions. Antonio stood by Caroline’s side, explaining what was in the unfamiliar dishes so that she might make her choices. She elected to try everything.

  The supper conversation was general; mostly about the London weather, the theater, and incidents that occurred at various balls, musicales and soirees that many of them had attended.

  Caroline was seated to the right of Antonio in the seat of honor, close enough that his jacket sleeve brushed her bare arm as he handled his eating utensils or napkin. Her skin prickled, and she tensed each time it happened. He bent close to her ear and spoke softly so only she could hear. “Are you happy with your party, Caro?”

  “You’re all being very kind, Tonio,” she replied.

  “For you, yes. For me…umm, perhaps, it is not a kindness but something else.”

  “I—I thought you were quite vexed by my foolish…”

  “I was, but all that is forgotten. Instead, I need to see you again very soon, querida.” Antonio stared at the food on his plate for a brief moment then whispered, “I want to be with you. Will you meet me under the willow by the stream…tomorrow? I have something of yours I must return. In private.” He brushed his lips with the serviette. “I’ll be waiting for you at noon.”

  Antonio returned to his meal, leaving Caroline to wonder what it was he meant to return—and if she had the courage to meet him in the meadow.

  The wine flowed quite readily, and Caroline found herself growing woozy. Gently rubbing her cheeks, she knew they must look as if she rouged them. But it wasn’t only from the wine. It was because when Antonio was near, every fiber of her being seemed to spring alive.

  The party must have been his idea; Caroline was almost certain of it. It was another of his sudden, unlikely, and touching gestures, like producing Elegancia for her to ride in the Park. Antonio’s behavior was often incomprehensible. He was arrogant, intimidating, and irritatingly demanding. She could easily complete a longer list. But, he was also tender, caring, mischievous, and at times, gentlemanly. No word of her fall from grace had leaked to the London gossips that she knew of. The Spaniard was indeed a paradox.

  Now, she wondered if she had more surprises in store.

  The night was alive with the chirping sounds of insects carrying a tune along with the soft melodies of Spanish guitars. A brilliant, full moon had climbed from behind the horizon, spreading silvery beams over the rolling parkland beyond the terrace. The incandescent glow of candles left soft shadows at the ends of the terrace farthest from the diners.

  Soon Lady Elizabeth made her excuses and left to retire, claiming with a playful grin that she needed her beauty rest. Those who stayed drifted away from the dinner table to a shadowy area on the terrace. The young caballeros began to hum and sing some of the Spanish melodies while family and guests listened. Soon after, Aunt Mari and Uncle Carlos excused themselves, which left only Hal, Briella, Caroline, and Antonio listening to the music.

  “Tonio, why don’t you play for us?” Briella encouraged her brother. “You’ve not done so in ages.”

  “Perhaps, that’s a good reason not to do so,” he answered her with a wry smile. “But, if you like, I will try.”

  Luis was quick to hand his guitar to Antonio. Strumming a few chords, Antonio leaned his buttocks against the balustrade and began to play. Hal and the ladies drifted nearer. The first song Antonio chose reminded Caroline of a love ballad. It was hauntingly slow, and he played it very softly, without words, humming the tune in his rich baritone. Watching him, she thought he seemed lost in the music as if he played for himself. The second guitarist played counter to Antonio's lead.

  When the first song ended, Antonio paused then quickly started strumming a tempestuous flamenco complete with staccato drumming on the front of the guitar. His long fingers flew across the intricate fingering while his nails plucked the instrument’s strings.

  Caroline’s senses matched the fiery melody and the wild rhythm of Antonio’s strumming. Excitement had her blood flowing in a steady rush through her veins, her eyes locked onto the magical fingers of the devastatingly handsome Spaniard. The duke played with the same intensity and concentration he seemed to invest in everything he did. His magnetism sent quivering, searing hea
t up Caroline’s spine, bubbling to other parts of her body. A new facet of Antonio's makeup, his love of music, was another thing of which she’d been unaware. Now she was even more enraptured by both him and his music.

  Antonio didn’t look up until he ended his performance with a final chord. His eyes burned into Caroline’s as their gazes fused. She saw the same flaring excitement in his eyes and understood his emotions mirrored the feelings that coursed through her tingling nerve endings.

  If Hal and Briella were aware of undercurrents between their siblings, they chose to ignore them. Caroline’s breathing came hard and fast; her breasts swelled. She felt her nipples tightening, and she knew she would meet Antonio at the stream. Had they been alone, she believed nothing could have kept her from surrendering to him.

  Antonio handed the guitar back to Luis. His usual control replaced the passionate, musical outburst of moments before. Hal and Briella applauded his performance, and finally, Caroline had the presence of mind to clap.

  Hal was the first to indicate it was time for the evening to end. Having been absent from Crestwood for a lengthy period while in London, he knew affairs of his estate needed tending. Tomorrow, he and his steward, John Crowley, would be away for most of the day. Calling for the Crestwood carriage, Hal and Caroline prepared to leave.

  Briella and Antonio walked their neighbors to the hall’s front entrance.

  Both men kissed the ladies' hands in farewell.

  Antonio's breath was warm on Caroline's fingers as he squeezed hers gently. When he looked up, his lips formed the silent words, “Until tomorrow.”

  Excitement, anticipation, and the unknown ran rampant through her system. Caroline nodded, giving him his answer.

  Chapter 19

  Hot and with bright sunshine, a blue, cloudless sky, and only a whisper of a breeze to cool horse and rider, the first of July was a duplicate of the previous day.

  Hal and Crowley left the Crestwood estate very early. Caroline foresaw no problem escaping from the manor for a ride. Mrs. Crowley wasn’t a bit suspicious as Caroline filled a square piece of cloth with bread, cheese and cooked, sliced fowl. Caroline often took picnic food when she rode out for a length of time.

  Now Caroline dawdled until ten o’clock. Since she was to ride Demon, Caroline wore breeches and shirt. William and the grooms knew the stallion wouldn’t tolerate a sidesaddle. His flanks twitched and he danced nervously if female skirts flapped around him.

  Caroline went to meet Antonio in the meadow but headed in the opposite direction. If anyone was looking for her, they’d do so incorrectly. She had plenty of time to reach her and Antonio’s rendezvous. Her mouth and throat grew parched with nervousness when she visualized the upcoming meeting.

  A planned tryst was always scandalous and perhaps, even quite dangerous. What if someone surprised them? What if Hal and John Crowley happened to pass by? It seemed unlikely, but it could happen.

  Concerned, Caroline buried second thoughts down deep. She dare not allow herself to think about what she planned to do—what she’d vowed to accomplish—a finale to their simmering attraction.

  In the eyes of the ton and everyone else, Caroline was a bedded widow. Only she knew it was untrue. Even Antonio believed her experienced, or he would never have suggested today’s assignation. By this evening, Caroline would know what took place between men and women—things she’d never learned from her husband. She was frightened—but definitely willing.

  * * * *

  Antonio's body anticipated his upcoming encounter with Caroline before he rose from bed that morning. He bathed in cold water instead of hot. He skipped breakfast with the excuse he was riding out later and would take food and a bottle of wine with him.

  To keep busy until the eleventh hour, he spent the morning with Carlos, again inspecting the work on the riding hall. Everything had progressed nicely. Frisky Andalusian foals romped and played, growing strong with their mothers' milk while nibbling on the rich, green pastures of the Westhaven property. By October, the leggy youngsters would be weaned then separated from their dams. In the meantime, Maestro and Antonio's other stallion, Zorro, would cover the open mares to ensure next year's foal crop.

  Antonio was considering crossbreeding his Andalusian mares with Thoroughbred stallions. The French riding school at Saumur favored a cross between an Arabian and a Thoroughbred for their classical equitation mounts. Antonio believed it was possible to maintain the agility and high action of the Andalusian while gaining the needed scope and speed of the Thoroughbred. He’d already bred one of his mares to Challenger. He would like very much to use Caroline’s black for another test.

  He also planned on using a few Irish Thoroughbreds in the mix. In random meetings with Simon Templeton and Joseph D'Arcy, the men had discussed Irish horses. Irish mounts were bigger and broader than the English type Thoroughbred.

  Antonio ordered Thurmond, his man of business, to query suitable Irish stud owners. The Weston duchy owned property not far from the capital of Dublin, and Antonio decided to make a trip there with a double purpose—to survey the dukedom’s Meath holding and see what the Irish had to offer in the way of good stock for a breeding program.

  * * * *

  Antonio arrived early at the stream. He dismounted from Challenger, removed the stallion's tack, and tethered him away from the willow where he’d be free to graze. Spreading a heavy cloth under the tree and depositing a bundle of food on it, Antonio approached the flowing brook where he might chill the bottle of red Spanish wine he’d brought with him.

  Removing his cravat, he unbuttoned his shirt, keeping his libido under control. He was no rutting schoolboy, but anticipation was a fiery tempest in his loins. What if he mistook her willingness? What if she didn’t come?

  Muffled hoof beats reached his ears. He jumped up quickly and stepped back from the stream as Caroline came into view from behind a thick stand of bushes.

  She wore breeches, a shirt, and tall leather boots. Her copper-tinted hair fell in luxuriant abundance down her back, the strands captured by a knotted ribbon. A few long wisps, loosened by her ride, curled invitingly in front of her ears.

  Antonio hurried to meet her, gripping Demon's bridle. Caroline released the leather reins into his hands and slid from the saddle. They didn’t speak or touch but stared at one another. Each brought a reason for the meeting. Each anticipated the tryst differently.

  Antonio removed the tack the black had on and led him to a shady spot away from Challenger. Then he returned to Caroline. She was waiting beneath the canopy of drooping willow branches. He walked over to her and simply gathered her into his arms.

  Caroline melted against him with a soft, murmured sigh. Their bodies fit so well together. She wrapped her arms around Antonio’s waist and buried her face against the hard planes of his chest, inhaling his scent—leather, cologne, and the muskiness of his sun tinted skin. They stood locked in that embrace for long moments before Antonio leaned back and grasped Caroline’s chin with two fingers, tilting her face up toward him. His onyx eyes searched hers until he got the answer he was looking for. Then he bent his lips toward hers.

  His first taste marked the beauty mark he found so entrancing at the corner of her mouth. Antonio rubbed across it gently; his lips were warm and dry until Caroline felt the wet heat of his tongue. He dragged his open mouth over her lips to savor them. Her eyes shut, he gazed down at her; her lashes fanned out like half moons on her cheeks. Her lips were soft and waiting to receive him. Antonio’s kisses soon deepened into a fierce assault that left Caroline trembling and breathless. His tongue demanded entry, and she opened to him, eagerly. They tasted, tongues dancing, while desire leapt like windblown wildfire, sizzling through them both. They clung together in a tight embrace until Antonio regained his control and stepped away from her, panting as if he’d run a foot race.

  “Come sit over here with me, Caro.”

  He didn’t want to rush his lovemaking. He wanted to savor every minute and every curve an
d swell of her tantalizing body. He wanted to make their coming together something she would never forget.

  Antonio took Caroline’s hand and led her to the blanket he’d spread under the willow. He had brought her small bundle of food from Demon’s saddle and dropped it beside his. “At least we won’t go hungry, Caro,” he chortled. “Together, we brought enough for several meals. Did you think we’d be here that long?” he teased with a grin, sensing her tension, hoping to relax her with lighthearted chitchat.

  “I brought a bottle of wine. It’s cooling in the stream.” Smiling over his shoulder, he left and went to retrieve the sangria. “If you’ll remove two glasses from my pack, I’ll pour.”

  Caroline held out two crystal glasses as he uncorked the bottle and filled them to the brim. Accepting one from her hand, he gazed deeply into her eyes.

  “To us, my Caro,” he whispered softly, touching the rim of his glass to hers. Their gazes locked as each took a long swallow of the fruity, robust wine. It was cool and delicious sliding down their throats.

  “Please,” Antonio asked, “shall we begin our picnic? I haven’t eaten yet today, querida, and I may need strength during what is to come.” His meaning was wickedly clear.

  Heightened color warmed her cheeks, but Caroline answered him coquettishly. “Indeed, Your Grace. I wouldn’t want you unable to finish what you start.”

  The little minx, he thought. She’s flirting with me.

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Caro. I promise you everything will be completed to your satisfaction in due time,” was his reply. “And mine,” he added under his breath.

  * * * *

  Caroline’s insides were coiled as tight as a clock spring. She was unsure how to handle what came next. While she had time to think, she considered several other reasons why she shouldn’t do this. It was quite difficult to argue with her conscience, but she had stuck to her decision.

  Now, meeting his eyes after what passed between them—memories of what occurred here only weeks ago—she wouldn’t draw back. What he wanted so badly, she planned to give him quite willingly. She wondered if he sensed her resolution.