To Tempt A Highland Duke: A Scottish Romance Novella

by Bronwen Evans

  He leaned forward and sought her hand and linked his fingers through hers. She tried not to look at the majesty of the man because she was on the brink of giving in and saying yes to his proposal with no stipulations of her own, but this was too important to them both. “You are asking me to risk my worst nightmare.”

  She nodded. “I will be brave for both of us.”

  When he said nothing more, she slipped her hand free and made her way to the door. Her bedchamber was down the hall. She opened the door and peered out. The corridor was empty. She looked back at the enormous, naked man in the bed across the room and her heart bled. He looked so small, so lost, but she would not back down. She knew what she wanted. She wanted it all, his love, and his child if she could. She at least wanted the chance to try. A wonderful, happy marriage with a bevy of children could be within both their grasps. She would fight for them this time, would he?

  Would he love her enough to conquer his fears?

  “You know where my room is. Prove to me our marriage will be all it can be and I will go before the King and agree to be your wife.” Then she slipped from the room, closing the door softly behind her, hoping love would overcome fear, because she loved Dougray, and she knew she’d never love another man as much.

  Was he being a coward? He fell back amongst the sheets and wondered how he’d gone from feeling as though he could touch heaven to the knowledge he could lose her for good.

  Glengarry would offer for her in a heartbeat. Would she marry him just to see if she could bear a child?

  Was he protecting himself and using saving Flora’s life as a means to preserve his sanity? He would lose his mind if he lost her in childbirth.

  Before his father died, he’d said to Dougray pick a woman and marry her. Forget about love. Then Dougray would not care if she died in childbirth. But he wasn’t as callous as his father. For three years after Connie’s death he’d not looked twice at a woman, too scared in case the same thing happened again. It took him years before he took his first lover, and then he got very inventive.

  Six years after Connie’s death, at four and twenty, he’d suddenly noticed that young Flora, a woman he’d known for years and who was his best friend’s little sister, had blossomed into a woman before his eyes. One day she smiled at him and he fell in love as fast as a snap of his fingers. So caught up in his desire for her, the dream of the life they could have, he forgot all about what a marriage would mean. Children. Birth. Death?

  One night when their kisses got a bit too amorous, a memory he hadn’t had for many years flashed through his head. A picture in vibrant red of his mother surrounded by blood—dead—along with her newborn son. It was that memory along with the details of Connie’s death that made him see he could not be so selfish.

  So he’d made a choice. He’d walked away to save her life, and to protect his heart. If only he was sure she was barren, because God help him, God help her, he couldn’t walk away again. Not after she’d shared her body with him.

  He craved a normal life and marriage with her. Only her.

  He swung his legs over the end of the bed and found a robe.

  There was no doubt in his mind that he could not, would not lose her again, and he would pray to God every night to keep her safe.

  He slipped from his room and silently made his way to her.

  When he entered, she was standing at the window dressed in a silken robe looking down at the gardens below. She slowly turned toward him.

  “You are right, I have been a coward.”

  She said nothing.

  He stepped closer. “I’m still scared. I’m a duke in control of many estates and tenants, but that doesn’t frighten me. I have responsibilities to my King and country, but that doesn’t frighten me. I have a large extended family to provide for, but that doesn’t frighten me.”

  He pulled her into his arms.

  “The only thing I am truly frightened of is losing you.”

  Her face fell, and she tried to push away, but he held her tight. “You will lose me either way.”

  “I realize that. God help me, I couldn’t bear seeing you married to another man ever again.”

  He lowered himself to bended knee, holding his hands in hers.

  “You’ve always been my dream. I want to be your husband. I want to be a father. And it’s all because of you, Flora. You make everything seem possible. Your courage… you make me possible. All I really want is for you to forgive me and let me love you as you deserve—as I desire.”

  He placed his hand on her stomach. “You were the one to teach me the meaning of love. Love is selfless, caring, but it also takes courage. I was such a coward when I first met you.” He took a deep breath and calmness descended. “Will you marry me and live by my side and if God sees fit—give me a son?”

  A tear splashed his hand. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  And just like that, his fear melted away. The feel of her hands in his and the love shining from her eyes made everything seem conceivable. He would have faith.

  Without further words, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. As he lowered them both to the sheets and removed her attire, his heart sang with hope. This time he would take his time savoring the fact she was his to protect and love as God saw fit.

  Epilogue

  Monreith House, Scotland three years later

  The fire in the drawing room's grate in Monreith House burned bright as it neared midnight, making the room stifling hot. Yet the ice in his gut would not melt. It had been over twenty hours since Flora began to give birth.

  He had given up pacing the room hours ago, and now he sat staring out the window praying, even the whisky was forgotten.

  Angus and Stuart had begged him to leave with them to the local tavern while Flora gave birth, but he could not leave her now. He wasn’t there for Connie and look how that ended. He had this foolish hope that if he stayed, everything would be all right.

  Earlier, when he’d visited her in her bedchamber, Flora too had tried to get him to leave.

  “Go with Angus. I will be perfectly fine. Doctor Mallard and the midwife are here, and so are Mary and Tessa. They won’t let anything happen to me.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  Mary began pushing Dougray out of Flora’s birthing chamber. “You’ll only get in the way. I promise to come and get you when your son or daughter arrives.”

  Tessa sighed and tried to lighten the gravity of the situation. “Men. They make such a fuss.”

  Flora smiled, then grimaced as a contraction gripped her. Finally she said to her friends, “Dougray has to push his fears aside and be strong for those who need him—myself included.” She spoke quietly to him. “I need you to be strong. I can’t have you falling to pieces now. So please, my love, go. I don’t want to have to worry about you too.”

  “I am not falling to pieces, but Christ, I feel very entitled to worry about my wife,” he growled. “I love you.”

  Flora laughed and Tessa said, “Society expects men to be impervious to pain or emotion. Yet, they are only human. I’ve seen your brother on his knees beside my bed begging God to keep me, and the baby, safe. He’s cried in my arms, wishing he could birth our babes himself.”

  “Right at this moment, I wish Dougray could,” Flora hissed through the pain of another contraction. “So, trust me when I say it’s time to leave. Go and be with Angus and Stuart. Drink whisky and think up names for our child.”

  So he had done as he was told, but every hour he waited his nausea rose. The uselessness he felt at this moment unmanned him. He hated the lack of control over his destiny, and leaving her safety to fate scared him witless. Fate had been nothing but a bastard to him.

  “I don’t know how you two lived through your wives giving birth more than once.”

  Stuart cleared his throat and sank into the chair opposite Dougray. “The birth is but a moment in time.” Stuart looked at Connor. The young man was sitting next to his father, his face also showin
g the strain of the wait. Connor loved Flora as if she were his mother. “Look at the joy Connor has brought to your life. Children are our destiny, our future, and they carry our hopes and dreams. Women instinctively know this. Why else would they go through the pain and danger more than once?”

  “Aye, they are far the braver and stronger of the sexes,” Angus added on another gulp of whisky.

  Dougray smiled at Connor. “I thank your mother every day in my prayers for giving you to me. She would be so proud of the man you’ve become.”

  He beamed at his father and reached out and took his hand. “Flora is the strongest woman I know, father. She will be fine. She loves us too much to leave us.”

  “From you mouth to God’s ears,” he replied. “I’d just started to believe that I was safe from the possibility of losing her in childbirth when she fell with child. Both of us had given up. After two years she had accepted she was barren and some of her happiness died. I just don’t want God to punish me because my first thought, when she told me she was with child, was one of joy. It made her so happy. How could I deny her this? I selfishly rejoiced in a child too. To have a child with her… To give her what she wanted most is truly a gift from God after all this time. I keep thinking he will punish me for wanting this when it puts her at risk.”

  Just then they heard footsteps coming down the corridor, and the four men rose to their feet. You could cut the tension in the air with a highland sword. The door opened and a tired Mary stood there with a huge grin on her face. “Flora wants to know if you’ll come and meet—”

  Mary didn’t even get to finish her sentence before Dougray raced from the room, his heart thundering in his ears. He took the stairs two at a time. Please let her be all right. He slowed when he got to the door of Flora’s bedchamber. It was quiet inside.

  On one last silent prayer, he lifted the latch and entered the room. Flora lay propped up on the pillows, her eyes closed, but a huge smile was on her lips. She looked pale, and exhaustion marred her beautiful face. He walked quietly to her bedside, but she heard him because her eyelids flickered open.

  “Aren’t they beautiful,” and she pointed behind him. He slowly turned and saw Tessa with a sleeping bundle in her arms, and beside her the midwife with another bundle. He did a double take.

  “We have twins, my darling. A boy and a girl. No wonder I was the size of a barn. I had two of your babes inside me. The next time, I’m only having one. This was more painful and exhausting than I expected.”

  He swung to look at her with his mouth open. “Two babes. I have two more children.” His eyes filled with tears of joy and gratitude. “And you are well?”

  Doctor Mallard came forward. “Well done, Your Grace. Your wife is as healthy as one of your thoroughbred racehorses, and she did a marvelous job. Being twins, the babes weren’t as big as I was expecting. The birthing went well.”

  “I resent being compared to a horse,” his wife scolded. “But I did a marvelous job if I say so myself.”

  Then Tessa approached and placed a squirming bundle in his arms. “Meet your bonny son.”

  This was the first time he’d held a newborn. Connor had been over one-year-old when he finally found him near York. A local blacksmith, whose wife could not have children, had raised Connor. Dougray helped the husband and wife find another orphan to raise because they had been so upset to lose Connor, and he wanted to thank them for looking after his son so well.

  Dougray stared at his newborn son with awe and pride. A son. He had an heir! Never had he let himself dream of this day. He could not believe how tiny the babe was. He tenderly took his son’s little hand in his and the babe gripped his thumb, his tiny fingers barely able to wrap around it. The boy opened his eyes and looked at him. He had Flora’s eyes. A bolt of pure love shot him in the heart.

  He looked at his exhausted wife. “I should have learned by now that you are always right, my love. This joy I feel, this love… I am so happy I can barely think. This is worth the fear and angst.”

  “Good, so you won’t be such a worrywart when I get with child again. Because seeing these two, I want a dozen more. Just give me another year to recover,” she joked.

  “I don’t know about that. But I love you so much I’d do anything to make you happy.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Being with you every day makes me happy.”

  He sat down on the bed beside her as the midwife placed his daughter in Flora’s eager arms.

  “I hope you didn’t waste your time while I was working hard to bring these two into the world. Tell me the names you have selected.”

  Just then there was a knock at the door, and Connor’s head poked round the door. As he saw his father and Flora with the babes, the concern on his face vanished.

  “Come and meet your brother and sister,” Dougray called.

  When Connor reached his side, he handed the young man his newborn son.

  “You’re part of this family,” Flora said. “What do you think we should name them? Your father seems to be tongue tied.”

  Connor held the wee baby as if he might crush it. “He’s so tiny.” He looked at Flora. “I can truly suggest his name?” She nodded. Connor thought on it for a while. “He has your fair hair, Flora, but I think he’s going to grow up to be big and strong like me. I think he should be called Finlay.”

  Flora smiled. “That is a very apt name for him, it means white warrior.”

  Meanwhile, Dougray had scooped his daughter into his arms, and she settled happily against his chest. “Then we shall name my daughter, Fiona, my white princess.”

  Mary, Angus, and Stuart joined them all, and the room reverberated with the sounds of happiness.

  It wasn’t until Dougray noticed Flora could barely keep her eyes open that he organized the wet nurse and midwife to take the babes and he shooed everyone out of the room.

  He clambered onto the bed beside her and gently pulled her into his arms. “Sleep, my beauty. You’ve earned it. I’m so proud of you. You were so brave and determined.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  Her eyes fluttered close as sleep beckoned, but he heard her soft words. “Thank you for being brave enough to love me. You have given me the dream we talked about all those years ago. I have you by my side, the love of my life, and now I have a baby. My babies. Our babies! Even if I cannot have any more children, I am more than content.”

  He snuggled down and felt his eyes flutter closed too. He was tired but happy. So happy he thought his heart would burst. But before sleep and dreams of his family consumed him, he thanked God for putting a woman like Flora in this world. A woman who proved that with faith, and a lot of courage, love will truly conquer all.

  THE END

  Bonus Read - A Love To Remember Excerpt

  Prologue

  Devon, England July 1815

  I’ll wear your memory proudly

  My honorable brother . . . my true friend

  May my love for you reach heaven above

  Until we meet again

  Philip Flagstaff, the new Earl of Cumberland, barely heard the words as he stood beside his elder brother’s open grave. All he felt was the chill of Robert’s absence, and the burning stares that came at him from every side.

  Whether friend, foe, or family, Philip knew each one thought the same: Why are you alive, you selfish bastard? Why are you alive when your brother lies dead?

  He’d asked himself the same question every moment since Waterloo.

  Their father’s firstborn favorite, Robert was destined to be the earl. Yet he’d never lorded it over his siblings. He had loved them, taken care of them, and stood up for them. As a brother, he was perfect.

  When their father died, Robert turned the estate and family fortune around and proudly—earnestly—taken his seat in the House of Lords, determined to play his part in making England great.

  Everyone loved him.

  Everyone wanted to be him.

  And everyone gathered at his grave today i
n the pouring rain knew why they had lost him.

  Because of Philip.

  Philip, who had been trouble since the day he was born.

  Philip, who almost burned the house to the ground lighting a campfire in the nursery. Philip, who had cost his father a champion horse when the animal had failed to jump the river, broken its leg, and had to be shot. Philip, who had pretended to lose their sister Portia in the forest just before a storm, only to truly do so, and find her hours later ill with fever and at death’s door. Philip, who only the previous year had invested in a “sure thing” only to lose more than a year’s allowance.

  Philip, who—against Robert’s advice—had taken a commission, and dragged his brother onto the battlefield with him because there was no way Robert would let a genuine walking, talking, breathing disaster go to war alone.

  If anyone should have died on the battlefield of Waterloo it should’ve been Philip. Instead, he had watched in a macabre dream as Robert, selfless to the last, shoved between his brother and a French bayonet and took the mortal blow.

  He hadn’t believed it. Had seen his own shock and disbelief mirrored on their friend Grayson Devlin’s face as he fought his way to them. And then nothing else mattered. He’d dropped to his knees beside Robert’s body, pressed his ear against the blood-soaked jacket, and caught his brother’s final words. “Look after the family. You’ll make a fine earl.”

  Moments later, Robert had died in his arms.

  And nothing would ever be the same again.

  Philip’s stiff shoulders almost buckled under his guilt. It should have been his body, not Robert’s, in the grave at his feet. His life over and done. Instead, he stood in the churchyard, alive—and the new Earl of Cumberland.