Dark Duke

by Sabrina York

  He shook hands with each man in turn but when he came to Ned, their host’s outstretched hand faltered. Probably because Ned was snarling at him.

  “We need to talk,” Edward said. No point in wasting time with the niceties. He frowned at the bacchanal. “Someplace private.”

  The smile drifted from Ewan’s face. “Of course. My study.”

  It was hardly a study, the chamber he took them to. Oh, it had a desk and several chairs and decanters on a rickety table by the window. But it had clearly once been nothing but a storage room, hewn of stone. The wind whistled through a crack in the walls, nearly guttering the lamp.

  “Sit. Sit. May I offer you a drink?”

  “No thank you. Our business is rather urgent.”

  “Oh?” The McCloud’s brow arched. “Urgent business? After so many years? I’m intrigued.”

  “Where’s my sister?” Ah blast. This from Ned who, of all of them, had refused to sit. He paced, his fingers a’twitch, which made Edward nervous. If Ned started pummeling the McCloud that would probably slow down the negotiations.

  Ewan’s features hardened. “Who are you?”

  Ned bristled. “I am Edward Wyeth.”

  The McCloud’s eyes narrowed. His lips curled downward. Menace wafted from him. “Edward Wyeth.” This he said as though the words tasted bad.

  Edward raked his fingers through his hair. “Ned, please. Let me handle this.”

  Ned lurched forward, bracing his hands on the table and hissing, “I want her back, you bastard.”

  Ewan leaned back in his chair and poured himself a drink, sipping it slowly. “What makes you think your sister is here?”

  Ned opened his mouth to respond, but Edward glared him down. With a surly frown, Ned plopped into a chair. “Callum MacAllister.”

  A dark brow winged upward. “Callum told you she was here? I may need to squash that little bug.”

  “He didn’t tell us anything, that filthy cur,” Ned spat. “We found you all on our own.”

  The McCloud ignored this outburst. He poured a drink for Edward and Transom, though they had declined. “So tell me, Weston. What’s your part in all of this?”

  Edward cleared his throat. “The name is not Weston, actually.”

  “It’s not? How unsettling.” A smile curled Ewan’s lips. It did not reach his eyes. “Never say you lied to us all those years ago.”

  “I didn’t lie so much as pose as someone I was not.”

  “Hardly a difference.” The McCloud reached for the bottle to pour himself another drink. “So…who are you?” he asked in a silky voice.

  “Also Edward Wyeth.” He glanced at Ned. “It’s a family name.”

  The bottle stilled. Ewan’s gaze flicked up. His cheek bunched.

  “Violet is my…cousin.”

  The McCloud carefully set the bottle down and took a slow sip of his whiskey. “I take it your father was, in fact, not a bookseller.”

  “He was not.”

  “What was he?” Tension crackled in the room.

  “A duke.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Moncrieff, actually. He’s the one who arranged our escape. I’ve come to call in that favor, Ewan.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I will take Violet tonight. In return, I’ll pay you the money that is owed. You will leave Violet…and Kaitlin alone.”

  The McCloud’s frown turned surly. “Kaitlin? Not Lady Kaitlin?” He plucked at his lower lip. “What’s my betrothed to you?”

  Edward bristled. None of his damn business, that’s what she was. “You will release her from this betrothal and never bother her again.”

  To his irritation, Ewan grinned. “Your passion is intriguing.”

  “I must insist.”

  An arrogant brow arched. “And if I refuse?”

  “You used to be a man of honor.”

  Ewan’s expression turned sour. “That was a long time ago. And I have need of a bride. Surely I should keep one of them.”

  Ned shot to his feet. Edward pressed him back down.

  “I will pay you double what is owed. One debt for each woman.”

  Ewan stilled. “It is a substantial amount.”

  “I know.”

  Ewan drew his finger around the lip of the cup. As he waited for his response—any response—Edward’s annoyance rose.

  “I will think on your proposal.”

  A growl rose at the back of his throat. “What the hell is there to think about?”

  The McCloud chortled. “You’re asking me to give up my dearest Kaitlin. And a rather valuable captive. Come back tomorrow and I will give you my answer.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow.” The McCloud stood, his expression set.

  Edward knew that look, knew if they were to proceed with these negotiations, he would have to back down. Damn. Damn and damn. He didn’t want to wait another whole day. He wanted this over with now so he could claim Violet and go back to Kaitlin. And marry her. And have her again.

  Hell.

  “Tomorrow it is, Ewan. And do not forget. You owe me. You owe me your life.”

  * * * * *

  Kaitlin stepped from the coach just as the sun was setting, her body aching after a full day’s ride from Perth. She stared at the island hunched in the depths of the Firth of Tay. A shudder walked through her. Was this to be her home, then? It looked bleak and dour. Like the man she was bound to wed.

  “Here we go.” Callum took her arm and led her toward a small dock. Two large wraiths emerged from the shadows at their approach. “Halloo,” her brother warbled. “MacAllister to see the McCloud. I’ve brought his bride. No need to pull out your weapons.”

  Kaitlin flinched. They had weapons?

  Of course they did. They were criminals. She glared at her brother.

  “Try to be pleasant, Kait.”

  “Pleasant?” She couldn’t hold back her snort. Her life was ending. Once she stepped onto that island, it would all be over, any hope of happiness shattered. Any future with Edward, gone.

  But then, there never really had been any hope of that, had there?

  She could do little else now, other than that which was demanded of her. She could make this right and free Violet.

  So she allowed Callum to hand her into the rickety little skiff to take her to her doom. She tried, very hard, not to cry.

  When they entered the crumbling keep, her belly lurched. It was worse than she had imagined, even in her darkest hour. There was filth everywhere. There were great chunks missing from the decaying walls. An enormous hound lounged by the fire. Nefarious creatures skulked the great hall, drinking and carousing and carrying on. But when they saw her, a dead silence fell.

  “Wait here,” their escort muttered. He tromped up the stone staircase, his footfalls ringing in the now silent hall.

  To her horror, the men at the table stood in a great scraping of chairs and approached.

  Their odor preceded them.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Callum’s Adam’s apple bob.

  “What ’ave we here?” One of the more repugnant villains murmured. He reached out and rubbed his fingers in her hair. “A little pigeon?”

  “A plump pigeon,” another said, though at the moment he was also picking his teeth with a long thin blade.

  She did not care for the glints in their eyes. So she smacked at the hand fondling her hair. The brigand—for surely he was that—blinked. “Now what ya go and do that for?”

  “I am Kaitlin MacAllister. Betrothed to the McCloud. Keep your stinking hands to yourself.”

  He took a step back. His mouth gaped, showing his aversion to teeth. The others muttered amongst themselves.

  She put her hands on her hips and glared at the debris littering the stone floor. She was not living like this. She was not.

  There was nothing for it. If she was to take control of her destiny, she might as well begin as she meant to go on. The McCloud might regret insisting on marryin
g her—his men certainly would.

  “This place is filthy.”

  “S’what?”

  “It’s a pig sty. For shame. You—” She pointed a finger at the man with the knife. “Get a broom.”

  “A what?”

  “A broom.” She glared at him, investing all her fury and frustration and bile into the look. “And you—” She pointed to one of the men still lolling by the fire—he was an odd sort to be mucking about with this lot, there was almost a lordly air about him but Kaitlin didn’t ponder the vagaries of her betrothed’s henchmen. “Start heating some water.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Yes, his accent was decidedly toff. As was his outrage. “Whatever for?”

  “We are going to clean this hall.”

  “Clean it?” The men exchanged befuddled looks as though they hadn’t ever heard the word before. Judging from the state of their clothing, they had not.

  “Well? Snap to it!”

  To a man, they winced at her roar and leapt into action, shooting terrified looks at her over their shoulders.

  “That’s the way,” Callum murmured. She gored him with her elbow.

  “Shut up.” She didn’t need Callum cheering her on. In fact, if he never uttered another word to her, it would be too soon. She’d had enough it. Enough of men and their lazy, selfish, pompous ways.

  If this was to be her new life, she would embrace it.

  She would be a shrew.

  Oh, he would pay for forcing her to marry him.

  He would pay.

  The McCloud stormed down the stairs yanking on his shirt and snarling something that sounded like, “Who the hell is it now,” but his step faltered at the sight of his men scurrying about, scrubbing flagstones and tidying up rancid dishes. “What the—”

  “Ewan McCloud,” she bellowed.

  His gaze snapped to her. He blanched. “Kaitlin? W-what are you doing here?”

  She advanced on him, her hands on her hips. “What the hell do you think I’m doing here? You kidnapped Violet.”

  He took a step back. “I didn’t kidnap Violet. He did.” He pointed at Callum, who flinched.

  “I only did it because Kaitlin ran away.” This, her brother whined.

  It hardly mattered. “I am here to marry you.”

  The McCloud, apparently recovered from his surprise, offered a cocky grin. “You don’t need to sound so happy about it.”

  “What the hell did you expect?” she snarled. “Forcing me to marry you. Kidnapping my best friend—”

  “That was not I.”

  “Making my brother do it then. Holding his debt over his head.” With each accusation she stepped closer, and with each of her advances, he retreated, until he was flat against the wall. “You, sir,” she poked him in the chest and glared up at him, “are a brigand.”

  He blinked. “Hardly a brigand.” This, he said in a tiny voice.

  She crossed her arms. “I have delivered myself into your clutches. Release Violet at once.” The silence in the hall following her demand settled in. She spun around and glared at the thunderstruck men. “And you lot, get back to work or I will have your guts for garters.”

  A rather frenetic activity resumed.

  The McCloud looked down at her from his towering height with a glint of humor lighting his eyes. “Kaitlin MacAllister,” he said. “You, I fear, are something of a termagant. No wonder you and Violet are friends.” Something in the way he said it made her belly lurch.

  As though he liked a she-devil.

  Lovely.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The last thing Edward expected when he awoke the next day in an inn outside Dundee was to find himself staring into a pair of chocolate-brown eyes so like his own. And a button nose. Spattered with freckles.

  “He’s awake.”

  “Of course he’s awake, Tay.” Malcolm, from his left. “You were breathing on his face.”

  “I just wanted to see if he was alive.”

  “Of course he’s alive. He was sleeping.”

  “But he wasn’t moving.”

  “He was tired.” Ah. Ned was here too. And Sean and Dennis and Hamish. He could see them from the corner of his eye. “We were all tired. And we needed to gird our loins for today.”

  “What happens today?” A horrifying voice warbled over the din.

  Oh dear lord. Hortense was in his room as well? How many of them could this tiny chamber hold?

  All of them, apparently.

  Kaitlin, at least, had had the manners to not intrude. And damn, she was the one he really wanted to see. In his chambers. First thing in the morning.

  “Do you mind?” he asked.

  “Not a’tall.” Hamish hopped onto his chest and began bouncing up and down.

  “Oof. Oof. Oof.” Edward captured him mid-bounce and set him on the floor. He sat up, clutching his blankets over his naked chest like a swooning virgin, and glared at all in attendance. “A little privacy please?”

  “Come boys.” Hortense clapped her hands. “His Grace requires privacy.”

  Tay poked a finger in Edward’s nostril. “What do you require privacy for?”

  Edward carefully removed the digit. “I should like to get dressed.”

  Tay tipped his head to the side and scrunched up his face, as though this concept was utterly unfathomable.

  “So we can go get your sister.”

  “Oh. All right then. Why didn’t you say so?”

  Edward blew out a breath and glared at Hortense. “Did you need to bring them all?”

  “They insisted.”

  “They are children.”

  She gored him with a look. “Are they?”

  Well. Perhaps not. There were moments when he wondered if the other demons in hell ever missed their playmates.

  “Do hurry, Moncrieff,” Hortense chirruped as she herded the horde into the narrow hallway. “The boys are anxious to fetch their sister back.”

  The thought of taking those boys—his brothers—into a den of thieves curled his toes. Then again, the idea had merit.

  McCloud would never know what hit him.

  He dressed quickly—he was anxious to beard the lion in his den and retrieve Violet, but thoughts of Kaitlin rode high in his mind as well. He couldn’t wait to see her again. It had been but a day and he ached, fairly ached, to hold her.

  He came down the rickety staircase of the inn, still tying his cravat, to see his family—his family—filling the tiny dining room devouring their breakfast. But—

  “Where’s Kaitlin?”

  Hortense went red. The boys all looked elsewhere.

  “Where is she?”

  “Apparently she left.”

  “Left?” Hell.

  “We woke up yesterday morning and she was gone.”

  Yesterday? His heart did an odd flippity-flop then pounded as panic rose bitterly in his throat. “W-where did she go?”

  “I can only imagine she went to Callum.” Malcolm dug at his sausage as though it was an enemy.

  “Callum?” But he’d told her not to go! He’d told her to trust him. To let him handle it. “Fuck!”

  “Really, Moncrieff. Small ears.”

  “Fuck!” parroted Hamish. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  Edward scrubbed his face with a palm. Callum would take her to McCloud. If she weren’t already there. Damnation. Now he had two of them to rescue.

  Edward glared at Transom. “We’d better go.”

  “At once, Your Grace.”

  But they didn’t go at once. It took an eternity to load the coaches. And despite Edward’s insistence that the boys remain behind, they did not.

  They simply refused.

  * * * * *

  He was holding Violet in the tower.

  This, Kaitlin pried from a young scullery boy named Pippin.

  Her betrothed had sent Callum on his way and ensconced her for the night in a drafty chamber on the second floor of the keep and—with an ominous expression—bade her to bar the
door. Kaitlin had merely snorted. She had a dirk. She knew how to use it.

  At first light she began her reconnoiter and, after finding Pippin and discovering where Violet was being held, headed for the tower.

  The tower. How cliche.

  She met the McCloud coming down the spiral staircase as she was going up. He was buttoning his shirt.

  His chin dropped as he spotted her. “What the hell are you doing here?” he sputtered. “I told you to stay in your room.”

  “I’m going to see Violet.”

  He blanched. “You most certainly are not.”

  Kaitlin narrowed her eyes. “I must know she is all right.”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Wonderful. Let me see her.”

  His lips flapped.

  “Let me see her now.” She flailed him with a ferocious glare. “Consider it a wedding present.”

  With a dark glower, he turned around and started back. “You really are a harpy, you know.” This he threw over his shoulder.

  “The worst sort. We shall be so happy together.”

  He snorted.

  They tromped up the stairs. It was a long way to the top. “I can’t believe you’re keeping her in the tower,” she muttered.

  He flicked a look at her. “She’s safer here. The men would never—” He broke off, recalling to whom he was talking. “She’s tried to escape. It’s either the tower or the dungeons, and the dungeons are in terrible shape.”

  “Unlike the great hall?” She couldn’t resist. She just couldn’t.

  He chuckled.

  “Will we always live here?”

  He stopped stock-still at her question. He looked at her and the oddest expression flickered over his face. He opened his mouth then closed it again. Then finally said, “I have a house in Perth.”

  “Is it as charming as this? And will your men all live with us? Because they are charming as well.”

  “No. They are only here to— Why am I explaining myself to you?”

  “Because I’m to be your bride?” Really, where the sarcasm came from, she had no clue.

  His fisted his hands on his hips. “Are you always this difficult?”

  She offered a toothsome smile. “Didn’t Callum warn you?”

  The McCloud blew out a breath and without another word, continued the upward climb. He stopped at a heavy oaken door on the landing. “Wait here.”