by Stacy Reid
“Miss Danvers, may I introduce you to my sister, Lady Penelope, and my cousin, Mr. Eugene Collins?”
“Oh, Miss Danvers! I’ve longed to meet you,” the girl cried, clasping her hands before her with barely suppressed excitement. “Please do call me Penny; I truly cannot credit that you are here! Miss Danvers is Alexander’s fiancée,” she added with a ripple of mirth.
The girl’s pleasant warmth put Kitty at ease. “How delightful to make your acquaintance, Penny. And Mr. Collins, you, too.”
Mr. Collins drew an audible breath. “Fiancée?”
“Oh yes,” Penny drawled mischievously with an audacious wink in Kitty’s direction.
Mr. Collins looked startled and, at the same time, incredulous. Then he dipped into an elegant bow. “I am charmed, Miss Danvers. Quite charmed to meet my cousin’s intended.”
His shocked tone implied he was everything but charmed.
Another curious look of Mr. Collins’s volleyed from her to the duke. A few minutes of polite chitchat soon revealed he had a cheerful, matter-of-fact manner, while Lady Penny was incorrigible with her manners and quite impatient. She reminded Kitty of her youngest sister, Henrietta, who often needed a firm guiding hand.
“Miss Danvers, I do have so many questions about town and the season. I hope you’ll indulge me!”
Kitty smiled at Penny. “I believe I shall, though I am no authority on the town life and its varied frivolities.”
Alexander said, “Miss Danvers is weary from travel and will retire for a few hours.”
Penny considered this a moment, and then sighed and said, “Very well, please forgive my lack of consideration.”
They proceeded inside, the sweeping arch entrances filling Kitty with awe. She went mute with surprise when the duke introduced her to his butler and housekeeper. They in turn beamed at her, and it was quite evident they were happy for her to grace their home. How very unusual. Kitty was flummoxed and amused in equal measure.
Given the state of her déshabillé, Alexander promised his sister they would meet in a couple of hours in the drawing room. For now, he and Miss Danvers would tidy themselves to a presentable state. A maid escorted her along the prodigious hallway, and Kitty couldn’t help noting she was directed to a different wing from where Alexander had headed, his manservant accompanying him.
“Where does the duke go?”
The maid who had been introduced as Sarah happily replied, “To the west wing, Miss. Only the duke sleeps there.”
How fascinatingly curious. “I wonder, does he have enchanted rooms hidden there?”
The maid threw her a bemused look, and Kitty deduced she’d never heard the tale of “Beauty and the Beast.” Even with the terrible scars marring his handsome countenance, the duke was still no beast, nor did he seem to possess the disdainful arrogance so ingrained in most members of the aristocracy. Instead he was a wicked charmer.
And the most incredible kisser…
As they climbed the winding stairs, she couldn’t help noting that the castle seemed very lived-in, comfortable, and elegantly decorated. The windows on all the floors were framed by sweeping curtains in lavender silk brocade with the ducal shield displayed in gold embroidery on each of the tassel-festooned pelmets. The walls were hung with impressive ancestral portraits and celebrated works of art— She identified Rembrandt, Rubens, and Raphael.
Her assigned chamber was decorated with elegant furniture in Italian marble and carved mahogany. The four-poster bed with its draped pale blue damask curtains, tied back to the posts with tasseled ropes, seemed to dominate the room. Thick carpet patterned in shades of blue complementing the curtains covered stone floors, and the lower half of the walls had been paneled in rich, dark wood. The upper half boasted a pale wallpaper printed with a silvery filigree. The chairs and sofas were upholstered in silk in muted shades of silver and blue, and Kitty instinctively sensed all rooms would be designed with the same care, comfort, and beauty in mind.
“How many rooms does the castle boast?”
“One hundred and ten, miss,” the maid said with evident pride. “And the estate sits on more than two thousand acres.”
Kitty made her way to the armoire, pleased to see her valise had been unpacked and her dresses hung.
“A bath will be up shortly, miss, and you just ring for me when you’re ready.”
Kitty smiled her thanks, and Sarah bobbed and departed. The bath was delivered, and soon she was relaxed into the radiant heat of the rose-scented water. Kitty moaned at the decadent feel, and with a sigh, she lowered herself into the cavernous bath until the water stopped at her chin. Kitty willfully reminisced over each moment of her encounter with the duke in the cottage, recalling his delicious weight as he held her beneath him, the unique masculine scent, and kisses that would haunt her for the breadth of her life.
How could she walk away from the tender sensations rousing in her heart for Alexander? How could she ignore them, when she sensed such intensity of admiration and yearning for another happened perhaps once in a lifetime?
She had promised the duke a week at his castle. A week. Unexpectedly tears stung her lids, and she closed her eyes tightly. She liked him, so very much. And Kitty knew she would be unable to stop the headlong tumble into affection for this man. And he…he would break her bloody heart.
Unless, if she genuinely lost her heart to him, she could convince him to give her his in return.
Kitty froze, her heart pounding with such force, she felt faint.
Part of her recoiled at the direction of her thoughts, but another part, which had been dormant for far too long, stirred to life. Could she really try to show the duke they could be perfect for each other?
Surely a man who had been without a duchess for so long would not look at her and believe she was ideally suited for that role. Kitty snorted, hating the hunger crawling through her heart. Impossible yearnings she had suppressed the instant Papa had died, for her family had now become her sole responsibility.
A silent, dangerous thrill coursed through her. What if she could have something more with the duke…something real and not the pretend nonsense she had been living? She could undertake a dangerous gamble: putting her heart and emotions at risk. Overnight, she’d become a fool. One who no longer had rational thoughts but dwelled on love and family…and her own happiness with the most unsuitable man. For he had not shown any inclination toward permanency.
I’ll never marry, Miss Danvers.
But what if she could dream a little?
And Kitty allowed wicked dreams into her heart while she bathed: of being the duke’s friend…and his lover, and the woman he would fall hopelessly in love with.
…
The mantel clock chimed the half hour. The third such chime since he’d returned home with Miss Danvers in tow. Alexander had summoned his team of doctors to attend him at the estate immediately and had indulged in a long bath, scrubbing away all the grime and mud that hadn’t been adequately cleaned with that small basin of water in the cottage.
Dressed and feeling somewhat human again, he made his way slowly down the winding staircase, then the lengthy hallway, relying heavily on the cane gripped in his right hand. The manner in which he had pushed himself in the last several hours twisted the muscles of his lower back and leg. The pain had barely been eased by the long, heated soak in the large copper tub and the extended rub by his manservant. It was time for him to take to his bath chair and remove the pressure from his body.
Alexander entered the library and let the heavy oak door close behind him, not surprised to see Eugene perusing a book by the fire or pretending to read. His cousin’s diversions were usually of a different variety—namely women and racing.
The book was slammed closed with some relief. “Ah, finally. I wondered if you would come down.”
Alexander made his way over to his wheeled cont
“Had a rough time of it, did you? George told me of all that happened. You took a risk going back for him in those damned waters.”
“Ah, but it was worth it. He is alive.”
And as odd as it would seem, the servants of McMullen Castle were like his family. They had been with him during every hellish step to recovery. They hadn’t allowed him to give up or lose himself in the haze and comfort of opium or other deadly pursuits.
It had taken days and the painstaking resilience of a team of the best doctors from Edinburgh and England to save his life. It had been several weeks later before he had been fit to see anyone. Almost a year before he had walked unassisted without a cane or his hovering manservant. And about three years before he’d stopped being a beast to everyone. How he had roared and screamed his loss and anguish, holding on to the physical pain as his wretched companion.
The pain had been better than a heart heavy with grief.
Eugene grunted, raking his fingers through his sandy hair. “Who is this Miss Danvers? While I detected a warmth between you, when I saw you three weeks’ past, I heard no news of an engagement, and Penny has a permanent mischievous twinkle in her eyes.”
With some amusement in his tone, Alexander told the wicked tale of Miss Kitty Danvers, the ruse she played on society, and his fascination. Alexander ended with, “Somehow I thought the gossips would have reached you in Bedfordshire.”
His cousin turned a shocked countenance toward him. “Are you funning me?”
“No, that I am not.”
“She lied about knowing you!”
Alexander grunted a noncommittal reply.
Eugene scowled. “Miss Danvers is beyond incorrigible! To think of such a hoax and execute it… Why, I am still at a loss at her boldness.”
He tried to prevent the smile but failed lamentably.
Surprise widened his cousin’s eyes before they narrowed thoughtfully on Alexander. “You like her,” he said softly.
“I am more curious.” Liar.
“And that is why she is here?”
“I am still figuring that out.”
An unusual silence fell between them, and Eugene made his way to the mantel and poured whiskey into two glasses. He handed one to Alexander.
“Do you still wish to speak on estate matters?” Eugene asked. “Or would you like to join Miss Danvers and Penny in the rose parlor? I believe Penny is persuading your fiancée to play cribbage.”
Alexander tipped the glass to his mouth and took a healthy swallow of his drink. “One or two of my doctors will be attending me in a few hours. I’ll decline.”
“And if Miss Danvers should query?”
“You are not at liberty to divulge my business. Simply let her wonder.”
Eugene grunted and made his way from the library, leaving Alexander alone. He wheeled himself behind his desk, fighting the temptations to join them in the smaller parlor. Instead, he took a packet of letters that had been sent by the prime minister.
A knock sounded, and before he could answer, the door cracked open, and Kitty peered in.
“Hullo,” she said softly.
“Most people would wait for an answer before intruding.”
“You already know I am not most people.” She hesitated before entering. Then she closed the door behind her but advanced no farther, standing with her back against it. “Your sister was quite disappointed that you would not join us.”
“And you?”
That elicited a small smile from her. Instead of answering, she said, “Would you like some company?”
“It pains me to disillusion you, but I am disastrous at small talk.” The press of silence was where he found his greatest comfort. And yet, he wanted her to stay, to talk, to touch him again. Alexander wanted more than just to touch her, to introduce her to pleasure.
He wanted to know her.
“You did rather well in the cottage.” She closed the door with a small snick.
Her unique boldness made her intoxicating, enchanting. “Shocking, Miss Danvers, a closed door? I thought you would have wanted some semblance of propriety.”
A smile quivered on her lips. “I feel quite safe with you, Your Grace.” Her gaze dropped to the letters from Earl Liverpool. Curiosity lit in her eyes. “Our prime minister writes to you?”
“Hmm, this one,” he said, plucking up one of the letters, “is to congratulate me on my engagement and my re-emergence within society. He compliments me for securing such a delightful lady.”
She blushed profusely, and he smiled.
“This one is to praise my efforts and his, which led to the recently passed Judgment of Death Act.”
“I read about it in the papers. I was quite appalled to know that the simplest of crimes carried a sentence of death. Even children were not spared when they stole food to survive. It is admirable what your motions in parliament achieved.” She glanced around his office. “And you did all that without visiting town or the House of Lords.”
“Is that censure I hear in your tone?”
She shifted, her dark red muslin evening gown sliding over the thick Persian carpet with a soft swish. “Of course not. Only admiration.”
“My body was here…but my mind has always been with England and its plight.” And over the years he’d fought with the best of them through the power and eloquence of his pen. Only a few months ago, there were more than two hundred offenses in England that carried a mandatory sentence of death. The law had been unforgiving, especially to those of the lower class. A maid within his household lost her nephew to the hangman’s noose because he had stolen a gold fob watch. The boy had been only thirteen, and Alexander had discovered the law’s reaction to his impudence too late.
It had fueled him, dragged him away from the jaws of loneliness, and had given him another purpose to direct the restless emptiness inside. He had written motions upon motions, and Lord Liverpool and several other influential men in the House of Lords had presented his arguments most passionately. The triumph of the passage of the act had been in the newspapers for weeks.
He wheeled his chair from behind the desk around to the crackling fire and very close to her. Alexander realized he had committed an error of judgment. He was driven to distraction by her soft scent of roses. A hunger unlike any he’d ever known clasped him in an unrelenting hold.
She glowed with incandescent sensuality; a woman like her deserved the richest of pleasures. And he wanted to be the one to give them to her, even if he would receive none in return.
He wanted the taste, the scent, and the feel of her to invade him, to shatter the remnants of emptiness that held him in their cruel embrace. He wanted to take his lips on a journey over her lips, to where the pulse fluttered madly at the base of her throat. There he would linger, nibbling on the soft flesh there, and then he would splay her before him and use his tongue to do wicked things between her thighs.
Regret and anger, terrible and raw, exploded in him. He would never have her like that. Never.
The realization stabbed through his heart, pained Alexander, and filled him with such desolation, his hands trembled. The abyss of loneliness loomed once more, somehow darker than ever, corrupting the peace he’d just found in her smile.
“Leave me!” he said, his voice harsher than he’d intended.
Her response was a resounding silence. Then without questioning him, she opened the door and left, and it was as if the light and warmth that had permeated the library had been sucked into a black void.
Alexander wheeled his chair to the closed door and pressed his palm flat against the oak.
Damn his foolish heart for beginning to crave what could never be.
Chapter Thirteen
Dinner that night was a lavish affair his kitchen staff accomplished with little notice. They evidently wanted to impress Miss Danvers, and she did not disappoint their expectations, relishing each course placed before her and sending her compliments to the cook. She ate with obvious delight and appreciation of the dishes.
Alexander recalled the dainty and graceful bites his fiancée and previous female acquaintances had used to consume their meals. At the time he had believed them to be so delicate and refined, but now only a cynical amusement at their ridiculousness invaded his senses. Pleasure filled him that Miss Danvers was not at all perturbed by her enthusiasm as she demolished each dish. She tilted her head, and the elegant slope of her neck begged to be teased with his lips and teeth.
When she noted he stared, she winked before glancing away.
Her daring oddity was vastly appealing to his jaded and lonely senses. In the few hours she’d been at his castle, a subtle transformation had infused his servants. The footmen moved with more pride, their chests pushed out; the maids seemed eager to attend to Miss Danvers, inquiring after her comfort frequently. They beamed at even one kind word from Miss Danvers and seemed far too interested in every glance and uncertain smile that passed between him and his guest. Alexander was amused by it all, but he did not miss how greedily everyone seemed to bask in her presence.
Especially Penny.
“Have you ever ridden astride in London, Miss Danvers?” Penny asked laughingly. “I daresay a lady of your daring and ingenuity would not hesitate to do so.”
Katherine laughed, and the sound clutched at his heart.
“I declare the most outrageous thing I have ever done”—she dabbed her lips demurely with the serviette, but her eyes sparkled with such wickedness—“was agree to become your brother’s fiancée.”
This bit of mockery seemed to delight his impudent sister, who snorted. “I’ve heard that the Royal Museums are just wonderful. Alexander has told me so much about them.”
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