A Duke by Default: Dangerous Dukes Vol 3

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘I am glad you find the situation so diverting,’ she remarked, biting her lip to prevent herself from laughing as well.

  ‘And you want to be scurrying around your wretched cider mill. Lord above, Harri, you can’t even get into bed unaided.’

  ‘True,’ she agreed sweetly, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘I must call upon you for help after all. I feel a little unsteady.’

  ‘It’s about time you accepted your temporary shortcomings.’ There was a superior expression on his face as he lifted her from her inelegant sprawl and placed her gently on the bed. She seized the opportunity she’d created and wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging him downwards with such force he almost landed on top of her.

  ‘Harri, what the—’

  ‘Shush!’

  She lifted her face and brazenly sought his lips. His brief attempts at resistance lacked true conviction and, with a muttered oath, he took control of matters. He kissed her with a devastating passion, stoking a hunger in her that was in no immediate danger of being sated. Harriet’s greedy body came alive, trembling at his profoundly sensual touch.

  ‘I thought you were feeling wobbly,’ he murmured, running his tongue down the length of her neck and lapping gently at the hollow at its base.

  ‘So I am, but not for the reasons you supposed.’ She smiled innocently up at him. ‘It’s all your fault. You taught me a little too well.’

  ‘No, Harri, not now.’

  She blinked. ‘Why not?’

  They were both breathing heavily—one fiercely fighting for control, the other recklessly abandoning it. Harriet, observing a rare spark of emotion in the cavernous depths of Marc’s eyes, instinctively knew he lacked the strength to hold out against her.

  ‘You are still too weak,’ he said, sounding as though he was the weak one.

  She curled a lock of his hair around her finger and tugged at it playfully. Looking up at him in what she hoped was a provocative manner, she used his own words against him. ‘I want you, Marc,’ she whispered quietly.

  Much to her discouragement he rolled away from her. ‘No!’

  ‘Do you not desire me?’

  He let out a tormented sigh. ‘You know I do.’

  ‘Then why?’

  He paused for a long time before answering her. ‘You want more from me than I’m able to give. It wasn’t part of our agreement to become emotionally entangled.’

  She suppressed her triumphant smile, with difficulty. ‘Agreements are made to be broken. Neither of us anticipated our feelings would become engaged, but why should that be a bad thing?’

  ‘Because it’s dangerous.’ He sat up and pushed his hair away from his face, clearly waging some sort of inner battle with himself. ‘You don’t understand. It’s dangerous for me to feel anything.’

  ‘Because of your past?’

  His head shot up. ‘What do you know about my past?’

  ‘More than you can imagine.’

  ‘From Lady Calder?’

  ‘Marc, it’s all right to feel. You have nothing to fear.’

  ‘No, you are quite wrong!’ His anguished expression tore at her heartstrings. He really believed he was jinxed. For such an intelligent man it seemed out of character but she sensed he wasn’t ready to hear that. ‘It’s dangerous for anyone to get too close to me. Your own experience should have taught you that much.’

  ‘Nonsense, my experience only serves to strengthen my argument. Someone tried to kill me but they didn’t succeed.’

  ‘But the danger is not past, they might try again, and I don’t think I could…’ His words trailed off and he stared morosely at the ceiling, his features contorted with pain.

  Deciding that actions spoke louder than words, Harriet levered herself into a sitting position, ignoring the howl of protest from her thigh, and brought the destructive power of her eyes to rest upon his face.

  ‘Marc, please,’ she said softly. ‘I need you.’

  ‘For the love of God, Harri, don’t make me do this!’

  ‘Me, Your Grace? What have I done?’ Musical laughter gurgled in her throat. ‘Besides, I seem to recall that you are in need of a son.’

  With a despairing groan he capitulated. Pushing her gently onto her side he made love to her with an intensity that stole her breath away. Sublimity beyond her understanding, beyond anything which he had ever before made her feel, consumed her as he slowly and passionately sated her desires. She somehow understood the difference lay in the fact that this time he wasn’t holding anything of himself back. Everything he had was being offered to her, and she took it greedily and without reservation. She followed eagerly wherever he led until a piquant thrill tore her asunder, bringing with it the blessed release she so urgently sought.

  It was then, when the subject was furthest from her mind, that inspiration struck, and she knew where Uncle Frederick must have hidden the cartoons.

  Chapter Twenty

  When Harriet woke the next morning she was delighted to find herself still enfolded in Marc’s arms. It took her a moment to realise he was awake and watching her.

  ‘Marc,’ she cried in excitement, ‘I think I know where Uncle Frederick must have hidden the cartoons!’

  ‘Good morning, Harri. How do you feel?’

  ‘Don’t you want to know what I have remembered?’

  ‘After you tell me how you feel.’

  ‘I feel exceedingly well. Quite myself again.’

  Marc guffawed. ‘Very well, when did inspiration strike regarding the cartoons?’

  She giggled. ‘A distraction was all I needed. Presumably, you won’t try to prevent me from venturing downstairs today?’

  He scrutinised her closely. ‘Very well, but you are not to go near the cider mill.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  Marc appeared startled, clearly having expected an argument. ‘It won’t?’

  ‘Oh no. Ben is preparing the barrels of our latest brew for transportation to London, which he can easily do without my assistance. Now, ring the bell, if you please. I shall dress and see you downstairs in half-an-hour.’

  True to her word, Harriet slowly descended the stairs a short time later, the puppy doing an excited dance around her legs. It was still early and none of her family was around to detain her. But Marc was and he accompanied her to the small room which doubled as her office and library.

  ‘Uncle Frederick knew I use this room and was familiar with most of the books in it. When he gave me the silver mermaid, he said I would learn more of its history from the book I possess about silver artefacts.’ She sighed. ‘I was very upset to hear from Lady Calder that the thieves took the mermaid.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Marc replied, squeezing her hand. ‘We will recover it for you.’

  ‘Thank you. It meant a lot to me.’

  ‘Is there a passage about that particular piece in this book of yours?’ Marc looked endearingly hopeful. ‘Could he have hidden a letter between the pages of the book?’

  ‘That is my assumption.’ She smiled and then shook her head. ‘Uncle Frederick always did like his riddles.’

  ‘Which book is it?’ he asked, surveying shelves bulging with tomes on a variety of subjects.

  Harriet pointed out the book in question, on a top shelf. Marc retrieved it but, to their intense disappointment, it failed to reveal any secrets.

  ‘But I was so sure!’ Harriet felt dejected. ‘Several times he referred to the book in connection with the silver statue, asking me if it still resided on the uppermost shelf.’

  ‘Then perhaps it’s the shelf itself that harbours the information we seek.’

  Marc stood on a stool, removed all of the books from the shelf in question and conducted a meticulous search.

  ‘It’s no good, Harri, there is nothing here.’

  He thumped his fist on the shelf and they both heard something rattle. Harriet widened her eyes. ‘What was that?’ she asked.

  Marc ran his hand a
long the shelf, and then along its back, concentrating upon the area in which the artefacts book had been placed.

  ‘The wood is uneven along the back here,’ he said, pressing against the area with his palm. ‘Yes, I have it! There is a compartment. Now, if I can just find a way to release the catch.’

  ‘Let me help.’

  ‘Stay where you are.’ Marc, his hands and face smeared with dust, frowned down at her and she reluctantly abandoned her efforts to clamber up beside him. ‘There, I have it. A door has sprung open and there’s a large nook behind it.’

  ‘Is there anything in there?’ Harriet suppressed a squeal of pain, having just discovered the inadvisability of hopping about when in possession of a wounded thigh.

  ‘Yes, there is.’

  Stepping down, Marc triumphantly placed a thick roll of paper wrapped in cheesecloth on the desk. He undid the seals and, at last, they found themselves gazing at Hogarth’s remarkable cartoons. Harriet gasped, but apart from that, neither of them spoke for several minutes.

  ‘Uncle Frederick was too generous.’ Harriet eventually said in an awe inspired tone. ‘They are truly magnificent.’

  ‘And worth a small fortune, too.’

  ‘So I need not have married you after all.’

  ‘Ah, so you married me for my money.’ He treated her to a castigating look. ‘I suspected as much.’

  ‘Well, of course I did.’ Her teasing smile gave way to a thoughtful frown. ‘Do you intend to keep them for yourself? They are rightfully yours.’

  ‘Absolutely not! My uncle intended that the cartoons should provide for your family, and he went to considerable trouble to ensure they didn’t form a part of his estate, or fall into unscrupulous hands.’ He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. ‘The cartoons are yours to do with as you see fit. If however you require investment advice, then I shall be happy to oblige.’

  ‘Thank you, Marc.’ If she wasn’t already desperately in love with him, his honour and generosity would have put that situation to rights. ‘Even so, they ought to be taken back to Endersby and added to Uncle Frederick’s collection where they belong. I know you will look after my family, so you ought to look after the cartoons, too.’

  ‘Very well, if that’s what you want.’ He rolled the precious drawings carefully back into their protective sleeve. ‘Since you appear to have recovered and we now have possession of the cartoons I see no reason why we shouldn’t all remove to Endersby this morning.’

  Harriet rolled her eyes. ‘I admire your optimism, but my sister will require at least two days to pack.’

  ‘No, she will not. I gave the rest of your family advance warning of my intentions, and they are already prepared to leave.’

  ‘Well then, I am glad you finally got around to advising me,’ she said testily.

  He chuckled, placed his hand on her elbow and guided her from the room with the cartoons secure in his other hand. ‘I hope you won’t find it too taxing making the acquaintance of my disagreeable relations. They have chosen an inconvenient time to descend upon Endersby, but I can hardly evict them.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hear of it and will be delighted to meet them,’ Harriet replied, quaking at the prospect.

  ‘My cousin Katherine possesses a tongue as barbed as her mother’s, but you can legitimately site your indisposition as an excuse to avoid her company. Besides,’ he added with determination, ‘they won’t be staying for long.’

  Harriet’s prophesy proved to be accurate and it was several hours more before Charlotte had packed all the belongings she simply couldn’t manage without. Thanks to her procrastinations, the dinner hour was approaching and Marc was ready to throttle her when he finally shepherded Harriet’s family into Endersby’s vestibule. An army of servants rushed to relieve them of their outdoor clothing and showed them to the rooms that had been prepared for them.

  ‘We shall dine in an hour,’ Marc told Ridgeway as he swept Harriet into his arms and carried her up the stairs, Freddie scampering at his heels. ‘Swift, take the boys up to the nursery floor. Their dinner will be served there.’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace.’

  ‘Marc!’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I can walk.’

  ‘You look exhausted just from a short journey. I am thinking of containing you to your chamber rather than letting you come down and wear yourself out completely.’

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You are doing it again.’

  ‘Doing what?’ He reached down to open a door which he then carried her through.

  ‘Being dictatorial.’

  ‘I don’t know how else to take care of you,’ he replied, placing her on the stool in front of her dressing table and touching her cheek. ‘Now, here’s Martha come to help you. I shall return and escort you down, if you absolutely insist upon joining us.’

  ‘You have a very strange way of showing you care.’ But her churlish expression softened. ‘I shall go down, Marc. I am curious to meet your cousin.’

  His sighed as he turned for the door. ‘Beware what you wish for.’

  When Marc returned for her, Harriet wore a pale blue gown he hadn’t seen before and his emerald was around her neck. She looked tired and pale, but he knew better than to mention the fact since it was obvious to him that she was nervous about meeting his family.

  ‘Are you ready?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  Once again, he insisted upon carrying her but placed her on her feet at the bottom of the stairs and offered her his arm instead. Katherine glided towards them, her face wreathed in artificial smiles.

  ‘Here you all are at last. We had almost given you up. You must be Harriet.’ Katherine subjected Marc’s wife to a prolonged scrutiny. ‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I’m Katherine Bingham, Marcus’s cousin, and I am already persuaded you and I will become close friends.’

  Marc watched Katherine’s performance with a growing sense of unease. She could have no desire to befriend Harriet—not when her mother disliked her so intently. So why pretend?

  ‘I want to hear all about your whirlwind courtship, and the wedding, too.’ Katherine linked her arm through Harriet’s, forcing Marc to release her. ‘It all sounds so romantic.’

  Dinner was a fraught affair. Giles and Lady Calder were invaluable when it came to keeping the conversation flowing, especially since Mrs. Aston appeared at her vaguest and Charlotte’s normally boisterous spirit had been subdued by her surroundings. Harriet seemed gratified to be so warmly received by his cousin, but Marc was more convinced than ever that Katherine wanted something from him. She dominated the dinner table conversation, going so far as to suggest the family should all congregate at Endersby in the near future to properly welcome Harriet.

  ‘What do you say, Marcus?’ she asked. ‘It would almost be like old times. There have been too many silly quarrels in this family over the years. We ought to use the occasion of your marriage to put them behind us and make a fresh start.’

  ‘I dare say it would be too difficult to arrange,’ responded Marc evasively.

  ‘Oh, nonsense! You are a married man now and have a duty to socialise. You would like it, would you not, Harriet?’

  ‘Well, perhaps…’

  She looked up at Marc and it was evident she didn’t know how to respond. Marc turned the conversation onto safer ground but it wasn’t long before Katherine had more suggestions for entertainments at Endersby.

  ‘I walked beside the river this afternoon, Marc,’ she said. ‘It really is at its prettiest at this time of year. We ought to take the punts out.’ She turned to Harriet. ‘It’s a delightful way to pass a sunny afternoon. We could have Mrs. Grant organise a picnic for us.’

  ‘Oh well, I—’

  ‘Harri’s afraid of the water.’ Charlotte’s declaration caused Marc to suppress a sigh. Charlotte’s jealousy had not yet run its course and he had noticed that she never wasted an opportunity to belittle her sister. ‘She almost drowned once, rescuing T
om from a lake.’

  Marc hadn’t been aware of that. Harriet didn’t seem unduly disturbed by Charlotte’s revelation, but he supposed she must be accustomed to her indiscrete outbursts.

  ‘That was a long time ago, Charlotte.’

  ‘Yes, but you never like to go near water now.’

  ‘You ought to learn to swim, Harriet,’ Katherine said. ‘That will get you over your fear.’

  ‘Oh, I can—’

  ‘Harri never leaves her cider for long enough to do anything else,’ Charlotte said.

  Marc watched Katherine doing her best to smother a sneer. He felt like returning the favour by sneering at Katherine’s lack of empathy but contented himself with focusing his thoughts to Harriet and her fall into that stream. The incident that had indirectly led to their marriage seemed like years ago now, so much had happened in the interim. Strange that Harriet hadn’t mentioned her fear of water when she regained her senses. But then again, they’d had more pressing matters to discuss. Like his determination to marry her.

  Instead of allowing Harriet to withdraw with the rest of the ladies, Marc stood.

  ‘I must leave you and Bingham to take port alone, Giles,’ he said. ‘My wife is exhausted. I shall take her up.’

  Harriet opened her mouth, presumably to protest, then shut it again. Out of sight of the others, he swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs.

  ‘You have put far too much weight on your injured leg today.’

  ‘I am not so very tired, Marc.’

  She sent him an innocently sweet smile and pushed her fingers through his hair. In spite of his best efforts to ignore her wiles, Marc felt an influx of blood where he needed it the least and inwardly cursed. He had vowed she wouldn’t control the nature of their couplings here at Endersby but could already feel a heady sensation of anticipation lancing through his veins, effectively eradicating that resolve. An inexorable need to possess the delectable creature who had become his wife was now a matter of priority. To excite her extraordinary passion and observe her as desire gripped her was all he could think about. Marc was very much afraid he would never get enough of her and wasn’t at all happy about that situation. To give of his whole self, without holding something back was the one gift he couldn’t risk bestowing upon Harriet. She already meant too much for him to take the chance.