To Defy a Duke: Dangerous Dukes Vol 1

by Wendy Soliman

  Dear God, her hair was loose, tumbling down her back like fluid copper. Even from this distance, she looked like an angel. Eli wanted to run down and plant his fist in the face of the man who had just dared to speak to his goddess. She’s mine, leave her alone, damn it! Except she wasn’t his, and never could be. He died a little inside as reality struck home. Eli ground his teeth and kept his gaze focused down on her, until she looked up and their eyes clashed. He inclined his head, and smiled, transfixed, unable to look away.

  Archer appeared on the terrace and rang a small bell. His guests took their seats, but Eli, at the centre of the table, remained standing. Immediately a hush fell over the boisterous tenants and a sea of faces looked up at him.

  ‘Another year has passed and the Winsdale estate continues to flourish,’ he said, ‘thanks in no small part to all of you.’ A loud cheer. ‘We have successfully gathered in another year’s harvest and are here today to give thanks for that. We, the Shelton family, have never lost sight of your loyalty, nor will we ever forget how much we owe to you. So thank you all. This day is for you.’ He raised his glass high. ‘Enjoy yourselves, you have earned the right, but don’t drink too much!’

  There was loud laughter and more cheering. Then the cooper, by tradition the self-appointed spokesman for the villagers, stood up. Once again there was quiet.

  ‘We appreciate your generosity, your grace,’ he said with suitable gravitas, raising his glass in return. ‘Three cheers for The Duke of Winsdale.’

  Everyone stood up and cheered. The men threw caps in the air and a hundred voices echoed loud in the still afternoon air. It was impossible for Eli not to be moved by their loyalty, a timely reminder of all that was expected of him. He inclined his head in the cooper’s direction and took his seat.

  With the formalities over with, everyone tucked into the sumptuous food provided by the Park’s kitchens. Eli insisted the tenants and gentry shared the same menu, even if crystal glassware and silver cutlery didn’t extend beyond the terrace.

  ‘They all adore you,’ Lady Caroline said, in awe. ‘Which is only right and proper since you have behaved munificently.’

  ‘You sound as though you don’t approve.’

  ‘Oh no, on the contrary, your grace. I admire the way you keep them loyal.’

  The feasting finally came to an end, the noise getting progressively louder as the ale flowed and both parties relaxed. When the final plates had been removed, Eli stood, indicating it was time to mingle with the tenants.

  ‘Susan,’ he said, grasping his sister’s arm. ‘It’s time to admire your handiwork.’

  ‘Oh yes, all right.’

  All of the guests had heard of the decorated barn, but none had been permitted to view it in advance. Harry appeared at Eli’s side, as did his friends Franklin and Johnson. Together the entire party descended the steps from the terrace, Eli in the lead. The tenants bowed as he passed, then went back to drinking and enjoying themselves. Eli didn’t hear much of what was said to him because his goddess was no longer in her seat. Where the devil was she? Heaven help any rogue who placed so much as one inappropriate finger on her. The violent possessiveness that spiralled through him at the thought of any other man getting anywhere near her took him by surprise.

  ‘Oh my!’ Lady Caroline cried when she saw the barn. ‘Did you really do all this yourself, Lady Susan?’

  It was the first time Eli had seen the results, and he was more than impressed. Athena’s guidance had seen the large space transformed into an indoor woodland, the fragrant perfume of honeysuckle and jasmine dominating. There were huge sheathes of corn held together with plaited rope and bold rosettes of fabric. A large display of harvest produce covered one wall—pumpkins, potatoes and carrots, together with fruit and green vegetables, blending into a fresco that typified the season. There were herbs, too, of course—lots of them. It was inspired.

  Just like its creator.

  ‘I had some help,’ Susan said, grinning. ‘Well, quite a lot of help, actually.’

  ‘It’s a triumph,’ Lord Johnson said to her, taking her arm and leading her a little apart from the rest of them. Eli was amused to see Susan blush. What he knew and Susan did not was that Johnson had made up his mind. He’d spoken to Eli just that morning, and Eli had given him permission to address his sister. Well, at least someone in the family would soon have her heart’s desire. ‘Come, if I’m not mistaken, they are serving cider from that table yonder. We ought to try it. Allow me to collect you a cup, Lady Susan.’

  ‘Mrs Defoe!’

  Susan’s delighted cry had Eli’s immediate attention. He turned slowly, and almost didn’t recognise her, even though he had spent most of the meal gazing at her from afar. She looked…well, she looked like his goddess, only a thousand times more beautiful. A small, nervous smile flirted with her lips as she met his gaze and didn’t look away. He broke away from his party, went up to her, and took her hand.

  ‘You intoxicate me,’ he said quietly, lifting her hand and brushing the back of it with his lips, his eyes burning into hers. ‘I want to whisk you away from here and…well, I hadn’t better tell you what I would like to do to you. Your husband would horsewhip me, and rightly so.’

  ‘We are being watched by two very angry-looking ladies,’ she replied, her lips moist and shiny and altogether too tempting as she parted them to speak.

  ‘Did you make the lace on your gown yourself?’ he asked, perfectly indifferent to his enraged audience.

  ‘Yes. Your sister gave me this gown, but it was too short.’

  ‘Did you have the right petticoats to go with it?’ he asked, sending her another scorching glance.

  ‘Oh, yes. I have an endless supply given to me by gentlemen admirers.’

  He narrowed his eyes and growled at her. ‘That had better not be the case, Mrs Defoe. I have already warned you what to expect if you displease me.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of you, your grace.’

  ‘Then you damned well should be.’

  ‘Eli, stop monopolising Mrs Defoe.’

  Harry joined them, full of cheerfulness, and kissed her hand also.

  ‘How are you, Lord Shelton?’ she asked.

  ‘The inhalations have worked wonders, as you can see, and I shall be forever in your debt,’ he replied. ‘But don’t forget I need your advice on how to proceed with them.’

  ‘Then I shall discuss it with you, perhaps after his grace has chosen his wife and your guests have all departed.’

  Eli choked on an oath. Harry appeared to find the situation very amusing.

  ‘Begging your pardon, your grace.’ The village blacksmith hovered at Eli’s elbow. ‘We’re ready to start the tug of war, if that’s convenient.’

  ‘Tug of war?’ Athena asked, smiling.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ It was Harry who answered her. ‘It’s an annual tradition. The villagers against us lot.’

  ‘And I suppose the duke is always allowed to win.’

  ‘Not a bit of it,’ Eli replied with a puerile grin. ‘No quarter is asked for or given. It can get quite vicious.’

  ‘In that case, I wouldn’t recommend you take part, Lord Shelton,’ Athena said. ‘You are not nearly strong enough yet.’

  ‘I would disagree, except if I’m a bystander, I can watch with you, which will more than compensate for my disappointment.’

  Eli scowled. ‘Have a care, little brother.’

  ‘Shame Baintree isn’t here,’ Harry said. ‘His bulk is always a big help for our side.’

  Eli frowned again, for a different reason this time. He couldn’t put his finger on why precisely, but he had always disliked and mistrusted Charlotte’s husband, and had been opposed to their union. But Charlotte had been determined to have him, and their mother had supported her cause. The Earl of Baintree, a good looking and charismatic man, was perpetually short of blunt, had needed Charlotte for her dowry, and clearly didn’t return his wife’s adoration. Eli suspected the blinkers had finally fallen from Charl
otte’s eyes, and she now knew it. She was disappointed with her marriage, and Eli was sorry her illusions had been shattered.

  Baintree was equerry to the prince regent. A womaniser at best, there was a dark side to his nature that Eli found repellent. Married men took mistresses as a matter of course. Even his mother had indicated to Eli earlier today it was a perfectly acceptable state of affairs. Dear God, was she implying that he should—Athena? No, she was worth more than that! Baintree wasn’t discreet and didn’t limit himself to one woman at a time. Presumably, the rumours had reached Charlotte, accounting for her low mood and disillusionment. There was nothing she could do about it, though and had taken the only course available to her, wisely ignoring the rumours.

  ‘He said he was coming up from Brighton today,’ Eli replied to Harry’s question. ‘He must have been held up.’

  Eli summoned up the seven gentlemen who would tug for his side. He shed his coat and passed it to Harry to hold, before one of his tenacious admirers could lay claim to it.

  ‘We shall be more comfortable over here, Mrs Defoe,’ he heard Harry say to his goddess as he took her elbow and led her away.

  Eli glanced around the bustling grounds, the gentry mixing freely with the tenants and farmers. His mother would be keeping a careful watch over her selected candidates for his hand, Eli guessed, and observing how well they took to the event. The duchess herself was very good indeed at mingling. He glanced up and saw her deep in conversation with several of the ladies who had baked cakes for the occasion. His mother had, to the best of Eli’s knowledge, never baked anything in her entire life, but that didn’t prevent her from taking a lively interest in the village ladies’ activities, and rightly so.

  He noticed the twins, eating toffee and gingerbread from a nearby stall. It amused him to see them on the brink of adulthood, yet still drawn towards childish pleasures. Several lads hovered around them, causing Eli to frown. He didn’t want anything to mar his goddess’s pleasure today. Then he noticed the reassuring figure of Millie standing close enough to keep a weather eye on them, and relaxed.

  ‘Are we ready, gentleman?’ asked the cooper, acting as adjudicator for the tug of war.

  Eli declared his side were, as did the blacksmith. The two men grinned as they shook hand, equals for the next few minutes.

  ‘Take up the slack, gentlemen,’ the cooper yelled when all the men had taken a firm hold of the thick rope.

  Both sides complied.

  ‘On my signal. Three, two, one…heave!’

  Both sides put their backs into it. The crowd cheered as fortunes waivered—first one side appearing to have the ascendency and then the other. Allegiances became apparent when those supporting the villagers stood to their side, yelling encouragement and advice. Eli's supporters were no less vociferous, if slightly less uninhibited. Athena and Harry stood diplomatically between the two groups, laughing at Eli’s endeavours. The healing blisters on his hands were being opened up by the abrasive rope as he put all his weight into pulling. He barely felt the pain, filled instead with a childish desire to win and impress Athena.

  The teams were evenly matched this year. Eli felt sweat trickling down his torso as he continued to lend his weight to his side of the rope. They were suddenly jerked forward as the opposition put in a concentrated effort, roared on by the crowd. Eli led a counter-attack and it was the villagers’ turn to stumble clumsily forward. Ebb and flow, ebb and flow. Both sides were tiring.

  ‘Now!’ Eli yelled to his team.

  All seven of them gave it all they had and tugged the villagers out of their half of the field, across the winning line. Eli’s team all fell over when the villagers let go in defeat, much to the amusement of the crowd. Laughing, Eli got up and shook the blacksmith’s hand.

  ‘Good fight, Tate,’ he said, slapping the man’s huge shoulder.

  ‘We almost had yer, your grace.’

  Eli brushed the grass from his backside, straightened his waistcoat and joined Harry in order to retrieve his coat.

  ‘Well done,’ Athena said. ‘It was quite a tussle.’

  ‘I did warn you. There is nothing the villagers would like more than to see me flat on my back.’

  Harry cleared his throat and sent Eli an amused grin. ‘And they have,’ he added. ‘More than once. Something, or someone, must have inspired Eli this year.’

  ‘One of your prospective brides, perhaps?’ she suggested with a playful smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  ‘Hardly.’

  ‘Are you such bad a landlord, your grace, that your tenants feel the need to knock you down?’

  He fixed her with a languorous gaze. ‘You tell me.’

  Eli found himself detached from Athena by one of his persistent aspiring duchesses. The fiddler struck up a jig, couples flooded onto the grass to dance, and so Eli swept a delighted Louisa into their midst. She would be wise not to read too much into his choosing her as his first partner. She just happened to be convenient, and it was his duty to dance with each of the four of them. Eli planned to get it over with as quickly as possible.

  He noticed Athena avoiding the dance, keeping to the shadows, watching her sisters as they both accepted eager partners. He saw her decline several invitations herself and could see she was nervous about something. He yearned to go to her, and force her to tell him what troubled her, but he could not.

  At least not just yet. Duty first.

  He danced with all four ladies, one after the other, and then went in search of Athena. It was twilight, and the party was nearing its end. He found her at the side of the barn, completely alone, leaning against the wall and staring off into the distance. Her hair, even tied back, hung almost all the way to her waist, a dozen different shades of autumnal colours reflected in its thick mass. Eli longed to run his fingers through it. She looked sad, vulnerable and almost afraid. She must have heard him approaching and glanced up, her expression apprehensive.

  ‘What are you doing back here all alone?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Taking a moment to myself, that’s all.’

  ‘Then you are being very unkind. You look so beautiful today, you have a duty to put yourself where I can admire you.’

  ‘You were busy admiring your aspiring duchesses.’ She sent him a teasing smile that did little to dispel the sadness in her eyes. ‘Have you made your selection yet?’

  ‘Dance with me, Athena.’ He held out his hand. She looked at it for a long time before slipping hers into it. ‘You have opened up your blisters.’

  ‘I know. That was my intention.’

  ‘Good heavens!’ She raised a brow. ‘Were you that desperate to win the tug?’

  ‘No.’ He caressed her with his eyes. ‘The blisters make me think of how I came by them in the first place, which makes me think of you.’

  ‘Oh!’

  The fiddler was playing a country dance. Several sets had formed up. Eyebrows were raised when Eli joined one of them with Athena. He ignored everyone and relished the sight of Athena’s slender body swaying, enjoying the sound of her laughter as she tripped lightly down the dance. She clearly enjoyed dancing and was no stranger to the art, another aspect of her past that intrigued him.

  ‘You look happy,’ he said to her when they next came together.

  ‘I love to dance,’ she replied, stating the obvious. ‘It has been some time since I had the opportunity.’

  ‘Where did you learn?’

  She shrugged. ‘Where does anyone learn?’

  ‘Remain a mystery then,’ he said, smiling into her shining eyes. They were green now. No, blue, with silver shards. A man could spend the rest of his days trying to identify their exact colour. He would never manage it because it seemed to change with her moods, but Eli would be prepared to die trying. ‘But I shall find you out, never doubt it.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Why would you waste your energy? I am nothing to you.’

  Oh, Athena. Can you not feel it?

  The dance came to an end fa
r too soon for Eli’s liking.

  ‘Allow me to fetch you a cup of orgeat.’

  ‘The syrup of orange and almond type?’ He nodded. ‘Oh, yes please. I love orgeat, but haven’t tasted it for a long time.’

  He took Athena’s arm to lead her in that direction when he noticed Baintree approaching.

  ‘Ah, my sister’s husband has finally arrived.’ Eli tried to sound more enthusiastic than he felt. ‘Charlotte will be pleased.’

  Athena followed the direction of Eli’s gaze. A horrified gasp slipped past Athena’s lips as her gaze fell upon the stranger with Baintree, and she pulled her hand from Eli’s grasp.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, her face ashen as she slipped between the crowds and disappeared from view.

  ‘What the devil,’ he muttered aloud, staring after her in disbelief.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Blood rushed through Athena’s ears, her scalp tingled, her heart pounded against her ribcage, unadulterated terror streaked through her body—all her usual reactions when Blake was close at hand. Athena was no witch, but she did have a heightened sense of perception, and always knew when danger—specifically Blake—was anywhere near her. That gift had saved her from capture on more than one occasion during the past six months.

  So why hadn’t her senses warned her he was close by this time?

  The answer was as simple as it was vexing. She had enjoyed dancing with Eli so much she had foolishly let her guard down. The touch of his hand, the laughter in his eye, the heady intoxication of the moment, the feel of his strong arm circling her waist—all of those factors had had a profound effect upon her, and she forgot to be cautious.

  Dear God, she was paying dearly for that lapse now!

  She leaned against the outside wall of the barn, breathing deeply, scared half out of her wits. How the devil had he found her here? She thought they had moved far enough away to be beyond his reach. Apparently not. More to the point, had he seen her? Baintree had been heading for Eli, but had Blake noticed the duke’s partner? Athena fled without waiting to find out.