by Tessa Bowen
She swayed against him when he placed her on her feet. “Holy. Friggin’ Crap,” she gasped.
“Where did you Americans come up with that ridiculous abbreviated expletive?”
“You mean friggin’? It’s better than saying fu—”
She stopped up short, folding her lips together when he gave her a disapproving look. He turned his attention back to the horse, giving him a pat on his nose.
“There’s a good lad.” The animal gave him a loving head butt. “What do you think of my land, Miss De Luca?”
“Is this really all yours?
“Yes, it’s been in my family for years—centuries, really.”
“It is so beautiful here. You’re so lucky.”
“I have been gone from it too long. I wish to make it more my own.”
“If I lived here I would never leave.”
She scampered down the damp slope to inspect the stream more closely. She looked just like one of Charlotte’s elves as she crouched on a moss covered rock. He followed her down, coming to stand next to her on the banks of the brook.
“You don’t think you would get bored in the country?”
“No—it’s magical here.”
“You do appear to be in your natural habitat. You’re not wholly human, are you?”
She looked at him in confusion. “Huh?”
“Apparently, my daughter’s unusual ideas have rubbed off on me.”
“Oh yeah, she likes to play fairies. Well, she’s the fairy and I’m the American elf.”
“Indeed.”
He led her along the stream until they came to a cemetery. Old stone graves littered the hillside. Izzy ran her fingertip across the sculpture of an angel sitting atop a moss-covered head stone. A patch of ground lay separate from the rest. A twin set of plots rested in the middle of the field. A blanket of purplish-blue flowers covered the area. These headstones were more ornate and detailed than the rest.
“The resting place of many of my ancestors,” the Duke murmured. “Previous Dukes dating back to the beginning of the 18th century are buried here. They will throw my bones up here as well, when I’ve had enough. And here we have my parents…”
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
“It’s been years now. Years that my mother has been gone, anyway. Only a few since my father passed.
“These flowers are so pretty, what are they?”
“Bluebells—it is fitting they would sprout up here for my mother adored them. My father thought all flowers were frivolous, of course. In fact, he banned them in the house. He said they made him sneeze.”
“What kind of guy was he—I mean what sort of man?”
“The sort of man who did not allow flowers in his house. He disapproved of me in every way. So I left home as soon as I could. I always loved it here though, but he was here…so I stayed away.”
“Why did he disapprove of you?”
“I wasn’t serious enough. He had very specific ideas of what a man should be. I was never one to take orders. I was rebellious and wild. He expected me to join the Royal Navy and then the House of Lords—follow in his footsteps as it were. So, I became the Devil Duke instead, much to his dismay and disgust.
“So, you are kind of a rebel, like me.”
“You are defiant by nature. I was rebellious out of spite. I wanted revenge—I did not like the way he treated my mother.”
“What about your mother—what was she like? Did you get along with her?”
“Yes, but she was much easier to please. I was a pretty boy and she liked pretty things—like her bluebells. She liked to ride too. I should not have left her alone with him all those years.”
His eyes flattened to a somber grey. The field of blossoms shifted around them as the wind whipped across the land. “I just want to rest here in all this quiet—away from the racket of London—away from constant scrutiny and probing gazes, the flash of the cameras blinding me wherever I go. Make up for lost time with Charlotte—do my duty. That is why you are here, Miss De Luca. Your presence will afford me the freedom and privacy I crave. We will be seen a few places together then I can retire to my rustic life. After a while, they will think me just an old, boring married fellow—a country gentleman. Hopefully, I can fade into oblivion.”
“You’re not going to be the Devil Duke anymore?”
“The Devil Duke is knackered—tired out, I’m afraid.”
“Tired of having women throw themselves at you?”
“Something like that.”
“Did you really have a thing with Madonna in the 90’s?”
He wilted her with a stern look.
“Sorry, had to ask.”
“I’ve left all that life behind. I’ve shirked my responsibilities my entire life, it’s time for me to come home and be a father now. No more gallivanting across the globe. What about you, Miss De Luca. What are your plans for the future?”
“The future?”
“Yes, when this little theatre act of ours is over, what do you plan on doing with yourself?”
“I’m not going back to Michigan. That’s for sure—not ever.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t have good memories from your childhood there, would you? You had a tough time of it—growing up, I mean?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You will be able to make new memoires with the money you earn, and you can make them wherever you like. That will be a good thing.”
“Maybe I’ll do some of my own gallivanting across the globe.”
“The ‘globe’ had better brace itself. I should get you back to Archie. He will want to continue your dance lessons.”
“How long has he worked for you?”
“He worked for my father actually. He helped raise me really. His title is secretary but he is much more than that—”
“I can tell.”
“He’s getting a bit on in years for the job. But I will never let him go. It would kill him and I want him around for many more years—don’t know what I’d do without him, really. He is a good old chap. He begged me to be nicer to you, you know?”
“Archie’s got my back.”
“Have you picked out a dress for tomorrow night?”
“No, but I said I would, remember?”
He held up his hands. “I’m only asking. I have no desire for a rematch, Miss Deluca.”
“Did you hear what I said before, about letting me be myself? I can’t be any other way than the way I am. I could never be like you, all polished and shiny and perfect.”
“I’m far from perfect.”
She looked down at her feet rather forlornly. “You look perfect anyway and we both know I don’t…”
“I’ve been a beast to you, haven’t I?”
Her cupid’s bow creased as she moped. “I thought I was the beast.”
Trevor’s gaze ran over her delicate features. There was something quite captivating about that little face. Every feature was perfectly formed in its elfin way. She was growing more pleasing to look at with each passing second. The way her inky lashes rested against her cheek when she looked down was quite fetching as was the tiny tip of her upturned nose. Remarkable that such a rough and tumble girl would have such dainty proportions.
“You’re not a beast at all.”
“I’m just average,” she shrugged. “I mean on a good day.”
Slowly, the corner of his mouth tilted upward in a half-smile. “Average you say? I think not.”
Izzy blinked in surprise when the half-smile turned into a grin. Was he actually smiling at her?
Holy Crap he is friggin’ beautiful when he smiles.
His handsomeness sort of knocked the wind right out of her. She had gone from hating him to loving him ten or more times in the last few days and it had been a wild, exhausting ride.
“Well…you know what I mean—I’m just a normal girl. I’m not fancy like you. I guess that’s what they like about me. They like the idea that a nobody like me could end up with a somebody
like you. They want to believe that you could love me, just as I am—even though we both know that would never really happen.”
“Just as you are?”
“Yep, just as I am.”
She allowed him to help her into the saddle. He studied the artless girl who had turned his world upside down. She had been the wiser one all along—he on the other hand had acted like a petulant child. She was unexpected and out of the ordinary—refreshing in many ways. The entire household of Devoy (including his daughter) had been swept into her hysteria, and they all seemed much happier for it. Perhaps it was time to stop fighting to get his way and let the girl work her charms.
She snorted cheekily from atop his mighty steed. “Get with the program. I’m a ‘breath of fresh air.’”
The Duke pursed his lips and mounted behind her. “Fresh indeed.”
Chapter Seven
Izzy stared at her reflection with a victorious smile.
This will shut him up good.
She had never known her body could look like this. She looked like a woman, small at the waist and full at the hips and bust line. She ran a hand over the bodice of the evening gown, squeezing her ripening breasts with fascination. “I guess those scones are paying off.”
Sir Archibald let out a gasp when he entered the room. “Oh, Miss De Luca! You are simply breathtaking.”
Izzy clapped her hands and twirled for the old gentleman. “It’s good, right? I don’t look like a total spazz for once.”
Archibald beamed with pride. “You are bewitching!”
She threw her arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Archie.”
She felt good tonight—even pretty. She wouldn’t let the Duke get her down, no matter what kind of mood he was in. The maid brought her a cocktail on a little silver tray. It helped to calm her nerves and now she felt on top of the world.
Liquid courage.
“The Duke is waiting downstairs. May I take you to him?”
Izzy nodded, loving the weight of the dress around her. She relished the sound of the long skirt swishing across the marble staircase. Just then, Charlotte busted down the hallway toward her, red curls flying.
She stopped up short when she saw Izzy on the landing. “Isabel! You don’t look like an elf anymore—you look like a fairy princess!”
Trevor spotted her at the top of the stairs. The stunning image swam before him. He shook his head as if to wake himself up.
Sheer bloody perfection.
The dark green poi de soie was sublime on her. The fitted, strapless bodice showcased her tiny waist and doll-like dimensions. The impressive full skirt swished over each step as she made her descent. The Duke drank in the sight of her, running his gaze over her upturned face. Her jet hair was parted to the side and swept gracefully behind one ear. He thought he hated short hair but it looked sophisticated now, sleek and polished—showing off her gamine features. Long hair would have concealed her smooth neck and more importantly her rounded little bosom.
Good Lord, when did she sprout breasts—overnight?
Isabel noticed the Duke’s reaction. His mouth hung open slightly and his eyes appeared to have changed color. She thought they were a cool grey but these intense orbs staring her down were a bright, blazing sapphire.
“Yep, I have boobs now,” she announced. “That’s what eating a dozen currant scones a day will get you.”
The Duke shut his gaping mouth with a snap and promptly straightened his bowtie. Charlotte sniggered into her palms while Izzy smirked, dropping into a ridiculous curtsey.
“Well, what do you think?”
He smirked back. “You’ll do.” When Charlotte erupted into hiccups, the Duke snatched his daughter up in his arms and pinched her under her chin. “Smug little lots, the both of you.”
“You’re positively gob smacked, Daddy.”
“I’ll smack your gob—come on, pucker up, my darling.”
Izzy’s stomach did somersaults as the Duke kissed his daughter, smoothing her wayward curls away from her freckled face.
If he ever called me “my darling” I would faint.
He placed the girl on her feet and swatted her behind. “Run along, Miss De Luca and I have to get going.”
Sir Archibald led Charlotte up the stairs to her bedroom. When they were alone, the Duke turned his attention back to Isabel.
“I have something for that dress. Follow me to my study.”
“Is it a corsage?” she joked with a snort. “I feel like I’m going to the prom.”
“Do try to behave, will you?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” she said in a simpering tone.
She admired him in his tuxedo as he unlocked a safe behind the desk. He held a black velvet box in his hand.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
Izzy held her breath. She knew it was going to be some incredible piece of jewelry. Dutifully, she obeyed. She let out a giddy squawk when he pointed her toward a heavy gilded mirror that hung over the mantelpiece. The lavish necklace was made of platinum and encrusted with diamonds and emeralds.
She brushed her fingers over the precious stones. “No way.” she breathed.
“I suppose you are too petite for such a heavy piece of jewelry. It might throw off what little balance you do possess. Perhaps we should find you something a little more modest—perhaps a dainty locket or a sedate string of pearls?”
She clutched the necklace protectively. “No way. I wanna wear this one.”
“My mother never wore it. She thought it clashed with her eyes or some nonsense.”
“This was your mother’s?”
“My grandmother’s, actually. Cartier made it for her. It is an audacious necklace. It suits you.”
Izzy didn’t know if he was teasing her or giving her a compliment. She only knew she was very happy.
Yes, she was very, very happy. For once in her life the spazz had it all. New scone boobs, a zillion dollar necklace, and the most handsome man in the universe as her prom date.
THE DUKE’S BENTLEY pulled up alongside the stately building. A throng of press crowded the curb. Izzy stared out the window with big saucer eyes.
“Holy Crap.”
“Holy Crap, indeed. Are you ready?”
“Uh, no.”
“Don’t worry. That dress will do all the work for you.”
When he handed her out of the car, the people went wild, shouting and clapping. Camera flashes went off in every direction.
“Is this your first ball, Isabel?” A reporter shouted from the mob.
“Give her a kiss for the cameras, Your Grace!”
Izzy’s heel caught on the first step. The Duke steadied her with a sure grip and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t lose your glass slipper, Cinderella.”
Another explosion of starbursts went off, scorching her eyes. She was still trying to recover from the kiss when he whisked her into the party. People came to a standstill when the now infamous couple entered the room. Distinguished guests parted— the men bowed and women curtsied. The pressure of his arm around her waist grounded her. Without the strong pull of his steady energy Izzy feared she would fall flat on her face.
“People actually curtsy to you?” she whispered.
“Quite silly, isn’t it—makes me cringe really.”
He led her to a lavish buffet and handed her a glass of champagne. Izzy tried to be dainty and sip it but ended up gulping it down in a nervous rush. She snatched a hors d’ oeuvres off a gilded platter and peered at it.
“What’s this?”
“Some sort of useless canapé, I should think.”
Izzy popped the whole thing in her mouth and swallowed it whole. “Um, could I have another glass of champagne, please?”
More liquid courage.
“You’ve only had one, correct?”
“Uh, huh,” she said.
When his back was turned, she whisked another glass off a tray and quickly poured it down her gullet, blinking innocently
when he turned back around. She slurped down her third glass as a snooty older woman approached.
She acknowledged the Duke with a slight bend at the knee. “Your Grace.”
“Good evening, Lady Winterly.”
“Who are you traipsing around with tonight? Is this the new girl I have heard so much about—your fiancée?”
“Yes, it is.”
The old lady curled her lip at Isabel who was trying her hardest to hide in her champagne flute.
“Oh, my dear boy, whatever would your father say, she’s so terribly young. Why she’s just a girl.”
“Yes, well, I’ve already gone through all the ones my own age (as well as their mothers), haven’t I?”
“What did you say, boy? She certainly is a thirsty little thing.”
The Duke’s arm came around Izzy’s shoulder—his hand rode low over the top of her breast.
“You know how it is, Lady Winterly. All that fornicating makes one thirsty.”
The old lady choked on a gasp and flounced off with a huff.
Isabel elbowed him hard in the ribs. “I can’t believe you just said that!”
“Horrid old bat. Shall we dance?”
“Do you think I’m ready? I should have practiced more with Archie.” She downed the rest of her champagne. “This is going to be a total friggin’ disaster.”
He held her firmly around the waist. “Stop panicking, it will be fine.”
And away they went.
They moved in perfect unison, as though they were the only two people in the room. Izzy never missed a beat as he spun her across the dance floor. She was light as a feather and weightless in his arms. When the music came to an abrupt halt, she felt as though she were waking from the best dream of her life. She looked around, trying to catch her bearings. The people in the crowd were a little hazy. Hundreds of eyes watched them from the shadows.
She swayed against him. “Everyone is staring.”
“You’ve had too much champagne, haven’t you?”
She raised big dopey eyes to him. “Um…maaaybe.”
“Perhaps some fresh air is in order.”
Chapter Eight