The Highland Duke

by Amy Jarecki

  “Very well.” Geordie exhaled—proving his love ought not to be a problem. He’d already done so many times over. “And when can I expect your decision confirming the depth of my affection?”

  “When I am satisfied—and only then.” Laini flicked her wrist toward the door. “Now be gone with you and shower my bairns with your good fortune. But only this once.”

  * * *

  Geordie held back and walked with Akira on his arm while her sisters skipped ahead, yammering excitedly.

  “So?” she asked.

  Geordie feigned ignorance. “Hmm?”

  “Oh please, do not pretend you have no idea to what I am referring.” She nudged him. “What did Ma say to you?”

  He chuckled. At least Akira didn’t have any idea how much he’d allowed her mother to confound him. “I must prove my love for you before she gives her consent.”

  Slowing her pace, she regarded him out of the corner of her eye. “Consent? For…um, being your mistress?” She whispered the word as if it were a curse.

  Geordie rubbed his temple. “I’m not exactly certain.”

  “Oh.” Akira didn’t sound very excited about whatever Laini had up her sleeve, either.

  To give his rose a bit of reassurance, he patted the lassie’s hand. “She was rather cryptic about the happily-ever-after part.”

  “Now that sounds like Ma.”

  “Do you trust her?”

  “For the most part, but when it comes to making decisions for my life, I’d rather she didn’t meddle.”

  “It seems that problem is the same no matter what your birthright.” Geordie eyed the stunning woman on his arm. “You obviously talked with her about us.”

  “Aye—to ask her opinion.”

  “I take it she wasn’t enamored with my proposal?”

  “Or lack thereof,” Akira mumbled, looking away. “But she said that with a bit o’ Gypsy magic she could fix everything.”

  “Said the same to me…except…”

  “Aye?”

  “Like I said, I must prove the depth of my love to your ma’s satisfaction.”

  “Did she say how?”

  “No.”

  Akira grazed her teeth over her bottom lip. “And I imagine she didn’t tell you how she’d fix our—ah—wee problem.”

  “No.” Geordie swirled his palm over Akira’s hand. “But something tells me your Ma is sharper than the dirk in my scabbard.”

  “I can attest to that.”

  Geordie narrowed his eyes. “What is it that impresses her?”

  “Not certain.” Akira tapped a finger to her lips. “Hard work. A job well done. Honesty. Sincerity. Trustworthiness.”

  “Hmm, there’s a lot to chew on there.” He looked up. The lassies ran into a tailor’s shop on High Street. “I think we’d best keep up with your sisters.”

  She beamed. “Och, they’re ever so excited.”

  By the time they stepped inside, Kynda was unraveling a spool of ribbon and Scota and Annis were fingering bolts of fabric.

  “I want a dress with lots of lace and ribbon,” Kynda squealed, dancing in circles as if she had ahold of a maypole ribbon.

  The shopkeeper snatched it from the wee lassie’s hand. “Shoo, the lot of you. I’ll not tolerate a bunch of tinkers fouling my wares.”

  Geordie stepped up, snatched the ribbon from the man’s hand, and returned it to Kynda. “These young ladies are accompanying me this day. I bid them choose whatever they like. New gowns for all.”

  The tailor peered over his spectacles, observing Geordie from head to toe. “Oh? And who might you be, fouling my shop with a mob of ragged street urchins?”

  Geordie leaned forward, eyeing the dimwitted hound. “If you must know, I am the Duke of Gordon and these respectable young ladies are under my protection.” He gestured to his sporran. “Unless you would prefer not to earn my coin this day.”

  The man wiped a stream of sweat from his brow and bowed. “Forgive me, Your Grace. A-a-a shopkeeper cannot be too careful in these times. Tinkers and thieves will rob me of every last bit of lace.”

  Geordie fingered a corner of damask and sniffed with displeasure. “I sincerely doubt that.”

  The man led him to the settee. “Please, Your Grace, I will fashion gowns for these lassies so beautiful, all of Scotland will admire.”

  “You had better, else I will take my business elsewhere.” Geordie turned and kissed Akira’s hand. “The day is yours, mo leannan.”

  Resolving to spend the next few hours swarmed by females, he took a seat where he could watch out the window. The shop became more and more cluttered as bolts of cloth were pulled from their shelves, and the shopkeeper measured and jotted notes as fast as his miserable fingers would allow. Several times, passersby pushed through the shop door, took one look at the raven-haired lassies, stuck their noses in the air, and swiftly retreated.

  Geordie couldn’t care less. If only he’d had a Gypsy force behind him, the redcoats at Hoord Moor may have all run for their lives. Queen Anne would have taken her Danish husband and sailed back to Denmark a failure. Geordie’s ire piqued a bit, however, when a pair of dragoons stopped at the window and peered inside. Slipping his fingers to the hilt of his dirk, he leaned forward and snarled.

  Fortunately, they moved on, but Geordie grew restless. He’d told his men to lie low and stay out of trouble. Were the soldiers just curious, or were they prying? He patted his sporran. There was little to worry about with Captain Weaver’s proclamation tucked inside.

  By the time they were ready to leave, two more pairs of dragoons had scrutinized them through the window and Geordie had grown hungrier than a fox in midwinter. “I’ll take you ladies for a meal at the inn.”

  “On market day they have lamb on a stick in the tent on the end,” said Annis.

  Scota clapped her hands. “Och aye, I love lamb on a stick, and we haven’t had it since Uncle Bruno visited months and months ago.”

  Geordie reckoned he could eat fifty sticks, but if that’s what the lassies wanted, he wasn’t about to quarrel. The lot of them chatted like excited hens while they led him along the line of white market tents. Still uneasy, he shifted his gaze across the scene.

  Bloody hell, there are more redcoats than civilians.

  The hair at his nape stood on end as he looked around for Clan Gordon men. Fortunately, they’d paid heed to his bidding and were well out of sight.

  Akira ordered their food and Geordie gave the merchant his coin, then cleaned off his stick with one bite. About to order another five, he shoved his hand in his sporran.

  “Well, well, Gordon, I’m rather surprised to see you here.”

  Spinning around to see who dared to call him familiar, Geordie faced the Marquis of Atholl—dressed in blue silk and velvet and sporting a pretentious chestnut periwig.

  May as well make nice.

  “Why, Atholl, ’tis a pleasure to see you out and about this day.”

  “Truly? I am rather shocked to see you showing your face in Dunkeld.” He rubbed his slender fingers down his doublet. “I’m told you’re still supporting James the Pretender.”

  Geordie clenched his fists when the fobbing measle emphasized Pretender. A circle of dragoons surrounded them, but as a duke, he outranked them all. “Mind your station, sir.”

  John smirked. “You may outrank me, but you are on my lands. I do believe that evens the disparity.”

  “Mayhap, but I am here on personal business, nothing to do with politics.”

  “Truly? You, Your Grace?” the marquis said, disbelief in his voice. “I hear you are suspected of riding against Queen Anne in the wee Hoord Moor uprising a month past.”

  “You are sorely mistaken.” Something told Geordie not to reveal his entire hand as to the reason for his visit to Dunkeld. “My pennant did not fly, and I resent your inference, which is clearly intended to sully my reputation.”

  The marquis snorted and swiped his thumb across his nose. “Och, you’re doing a fin
e enough job of discrediting yourself all on your own.” He leaned in. “I hear the duchess left you and now you’re keeping company with a gaggle of Gypsy tinkers.”

  Heat flared up the back of Geordie’s neck, so hot it was all he could do not to slam his fist into that smug sneer. Bloody oath, if it weren’t for the army of men surrounding him, John would be sporting a misaligned face.

  Casting an apologetic glance to Akira, Geordie grasped the marquis by the shoulder and led him aside—not that there was anywhere to go where they could have a modicum of privacy. He pressed his lips to John’s ear, keeping his voice low. “I’ll not stand by whilst you sully the reputation of these hardworking young ladies.”

  “Is that so?” The marquis coughed out a laugh. “How easily you forget that not three years past you sat on the Privy Council beside me when we voted to rid Scotland of their kind.”

  “That was to drive out tinkers and thieves, not women and children who put in an honest day’s labor.” Geordie lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder. Akira had her back to him, standing several paces away. “Scarcely able to feed themselves, they are.”

  “And what is your affinity for these urchins? Surely they are not the cause of your appearance in Dunkeld?”

  Geordie stepped a bit farther behind the tent. “I met the eldest when I was injured several months past. She provided expert healing services and I am repaying her kindness.”

  Akira gasped.

  Damnation, she’d moved closer and stood only a few feet away. Turning, she beckoned to her sisters. “Come, ’tis time to go.”

  “Wait!” Geordie called after them.

  The marquis grabbed his arm. “I ken your cousin William was one of the upstarts. And I reckon you were at Hoord Moor as well.”

  Geordie tore his arm away. “You are sorely mistaken. All of Britain has gone mad, pitting brother against brother and family against family. Besides, I have a proclamation from Captain Roderick Weaver declaring I was in Inverness at the time of the battle. I’ve already proved my innocence to him, and I bloody well do not need to prove a thing to the likes of you.”

  Without a backward glance, he hastened after Akira. Good God, if word of his thoughtless exchange with the marquis about “repaying a kindness” got to Laini without an explanation, Geordie might just lose Akira forever.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Akira’s eyes stung as she hurried back to the cottage. Her stomach churned, threatening to bring up the food she’d just eaten. Her entire world spun out of control.

  Damn, damn, damn, she swore as she stomped away. Telling the marquis he was merely repaying my kindness? If that doesn’t prove he’s embarrassed to be seen with me, I do not ken what will.

  The outcasts on the outskirts of town gaped as she rushed past them. Staring and laughing behind their hands, no doubt. Who proved to be the fool now?

  If only she could break into a run and hide in a haystack for the rest of her life.

  “Why are you walking so fast?” Scota asked from behind.

  Akira waved her off. “I felt like I was suffocating back there.”

  “Why?” Annis hurried alongside. “You’re the Duke of Gordon’s mistress, and goodness, did you see how he took charge of the marquis?”

  Stopping, Akira grabbed her sister’s arm. “Where on earth did you arrive at the notion that I am Geordie—” She shook her head. “I mean the duke’s mistress?”

  Annis shrugged away. “There are no walls in our cottage and you only thought I was sleeping last eve.”

  Akira had never wanted to slap her sister so much in her life. “That conversation was meant for Ma’s ears only.”

  “You’re such a ninny.” Jamming her hands into her hips, Annis looked angrier than a mob of attacking dragoons. “You would deprive the rest of us of a better life where we could learn to read and write and ride horses? You are so selfish!”

  Lord give me strength.

  Shocked to her toes, Akira clenched her fists as her lips stretched across her teeth. This was exactly why she’d wanted to speak to Ma alone. Annis always had the most maddening way of turning things around to make Akira appear like a joob. Aye, she’d thought of her sister’s comfort, but Ma had brought them up with sound morals. Agreeing to be any man’s mistress wasn’t something she should take lightly. Besides, she’d always dreamed of marrying one day, of having her own cottage, raising a happy family.

  Huntly was as foreign to her as living in another country where she didn’t speak the language.

  “I cannot believe I’ve just been told I’m selfish by the most self-absorbed lass in Dunkeld. Do you expect me to cast aside my values for fancy gowns and riding lessons? You may think all is well with such an arrangement, but what example does such behavior set for Scota and Kynda.”

  “Oh, now you’re the duchess of the gutter, are you?” Annis seethed. “What do you think will become of us when Ma passes, or the roof to the shieling finally falls in? Do you think we’ll all find dukes and become mistresses? If we were so fortunate, it would be a far better life for each one of us.” She pointed to a leper crouched in a doorway. “Will we have to take to the streets? End up violated by some filthy tinker?”

  Akira clamped her mouth shut, glaring at her accursed sister. Merciful father, the lass actually made sense.

  Annis shoved her arm. “Have you thought whom we might marry, or do you think life will always be as it is, eking a bit of coin from hours of labor, hoping it is enough to feed us for a sennight.” She fluffed out her skirts. “I’ve one moth-eaten gown I’ve mended so many times I doubt a thread of original stitching remains.”

  “I ken, we—”

  “Do you? Or are you just thinking of yourself?”

  “Akira!” Holy Moses, if things weren’t bad enough, Geordie was running straight toward them.

  “Oh, ’tis just a mere duke chasing after my sister, who happens to be blind!” Annis turned to Scota and Kynda. “Come lassies, Akie is about to ruin our lives.”

  Akira shook her fist. “That is not my intention.”

  “Aye?” Annis started to move away. “Then prove you care about us as much as you care about yourself.”

  With no place to run, Akira crossed her arms and blinked back tears. Annis was entirely wrong. For the most part. Akira had been thinking about the lassies’ future. She wanted to do the right thing, and now her head spun even faster than before.

  Catching his breath, Geordie reached for her, but quickly drew his hands to his sides. “Dear God, why did you race away from me like that?”

  So many warring thoughts clouded her mind, she didn’t want to have this conversation right now. “I heard what you said.” A tear leaked from her eye and dribbled down her cheek.

  He spread his palms, his face looking like a wounded puppy. “I ken it sounded bad, but I was just trying to avoid an ugly situation.”

  “Och aye?” Something inside snapped. She’d had enough. For once in her life she would stand up for herself, regardless of the berating she’d just received from Annis. “You either love me or you do not. I’ve realized love is the foundation of my concern.”

  “I do love you.”

  “Enough to be seen in public with me? Enough to face the Marquis of Atholl and not be embarrassed because I am so lowborn?”

  “Of course.” His eyebrows drew together, etching a furrow between them. “I escorted you to market day for all of Dunkeld to see.”

  “Aye, but when you were confronted by a man who is nearly your peer, you said you were merely repaying my kindness.” Akira turned and hid her face in her palms. Now she’d blurted out her innermost feelings, the emptiness in her chest spread so wide she feared she might burst. What a complete mess she’d made of her life. Why did loving a man have to prove so difficult?

  “Forgive me.” He placed his hand on her shoulder, making her back tense. “I will march straight to the marquis this minute and declare my love, if that will allay your fears.”

  She
shook her head rapidly. “No, I do not expect you to do that.”

  “Please, mo leannan. I grew angry back there and acted poorly. Please, come with me. We shall purchase a leg of lamb for your mother’s fire. Allow me to make amends.”

  “No.” Akira stepped away from his palm. “I need time to think. So much has happened. I was upset when I left Huntly, then I was abducted, and then you rescued me…a-and for that my love for you grew ever deeper—”

  “See?” He reached for her hand, but Akira snatched it away.

  Her head spun as she looked up at him. “I-I-I was out of sorts at Huntly. I felt like an urchin trying to push my way into a life of nobility. I felt false.”

  “If you did not feel welcome in my home, then it was my fault. I should have insisted Elizabeth leave as soon as we arrived.” This time he pulled her into his embrace, squeezing so tight he gave her no chance to push away. “I need to prove to you that I am worthy. Please, do not allow today’s foibles to mar your judgment.”

  Akira trembled with tears that insisted on pouring from her eyes. “A-and yet I’m the one who feels unworthy.”

  “Nay, lass.” His voice turned to melted butter. “Your value exceeds that of any noble in Scotland.”

  Merciful father, what was she to think? She loved him so much. She loved her sisters, too, but there were so many things to consider and she hadn’t had a moment to herself to set her thoughts straight. “Would you mind postponing our feast for a day? I’ve said it afore. I’m merely a simple lass, and in a very short amount of time, you’ve turned my world upside down.”

  “A day?” He inhaled deeply, his strength and ever-present warmth providing far too much succor. “I think I can live with that.”

  “Thank you.” Heaven help her, she was powerless to resist him—practically powerless to think when in his arms.

  “I’ll see you home. A day—that will give me time to organize the grandest feast your mother has ever seen.”

  Akira looked to the heavens. “I assure you there’s no need to be extravagant.”