Lord Love a Duke

by Renee Reynolds

  “I think Dartmouth and Miss Shaw are hitting it off quite well. Have you chanced to observe his solicitous behavior and her pretty smiles and blushes? I pronounce that match well done on my part,” declared Juliet without a trace of modesty, causing Jonas to laugh thoroughly.

  “They owe you much thanks. For myself, I am merely glad you had not formed an attachment to the Earl.”

  Juliet stood up to stare at the Duke. “You thought I cared for Dartmouth?” she asked incredulously. “I admit he is terribly entertaining and well-mannered, but he is not for me, to be sure. I never even exchanged more than five words with the gentleman before this party.”

  “Most ladies find words unnecessary when they see his face and learn of his title” he deadpanned.

  Juliet removed her bonnet to fan her face and neck, welcoming the cooling effect of the slight breeze over her heated skin. “Have you not learned by now, Your Grace,” she began with a flirtatious lilt to her voice. “I am not most ladies.”

  Jonas quickly stood and stepped over the row of berries, the basket containing their collection clutched in his hand. “You most certainly are not, my lady. And I think I have known that all your life.” He moved to close the space between them as Juliet tilted her face up to meet his coming kiss when a shot rang out, shattering the quiet.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Who could refrain, that had a heart to love, and in that heart courage to make's love known?

  William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act 2, Scene 3

  Thoughts raced quickly through Juliet's mind. Melville! He was still here! Another shot sounded, this one much closer, the zip of the ball loud with its proximity. Without another care Juliet launched herself at the Duke, tackling him and taking him to the soft ground between the plant rows. She heard the basket crunch and felt it splinter with a jolt between their bodies as they hit the earth. The force of their impact took her breath away for a moment and Juliet lay still, awaiting another shot.

  Shouts could be heard from the house and Juliet feared for the safety of the staff. “Take cover!” she yelled to their would-be rescuers. “We are under fire!”

  She rolled off the Duke, staying low on the ground, and groaned as she registered the tender spot on her stomach where the basket had crushed. She risked a glance at the manor and saw the gardener and his helpers had dropped low as they made their way to the berry field.

  “Those were gunshots,” she hissed. “Miranda warned me just this morn of Melville's continued disappearance. Think you he fired on us?” Jonas made no response and Juliet's gaze flew to him. He lay deathly still on his back, eyes closed. Her gaze traveled down to a bloom of red color soaking his once-white shirt. She jumped to her feet, heedless of the danger.

  “Hurry!” she shrieked. “His Grace has been shot!”

  The staff broke into a run at this announcement and Juliet turned back to the Duke. She dropped to her knees, throwing the splintered basket aside and carefully unbuttoning his waistcoat, offering a brief prayer of thanks that he had left off his fitted jacket in deference to the heat. She paused to lean her head over his mouth to listen for his breath but the sound of his voice shocked her instead.

  “Juliet,” he groaned. “You are surprisingly strong when you take a man down,” he joked.

  “Hush, Jonas. You are injured,” she murmured as she ran a hand lovingly across his brow, pushing back the locks of hair that were wont to drape there. “Help is on the way, my love. You will be fine. You will be fine.”

  Jonas' lids flew open at statements. He opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by her kiss. She pressed her lips to his, her fingers continuing to soothe his brow and temple. “Juliet–“

  “Quiet,” she admonished softly. “I am here.” He blinked several times, his gaze darting around and she felt her heart jerk painfully in her chest. “You must stay awake, Jonas.” He clamped his lids closed as he processed her earlier words. Injured? Shot? My love?

  “Jonas, you must not sleep!” she cried with a louder voice this time. “You will not leave me now that you made me love you!”

  At this Jonas abruptly sat up, grabbing her arms tightly. “You love me?” he asked.

  “You love him?” yelled a voice from the nearby treeline. A loud thump followed by a 'bugger it' was heard as a small figure dressed in a large floppy hat and breeches ran from the woods. “You love him!” declared the wild creature with a triumphant shout.

  Juliet tried to ease Jonas back into a prone position but he would have none of it. He gathered her into his arms, pulling her across his lap. “You. Love. Me!” he triumphed before he settled his mouth across hers.

  “It worked, it worked! I knew it would work!” a gleeful voice bragged near the couple. They broke their kiss to look at an obviously disguised Miranda still holding the dueling pistols in her hands. Suddenly recollecting her appearance and location, Miranda began to back away. “Pay me no heed. I am not here. Pray continue on with your love making” she choked out before turning and running back for the house, nearly knocking down several of the arriving staff.

  “Your Grace?” questioned the head gardener with a peculiar look of worry mixed with embarrassment coloring his face. Juliet scrambled off the Duke's lap and averted her face to hide the crimson blush staining her cheeks.

  “All is well, Jones, just a small accident with the berries,” he offered, indicating the sticky red stain on his shirt. “You may return to your work. We will clean up here.”

  “But, the gunshots– “

  “Merely a poorly-timed and ill-planned trick of my sister. I will address it later.” Jonas waited for the man and his helpers to retrace their steps toward the house. “It will take further investigation to understand the particulars, but I believe we can firmly say my hare-brained sister tried to shoot us this morning.”

  Juliet spun her face back to his, a dawning look of understanding crossing her visage. “She told me Melville was still about. Obviously I was meant to act exactly as I have, thinking that reprobate had returned to shoot you.” She looked over the Duke's ruined shirt and the crushed basket and berries. “I owe you an apology for all this.”

  Jonas grinned and reached out to grab her wrist. “Miranda owes us both an apology, but I find I am strangely inclined to forgive her this folly. Make no further effort to prevaricate, my lady. I heard your oath. I have succeeded and we will wed.” His grin widened as he tugged her back to his lap.

  “You are mistaken. You have won nothing. This--” she gestured wildly, the sweep of her hands encompassing the berry and basket mess, his dishevelment, and her perch on his lap. “This changes nothing.”

  He grabbed her arms and quieted her. “It is you who are mistaken, sweetheart. One thing above all has changed: you and I are most thoroughly, unalterably, and irrevocably in love,” he pronounced before claiming her mouth in a searing kiss.

  Chapter Fifty

  What made me love thee? Let that persuade thee there's something extraordinary in thee. I cannot: but I love thee; none but thee; and thou deservest it.

  William Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act 3, Scene 3

  Juliet's mind was a maelstrom of swirling thoughts of love, duty, marriage, and being shot at by her best friend, but rising to the top was the feeling of all-consuming pleasure from the Duke's possessive kiss. She forced her mind to the situation at hand and tore her mouth from his.

  “We should not – that is, we should think of where we are. Any-anyone could see,” she stammered, the connection between her mind and tongue having dissolved, making coherent thought an impossibility.

  “We can and we will. This is our house, our land. We may do as we please and damn who sees,” he swore before dipping his head again. Juliet surrendered to the onslaught, their lips parting, tongues twining. She finally mastered the mechanics of simultaneous kissing and breathing and took in a long breath, smelling earth, man, and . . . strawberries? She pulled back from the Duke and ran a hand down the red stain on his waistcoa
t and shirt.

  “How is it that you are not shot? What is this?” She leaned down to smell his chest. “You are soaked in strawberries! I thought you shot!” She pushed Jonas away and struggled to gather her skirts and stand but was stopped by his large hands on her wrists. He pulled her back down and her legs fell astride his. His pulse leapt in response to her provocative position but he focused on the words he must speak.

  “The basket and berries were crushed when you dived on me and my head slammed to the earth. I was temporarily rattled but none the worse for your rescue. Were those gunshots aimed to harm you would have saved my life.” He put a finger to her lips as she opened her mouth to argue. “No words yet, my lady, if you please. I know your character well. You would now declare to have moved thus to aid anyone in harm's way. But it was me, and you worried, and you were frantic, and you,” he swallowed convulsively, nervously. “And you said you loved me, Juliet.” His statement sounded half fact and half question. “Please, please let it be true,” he pleaded in earnest.

  Juliet watched him struggle with his thoughts, words, and emotions, and felt the same conflict raging within herself. She wanted to be forthright and brave and tell him her feelings and concerns, but the idea of baring all her most private cares filled her with a fear that was nearly paralyzing.

  Jonas could not stand the silence and his compulsion to fill the void led to more confession from his heart. “My greatest fear in holding this house party was not what Miranda might do, but how I was to survive a fortnight under the same room as you. You are a thief, Juliet – you stole my heart – and I have been continually at your mercy, your hopeful victim.” He paused to grab her hand and bring it to his chest. “I beg you put me at ease, sweetheart. I love you, have probably loved you for years, and I cannot keep the declaration inside any longer. And I find that I have never wanted anything in this world so much as to have your love.”

  “Oh, Jonas!” Juliet cried, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. “I swore I would never give up my freedom, never be mere chattel to a man. It was worth the price I would pay with loneliness and solitude to never be a burden or just a duty to a man. Please tell me opening myself up to love will not hurt. Please tell me I will have no regrets.”

  Jonas' strong arms wrapped tightly around her, his hand stroking up and down her back in a soothing manner. “Would that I could promise you the world, Juliet, but I cannot. Simply living leaves us open to hurts. Life is full of trials, sometimes daily. But I would not trade one difficulty, one tragedy, if the price were never holding you again, never sharing life with you.” He raised her from his chest so he could look deeply into her eyes. “Do not ask it of me, Juliet. I love you so much my heart aches – physically aches – at the thought of living without you. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, secure, and free from hurt. And I can make one promise quite easily to you: I will never, ever cease loving you.”

  Juliet returned his stare and saw the truth and intensity of his words. His eyes glittered with the sincerity and ferocity of his promise. A sense of security and contentment settled over her and her eyes widened in surprise. She trusted this man. His every intention toward her was good and honorable. He had not taken advantage of any situation nor tried to change her in any way. Their personalities complemented each other well, and his quiet and taciturn nature hid his wry wit and devilish sense of humor. From the first, after that ill-fated night, he had spoken of honor and duty but also of want, desire, and choice. He wanted to marry her. He desired to share a life with her. He chose her.

  Jonas watched the emotions wend their way around her mind and across her face. He saw the battle wage between her heart and mind, and her growing smile caused hope to rise in his chest. He searched her gaze and finally saw love shining in the glittering depths of her eyes. She was his! He cupped her face in his hands, brushing a light kiss across her lips before drawing back to fix her with a stare full of unbridled love and devotion.

  “Lady Juliet Quinn,” he began with a slight tremor in his voice. “Would you do me the honor of consenting to become my wife?”

  Juliet's smiled widened and her eyes sparkled with sudden mirth. “I thought you'd never ask,” she replied, leaning in to kiss him with all the love she let flow freely from her heart.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look, he thinks too much; such men are dangerous.

  William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act 1, Scene 2

  The scene that unfolded in the fields had held promise when the gentleman in the woods thought the Duke had, indeed, been shot. A scornful sneer spread across the onlooker's face as he watched the Duke get pushed to the ground and heard the fear in Lady Juliet's voice as she called for help. He unconsciously cracked his knuckles as he began formulating a new plan to work his way back into the house party. His thoughts had barely gathered coherence when a small lad in baggy clothes and hat dashed toward the downed Duke from another area of the copse. He had to strain to listen but the movements he witnessed were clear: the Duke was not injured and was, in fact, kissing Lady Juliet quite thoroughly.

  Viscount Melville slipped quietly from his hiding place and stalked back to the hunting cabin nestled between the Leighton and Quinn properties. The rustic but functional cottage had served his purposes well. Before fleeing Edgecliff after his altercation with Lady Juliet, he had prevailed upon his friend, George Burke, to meet him on the beach in two days. Dear George had been most helpful, bringing a sack of purloined foodstuffs of cheese, bread, some biscuits, a fine bottle of claret, and even a meat pie. He also told the Viscount of the location of the hunting cabin that had served as his shelter these past several days.

  Melville stewed in his own thoughts, alternating between fury over the failure of his plans to work in his favor, the obvious health of the gentleman he had just assumed shot, and the fact that his sister was seemingly embraced by the family while he was now held in contempt. Daylight faded into darkness and he realized he must bring his sister back into cooperation with his plans. Throwing on his darkest jacket, he left the cabin for Edgecliff.

  It was relatively easy to sneak into the huge estate; he had known the staff would be busy fulfilling the desires of the family and guests, so his trek up the servants' stairs to his sister's chamber went completely unnoticed. There he waited patiently, quite magnanimously, he thought, for the retirement of the sibling he now considered a traitor. He held no love for the girl prior to this fiasco, so he felt no remorse in placing the blame for his current situation entirely upon her shoulders.

  The door opened soundlessly and light shallowly spilled into the room from the brace of candles his sister carried. She closed the door, setting the trio of candles on the table beside her bed. She heard not a sound as her brother moved across the room to confront her. She realized she was not alone only after a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm wrapped tightly around her neck.

  “Make no sound, dearest sister, or I will snap your worthless neck,” Melville whispered maliciously. “Your unwillingness to help me the entire time at this house party has put me out of charity with you.” Lady Margaret swallowed, holding her body rigidly still save for her nod of acquiescence. “The hand over your mouth goes, but the arm around your neck stays, until I am sure of your completely cooperation.”

  He did as he said and Margaret relaxed her body but not her guard. “Your presence will not be welcome in this house, George. Lady Juliet's brothers have not ceased in their search for you.”

  Melville slid his arm from her neck and turned her to face him, only to wrap the fingers of his left hand around her throat. “I know this, you stupid girl,” he snarled. “Why think you I hide? Twas all your fault. Had you only aided my cause with Lady Juliet, I could be her betrothed rather than Dorset. I saw the touching scene on the lawn today, and they are terribly in love, it seems. My chances are ruined and our situation grows dire. Mayhap when there is no food on our table you wil
l feel regret for your failure to aid my cause.”