The Duke's Seduction of Lady M

by Raven McAllan

  It seemed the lady knew of the intricacies of the aristocracy and what was due to him as a Duke then? He’d noticed that at school. Brody bowed in return, more intrigued by the woman in front of him than ever.

  ‘Brody.’

  She did look at him then, with a startled expression. ‘Your Grace?’

  ‘My name is Brody, use it.’

  The stubborn woman shook her head. ‘It would not be right, Your Grace.’ She dropped her eyes again, her back poker straight with disapprobation. The proper attitude for a servant indeed – apart from the disapproval. But she was no servant, he was now certain – why he couldn’t say – however something told him that, even if she was not his equal, she was at the least gentry. Her dress might have been practical and not of the finest quality, but it was better than a mere servant would wear except perhaps for Sunday best. That aside, he didn’t expect those who worked for him to be servile. If she were local or, as she did, reside locally, she would surely know that? His curiosity, always hovering near the surface, jumped up eagerly.

  Brody narrowed his eyes and she took a hasty step backwards. ‘It is if I give you leave,’ he said emphatically. ‘Which I do.’

  ‘No. It is not convenable.’

  ‘You, my dear, are wrong, very wrong.’ He took the step forward needed to be close to her once more. She gasped and repeated her step backward. He advanced, she retreated. At this rate they’d reach the castle gates without her realising it. Very tempting, but perhaps underhand. Underhand was something he’d save for when it was really necessary.

  ‘We can carry on like this all day,’ he remarked easily. ‘However, I for one am thirsty, hungry and hot. And, not to put too fine a point on it, and no doubt to be incredibly indelicate, sweaty, and probably smell.’ He watched her eyes widen as she stifled a grin and sniffed. So the lady did have a sense of humour. He laughed. ‘I see you agree. I need a wash, a drink and something to eat. To be even more indelicate, you look as if refreshment would be of use as well.’ He thought it best not to mention anything else they had in common, such as perspiration and the need to utilise the pump over their heads. ‘Now use my given name or I’ll put you over my knee.’ Lord what did he sound like? He opened his mouth to refute his statement, expecting the frigid stare she gave him – the one that shrivelled his staff – when unexpectedly, her expression changed and she giggled.

  ‘In one way I’d like to see you try. You attitude Your Grace is not befitting your status. How you sleep in your bed at night I have no concept.’

  ‘I don’t.’ To his annoyance his voice was bleak. He raised one eyebrow rakishly and grinned in his best devil-may-care manner. ‘So overrated, when there are so many other things one can do, don’t you think?’

  To his amusement, she yawned. Yawned. No one would do that to him. Except her, it seemed.

  ‘You know my dear, I’d be happy to show you what I assume you are missing,’ he drawled. ‘Just give me the word.’

  ‘Your assumption anyone would be pleased to receive such unwarranted attention astounds me,’ she snapped, her previous attitude gone in a flash. ‘Hor… how do you think you’d manage that? I’ve been taught how to protect myself.’ Mary tapped one boot-shod foot on the uneven earth. Brody rather thought she was well on the way to flattening a molehill and giving the poor, unsuspecting animal a headache.

  Plus, he was damned sure she changed her statement mid-sentence.

  Brody chose not to challenge it, not yet. This lady intrigued him with every look, every word spoken and definitely every heave of her bosom under the now grimy lace.

  ‘I’m very pleased to hear that you can defend yourself,’ he said equably. ‘Not all men who come across a lady in such circumstances would be as gentlemanly as I.’

  Mary spluttered. ‘Let me tell you, Your Grace, that your attitude is… is… argh.’ She flung her hands in the air. ‘You say threatening to thrash me is gentlemanly? Just listen to yourself.’ She scowled, tightened her lips and glared at him

  ‘It would be, the way I did it.’

  Her mouth dropped open and closed again without her saying a word.

  Brody chuckled. ‘You look like one of the carp in my fishpond, when they are about to catch flies. I suggest you don’t emulate them. Flies are a devil to swallow, and believe me are no compensation for one of my cook’s lardy cakes.’ Even if they are made by Lovey, and not Cook today. Without thinking he reached forward and stroked her cheek. She didn’t bat his hand away, merely stared at him. This close the silver flecks in her grey eyes flickered in the sunlight and teased him. He hoped he saw interest there, and not just deference to whom he was. Or indifference.

  ‘Shall you accompany me back to the castle, freshen up and have a snack?’ Please say yes. Brody had no idea why her affirmative was so important. It wasn’t as if their acquaintance could go farther than this distant exchange of words… or could it? ‘Then I’ll take you to wherever you want to go.’

  She stared at him and bit her lip. ‘Why?’

  Brody was confused. ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why are you paying me so much attention. Why would you take me to wherever I want to go?’ Her voice was laced with suspicion. ‘I’m not in your class, Your Grace. Nor am I the type of woman outside your class whom you can trifle or amuse yourself with. I’ve not been put on this earth to pander to your every whim. What game are you playing?’

  Her choice of words intrigued him. He’d swear she picked them carefully, and spoke with deliberate brevity.

  ‘If I were playing a game, my dear lady, you’d soon know about it.’ If she could be brief and cryptic, so could he. ‘What will it be? Struggle on and hope you are rescued – or observed – by someone who won’t bandy your less-than-pristine appearance about to all and sundry and make you prime gossip fodder? Or come back with me and borrow a gown from one of my sisters’ wardrobes? You can refresh yourself and be conveyed home in a vehicle, not by your own feet.’ He grinned and held out his hand to her. ‘Come on,’ he said cajolingly. ‘If you’re a good girl, I’ll put you up behind my chestnuts.’

  She narrowed her eyes and then, just as he thought she would tell him exactly what she thought of him, she grinned. The way it transformed her face took his breath away. Why oh why wasn’t she his equal? His staff stiffened to the point of pain and threatened to pop through the placket of his trousers. If he didn’t calm himself he’d have to turn his back on her and do a little rearranging beneath his clothes. Not the way to influence people and make friends, especially one so suspicious and reticent as he sensed Miss Mary was.

  ‘What do you say?’

  ‘Can I take the reins?’

  Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t that.

  Chapter Four

  Mary watched the duke as his eyes widened and he grinned. The damned grin that should be captured and locked away, to stop impressionable young ladies – or young widows – succumbing to his charms. She might not be as susceptible to a pair of dark blue eyes surrounded by impossibly long dark lashes as a debutante, but even she felt intrigued, as exciting flutters and ripples ran through her. How annoying. Seeing him like this, it was easy to understand why, when His Grace the Duke of Welland so much as glanced in their direction, silly, impressionable women declared they would have the vapours, or swoon at his feet. Then deny they desired to be the next recipient of his attentions, but by their behaviour show they meant the very opposite. If there was one thing Mary couldn’t abide it was two-faced idiots who by their very actions presented women to men as vacuous beings who didn’t know their own minds. It was no wonder they were treated in the manner they were.

  She was not of that ilk and it irked her tremendously to be thought of in such a way.

  Was Brody so lacking in conviction and foresight he accepted everything at face value? She suspected not. Even dressed as he was, in clothes sensibly more suited to the country than the city – thick, thorn-proof buckskins and a plain shirt, under a heavy waistcoat, no cravat, fobs or
polished hessians – his authority and sense shone through. She waited to see how he chose to assert them.

  ‘You, my dear, are pushing your luck.’

  She copied his expression. ‘I am? How on earth, Your Grace?’

  He laughed and flicked her nose with his finger. ‘My chestnuts are hard to handle.’

  She smiled. ‘So am I.’ Oh goodness did I really say that. To a duke? What am I thinking of? Try as she might she could think of no way to rescind the words. Did she even want to? Somehow she understood he wouldn’t appreciate it if she grovelled or backtracked. Therefore she did her best to keep her expression the same, and her hands in her skirts – how she’d love to flick his nose back. That would not be politic, but it might knock some of his confidence out of him. Instead, she did her best not to let the pulse in her neck jump erratically.

  He grinned, and laughed. ‘Now that, I hope is a truth. Hard to handle women and cattle are my speciality.’

  ‘Are you likening me to a cow?’ Mary stopped speaking abruptly and scowled. ‘I had thought I began to warm to you. How wrong I was to do so,’ she said waspishly. ‘You, your Grace, seem to have no redeeming features at all. Do you treat all women as if they are your personal playthings?’ Oh lord what am I doing. Stop it now. If they continued to bandy words, as exciting and fun as it was, there could only be one loser, and she knew it wouldn’t be him.

  ‘I’m sorry Your Grace, forgive me,’ she said hastily. ‘I was out of order.’

  ‘Yes you were,’ he agreed in a voice so hard it could split coffin nails. ‘And remember this. I may have made an unsavoury, to some, suggestion, but you, my dear, chose to pursue it.’

  She reddened. ‘As you say, my apologies for paying you back with your own medicine. Excuse me, I need to get home.’ She went to walk past him.

  Brody took a swift sidestep and put his hand on her shoulder ‘Like that? I do not think that would be your finest hour, my dear. I suggest you come back with me, wash, eat, and quench your thirst.’

  ‘No, thank you.’ She sidestepped again and he did likewise. Mary gave an exaggerated sigh. His lips twitched which wasn’t the result she expected. Damn him, he was much too likeable, and she, it seemed, as susceptible as the next person to his charms. She essayed a step further only for it to be matched by him once more. ‘Your Grace, you’ll have me in the hedge if you don’t cease this idiocy.’

  ‘Then stop sulking and come with me.’ He picked her up as if she weighed no more than a feather and plonked her on the back of his horse.

  ‘Wha…’

  ‘Hold on. Jason can carry us both happily.’ He’d mounted behind her before she had truly assimilated what was going on. ‘If I’d have known I was going to share my horse with you I’d’ve put a blanket on him for you to sit on.’

  Mary looked down to her boots, groaned and closed her eyes. Drat the man. Seated like this her skirt came nowhere near her ankles and she mentally squirmed. How not to make friends and keep the gossipmongers at bay. To be seen sharing a horse with a rake – or ex-rake, she amended silently.

  ‘This is not acceptable, Your Grace. What are you doing?’ she asked, in a high, squeaky voice.

  ‘Kidnapping you?’ He put his heels to the horse, who moved forward obligingly.

  Mary did her carp impression again, she was sure of it. His body was pressed close to hers, a hard, warm presence next to her back. His breath tickled her skin, and when he gathered the reins, his arms brushed her waist. How you could feel both antipathy and arousal for the same person was beyond her. She didn’t know whether to give into hysterics, hit him hard, or just accept his high handedness.

  She squeaked as the horse increased its slow walk to a trot and she bounced up and down. ‘Enough, this has gone far enough. Desist. Now.’ The movement brought other parts of his body into much too close proximity for comfort.

  His Grace chuckled. ‘Nowhere near far enough. Grip with your thighs my dear – the horse sadly, nothing else.’

  Grip with my thighs? ‘Argh you, you… fiend’ The horse shied at some animal in the hedgerow and she squealed. Drat the man. His voice, like molten chocolate, sent delicious tingles through her. His words and the way he said them made her want to clench her thighs, never mind grip with them.

  ‘That is not the sort of noise I hope to hear come from your lips, my dear.’

  What?

  Mary opened her mouth to give him a pithy retort and could think of none. It was like water off a duck’s back anyway. If he chose to ignore her opinions, he would. She shut it again hastily and contented herself with what she hoped was a telling silence. Evidently a stiff back designed to show disapproval had no effect on him.

  ‘Nothing? Ah I’m desolate. Never mind, I’ll soon show you what pleases me.’

  Inwardly she growled and muttered several concise sentences regarding his high-handedness, and sadly with regards to his birth. Outwardly she was silent. It was several minutes before she gathered her senses and regained enough control to feel confident she could speak without shouting.

  ‘Your Grace, believe me, I do not wish to please you or to be kidnapped. If you could take me home? Or if you choose not to go so far out of your way, just let me down. I don’t wish to disrupt your plans.’ There, that sounded reasonable, surely?

  ‘I’m sure you don’t’ he replied, equably. ‘But you see, I wish you all of that. And unless you are a princess of the realm, which incidentally, I’m damned sure you are not, I take precedence. Therefore consider yourself kidnapped. Now hold on, I’m about to give Jason his head.’

  He was beyond the pale. Son of the devil. Does he ever listen to anything anyone says? Mary barely had time to take a grip on the horse’s mane before they surged forward and the animal moved from a canter into a gallop.

  ‘And,’ he shouted so she could hear him. ‘I thought you wanted to drive my chestnuts?’

  How to answer that when you needed all your wits about you not to be thrown, Mary had no idea. She might have ridden bareback and without reins as a child but those days were long gone, even if she did ride astride when able. However, never with a man pressed up against her back. She tightened her hold and tried not to grip Jason so tightly that he took the gesture as encouragement to increase his speed.

  The gates to the back drive swept past them and Brody – she couldn’t help it, she now thought of him by his given name, damn him – chuckled, and spoke in her ear.

  ‘Jason knows not to go down there until I have it levelled. Next week if the weather is kind. For now we’ll arrive like visitors.’ He nudged the horse, slowed his speed and they turned between the imposing gates with the ducal crest centred on each. By the time the castle came into view their speed was a decorous canter and then, before they reached the stable yard and several grooms came running, a steady walk.

  Mary watched their eyes widen and saw one elbow the man next to him and she scowled in their direction. To give him his due, the instigator reddened and turned away.

  ‘Why didn’t you set me down before,’ Mary hissed at Brody as he slid off the horse via its rump and held his hands out to lift her to the ground.

  Instead of lifting her decorously, he swung her in a circle, where no doubt more than her ankles showed.

  ‘Argh, thank you so much, Your Grace. Now the world and his wife have seen more than is acceptable.’ She smoothed her dress down as best she could, checked the ribbons were still doing their job – they were, just – and glowered at Brody. He of course ignored it.

  ‘Rubbish, just a couple of grooms who know which side their bread is buttered on. They will, strangely, have seen nothing at all, I promise you. However, if it worries you so, let’s go indoors.’ He took her hand and towed her – there was no other way to describe their rapid pace to the castle. Several times Mary had to run to keep up with him.

  ‘Your Grace,’ she panted eventually, as she accepted that she had to ask him to slow down or she would fall down. ‘Temper your speed or I will deliberatel
y sink to the ground and stay there. This is not a route march and we are not on the trail of the enemy.’ He gave no indication he’d heard her.

  Mary cursed under her breath, tugged hard on his arm, and as it had no effect, took a deep breath and dug her heels into the dirt. It had about as much impact as trying to stop a thoroughbred racehorse with its bit between the teeth, in the three-thirty at Newmarket. She tried harder. A yard later, with two deep furrows gouged in the muck behind her, and one pair of half boots ruined, he stopped dead and looked at her, his eyes dark, his expression unfathomable.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ To most people that ducal tone, full of authority, contained the supposition that it was his right to expect any of his decisions not to be questioned. It would result in a flurry of hasty explanations and reassurances that indeed anything he chose to do was acceptable. Mary, however, was – as her brother often told her – ornery to the extreme. To her respect was not a God- – or ducal- – given right. It had to be earned.

  ‘Granted,’ she said sweetly and slapped him hard

  Brody’s head jerked back, and his lips quirked so briefly that if she hadn’t been looking at his face she would have missed it, before they returned to a thin line.

  ‘Do that again, and I will retaliate,’ he said in a voice devoid of emotion. Only the erratic beat of the pulse in his neck showed emotion. ‘Do you believe me, I wonder? I do hope so.’ He did that annoying one raised eyebrow thing that he achieved so successfully, and looked at her, considering.

  Considering… what?

  Mary made her mind up to ignore his expression. Irritating man. Not that it was easy, but she understood that if she didn’t she was doomed. In what specific way her ruin would occur she wasn’t sure. Nevertheless she had no intentions of finding out. With that thought to the forefront, she frowned. ‘Do not try to intimidate me like that, Your Grace. It does not work. Plus it is likely to have the opposite effect to that which you intend.’