The Duke's Seduction of Lady M

by Raven McAllan

  Mary thought the luckless Esmeralda too stupid to exist and had made a mental note not to read any more books by that author. The next book she read would not have a spineless witless nincompoop for a heroine.

  ‘Ah,’ she said lamely. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I was about to ask if you’d like food or drink? For I am well on the way to being a parched starving shadow of myself.’

  Mary rolled her eyes. ‘You look it. However, yes please, I’m both hungry and thirsty. Have I kept you waiting long? You should have asked me earlier. Or started without me.’

  ‘I did,’ Brody said, drily. ‘Ask you. Three times at ten-minute intervals. That was after half an hour, you understand. As a noble, an alleged gentleman, and one who still cannot fathom how a lady’s mind works, I chose caution. I value my body the way it is.’

  Mary left herself glance down his body. ‘So it seems.’

  He followed her look and grinned, unrepentantly. ‘That seems to be a permanent state of affairs around you.’

  How to answer that and not sound too forward? Or indeed too uninterested? A difficult thing to decide. Mary opened her eyes wide and spread her hands. ‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’

  ‘It is… a thing.’ He gestured to his staff, which was outline in every ridged detail behind his trousers. ‘A thing with a mind of its own.’

  Did it swell even more as she stared at it? Mary lifted her gaze to Brody’s face, not at all surprised to see a quirk of his lips.

  ‘That wasn’t quite what I meant.’ It was perhaps time to show her interest, just a little. ‘I meant are you happy to be like that? Would you prefer a quiescent pego or a tumescent one?’ Lord she hoped her cheeks weren’t red. This was forward talk, the like of which she hadn’t indulged in since Horry died.

  It was his turn to be taken aback. His expression changed from amused to wary and then to one of admiration, as he bent and took the wine bottle from the water, uncorked it and swiftly and efficiently poured some into two glasses. He handed one to Mary, who took it and supped.

  He raised his glass to her in a toast and grinned. ‘Your health, my dear. I wonder? Are you game to find out?’

  Mary opened her mouth and closed it. ‘Is that a proposal or a proposition?’

  Brody stared at her for several second before he picked up a platter of food, handed it to her and sank down beside Mary on the rug. She selected a chicken wing and then put the plate on the rug next to him.

  ‘Well?’ she asked before she took a bite. Her heart was pounding and her pulse uneven. In truth she wasn’t sure what she wanted his answer to be.

  Brody took a long draught of wine then placed his glass in a hollow in the ground where it wouldn’t spill. ‘I think…’ He took her glass from her and placed it next to his, waited until she’d finished the chicken wing, then grinned. ‘…this is better suited for our conversation.’

  Her word tilted as he lifted her up and sat her astride his thighs, facing him. With, Mary realised, his staff tantalisingly close to her swollen and ready channel. Perhaps she would need to develop a penchant for under drawers after all. One layer of cloth – his breeches – was nowhere near enough.

  Did she squeak? She hoped not. Her position brought long forgotten – or was that supressed – emotions and vibrations to the fore.

  ‘You do?’

  What an inane thing to say. It would be better to formulate an answer to the question she was sure he was about to ask, and one she wasn’t entirely certain she had an answer to. To whit, would she lie with him?

  Will I?

  She wriggled and his agonised groan assailed her ears. ‘For the love of all that’s holy, woman, stay still.’

  ‘You put me here,’ she pointed out acerbically, even as her heart jumped with delight that she could affect him. It had been all too long since she’d experienced that heady power.

  ‘I did, didn’t I? My mistake it seems. How can I concentrate with your female attributes so close to my co… staff?’

  Female attributes? Somewhat coy is he not? Or is he thinking of a lady’s sensibilities? Very nice if I had any. Her marriage to Horry had soon helped her lose her inhibitions. Nevertheless, however he chose to word it, that was speaking the obvious with a vengeance.

  ‘As I said, you chose to put it… me there. Next to your co…staff.’

  ‘Minx. Now I’m choosing to move temptation away from me. In a way.’ He lifted her again, and this time Mary was sure she did squawk, as she once more found herself propped up against the tree trunk, her legs outstretched and with Brody sat a good three feet way. He stared long and hard at her body, and rolled his eyes. ‘The only way you wouldn’t tempt me would not to be here, and even then I’d still be having the same thoughts.’ He looked at her broodingly. ‘It is most disquieting. How should I explain?’

  Mary lost her patience. What was it with men who couldn’t ask one simple thing? ‘Spit it out, I want to finish my lunch.’ Plus, she suspected she might well need her wine.

  ‘I’ve lost my appetite.’ Brody sprang up to pace to the edge of the lake and back. ‘It seemed oh so simple earlier, but now, looking at you…’ He paused. ‘You’re so young. Are you sure you’re a widow?’

  Whatever she’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

  ‘Is there an age you need to reach to be a widow?’ Instead of upsetting her, Mary found his accusation amused her. He now appeared flustered and it endeared her to him. ‘I assure you, that, indeed, my husband died well over six months ago. I mourned almost as society dictated, although not as he preferred. He was one who could see no need for widow’s weeds. I compromised and imagined him laughing down at me. He used to say I had developed perfect balance to enable me to sit on the fence. I was the calming influence. He was fiery, opinionated and a lot older than me.’

  ‘Hmm. Were you married long?’ Brody sat down again and to her amazement put his head in her lap and looked up at her. ‘No, don’t wriggle. Just give me this, please.’ He closed his eyes and sighed in what sounded like total contentment. ‘For I swear you can’t be much above one and twenty.’

  ‘Three and twenty, and we were married for around three years. He was older than me, so we lived quietly in the north of the country.’ Why she felt the need to lie about the length of their marriage, her age, and be vague about where they lived she wasn’t sure. ‘He was a businessman, and on his death I came south to bring the Grange back up to standard.’

  Would that be enough to satisfy Brody? Her marriage had been a seven-day wonder amongst the gossips of the ton, but, even if he had heard of the so-called scandalous way the young Lady Mary Bancroft had pursued the elderly Lord McCoy, by using a different name and age hopefully he wouldn’t put two and two together. ‘Now I’m beginning to live again. I mourned, but he insisted I must move on. So, you were going to ask?’ She raised one eyebrow as he opened his eyes and looked at her.

  This close, tiny flecks of gold shimmered in the depths of his dark irises. His scent of sandalwood and spices unknown teased her senses, and Mary ached for something just out of reach.

  ‘Tell me?’

  Brodie closed his eyes and his chest heaved. Then he opened his eyes again, and she watched the way they darkened.

  ‘It was going to be oh so simple you know,’ he said in a soft ruminating tone. ‘I saw you, desired you and at first accepted we could not be together. Then I saw you again and decided convention could be damned and determined to make you mine. A business proposition between two consenting parties. When I was told you were a widow, I thought it would be easier. I want a straightforward, unencumbered coupling. No commitments, no emotion, just…’

  ‘Scratch an itch?’ She watched and bit back a chuckle as his eyes widened, and glittered.

  He smiled, shamefaced. ‘Something like that, yes.’ Brody stretched one long arm up and stoked her cheek. ‘Which I now see as an insult to both of us.’

  ‘I’m just as bad,’ she said softly. ‘It comes from having to keep
your emotions in check and be on guard. I no longer want that, but sometimes, I think we move to that attitude to protect ourselves.’ She put her hand over his and held it tightly. ‘It will be hard to take the giant step back from that mindset.’

  Brody looked up at her, and their linked hands, and nodded. ‘Oh god, I’m glad we went for friendship as well… well, you know what I mean. Mary, I’m drained. I’m alone, and I’ve had enough of that state of affairs. I’m tired of having to fight for everything. My freedom, my right to be me. My heritage, my ability to run things, as I believe they should be. Hellfire, even my body ignores my diktat and misbehaves, when I’m near you. If we both understand we’re trying to soften and learn how to be good for each other? Will that help us, do you think?’

  She pondered how to reply and get her intentions over. His litany seared her soul. How on earth could one man have to fight for so much? Oh she knew, as she was sure he did, that in the grand scheme of things none of what ailed him mattered much. Nevertheless, in his life it loomed large. Desmond might annoy her, but she knew that, misguided though she thought he was, Desmond had what he considered her best interests at heart. It was time to declare what she wanted.

  Nothing ventured.

  ‘Women have itches as well, you know. May I suggest you ask me?’

  His body jerked. In one swift movement, Brody lifted his head from her lap and used his arms to roll onto his knees, to stare at her intently, his face mere inches from hers.

  Somewhere nearby a blackbird called fussily and in the distance his mate answered. A bee buzzed on a nearby bush, and Mary swore she heard a fish jump and plop back into the water. The air was still, as if it also hung on, waiting to hear what he would say.

  ‘Ask you?’

  Mary inhaled and gathered her wits.

  ‘Ask me if I’d be happy to scratch your itch.’

  ****

  Who was seducing whom?

  Would she ever cease to amaze and surprise him? Dare he trust his ears to have successfully relayed what she said to him? Brody waited to see if she had anything to add. It seemed she hadn’t as she bit her lip and, he noted, twisted her fingers together. Her eyes were cloudy and she couldn’t quite keep anxiety out of her expression.

  ‘Just like that?’ Brody pressed her. He had to know. ‘No frills, furbelows or embellishments?’

  Mary nodded. ‘Just like that.’ She put her hands to her mouth. ‘Oh grief, that is so unemotional isn’t it? I’m useless at this.’

  ‘No, no you’re not. We are both learning… fumbling towards what we want,’ Brody reassured her. ‘However, I do have one question. Why so soon?’ He’d thought this period of negotiation would take weeks, not days. ‘I… lord, my dear, you are not feeling sorry for me are you? I could not bear that.’

  She raised one shoulder and let it drop. ‘Why on earth would I be? More likely sorry for myself. I was married and had all the enjoyments of a happy… oh hell. How must I sound. Would you prefer I act the simpering miss and give you the run around? Pretend to act coy, refuse to give you an answer and intersperse my words with lawks and lud and oh my…?’

  ‘Lord no. Please never do that.’ Brody decided he preferred his previous position with his head in her lap and resumed it. ‘Let me get this clear in both our minds. I want there to be no mistakes, no, “ohh did we say that”. Therefore I will ask again. Dear Miss, Mrs, my good friend and I hope to soon be my Mary. Shall we discover each other? Will you lie with me for our mutual benefit? Scratch our itches, laugh and love together knowing there will be no happy ever after? That our time together may be short or long, but will only ever be…’ How now to finish off his intentions without sounding inconsiderate?

  ‘Temporary?’

  ‘Impermanent,’ Brody finished. Try as he might he couldn’t keep the tension out of his body, and she’d have to be daft not to notice how he was. However, to his everlasting relief she didn’t mention it. ‘I can’t promise any more than that, and I want to be honest and open with you.’

  ‘Impermanent is good.’

  Why did the relief in her voice annoy him? It was what he desired after all – wasn’t it?

  ‘I want time to assess what I want in life.’ Mary continued. ‘Nevertheless having been married and enjoying…’ She waved one hand in the air, and Brody watched, fascinated, as a rosy hue spread over her neck and cheeks. She undid her jacket and the top of her breast showed over the low cut bodice of her gown, in the same reddened state. Brody wondered if she realised, or could just do nothing about it. It seemed the lady was not so forward as she liked to project, and the mixture of sophistication and innocence both charmed and amused him.

  ‘Intimacy?’ he suggested, as she seemed stuck for the words she needed. ‘The feel of man inside you?

  She was silent for so long, Brody wondered if he’d overstepped the mark. Then she looked down at him and carefully stroked his skin above the neckline of his shirt.

  ‘That’s it,’ she said softly. ‘Skin on skin, hearts beating, echoing each other. Someone to touch, hold and talk to. I miss it. But… and believe me, I mean this wholeheartedly, I neither need, nor want someone to take over. This is my life. My decisions, my… my,’ she emphasised, ‘mistakes to make or not. Brody, I loved my husband. Even though many thought it was a marriage of convenience, it wasn’t. He loved me. So much so it was I who had to seduce him. He was determined he would not tie me down to an old man. Therefore,’ she giggled unexpectedly. ‘I tied him down. Literally. In a manner of speaking, I kidnapped him. Oh I told him once I’d seduced him I wouldn’t cry rape or demand he married me, but I loved him. He’d already admitted he loved me…’ She shrugged. ‘Therefore, the only impediment in his eyes, was his age.’

  ‘Many years?’ Brody asked, fascinated by her tale and the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of her late husband. Had anyone ever looked like that when they spoke of him? Never.

  ‘About forty. And I was seventeen. So you can see why he was concerned. But he was the one I wanted, the one I loved and the one I was honoured to call my husband. But having had that, with a man who didn’t try to crib and confine me, who accepted I had a mind and could use it, I don’t want anything else. So for as long as we want, suits me.’

  Why, all of a sudden, did it not suit him?

  Surely he wasn’t jealous of a dead man?

  He was, Brody realised. He was jealous of what her late husband had shared with Mary.

  Ridiculous. Suddenly he thought over what she had previously said with regards to her marriage. The years did not add up. As he thought, some things she wasn’t happy to divulge. However, would it make any different to their agreement? He decided it was not likely.

  ‘Be very sure, love.’ Some masochistic imp of mischief – or self-preservation – made him believe he had to warn her what to expect once more. ‘For I will be a demanding lover, and will want your time. I won’t share you, I will be faithful to what we are and be open and honest at all times. I expect no less from you. Think it over carefully. And let me relax for a while.’ He wriggled until she parted her legs, just an inch, nestled his head at the apex of her thighs and shut his eyes.

  Not, he thought, to sleep – that was something rather elusive at the moment – but to hope and pray they could both agree to what their relationship and its boundaries were to be.

  ****

  Something tickled his nose and he wriggled it.

  To hear a soft laugh and a gentle voice speaking to him.

  ‘You sleep so peacefully, but I’m afraid I need to move. My legs have gone to sleep, my throat is parched and I need a new pencil.’

  Brody yawned and opened his eyes to see her smiling face above him. ‘Lord, did I sleep?’

  She nodded. ‘Very elegantly. Even your snores were aristocratic.’

  ‘Ducal.’ He parodied a bow as best he could in a prone position. Mary spread her hands out as if she held her skirts ready to curtsey.

  ‘I stand corrected, Your Grace. Ducal.�
�� She simpered, and gave him the sort of sickly smiles young debs would essay and he would run a mile from.

  Brody snorted, ran his hands through his hair and sat up. ‘Yes well, let’s draw a veil over my ducal snores and remember I’m also a mere man, with all the foibles and ignorance of such a person. To fall asleep in the presence of a lady should be considered the worst thing imaginable. Such a slight.’

  She giggled. ‘Oh yes, how can you redeem yourself?’

  He shook his head, amused and pleased at her riposte. ‘Heinous, do I need to be hauled to the tower? Or may I say, in my defence, I have not these last months… years to be honest, slept well. So I am ever more in your debt.’

  ‘I like the sound of that. No tower, and I dub you the chief remover of spiders, snakes and oats.’

  ‘Oats?’ Surely that was an innocuous breakfast cereal, much favoured by the Scots?

  ‘Slimy, slippery, sweet and horrible. Much beloved as a breakfast at school.’

  He licked his finger and held it in the air. ‘Note to self, no slimy, slippery food resembling oats to be given to my lady. Mind you, I cannot say oats are always bad.’ He grinned, and knew she’d read ‘rake’ in his expression. ‘The Scots swallow it with salt.’

  Mary grimaced and shuddered. ‘Under the correct circumstances, I suppose with a hint of salt oats are palatable, but not when at school it was daily fare.’

  ‘Good, so now I will begin to redeem myself immediately. Sadly or perhaps happily I see no snakes, spiders or oats looming on the horizon. That apart, there is one thing I can do. If you are thirsty, I can find you succour.’

  ‘And…’ She stood up and smoothed her skirts.

  Brody held his hand out to her. ‘For someone who aches you move incredibly lithely.’

  She blushed. ‘Ah well I have another need. I, ah…’ Mary stopped speaking and closed her eyes. Then she shook her head. Before he had a chance to assimilate her half-spoken desire she opened her eyes, put her hands on her hips, reddened slightly and huffed. ‘I need the facilities. Of which I know there are none. So perhaps you could direct me to an appropriate bush?’