The Duke's Seduction of Lady M

by Raven McAllan

  Brody bit back the grin she challenged him to show. ‘Take your pick. There should be no one except us here.’

  ‘Should?’

  ‘Mary, I might be able to scout for arachnids and reptiles, ensure porridge oats are not prepared for us, but sadly, I cannot guarantee that the world and his wife are not anywhere in the vicinity. They shouldn’t be. This is my land and it is known that this area is not where visitors are encouraged to come. Not since the time a poacher accidently…’ he rolled his eyes and she sniggered, ‘…was caught by my fishing hook. Even so, in the country people go their own way regardless. Shall I stand guard?’

  ‘No thank you. I will guard against everything possible, I assure you. On your part? Just whistle.’ She scanned the area and marched away from the water towards a clump of bushes.

  He couldn’t resist calling after her. ‘Watch out for prickles.’

  She turned and glared. ‘I’m well able to do that. And don’t even think of mentioning adders. I intend to stamp my feet and sing. Now whistle and pour the wine.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He saluted her and winked as Mary turned, glared, giggled and curtseyed before she continued her journey.

  Her sketchpad was open on the rug near his feet. He gave in to temptation and flicked over a few sheets of paper. Whatever she said, she was more than a lady of limited talent. Flowers, landscapes and her horse were all captured well. One of Welland Castle seen from the gazebo took his breath away. It encompassed all he felt about his home. If he hadn’t been trespassing he would have asked for it. But really, he shouldn’t be looking, so perhaps it would be politic to wait and perhaps ask if she could do a sketch for him at a later date.

  The latest sketch made him grin. It was a caricature of him, fast asleep in her lap, with a series of ‘Z’s emitting from his mouth.

  He started guiltily as he realised just how much time had lapsed. Brody replaced the notebook, and as he did so, saw several pages were full of script, not sketches. One line stood out…

  “His touch seared my soul.”

  Even as he moved to look closer, he took a mental step back and left the book alone. Enough was enough. However he couldn’t help but wonder what she’d written.

  Not my business. Now move and do as she asked.

  By the time Mary returned a few minutes later, via the lake, where she washed her hands and face, he’d walked in the opposite direction, relived himself, also paid a visit to the lake, and was back with two glasses of wine and the picnic set out.

  ‘Truly in situations like this it is easier to be a man,’ Mary said as she sat down again, tucked her legs under her and took her glass from him with a smile. ‘What? What have I said or done, now?”

  He laughed, knelt next to her, took hold of her free hand and kissed the palm. ‘It’s what you do not do that I find so refreshing. There are no miss-ish airs and graces with you, Mary, are there?’ He lounged; legs outstretched and leaned back on his elbows. ‘You are what you seem. I appreciate that more than you’d know.’

  Mary sipped her wine and considered him over the rim of the goblet, before she lowered her long lashes and shaded her eyes. Brody wished he could see what secrets she hid in the dark depths. Then she stared at him, put her glass down and licked her lips slowly.

  Does she know how arousing that is?

  Her eyes twinkled.

  Of course she does.

  ‘I lost my miss-ish airs aeons ago. If I ever had any. So, Your… Brody. I think we need to discuss your offer. I’ve thought about it. After all, I had plenty of time whilst you, shall we say, rested your eyes?’ Her eyes sparked and humour danced in their depths.

  She had? Up until that moment Brody had been convinced that really, it mattered little to him what she decided. Now he accepted he’d lied to himself. It mattered a lot.

  ‘And snored in a suitably ducal manner?’

  She grinned. ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘And your conclusion?’ Where were all the flowery words he would normally use to woo a woman? Was he so out of kilter they had all left him or was it because it mattered so much he refused to resort to flattery? It was a fact that he never propositioned a woman he didn’t feel something for, although he’d long accepted it might not always be respect. Brody understood how sometimes if your defences were breached enough in the end you stopped fighting and gave in. Those though, were the times where the itch was scratched but the underlying symptoms didn’t go away.

  With Mary it was different. Oh he was honest enough to know he wasn’t in love with her. However, he liked and respected her and was intrigued by her, but love?

  Not in his repertoire.

  So why did that thought unsettle him?

  ‘Brody? Are you ill?’ Mary touched his forehead. ‘You made such an awful face. Or was my answer so distasteful to you? I thought you wanted me, but if you’ve changed your mind just say so. I want no unwilling coupling. Apart from which, I would think if you don’t want me, neither will that part of you that is trying to make its presence known.’

  ‘Eh?’ Oh lord she had answered him and he hadn’t paid attention? Now what. ‘I’m sorry, I was deep in thought.’

  ‘Certain parts of you weren’t.’

  Brody looked down his body and knew his lips as well as his pego twitched at her words. ‘True. My apologies. Yes I want you, and I was thinking about how and when. I missed you saying…?’

  ‘Really? Is it so immaterial to you?’

  ‘Lord, no. It is because it is so important.’ He tugged her hand and as he hoped took her by surprise. She squeaked as she landed in his lap. ‘I want it to be perfect so you come back for more.’

  ‘The wine.’ It lapped dangerously close to the rim of her glass as she tilted it to preserve the contents.

  ‘Is safe.’ Brody mentally rolled his eyes. She was worried about her wine? Good though it was, it wasn’t uppermost in his mind.

  ‘Phew.’ Mary squirmed until she could look at him. ‘I have a feeling I might need this soon.’

  What? His heart sank – until she did that enticing movement over his groin once more.

  It was what Mercedes, Mercedes who he could no longer picture with any clarity, called a cock up call. In her erotic and sultry Spanish accent it had sounded alluring. At that moment it just scared him. He needed no encouragement in that department. It seemed as if his cock was trying to drill though his breeches and under her skirts to touch her, skin to skin.

  ‘For the love of god stop wriggling,’ Brody groaned the words. ‘Or all my good intentions will dissipate and my body will take control of my mind.’

  To his relief she stopped moving and sat perfectly still. Her heat still seared him, which helped not one iota to calm his prick but at least he was no longer in danger of spilling his seed.

  ‘Then let me tell you my thoughts before you lose yours again,’ Mary said with a lilt to her voice. At least she didn’t seem annoyed by his lapse, more amused. ‘I said yes, with certain provisos.’

  Provisos? ‘Is that good or bad?’ Brody asked with caution before he sipped his wine, proud of his level tone and steady hands. He needed to have something to do with those hands other than find her breast and fondle it – which he ached to do.

  ‘I don’t know. It is good to me. You might think differently. Oh grief, woman, spit it out,’ she said to herself in a disgusted tone. Her self-annoyance make Brody laugh.

  ‘Spit away and tell me my fate.’

  ‘Then yes, I’m interested, yes I’ll agree to all you said but… not in the village or at the castle. I want us to meet away from where people can see and judge,’ she said in a hurry. Her words tumbled over each other as she rushed to explain her though process. ‘Is that too much? Is it feasible? I have no idea how or where. I’m not ashamed of what we will do, but I know enough about tittle-tattle and gossip not to want to be the subject of it any more. If you think I am too extreme or if you’ve decided to ooofft…’

  Brody had silenced her by putting his free
hand over her mouth.

  ‘If you let me speak, then you’ll know what I think. But I do need a chance to insert a word between yours. And for the love of god, stop babbling and stop worrying. I want you, lord, I need you, and I will do everything in my power to pave the way for us to be together. Will you listen now? Stop panicking, stop worrying and let me share my ideas on our situation. Nod or shake your head.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Because if you do not let me get one word in edgeways, I will find something for a gag and use it.’

  Mary’s eyes widened. She shook her head and pointed to her mouth and then nodded.

  Brody snorted, and moved his hand. ‘I’ll hope that means no gag and you will listen.’

  Mary took a deep breath. ‘Sorry, I’m nervous. Yes, and yes.’ She swallowed and he noticed the little shivers which ran through her. ‘I … no, I’ll wait and add more after you speak. If I need to.’

  I hope she doesn’t, except to say she agrees. Please god, let it be a fruitful discussion.

  Brody cleared his throat, and felt incredibly stupid and pompous. Lud he sounded like his tutor at university who used to do such a thing before every portentous announcement. ‘I’m happy with what you say. I have just purchased a hunting lodge around a half an hour’s ride from Welland. Far enough to be away, not too far to reach with ease.’

  ‘Bought as you the Duke?’

  Brody shook his head and wondered what strange imp of fate had made him buy it via an agent, anonymously. ‘As Mr Dotson. I have no idea why.’

  ‘Dotson? Isn’t that one of your…’

  Now how did she know that? ‘Lesser titles, yes. But that’s a Viscount and in Northumberland so plain Mr works well here. Are you worried it might lead back to me?’ How could he reassure her he’d hidden his tracks well when he’d bought it with the vague thoughts of a bolthole from his mother and siblings? ‘I don’t think there is any reason, but do you want me to find somewhere else? I will if you prefer it.’

  ‘What?’ Mary looked startled. ‘Oh no. If you think it is fine then I do too. I trust you. The one thing is, though, how do I get there? For it will defeat the object if we leave the village together.’

  Brody had thought of that. ‘We can meet at the gazebo and ride through the woods, or we can go separately along other tracks and meet at the lodge. Nether way takes us through the village. A point, which was in its favour. Not because I hoped I would ever be so lucky to find someone to share it with, but because it was to be a haven from the lack of interest in me, and the intentions of others to keep me less than involved in the estate.’

  ‘It really was that bad?’ Bless her, she sounded concerned on his behalf.

  He nodded. ‘Oh yes. Only now am I determined to sort things out my way. However that’s for later, first we need to decide what to do with Blissland.’

  ‘Blis..? The lodge?’

  ‘Our lodge,’ Brody confirmed. ‘And before you ask, no I didn’t name it. It’s the manor house of Bliss village.’

  ‘Oh my, what apt names.’ She sniggered. ‘I wonder if they live up to them?’

  He grinned. ‘Let’s hope so. Now as far as I know it’s empty except of the basics and will need furnishing. There is a couple, the Ferrers, who look after the place, and live in a cottage nearby. If we can fend for ourselves as much as possible all should be well. So my dear Mrs Lynch will you aid me and help furnish our haven?’

  She smiled and once again stroked his cheek. He was beginning to love that gentle touch on him as much as when he did it to her. Brody realised he yearned for it. Felt bereft if she didn’t do it, often.

  Oh lord, how pathetic.

  ‘Of course I will. But how?’ Mary asked him prosaically. ‘Furniture will take a while to purchase and have delivered. However, basics should include a bed?’

  It brought him out of his reverie.

  ‘I think we need a trip to Blissland to find out.’

  Chapter Eight

  Mary worked her way through the next two days without paying a lot of attention to what she did. As a result she achieved very little. One cushion cover she was embroidering, up until then neatly and with pleasure at her efforts, had so many stitches pulled out she decided it was a lost cause and threw it into the rag pile. It would never appear even half decent, even if she sewed it perfectly the next time.

  A visit to Molly Trevor, the seamstress Miss Wishlade had recommended, had proved fruitful, although Mary had found it hard to decide on Ecru or Eau de Nil sprigged cotton for a new day dress. An introduction by Molly, to the other lady present, “Miss La Compte, my mentor” had proved somewhat of a surprise.

  Miss La Compte spoke with a distinctly local accent and laughed at Mary’s obvious surprise.

  ‘I was born not many miles from here,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I don’t shout it out but nor do I hide it. I moved when I was quite young, but the duke and his family have always been good to me. Likewise Lord Bennett and his.’

  Mary had heard of Lord Bennett and his recent marriage, who hadn’t? But surely she had heard the renowned modiste, Belle, made the new Lady Bennett’s clothes. She thought it might not be polite to mention it.

  Gloria laughed. ‘I see you’ve caught up with some of the gossip. My lips are sealed but everything is amicable and we are all happy with our lot.’ Her face clouded. ‘Or mainly. Although my megrim is irrelevant. You’re here to avail yourself of Molly’s expertise. You won’t be disappointed.’

  Mary acknowledged Gloria had deftly changed the subject. As Mary knew how annoying it was to have people probe into things that were really not their business, she followed Gloria’s lead and changed the subject. Shortly after she had decided on the gowns she wanted, she gave Molly a considerable order and took her leave of them.

  On her ride home, and once she’d gained her own house, the fact she kept looking up to the skyline where the castle stood out in stark relief annoyed her. Nevertheless she was resigned to the fact that she always would. Not only was it a reminder of who she was, it also served the important purpose of reminding her who Brody was and how far reaching his influence undoubtedly would be. She’d have to be on guard if she wanted to keep her secrets. Why was it so important he didn’t know about Horry? Brody was richer than she, and had stated he wanted no truck with marriage. Nevertheless that nasty insidious worm of “what if” still had root in her brain. What if that knowledge made a difference? Best to stay silent.

  Mary worried and wondered about it as she waited to hear from Brody about their assignation to visit Blissland. He’d said he’d contact her once he knew the best time to visit. Now she was on tenterhooks. Would he? Should she agree? Was it likely her alter ego or former title be made known to him? Did in fact anyone know or care that she was the widow of one of the richest men in Britain? If so how would they feel to know that when she remarried, her late husband’s fortune would not be available to them? Hailing from the north, Horry had been canny enough to tie it up tightly for her during her lifetime. Unless she married. Then she would have what he called an adequate dowry and pin money and the rest would go to the upkeep of a training school for children he’d supported in his home village.

  That suited Mary. Indeed she still added to his support of the home, with some of the monies she had invested, and received letters each month from the trustees to tell her how everything went. Now she realised it was yet something else that might need explaining someday.

  It was only when Miss Grey asked her if she felt quite well, that Mary realised how distracted she was.

  ‘Yes, sorry, I have a few problems to sort out.’ Mary hastened to give the other woman some sort of explanation. After all, she couldn’t really say, “Oh I’m wondering if saying I wanted an affair was one step too far?” She could only hope Miss Grey wasn’t forward enough to probe more, for she had nothing else thought out to satisfy anyone’s curiosity.

  Her luck was out.

  Miss Grey’s eyes gleamed with the sort of curiosity only an inhabitant of a sma
ll community could have. Especially a place where a newcomer was puzzled over and her or his life scrutinised in minute detail. This was normal, Mary knew, and so she’d tried to hand out enough information to satisfy nosiness but not too much to tell a lot about herself. Now she wondered if it had been enough and scrambled her brains to think of something innocuous to satisfy the other woman.

  ‘The stream at the bottom of my vegetable plot is rapidly becoming choked with weeds.’ It would be if she and the Nivens didn’t keep on top of it. ‘We are trying to decide the best way to clean it without either increasing the flow too much, or causing a chance of flooding near the chicken coop. I don’t want to move the coop, chickens do not like change, you know, and I really don’t want them to stop laying. We rely on the eggs and…’ she prattled on desperately until she saw Miss Grey’s eyes cloud over with boredom.

  ‘Ah…’ Miss Grey had lost interest. ‘Domesticity.’ As Mary had heard, Miss Grey lived with her parents who looked after that side of things, and she had previously confessed to Mary that domesticity bored her, so the schoolmistress had no inclination to probe further.

  Mary made a note to remember that simple way of turning the lady’s interest away from Mary and her life, and did her best to concentrate on the matters in hand. Even so she was conscious that it had not been one of her better sessions with the children.

  It was a relief to return home, and wonder if Brody had called and if so left any message. The problem was she couldn’t ask without raising interest, and of course that was just what she didn’t want to do.

  Mary greeted the Nivens, exchanged pleasantries with them and Barlow – and Susan – a pleasant freckle-faced young girl, who had joined the household the day before. Quiet and watchful, she was the perfect foil for Nettie, the housemaid and would be, Mary thought, a perfect addition to the household. Her speech was peppered with “Ronnie says,” or “I helped Ronnie with…” and Mary thought she might soon have a maid married to someone who was employed in another household. That might not work. However there was no point thinking about such things unless they happened.