The Duke

by Katharine Ashe

  Gabriel ran his palm over his face.

  “Lass,” he said. “I told you to—”

  “To remain at the inn, I know!” she said. “And Mickey did try to convince me to obey.” She giggled and extended her hand to the young man climbing out of the coach. He wore white breeches, a white waistcoat, and the blue coat and black hat of a naval officer. “But I’m afraid that we married women are simply too headstrong and determined to heed instructions when other people’s lives are at stake. Especially if those other people are our own personal hero.” She smiled up at the duke. “Isn’t that right, Mickey?”

  “Aye.” With a shy smile he glanced at the people on deck.

  “Cynthia Tate,” Alice exclaimed. “Is that a smile, child?”

  “It is Cynthia Pyle now,” she said, pulling Mick up the gangway. “And I am not a child. I am a Mrs.!” She extended her hand to display a pretty gold ring then turned another brilliant smile toward the duke, who was mounting the deck. “Thanks to His Grace.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Mr. Tate demanded. “Loch Irvine, what sort o’ man hoists a poor girl he’s abducted onto his servant when he’s through with her?”

  “No one abducted me!” Cynthia cried for the crowd gathering on the dock below. “In fact, after Mickey and I eloped, His Grace very kindly found us where we had got lost on the road. Then he hired an exceedingly comfortable carriage for our return to Kallin, and then he saw to our wedding. It was ever so cozy! Dear Jane, darling Iris, I was devastated that you could not be there to hear my Mickey say his vows to me, and Reverend Clacher pronounce us man and wife. It was exquisitely romantic.”

  Iris rolled her eyes.

  Jane kissed Cynthia on the cheek.

  “I am happy for you.” She smiled at Mick. “For both of you.”

  “Tate,” Mr. Brock said, “here is proof that your accusations against my cousin are false. Are you prepared to withdraw your threats now?”

  Mr. Tate’s jowls flared with a heavy exhale. “I’ve still a fine story to tell the newspapers about the duke’s little nest o’ birds in the mountains.”

  “Uncle, you’ve gone mad!”

  “Now, now,” Mr. Tate blustered. “There’s no telling what a man o’ his low character’ll do next. Daughter, come home this instant an’ I’ll forget all about this misbehavior.”

  “I shan’t go home.” Cynthia clung to Mick’s arm. “Ever again.”

  Her father’s face turned crimson.

  “I am safer by far with my Mickey and the duke than I am at home,” Cynthia said. “And so would you be, Jane. And Iris. You know it’s true. At Haiknayes, Papa pushed Mama out the window!”

  “I knew it!” Alice said.

  “Papa,” Jane whispered. “You didn’t.”

  “He did,” Cynthia stated. “I saw it happen but afterward they both told me not to tell a soul. Papa threatened me! He said he would lock me in a chamber for a month if I said a word to anybody. They were so worried about whether the duke wanted to marry you while I was walking around terrified of my father!”

  “Mr. Tate,” Dr. Shaw said, “did you do as your daughter has said?”

  “Tripped on her own hem,” Mr. Tate said.

  “Mama was not wearing a long hem that day,” Cynthia cried. “He did it intentionally because she disapproved of Mrs. Aiken as a guest in the castle. Papa was trying to frighten her into not offending the duke with her criticisms.”

  “Tate,” Gabriel said, “did you attempt to murder your wife? In my house?”

  “I’ll no’ hear another word o’ slander,” Mr. Tate said. “’Tis the final straw, Loch Irvine. If you’ll no’ return my daughter to the bosom o’ her family, then I say good riddance to the both o’ you. Jane, Iris, come.”

  The duke shook his head once. “Jonah, remove the documents from his coat pocket.”

  After a brief scuffle, Mr. Brock succeeded in wresting a handful of papers from Mr. Tate.

  “Burn those,” the duke said.

  “Gladly, cousin.”

  “Miss Tate.” Gabriel turned to Jane, took her hand, and bowed over it. “Forgive me. I should have said this to you days ago: you are refreshingly kind, an’ as lovely as any man could wish o’ the woman with whom he will enjoy dinner every night, an’ breakfast every morning,” he added with a wink at Mick. “But my heart is already given to another. Has been for years. An’ forgive me for what I must now do.”

  The doe eyes were watery. “Now?”

  “Miss Campbell,” the duke said, “Cover the child’s ears.”

  Alice attached her palms to the sides of Iris’s head.

  “Ow!” Iris exclaimed.

  “Tate,” the duke said, “you are a vile bastard. I will meet you at dawn tomorrow on my property in the city. Name your weapon. I will cut you down with whichever you choose. Bellarmine or Shaw will have to serve as your second, for I’ll no’ be allowing you out o’ sight o’ a man I trust till I’ve put you in your grave. Forgive me, gentlemen,” he said to Dr. Shaw and Thomas. “Whichever o’ you agrees to it, my cousin will make the arrangements with you.”

  “Papa, you mustn’t,” Jane said. “Dueling is illegal.”

  “Not to mention, the duke will most certainly kill him,” Libby noted. “He was a decorated naval officer.”

  “Dr. Shaw,” Jane pleaded, “I beg of you—tell my father he must not accept this challenge.”

  “Now, now, Janie,” Mr. Tate said. “A man’s got to defend his pride.”

  The duke crossed his arms. “You are only defending your insatiable greed, Tate.”

  Amarantha moved forward.

  “Mr. Tate,” she said in her most elevated voice, “do decline His Grace’s invitation to shoot you dead tomorrow morning. At once. And know that, if in the future he should hear even a rumor that you have spoken poorly of him, he will be thrilled to immediately renew his promise to cut you down.” She smiled at his eldest daughter. “Jane, I should very much like to introduce you to my friend, Lady Constance Sterling. She has a marvelously luxurious house in which you and Iris will be delightfully comfortable until your mother returns to town. Her husband, you know, is a renowned swordsman,” she said, with a glance at Mr. Tate.

  Cheeks crimson, he faced the duke. “Loch Irvine,” he said shortly, “I accept your withdrawal from our business arrangement.”

  “Get off my ship.”

  With a glower at his nephew, Mr. Tate hurried down the gangway.

  “Come, Jane, Iris,” Alice said when he was gone. “His Grace has had enough of the Tate family now for one day. Cynthia, bring your young man. We will toast to your nuptials. Any excuse for champagne, I say.”

  Jane took Iris’s hand, offered a watery smile to Jonah, then went.

  “If the duke isn’t sailing off to America or China or wherever after all,” Iris said to Libby descending behind her, “may we still play with the bones at Haiknayes?”

  “I am not playing with them, Iris,” Libby said. “I am studying them. Tabitha”—she linked arms with her—“when you and Amarantha have finished your memoir, I really do think you will find the old duke’s collection fascinating.”

  Tabitha cast Amarantha a laughing smile and went with the others.

  Thomas moved to Amarantha.

  “I know what you were willing to sacrifice for others,” he said quietly. “You showed me how to be courageous too.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.”

  “Honestly, I haven’t felt this good in years.” He bowed to the duke. “Your Grace.” With a nod to Mr. Brock, he followed Dr. Shaw from the ship.

  “I am abruptly de trop here,” Mr. Brock said with a smile. “Mrs. Garland, I request the pleasure of your company—”

  “No’ at this moment.”

  “Of course not. Good God, I’m not such a bumblehead as all that, Gabe.”

  “Aye, you are. Now be off with you before I decide you’re to have Haiknayes after all.”

  His cousin’s eyes went wide. “You
knew I didn’t want it?”

  “Aye, you idiot. After ten minutes riding the land I knew. An’ I’d no intention o’ you actually running the place.”

  “Damn it, coz, I’ve been terrified for the past several hours, and not only because I thought I would never see you again. Why didn’t you tell me—” His lips snapped shut. His eyes slewed to Amarantha. “I see,” he said shortly. Then he laughed and bowed deeply. “Mrs. Garland, I hope to speak with you tomorrow.” He departed the ship with a light stride.

  “Tomorrow?” Gabriel turned his beautiful gaze to her and a tunnel of sweet nerves ran straight up her center.

  “When you look at me, I feel breathless,” she said. “Even now.”

  His lips slipped into a half smile. He walked to her and took her hand.

  “Answer the question,” he said in a low voice and his thumb stroked over her palm.

  “Your cousin is the father of Penny’s child.”

  “I’ll kill him.”

  She smiled. “They were married.”

  “I’ll still kill him. ’Twill feel good after all these years.”

  “Come now,” she said, allowing him to draw her close. “You have had your little revenge on him finally.”

  “Too little. Next time I’ll have to think o’ something more painful.”

  “You needn’t. On the drive here from Edinburgh, he told me that he has never forgiven himself for killing Charlotte’s brother. His conscience is deeply troubled.”

  “It should be.”

  “You will not forgive him?”

  “He kept a woman against her will, Amarantha. For that, I canna forgive him.”

  “Your mother taught you to respect women, didn’t she? Or perhaps both your parents demonstrated that respect.”

  “An’ you,” he said.

  “And I?”

  “You showed me.”

  “You were already a man when we met.”

  “I was a lad full o’ pride an’ arrogance. ’Twas a wonder you could bear me.”

  “It seems I have extraordinary inner resources.”

  “You were extraordinary. You still are. You frightened the drawers off o’ Tate.”

  “Not at all. It is your murderous skill that he fears.”

  “Why didna I think to call him out sooner?”

  “Because,” she said, smoothing her palm over his waistcoat, “you are not in the habit of making demonstrations of your power.”

  “I’ve no idea what that means,” he said. “But I do like to see those lips smile.”

  “Why didn’t you bring Cynthia here as proof of your innocence?”

  “When I found them, she wouldna agree to return to Kallin unless I vowed to no’ inform her father.”

  She smiled. “She could not resist playing the heroine, I suppose. I hope her father remains cowed.”

  “You an’ Lady Constance put your clever heads together an’ find Jane Tate a noble title to marry. Tate’ll forget he’s ever been to Kallin.”

  “I cannot.”

  “You would rather I shoot him at dawn?”

  “Jane is already in love. I cannot encourage her to wed to suit the wishes of others.” She lifted her eyes to him. “A woman should be with the one that her heart cries out for.”

  “Amarantha,” he said. “Marry me.”

  Her lips closed tightly. He bent his head and touched his lips softly to her temple. Then to her cheek. Then to the side of her mouth, and then her throat.

  “You are everything to me, woman. Always. Eternally.”

  “No. Not always.”

  He lifted his head.

  “You wanted the navy more than me,” she said, “which was perfectly reasonable, I realize now. It was your life.”

  “No,” he said. “You were my life. In nine weeks you became that.”

  “No. Not always. Not everything.”

  “Lass—”

  She backed away from him. “You sent me away.”

  He shook his head.

  “I came to you last autumn”—her voice broke—“to Kallin. I sailed hundreds of miles, rode and walked dozens more, to find you.”

  “No, wild one. You went to Kallin because it was a destination, an excuse to be free o’ your confines. Where will you run to next, Amarantha? What adventure will you invent to give you reason to run?”

  “I was not running. I was looking for you!”

  “Yet you used a stranger’s name. Why?”

  “I was cautious. I was frightened.”

  “You were misguided. For hear this, woman—if I were buried in a box underground an’ you walked along the street above I would know you were near. If I were at the bottom o’ the sea an’ you sailed overhead, I would know it was your shadow passing across the sun. For five an’ a half years I’ve thought only o’ you. When you wed him, you broke my heart. When you went to Kallin in secret, you broke it again. An’ I deserved it both times. For I never deserved you. I’ve known since the day we met that all the medals o’ honor I could collect would mean nothing to you. An’ in every hour since then I’ve done all that I could to ensure that if I would ever be given the chance to win you, I might.” He drew a hard breath. “Then you hurled yourself back into my life like a madwoman, even more wild an’ beautiful than—”

  “You have done all that you could?”

  “Aye.”

  The man she had known in Kingston had not been a recluse, rather a pleasure lover, with acquaintances and friends across the island. She had never believed the gossip about the diabolical hermit; it was simply too absurd. The obvious pleasure he took in the people of Haiknayes and Kallin only proved it.

  Which meant that he had become a recluse by design.

  I would give it all up to have you.

  “The secrets you have kept,” she said, “the accusations you failed to deny, the gossip you weathered by shutting yourself off from the world, all to keep safe those in your protection—You told me you did it to atone.”

  “Atone. Court you.” The corner of his mouth tilted up, a rueful, humble affirmation. “Six o’ one, lass.”

  “But I was married.”

  “Aye.” The laughter left his eyes. “The day I learned it was the day this all began.” He moved to her and stood before her. “I knew there would be no other woman for me, Amarantha. I returned for you. But I was too late. An’ after I lost you, there was nothing else I could do. I couldna be with you. I needed at least to be a man you would admire if ever we met again.”

  “You waited?” she whispered. “All of these years. You waited for me to come find you, just as you promised you would?”

  “For however long you are on this earth, whether mine or no’, I will wait for you.” He tilted his head. “Extraordinary stamina, recall.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her wrist. “What’ll you have me do now, lass? Take to the sea an’ follow you about the world? I’ll do it. For now that I have you, wherever you run, I will also go. Seems to me best no’ to allow you out o’ my sight.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I do not want to run anymore.”

  “Aye, you do.”

  “I believe that I know my mind better than you, Urisk.”

  “’Tis no’ in your mind, lass,” he said quite seriously. “’Tis in your heart.”

  A tear dropped onto her cheek. “You are in my heart.”

  “I’ve been hoping you would notice that.”

  She tightened her hold on his fingers, but her hands shook. “You are my adventure, Gabriel.”

  “I’m—” His voice caught. “I’m glad to hear it.” Then with her hand snugly in his, he went to his knee before her. “Now, for pity’s sake, lass, put a man outta an eternity o’ misery an’ say you’ll have him finally.”

  “I wonder how our lives would have altered had you gone to one knee and proposed to me on the dock that morning.”

  “I considered it, actually.”

  “Did you? Why didn’t you do it?”

  “The
whites, o’ course.” He lifted a brow. “’Tis a chore bleaching the stains out, lass.”

  “I see. Then I must be glad you spared the knees of your breeches.” She offered him a little smile. “If not both of our hearts.”

  He pulled her down onto his knee, wrapped his strong arms about her, and kissed her quite thoroughly.

  “Have me, love, an’ I’ll spend the rest o’ our lives showing you it was worth the wait.”

  She sank her hands into his hair, held him close, and whispered the words he had so long wished to hear.

  Hours later, in darkness lit by a single candle, with the only sounds the soft slap of water against the quay and her lover’s hard breathing, Amarantha collapsed onto his chest and buried her face in the cave of his shoulder. Laughter tumbled from her lips and across his damp skin.

  “If you are laughing at my performance,” he murmured, his hands circling her behind, “I will simply have to go one better the next time.”

  “Better?” She sighed, and kissed his shoulder, then the hard bone that ran to the base of his throat, then his chest. “I really don’t see how that could be possible.”

  “Allow me five minutes.” His palms smoothed along her thighs. “Then I’ll show you.”

  She tucked her face against his neck. “Am I dreaming? Or can this truly be real?”

  “I have had so many dreams o’ this, I know ’tis real this time.”

  She lifted her head and set her palms on the mattress to either side of him, and her hair draped down like rippling fire. With one hand he smoothed it behind her ear. It fell forward again.

  She smiled. “You cannot tame even my hair.”

  “I will never wish to tame anything about you.” His throat moved in an awkward jerk. “You are here,” he whispered. “Still here.”

  “Where else would I go when I only want to be with you? And when I am on a ship in the middle of the night?”

  “The morning I left Kallin, I believed I would never see you again.”

  She sat back, and then slid off him and tucked her legs beneath her.

  “Why did you believe that? Had you already formed your plan to sail away to the east?”