The Duke Takes a Wife

by Dahlia Rose

  The Duke Takes A Wife

  Copyright © September 2017 Dahlia Rose

  Cover Art by E.D Graphics

  All rights are reserved. No part of this e-book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  The Duke Takes A Wife | By Dahlia Rose | Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  The Duke Takes A Wife

  By Dahlia Rose

  Chapter One

  “Jasper McTavish, Tenth Duke of Northumberland, twenty-third cousin to her majesty the Queen...”

  “Sod it all, must they go on and on with that bloody long-winded title?” Jasper muttered.

  He winced as the person called out his title, and Jasper pulled at the tuxedo tie at his neck. Looking at the people that milled about the sunken ballroom of the hotel while he stood at the top of the stairs, Jasper could tell he was going to have a horrible night. All eyes had turned to where he and his uncle stood while they were announced. His uncle, Brewster McTavish, looked proud, and they weren’t even calling his name.

  His uncle was there to make sure he behaved and to offer his opinion on another matter: a wife. His family, in their wisdom, had decided it was time for him to marry as per his father’s will, and he hated the whole fucking title nonsense. He wasn’t willing to give up his manor, because it was where he found peace. But if they thought he would be a quiet church mouse and let them set him up with some pinch-nosed uppity bitch, they were sadly mistaken. Jasper grinned wickedly at the thought while the guests clapped. His uncle leaned over and spoke quietly in his ear as they descended the ballroom steps.

  “I can’t allow you to go off the script for tonight, my boy. I can see the wheels turning in your head,” Uncle Brewster said.

  “What ever do you mean, Uncle?” Jasper said innocently as he snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

  Uncle Brewster grunted. “Just be happy I convinced your mum it should be me travelling with you, not her.”

  “You mean it’s good for her. I’d have thrown her out of the plane without a parachute,” Jasper said mildly.

  Uncle Brewster chuckled. “My sister is... never mind, I’d of probably let you.”

  There was no love lost between him and his dear old mum. He became Duke when his father died, and Jasper had no doubt his father had jumped in the grave to get away from Cornelia McTavish.

  He caught a glimpse of a red dress moving quickly through the crowd but before he could see the face, the person was gone. Ebony skin and a satin red dress was all he saw. But he could feel the eyes of other women on him as he walked through the crowd at the gala. He nodded and smiled like a good diplomat before he took a sip from his glass. They were to be in Washington, D.C. for only five days before he returned back to Northumberland and normalcy. Uncle Brewster hoped that at the elite gala where politicians who ran the country wheeled and dealt out favors over cocktails and expensive food, Jasper would find a woman worthy of being the new Duchess and attraction would bloom. He was hoping he could find a sodding good beer and a room to hide out in for the night.

  “Just look at them. If their eyes were any hungrier, I’d be picked to bones by now,” Jasper said.

  “Come now, Jas, there are some very beautiful women here,” Uncle Brewster said. “Give it a chance, you never know what may happen.”

  Jasper caught sight of that red dress again in the crowd and was intrigued. He handed his uncle the champagne glass. “You may be right, Uncle. I’ll find you in a bit. Go act British or whatever.”

  “Jasper, where are you...”

  He was gone before his uncle could finish the frustrated sentence. Each time he caught a glimpse of the dress, he followed. In between bites of canapés, he tried to fend off flighty women that stopped him at every turn. They laughed too loud and asked the same question each time. “Oh my God, what’s it like to be a Duke?” How did one answer that exactly? Jasper was starting to get impatient because they were deflecting him from his task, finding the red dress and the woman who was wearing it. He finally took a breather by the bar and hoped they would stop talking to him for at least a few minutes.

  The bartender came over and Jasper practically begged him for a beer. He had to settle for American lager. Compared to European beer it was weak, and he grimaced. At least it’s something, he thought. He took another swig of the beer straight from the bottle and leaned over the bar.

  “Gin and tonic, please. More gin, less tonic,” a husky feminine voice said from beside him. “It’s been a piss poor night.”

  Jasper saw the hem of the red dress by his feet and smiled. He’d been chasing her all night, and when he stopped moving she’d come to him. If that wasn’t some kind of destiny intervention he didn’t know what was.

  “Well hallo there,” Jasper said smoothly. “I’ve been searching for you since this thing began.”

  “Can it, buddy. I don’t want to be hit on,” she said coldly.

  “No, seriously.” Jasper smiled. “I have been barreling through all these snooty people each time I caught sight of your dress.”

  The bartender placed her drink on the bar, and his dream in red took a long sip. “Now why would you be doing that? Let me guess. In D.C, I’m a jewel and you can do so much for me in this town.”

  “Actually no, I don’t live here. Catch the accent?” he teased.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Oh honey, you are not the only European accent here. I had two Germans who live in the city ask me to be the meat holder for their sausage.”

  He choked on his sip of beer. “Well, that’s disgusting.”

  “You’re telling me. After I threatened to rip their throats out with my teeth, they got the picture, so excuse me while I don’t fall under the British charm,” she muttered and took another sip of her drink. “If I was in uniform this wouldn’t happen, but no, my boss made me wear this dress. Oh Zeva, you can look feminine, show me how pretty you are, and that’s an order. Chauvinistic son of a bitch...”

  Jasper kept silent and let her temper simmer down. If he’d learned anything it was don’t interrupt a woman venting her frustration, and it seemed she had a lot to be angry about. He assessed her. She was a beauty, from the long dark hair that flowed down her back to the tapered eyebrows she had arched in his direction which he wanted to trace with his fingers. Her lips were deliciously coral pink, and he wanted to give her plump bottom lip a nibble. Her body was curvaceous and the ebony leg that peeked through the slit in her dress was tempting.

  “I shall challenge all who have offended you to a duel,” Jasper said smoothly. “I’m pretty good in a bar fight, too. Let’s take them all on.”

  She sputtered a laugh. “Thanks, but I think we shouldn’t cause a political-slash-international incident.”

  “That’s no fun at all,” he murmured. He held out his hand. “Jasper McTavish, at your service.”

  “Oh, you’re that guy they announced. All they needed was trumpets to herald your arrival,” she teased. “Duke this and that of the third kind, the one who will rule them all or something. Man, that’s some title.”

  “I cannot stand it, but apparently it must be done,” Jasper laughed at her description of his title. He liked her already. She didn’t give a flying fuck about who he was. “And you are Zeva...”

  “Sargent Zeva Troy of the United States Army, but treated like a secretary and concubine at the whims of my com
manding officer, who is a D.C. blowhard with a wife and grown children.” She raised her glass in his direction then sighed. “I’m sorry for venting to you, strange man with the accent.”

  “Not a problem at all, the bar fight is still on the table,” Jasper teased. She was genuinely unhappy and somehow he wanted to fix it. “God, this beer is awful.”

  Zeva downed the rest of her gin. “Want an adventure?”

  “Where are we going?” Jasper asked, instantly intrigued.

  She arched her eyebrow at him again and leaned forward devilishly. “Come with me if you want to find out and before my asshole commander finds me.”

  “Let’s go,” Jasper said instantly. Hell, for all he cared he would follow her into traffic.

  They didn’t go up the ballroom stairs. Instead, she led him to the far side of the room and out a decorative side door that was hidden into the wallpaper. He guessed by the tables stacked with tray after tray that it was how the waiters were replenishing hors d'oeuvres to go back to the guests.

  “Grab a tray of those, will you?” Zeva said from in front of him.

  “The nibbles?” he asked.

  She laughed. “The nibbles, that’s so cute. Yes, grab those, I’m starving.” Jasper grinned and did as she asked while she led him to a room. “Okay, wait here for me.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, looking around in the darkness. “I’m not being what you Americans call ‘punked,’ am I?”

  She laughed and flicked on a light revealing a kind of green room with lounge chairs, a TV, and a large coffee table. “You’re not being punked, and that’s a stupid show that has been cancelled for years, stop watching it. I’ve been at this hotel before for conventions and a few other things. I know its secrets.” She took a crab canapé from the tray and popped it in her mouth. “Mmm, yummy. Now trust me and wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  She closed the door before he could say a word, and he was left alone. Jasper put the tray on the table and picked up a remote. He flicked on the TV and he could see the ballroom they just left and a few other rooms for that matter. He smiled as he sat down and loosed his tie. It seemed to be a bonus to know an insider to this place. Zeva came back soon after, sliding through the door she cracked just enough to get in and closing it gently before she locked it behind her.

  “Look what I got you.” She held up an ice bucket and pulled out a bottle of Newcastle.

  “Bloody hell yes.” He sat up as she came over and sat next to him and handed him a bottle.

  “Crap, I forgot the bottle opener,” she muttered.

  He felt along the edge of the table. “No problem, I have a trick.”

  Jasper positioned the cap of the beer bottle along the sharp corner of the table and used the ball of his hand to smack it hard. His trick snapped the bottle cap off easily, and he repeated the action with her beer as well.

  “That’s pretty cool,” Zeva said and ran her finger along the top of the bottle before putting it to her lips. “I had to make sure you didn’t break the tip.”

  He found a sexual suggestion in her finger on the rim of the bottle and in her words, but didn’t take it any further than his mind. She’d had enough of men perving on her for the night. She didn’t need him to add to it.

  “So what’s this room used for?” Jasper asked. “Why would they need to see the ballroom?”

  “Sometimes when they are meeting or having some other type of event here, people use this set-up to read the room. Say it’s a convention and they’re pushing a new product, they can put out different swag bags or brochures and read the people in the room to see if they’d be receptive and pattern the presentation to suit,” Zeva said. “Politicians use it but to push their agendas, who would be in favor, who would not.”

  “Yeah, I can get that, but why the other little nooks and crannies we are seeing on the side?” he asked.

  “That’s the sordid side of this place. This is D.C., secrets and knowledge are power.” Zeva’s voice went grim. “If they can use it to gain an advantage, they will. Not many people know this is here. I found it by happenstance last year and now you know to not get caught on camera.”

  “Sounds like politics and royal titles can go hand-in-hand,” Jasper said. “Well, look at that, two people canoodling in one of those little crannies.”

  “She’s married to a senator and he’s bisexual plus married.” Zeva grabbed the tray and put it on her lap before sitting back and starting to eat the finger food.

  Jasper grabbed three. “The behind the scenes is much more fun. By the way, won’t you get in trouble for leaving the gala?”

  “Won’t you?” she countered.

  “Touché, but my uncle won’t fire me, not that I care much in the least,” he answered.

  “Well, my commander could get mad, and I could also get mad and file a harassment case against him, but that’s trouble I don’t need,” she explained. “I’m just going to get these last few months in and my time in the military is up. I’m going to leave this town and find a job someplace quiet and away from politics. Being a military attaché to the White House with that man is the worst position I ever had.”

  “You should file for some kind of sexual harassment. Don’t let him get away with it,” Jasper countered. “No man should ever be allowed to use their authority like that.”

  Zeva gave in a sidelong glance. “That’s sweet but naïve. In this town they would eat me alive and spit me out. I’ve never shirked away from a fight, but I don’t set myself up to lose my credentials or my pay. I managed it for two years, ninety more days won’t make a difference. Besides, I set up my replacement as my revenge.”

  “How so?” Jasper questioned.

  “My replacement is a six-two sergeant who was injured on deployment. He can no longer serve in that capacity but he is a hell of a soldier and admin.” Zeva smiled. “I’d love to see him try to hit on or grab ass with Mike.”

  “Oh, you are wicked,” Jasper laughed.

  She placed her finger on his lips. “Shush, not too loud.”

  “Okay.” He smiled slowly and was disappointed when she moved her hand away.

  “What about you, Duke? What do you do to pass the days across the pond?” Zeva asked.

  “The Duke thing is just a requirement,” Jasper said. “I like to work with my hands. I craft furniture, and it’s sold from the stable I converted beside my manor house.”

  “You’re kidding, you don’t sit around eating kippers and playing polo or hunting with your dogs?” Zeva asked teasingly.

  “You’re reading one too many romance novels,” Jasper joked. “We actually have to work for a living, at least I like to. Some of the rest of my family not so much.”

  “Want me to kick their asses for you? I am pretty good in a bar fight,” Zeva teased, using his own words.

  “I may take you up on that,” Jasper said. He smiled when she laughed but the wheels in his mind were already turning.

  They hid out in the private green room, eating canapés and watching the crowd until they started to slowly mill away.

  “I think it’s time we head back,” Zeva said as she stood. She kicked off her heels, and from his seat he averaged her to be around five four in height. “The crowd is emptying out, but we can still sneak in unseen and pretend we were there all along.”

  “Listen, I’d like to take you out to dinner,” he said and added quickly while she put on her heels. “As a thank you for saving me for tonight.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said with a smile.

  “I know, but I want to. There has to be a good pub in Washington you can recommend. Let me treat you to some fish and chips,” Jasper cajoled. “You can’t send me home after one night of fun and leave me with my stuffy old uncle for five days.”

  “And what would you have done if you hadn’t met me?”

  “Searched for you until I did find you,” he said putting on the charm. “Come on, be a good egg, take me to a pub and let’s have Guinness
this time.”

  “Fine, you convinced me with Guinness.” Zeva walked over to a desk, grabbed a pen and a small notebook, and wrote quickly. “That’s my cell and where you can meet me tomorrow at eight. Don’t be late, Duke Jasper McTavish, I’m not one of your wenches. I won’t wait.”

  He took the paper with a smile. “Again, luv, too many romance novels. I gave up all my serving wenches long ago.”

  This time it was Zeva who laughed too loud, and he put one lone finger on her lips with a “ssshh.” She grinned and went to the door and unlocked it before taking a peek outside. They took the tray and placed it, empty, back on the table. Zeva hid the ice bucket with the beer bottles under the long tablecloth of one of the tables.

  “This was fun. See you tomorrow, Jasper,” she said before sneaking through the way they came in.

  “Bye,” he said quickly before she was out the door.

  He counted to thirty before going out the same way. No one had even noticed them. He barely caught a glimpse of that red dress before she blended into the crowd. He found his uncle easily. He was animated, talking to two older women, and when he caught sight of Jasper he excused himself quickly and came over.

  “Where have you been all evening?” Uncle Brewster blustered. “I had several women rather interested in meeting you.”

  “And I was not interested in meeting any of them,” Jasper said smoothly. “I was meeting someone on my own.”

  “Jasper, remember what your mother said. Someone with income who can help sustain the lifestyle of the family...” Uncle Brewster started to stammer.

  “I don’t gave one flying fuck about their income, they can go work like the rest of us do,” Jasper practically snarled. “I will choose whom I marry and you should choose to have a backbone sometimes when it comes to my mother and your two spoiled daughters.”

  Uncle Brewster sighed. “You are right on some points, but one can only judge from the outside.”

  “One can see what’s been going on from the time I was a child, Uncle.” Jasper sighed. “I never held it against you nor will I ever, but you do know I will not be dictated to by the family.”