Even through her layers of skirts, he could feel the delicious curve of it, its softness. Delia was a woman top to bottom, built for sin. He sucked in his breath and her eyes went wide again as she snapped her head around to look at him, her mouth forming an O. Clenching his teeth together, he went to grab her hips, to remove them from the part of his body they were inflaming but as he grabbed the swell of her generous curves, pulsing desire raced through him. Holy hell, he was in trouble.
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and yet, it was her hips that made him lose all sense of reason. He was in danger of breaking his promise to his lost friend. “Delia,” he raggedly gasped out. Up to that point he had control of the situation. He was quickly losing it.
Her eyes had lost all hostility but held their storminess, a hunger with a hint of question now filled them, more expressive than any he had ever encountered. They gave away every emotion and they were the first thing he had ever loved about her. “What is happening,” she whispered. Even as she moved her buttocks against the granite now lodged in his trousers.
He shut his eyes, fighting for control. “Delia, you should know, a man can only take so much of that.”
A small tinkling laugh bubbled from her lips and she moved against him again. “I had assumed. I have seen that look before. I have five, well four, brothers. Usually it precedes one of them carrying off his wife and then nine months later another Alban enters the world. What I don’t know is what happens in between.” Her voice dropped. “Though I must admit, I’m curious to find out.”
His breath exited his body in a giant whoosh. Delia had turned the tables on him. A wild plan to take her right here in kitchen was forming in his addled brain. He was losing sight of his principles at the soft curve of her flesh. But his wild thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the man himself.
“Are you teaching our guest to roll out pasties?” Stone growled out from the doorway.
He had never heard a man who could sound so hard. Fitting with the name, Stone.
“He keeps trying to eat the filling, so I doubt he will make a good chef,” Delia called, as if her perfectly plump derriere were not lodged against his pulsing member. She had most definitely taken the upper hand. And while part of him wanted to bark at Stone to leave the way he’d come, the man had likely saved him from a terrible mistake.
“Are you going to take that from her?” Stone addressed him. A moment of panic set in. He couldn’t possibly answer. His voice would never work properly and Stone would know what was happening behind the large work table.
“With any luck, no he won’t. He’ll run screaming the other way.” Delia straightened away from him. He backed up a few inches and tried to get his raging body back under control.
After ten deep breaths, he answered. “Not a chance.”
He heard the scraping of Stone’s chair. “Come and sit. We’ll use the quiet to talk about how to expand your business. If we combine forces, as we’ve already begun, we could transport goods for all of Scotland and England.”
He took several more deep breaths. Delia was bent over the pastry dough with her bottom sticking out as she rhythmically moved back and forth. He didn’t want to build anything in this moment…except maybe a child. How would he continue to be the man she deserved when she was in his bed? Because right now he could think of little else than the feel of her skin against his.
Chapter Three
Delia glanced back as she put several pasties in the oven. Stone and Roderick were deep in conversation. Their faces serious, their hands moving as they talked. Immediately, she started another batch, these filled with jelly. The children couldn’t get enough of them.
Working with her hands gave her time to think. The ache between her thighs was still there, pulsing. He felt it too, she could tell. Literally, it had rubbed against her. Alexa and Bridget, her sisters-in-law, were always going on about their husbands’ endowments. They giggled and tittered while Delia made disgusted faces, but in her defense, they were discussing her brothers. Undeterred, they both assured her someday she would understand.
That was the thing, she had expected never to understand. She knew Stone would arrange a marriage but not to someone like Roderick. It was her fault that her brother was gone, if she hadn’t gone where she wasn’t supposed to, it never would have happened. She was the one who should pay for the mistake, not Reginald. She couldn’t change the past now, but could control the future. And that meant she’d do her duty but she didn’t deserve a happily ever after.
The meat pasties came out of the oven and the jelly ones went in as she stoked the fire. Pulling four off her sheet, she pushed them onto plates and set them in front of her brother and Roderick, being careful not to look at him.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice rumbling through her, making her ache pulse all the more. She could sense his eyes on her, but she ignored them as she returned to the stove.
As she began to beat eggs, Flora, Stone’s eldest daughter, entered the kitchen. She was eight years old, and an imp, but a delightful one. She reminded Delia of herself at that age. “Are those meat pasties?” she chirped as she swiped one off of her father’s plate.
The sound of silverware bouncing off the table reverberated through the kitchen. Delia turned to see Roderick staring fixedly at her niece a look of shock darkening his face.
“How many times have I told you that you are not to take food from other people’s plates?” Stone addressed his daughter, but his voice held none of its normal gruffness.
“But I don’t have a plate,” she pointed out. “Who are you?” She looked at Roderick, taking a bite.
“This is the Duke of Manchester, Flora. You are to address him as such.”
“Nice to meet you, Your Grace.” She dipped into a little curtsey.
“And you as well,” he responded quietly.
“This is my daughter, Lady Flora.”
“You are the spitting image of your aunt.” Roderick’s voice sounded almost hoarse, his look still pained. It was most curious.
“Oh, thank ye. She is the most beautiful woman in the whole of Scotland. Maybe the world.” Flora flounced toward Delia. “Did you make any jelly pasties, Auntie?”
“I did, my sweet. Come help me beat the eggs.” She glanced at Roderick, his were fixed on both of them. His mouth was pinched and his eyes looked almost haunted with longing. His conversation with her brother seemed to be forgotten.
“It is uncanny,” Roderick murmured.
“I know. I have thought the same.” Stone shrugged.
Roderick dropped his voice but she thought she heard him say the words, “My past and my future.” What could that mean? How could she be part of his past when they’d only met yesterday? And in terms of a future…
More family members began filing in and she set Flora to work to serve up all of the food necessary to feed the fifteen Alban family members. As she bustled about she felt Roderick’s eyes on her. Biting her lip, she wondered how she would find the strength to fight him. He was tempting beyond anything she had ever experienced. Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer
She didn’t have to time to think anymore, as plate upon plate was set on the table. The men began discussing the morning training session. All of the sailors were trained in combat. Sometimes, it was necessary for them to fend off pirates and Stone wanted them to be ready. The castle was well-equipped for such endeavors with a large interior courtyard that had been historically used for soldiers’ training.
“Delia, you should attend this morning’s session,” Stone called from his end of the table.
Doing her best to shoot daggers at him with her eyes, she gave a simple nod. Roderick now had become part of Stone’s business plan. Seating herself at the other end of the table, she clenched her fists in her lap.
There was silence as the family dug into the food. Delia took a quick glance at Roderick’s plate and noticed his pasties were all gone. It shouldn’t give her satisfactio
n that he liked her food. He was the enemy. But her pride swelled nonetheless.
One by one family members began leaving for the day’s events and Delia got up to get ready for the training session. Her state of undress wouldn’t do, a more formal dress would be required. Her eldest sister-in-law, Eliza, called to her. “Delia, I’d like a word.”
“Of course,” she replied. Stone was fifteen years older than herself and had been married to Eliza for as long as she could remember. Having little memory of her parents, Eliza had been like a mother to her.
The other woman headed up the stairs out of the kitchen. Delia followed. Moving down the long center hall, Eliza turned into her favorite salon, which the family referred to as the Pink Room. The light from the early morning sun gave it a soft hue.
Seating herself on a settee, Delia was across from sister-in-law. “What would you like to speak to me about?”
“Your marriage prospects.” Eliza had always been plain-spoken. She and Stone rarely had difficulty understanding each other. Agreeing with one another was another matter entirely, but Eliza was strong enough to stand up to her brother.
“Prospects?” she asked.
“I’m sure it is no secret that Stone prefers Manchester, but another has declared his interest and will arrive tomorrow. The Earl of Sunderland comes to call. A woman should have some choice.”
She appreciated Eliza’s care more than she could say. She’d guess that her sister-in-law had fought hard to make this happen. “Why didn’t I know about this sooner?”
“You know your brother.” Eliza raised her eyebrows and Delia gave a nod. Stone didn’t tell her because he wanted her to pick Roderick. At this moment, she wanted Roderick too. A dangerous position.
“He loves you, you know.” Eliza’s words pulled her out of her thoughts.
Delia waved her hand, dismissing the words. “Stone? He’s my brother, of course he does.”
“No, Roderick. I can see it in his eyes. He loves you.”
“He only met me yesterday. How could he love me?” Delia huffed.
Eliza looked at her for a long time, she seemed to be trying to decide something. “What do you remember of the day you fell on the cliff?”
Delia narrowed her eyes. What did that have to do with this? In truth, she remembered very little. She had hit her head during the initial fall so most of the events were foggy. Whenever a memory did try to surface, she pushed it firmly back down. She did not want to remember the day she had lost Reginald. He had been her lifeline, her partner in crime, and her world had grown dark when he left it. She sometimes dreamed about it but she had no idea how much truth those visions held. “Not much, I suppose, just rocks and a boat…a man catching me. Probably a passing fisherman. I’ve never asked. Did Stone give him a reward?”
“Yes. Yes he did.” Eliza’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“I see.” Delia wondered what the reward was and if the man had ever returned. She started to ask these questions but then realized she didn’t want to know any more. It was still so painful.
Eliza opened her mouth a few times but each time closed it again. Finally, she spoke. “I don’t want to tell you what decision to make, but I can not see why you are resisting the Duke of Manchester. He is handsome, funny, honest enough, successful, and smitten with you. There is little else you could ask for.”
“I have my reasons.” Her eyes were cast down to the floor.
“It happened the way it happened, Delia. There is no changing it. At some point, you have to just live your life. Do you think Reginald would want you to be miserable? He loved you—“
“Enough Eliza. I don’t want to talk about it.” Delia shook her head. It was easy for Eliza to say. Her stupidity had not killed her own brother. Delia would have to live with her actions for the rest of her life.
Eliza was silent for several seconds until Delia finally lifted her eyes from the floor. The other woman’s sharp glance was on her. “You should get ready for the training session. Wear that blue morning dress.”
“That is my newest gown. You want me to wear it for a training session? It just arrived—“
“You’re being courted. Honestly, Delia.” Eliza threw her hands in the air. “What I wouldn’t give to look like you and you want to hide in drab clothing.” The other woman stood. “Now go. And don’t make me come dress you like a child.”
With a huff of her breath, she stood. “You’re trussing me up like a turkey. Are you going to put me on a platter too?”
“Perhaps, if you don’t start cooperating. Now go. Your future awaits.”
Chapter Four
Delia stood on the observation benches out in the training yard in the dress Eliza had requested. Her hair had been pulled into loose waves. Her sister-in-law was right. It was a stunning dress. At the age of twelve, she had loved to dress in the latest fashions and she had dreamed of a season in London. Now her sisters-in-law had to drag her to the modiste to be fitted. And she only wore the creations when it was required of her. Or, more precisely, when Eliza threatened.
She wasn’t attempting to be difficult but it was a choice she had made. She should be gone and Roderick here.
“Guard,” one of the men shouted as he lunged in with his sword. The other growled and lunged back.
Bridget rolled her eyes. “Why must they play these games? Most of the pirates are untrained and run screaming when they realize our men know how to fight.”
“You love watching them, don’t deny it.” Alexa gave them both a smirk.
“I love watching Matthew.” Bridget gave a cat-like grin. “That man still makes my knees weak—“
“I beg you, don’t start.” Delia rolled her eyes.
They both laughed. “Wait until you are married to that fine figure of a man.” Bridget wiggled her eyebrows. “Then you will see.”
“One would think you ladies were men that way you carry on,” Delia whispered as Stone and Roderick walked by.
Alexa smiled at the newcomer, waving her kerchief. “A pleasure, Your Grace.” He gave her a nod and then his eyes fixed on Delia. She blushed under the intensity of his gaze, particularly after the conversation she had just had.
“Will you train today?” Bridget asked.
“Of course.” He gave them an easy smile. “I rarely have a chance to best such specimens as the Alban men.”
Alexa seemed at a loss for words, but Delia took that as a challenge. Though it made her insides wiggle in discomfort, she had to try to push him away. “Any of my brothers could teach you the definition of humility. Only foolish ladies believe the words of a rog—”
His laugh and Stone’s frown stopped her words. “Little you know of rogues. They must be especially good at two things and one of them is fighting.” His eyes twinkled and he slapped Stone on the back. “Shall we?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what the other was but her cheeks turned red all over again. She knew whatever the answer was, it would embarrass her. Rarely at a loss for words, she stamped her slipper on the wooden foot bench to release some of her frustration. Dimples appeared in his cheeks at her fit of temper. That only aggravated her more so she stepped up to him. Standing on the foot bench, the top of her head still only reached his chin. She tilted her head back to glance up and he looked down at her. Her breath heaved her chest and as their eyes met it stopped for a second. “Are you actually sharing the finer points of being a rogue with a lady?”
His green eyes sparkled with merriment and she realized her mistake. She should not have stepped so close. At the curve of his gorgeous lips, all she could think of was his lips dipping down to press against hers. Her own parted in anticipation.
“The lady brought it up first and I merely suggest that sword play is one of my strengths. In my opinion, a husband should also be able to defend his lady should the need arise.” He gave her a devilish grin. “That dress looks stunning on you. You should always be in that color.”
Eliza gave a satisfied sn
ort, but Delia ignored it. Verbal sparring was one of her favorite activities and no one else in her family enjoyed it as she did. Delia could feel her pulse rising in excitement as the words formed on her lips. “Changing the subject is cowardly at best. Another reason Stone will surely best you. He knows how to take a foe—”
“Delia, one more word and I will banish you from the kitchen for a week,” Stone growled.
Roderick, however, didn’t seem the least upset. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the sparring too. His devilish grin softened and his fingers reached up to brush her cheek. “I look forward to hearing the end of that sentence, but now I must go be trounced by a different Alban. If you will excuse me, my lady.”
Flora ran up next to her, giving him a grin. Wrapping her arms around her aunt, she bounced a little. “You’re going to fight with my papa?” she addressed Roderick as though she had always known him.
“Yes, though it is only pretend,” Roderick assured her.
She grinned again. “I know that, silly. But be careful. He is very good.”
Roderick gave her a little chuck on the chin. His eyes travelled to Delia’s face. There was almost a pleading in his eyes. He was asking her to give him something.
She looked down at her niece who was, in turn, grinning at Roderick. And then she saw it. A picture of her and Roderick and a child all their own. Would the babe have her blue eyes or his green?
Giving Flora a gentle squeeze, her own heart contracted painfully and she gave the top of her head a light kiss. “Come sit with me and we will see what happens.”
Taking a deep breath, Delia tried to steady herself. Roderick was breaching her defenses. Making her want things that she shouldn’t. She was being stripped bare of her defenses and it made her feel raw and open.
Stone and Roderick took their positions as the ladies seated themselves higher up on the benches. For all her words, Delia suddenly realized she wanted Roderick to win.
The Duke’s Scottish Lass_Brethren of Stone Page 3