by Jackie Ivie
“It’s different now. Somehow. A-a-after that announcement. Did na’ you hear? I’m a duchess.”
Neal’s lips twitched at how awed she sounded. He held the amusement back with an act of will. That was odd. He didn’t think he had any willpower left. “True,” he finally replied.
“Do na’ you see?”
She moved her glance to somewhere between Dragonbreath’s ears. There wasn’t much to see there. He knew. He had the spot about memorized.
“Not really. But...I did suffer a head injury?” He posed it as a question, in the event it helped.
“The wedding that happened...just makes it all worse.”
“Worse?”
That was a bombshell. His voice reflected it. Marriage to him - when she’d practically orchestrated it - was worse?
Than what?
Wasn’t this what she wanted? Hadn’t she begged him? What had he done to make it so horrid? He’d been a perfect gentleman.
Neal quickly amended that.
He’d tried to be a perfect gentleman. He thought he’d hidden the lust. He must have failed. Why else would she slur a union with him? It was a conundrum. If his mind was the prime portion of his anatomy in control at the moment, he might be able to figure it out.
No. Wait.
He was trying to alter thousands of years of gender relationships. He was a male. Woman might as well be another frickin’ species. No male had ever figured them out. It was a useless endeavor.
“I mean…I ken why you wed me. It’s our…secret. It’s just—”
She sucked in on her bottom lip, and since they hadn’t tamped the bonfire yet, the light was assisting in showing the blossom of a blush at her cheeks. All of it combined to not just make her ethereal-looking, but massively so.
“What?”
“Forgive…me. I’ll ride my own mount.”
She looked small, and young, and unsure, and incapable of sitting atop a horse, let alone controlling one. Neal put a finger beneath her chin and lifted it so she had to face him. He had to ignore a roar of sound that went through his ears with every pulse beat and then he had to concentrate in order to hear around it. His own voice sounded strange.
“Ainslee. I’m...at odds here. I don’t know how women think. Can’t you just tell me?”
His gaze was hooked. Deep sapphire-colored eyes locked with his.
Shit.
Times two, Neal.
He shouldn’t have touched her. He shouldn’t be gazing into her eyes. He should have had the sense to dismount. Move. Say he needed to take a leak or something. He should be doing a thousand different things.
“These men. Some were in the library. They…heard.”
The last word was spoken so softly, he had to guess at it.
“So?” he asked. Or thought he asked. Now, he couldn’t even hear himself over the pulse in his ear.
“Could you just—? I mean, I ken it would be hard…but, please? Could you pretend...a little longer? Please?”
“Pretend?”
She had tears skimming her eyes. That made deep pools of mystery out of the blue. Someone did something with the blanket atop the shelter, sluicing the water onto the fire. Their actions sent sizzling sounds and smoke smell into the air. It also dimmed the light.
“That you…want me?”
She had her eyes squeezed shut, as if afraid of what might be on his face. She wasn’t the lone one. He was afraid of what expression he wore.
“You are…so young,” he replied.
“Full grown.”
“That what you call it?” Neal bent his head and whispered the words against her nose.
“I’m...nineteen.”
“Barely hatched.”
His words hovered atop her lips. His breath mingled with hers. Each moment sent a charge with it. Neal groaned, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to hers.
Neal had experienced near-death in his lifetime. Car wrecks. A skiing accident. An explosion of a plant he’d been touring. With resultant fire. And hearing loss. And then, there had been the Bermuda Triangle incident this morning. That had been the epitome of mind-blowing experiences.
And yet, what happened the instant he kissed Ainslee annihilated even that.
Brightness flooded his vision, granting him flight. Sweetness plowed his veins, gifting him with a sense of wonder. Excitement grabbed his heart, sending awareness with each beat. Thrill after thrill coursed his veins. He vibrated with a sensation of immeasurable bliss. Delight. Pleasure.
He didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. He’d been in another realm. There was just this one glorious span of time, this woman, and an incredible sense of wonder. And then someone cleared their throat.
~ ~ ~
“Uh. Y-yes? What...is it?”
The duke lifted his head and turned to ask it. His voice warbled momentarily. Ainslee gasped and hid her face in the space below his chin. Shivers alternated with blushes, and those succumbed to such an ecstatic sensation, it took long moments before she again felt the velvet of his jacket that she’d gripped in each hand, the feeling of muscled thighs she sat atop, the moistness in the air, and the chill of a rain-filled night.
The duke had kissed her!
She hadn’t just accepted it, either. She’d kissed him back! It wasn’t possible to face anyone at the moment. Especially him. So, Ainslee held onto him and vibrated with waves of reaction she didn’t know how to control. She’d call it shock, but it couldn’t be. What had happened had been too beautiful. Too amazing. Too unbelievable.
She’d received her first kiss!
Sweet heaven!
And it was everything Lileth had eulogized about to her little sister, using awestruck tones. A kiss was all of that.
And more.
Ainslee still quivered with how much more the kiss had contained. The tremors subsided slowly, pushed aside by what had to be embarrassment. The duke must think her unbelievably brazen! Desperate.
She was fully capable of riding her own horse. She just wanted to stay right where she was, held within his embrace as though she was treasured. Wanted. Safe. It was a bubble of fantasy, but she hadn’t wanted it burst. Not yet. Time enough for everyone to know the marriage was a sham. That he’d wed her because she’d begged him to. And that he’d done it by proclamation this eve - without one hint of warning – because he pitied her.
What she’d done was unbelievably forward. And ungrateful. She’d been asking for the moon, when he’d already delivered the stars. But, in his arms, for the first time she could recall, she’d felt protected, secure...and something more. She’d been cocooned in a hum of something exciting.
She trembled anew at the recollection. One of his arms tightened about her.
This was terrible.
Wonderfully, magnificently terrible.
She’d also asked for some sign from him so the note of respect that had been in Sam’s voice wouldn’t disappear, turning him back into a stable-hand who treated her like one of them. But she hadn’t asked for a kiss! She’d never meant for the duke to do something so drastic.
Oh…dear.
It really had been terrible. And wonderful. And it was especially terrible because it had been so wonderful.
“Begging your pardon, but we’ve brought a mount for Ainslee—uh. I mean, her grace.”
“Oh. Very good. Ainslee?”
Her nose tingled with the vibration of sound as the duke said it. She shook her head. He inhaled deeply, moving her with it, and then blew a sigh out over her head.
“The duchess has changed her mind. She’ll continue the journey with me.”
Ainslee gasped again. The duke cleared his throat. And when he spoke he was using the amazingly deep, broad voice he’d used before. In the library. When he’d pronounced them wed.
Ainslee trembled at the memory. Sighed softly.
“So? What are we standing about for? Mount up! Cease wasting time! I mean. Gents. Come on. I am a newlywed! I would truly like to reach my castle
sometime tonight!”
There were answers given, amidst a lot of laughter. Ainslee didn’t pay attention. She was too aware of what it felt like to have her heart sing. Her entire body tingled. The sensation reached every bit of her. The tips of her fingers. Edges of her toes. She’d thought him a wonderful sight when she’d first seen him - over a decade ago, riding hard through the grass. Now, she knew he was truly wonderful.
Even if it was a sham to be wed to him, she was thrilled by it.
“Ainslee.”
He turned and lowered his head in order to speak just to her, his chest rising, while the move dislodged her. She shook her head again. She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t look at him. Even if it was raining and dark. It was still too soon.
“You need to release me a bit, love.”
Love?
Oh, my stars. He’d just called her love.
Her ears heard it, but it took a moment for the rest of her to grasp it. Surprise lifted her head and she peered at him. It wasn’t raining as hard, or they hadn’t extinguished the fire enough. He was easy to see. He was looking at her with a stern expression on his face, almost a frown.
“I cannot continue to ride this way.”
“What…way?”
“With you…uh. Clinging to me. We truly might fall from the horse. They’ll think—. Well. I won’t even go into what everyone might think. I daren’t.”
Ainslee moved her gaze to his ruffled shirtfront.
Oh, dear.
She’d been embracing him. Before an audience. Her entire face was hot with the reaction.
She consciously loosened her fingers, releasing his jacket from where she’d gripped it. She moved her hands back beneath the double layer of plaid covering her, laced her fingers together, and placed them against her legs, near her knees. It only took a few seconds, but it felt too long.
“Not like that. Face sideways again. Lean back. There. This might work. If I’m lucky.”
She must have moved too slowly, because he gripped one arm about and pulled her against him, before nudging Dragonbreath forward. She’d been right. Dragonbreath was a wise choice. The horse had a great stride. Seemingly tireless. Strong. His canter resembled a rocker chair. It would be easy to sleep atop him.
And especially easy to pretend to it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The duchess’s suite at Castle Straith was a spectacular set of rooms. Ainslee had been awestruck when she’d first seen them. Everything was designed in an ivory tone with golden accents. The walls were wainscot, light oak on the bottom, while the tops were papered with ivory silk, overlaid with golden filigree. They soared to a height close to two-stories. The ceiling was plastered with three flower-themed circles, each holding a chandelier. Little ropes led across the ceiling and down the walls and were secured in loops around ornate holders to allow the lighting or extinguishing of the tapers.
The chandeliers were dark at the moment, although crystals glinted occasionally from the mass of shadow as candlelight reached them.
The bed frame, armoires, wardrobes, and bureaus had been designed with the same light oak wood, and were decorated with more filigree. Settees graced the walls, while a chaise lounge rested just past the footboard. The furniture pieces were upholstered in ivory and gold silk damask that had streaks of red woven through it. They matched the bedding, except for the coverlet. That item was crafted of scarlet-shaded material, and heavily embroidered with gold threads.
There were three doors in the bedroom. One led directly to the hall outside, and from there to the massive staircase leading to the great hall. One door led to a dressing area. The other opened into a salon, with more carved wooden furniture, although it was of a darker hue and much heavier. That room had a door at the end of it that led directly to the chieftain’s bedchamber. She knew because she’d once peeked.
The duchess suite in Castle Straith was spacious, beautiful, awe-inspiring.
Majestic.
Ainslee had snuck about this room once. She hadn’t touched anything. She was afraid to. Even now, ensconced in the bed, high on its own pedestal, clad in a nightgown borrowed from the housekeeper’s niece, she was almost afraid to move.
A linen sheet, so finely woven it was slick-feeling, covered the mattress beneath her, while another one, edged in lace, tucked her in. Woolen blankets in the Straith colors added weight and warmth. Four enormous pillows, each of a size she could sleep atop, were along the headboard, two directly behind her, propping her up. The scarlet coverlet had been folded down and moved to a stand. A candelabra with two lit candles flickered from her night stand, giving glimpses of the treasures accumulated in the room. It was after two in the morning, but she couldn’t sleep. She should be exhausted. It had been an incredibly long day full of all sorts of emotions and tribulations, not the least of which was her presence right here.
She was in the duchess suite at Straithcairn Castle!
In the actual bed!
Sitting atop the bed as if she belonged there!
It felt like any moment the door would open and she’d be denounced as a fraud and chastised for taking liberties. A door did open - the one leading to the salon. Ainslee’s eyes widened as the duke walked in, turning to face the door as he closed it behind him. The latch clicked in the stillness.
Ainslee’s hands went to the area just above her breasts, touching on a lace-edged neckline so new it scratched, and a little row of buttons that were all fully fastened. It didn’t help. She still wore a nightgown. She was en-dishabille.
With a man.
The duke took a breath that lifted his shoulders, turned around, and walked toward her. Her jaw dropped. She’d been impressed by how he looked this morn in Sassenach clothing. She’d been awed by his appearance in Highland attire, especially the Straithcairn feile-brecan. There wasn’t a description for what she felt when seeing him in this.
He wore a floor-length robe, fashioned of material in the Straithcairn plaid. His belt and lapels looked to be red velvet. He had his hair tied back and a bit of bare chest on display at the junction of his robe. Everything about his attire was masculine. Virile.
Vaguely threatening.
“What…are you doing here?” she asked, with a voice that trembled.
“Not what you think. Trust me.”
“But—”
“I have little choice in the matter. Mason is in there.” He pointed back toward the door he’d used.
“Ma...son?”
“My valet. Surely you recall the man. He knows enough of you.”
“Oh. Mason Millbourne. Aye. I ken him.”
“He had a fellow named Barnes assisting him. I didn’t know there was such a thing as an under-valet. Bother it.”
“Oh. That’s Thomas Barnes. He was elevated from footman upon your arrival. He’s verra full of himself over it. Verra proud.”
“Trust you to know.”
“Is that...bad?”
“Hardly. But that’s not the point. I have two personal servants. And while that’s odd, it gets worse. Both men are fonts of propriety and correct behavior. That Mason is the worst. By far.”
“Propriety?”
“The man’s a stickler about it. Everything needs to be right and proper and in its place. He actually stayed up this late to make certain I was properly seen to. And that everything’s as it should be. He’s not the lone one, either. The entire castle is filled with them. Hovering about. Seeing to every whim. They’re everywhere.”
“What are you talking of?”
“Servants. Roaming about the place. As if it isn’t the middle of the night and everyone should be abed. This is ridiculous. I could employ every type of servant I wished, but there’s a huge loss of privacy involved. Servants mean you have to deal with a lot of eyes and ears about. And all of them are taking note.”
“The estate could hardly run without them.”
“You’re not listening, Ainslee. Or I should be a bit more direct. Mason is in my chamber. Right now.
He’s even whistling as he putters around. Whistling. Some damnable tune that is now stuck in my head. In an off-key. At this time of night. And that means I had to come in here, for...uh…a bit.”
“You did?”
He smiled slightly. “Remind me not to send a messenger ahead of my arrival again. Especially one capable of raising the dead. What? You think they had the entire front of the castle lit up, and everyone at full attention, for just anyone’s arrival? In the midst of a monsoon? In the dead of night?”
“You’re the duke. They were waiting your return.”
He moved closer and stood looking down at her, elevating the temperature and making her heart thud so heavily it was probably noticeable. She still had her hands in place atop her chest, however. He wouldn’t know.
“Mason is very pleased with events. He also told me he is not overly surprised. Just pleased. As is everyone else in the castle. Or so he assures me.”
“With what?”
“My selection of duchess, of course.”
“Me?”
He sat on the edge of the bed, making it shimmy with the move. Ainslee did her best to pretend not to notice.
He’s sitting on the bed!
“Who else have I been speaking of? Of course, you. They’re supremely pleased with my choice of wife and thoroughly impressed with the method I employed to gain one. According to Mason, I may hearken back to one of my ancestors. The second duke. Rakish fellow, he was. Mason is full of tales of valor and…well, romance. I’m telling you, I had to vacate my chamber. The man’s gone soft, regaling me about the romance of it all. They’re all quite pleased to have you as their new duchess. I suppose I should be grateful. That’s one less worry.”
“What…are you worrying over?”
“Leaving.”
She started. He saw it.
“We had to discuss it at some point. I can’t stay. It’s almost a crime. And my intentions are—not of a higher nature, trust me. You don’t understand. Things...are not as they appear.”