His Prairie Duchess

by Kit Morgan

  Eleven

  My favorite color is blue, but I think I might change it to pink. I like the way it looks on me.

  “Do you now? Funny. I like the way it looks on you too.”

  My mother loved pink. She especially liked pink flowers.

  “Our mother loved daffodils. But tell me, what is your favorite flower?”

  Roses.

  “Ahhh, the rose. A beautiful flower. So many uses, I dare not begin to count them for you. We might be here all night.”

  Cozette smiled. She and Duncan had been at the kitchen table talking ever since dinner ended several hours ago. She’d almost exhausted the fresh sheets of paper and ink Sadie gave her as she served dessert. The others took their dessert into the parlor, Duncan and Cozette stayed in the kitchen. The day had indeed been long and it was all Cozette could do to not to pace waiting for Duncan to appear. He’d been gone since their brief meeting that morning and hadn’t come in until just before dinner. Now it must be time for him to turn in and Cozette worried he would be too tired to perform the next day’s work if he didn’t get to bed soon. But talking to him was Heaven and when her hand began to cramp from writing so much she didn’t care. Her time with Duncan was worth it.

  Duncan watched as she once again tried to work a kink our of her right hand. He touched her wrist to stop her. “Allow me,” he said and gently took her hand into one of his own. He then began to carefully massage it. Cozette had never felt anything so good. Nor intimate.

  Her mouth went completely dry as he continued his ministrations.

  “I dare say, but your hands are incredibly soft.”

  She raised a single eyebrow in response. It was all she could manage.

  “What I mean is, as you wield a bow the way you do, I thought they’d be a bit rough from use. But they’re not rough at all. In fact, you have the hands of a lady.”

  She swallowed. Even if she could talk she’d be rendered completely speechless. Her eyes darted to his mouth as he leaned a few inches closer. They were seated next to each other at one corner of the table.

  “Cozette...” he began, his voice low. “I love the sound of your name. It’s so wonderfully feminine.”

  Cozette barely managed to raise her other eyebrow as she all but melted from his touch.

  “Yet you’re so beautifully fierce. I’ve never met a woman like you. In fact, I never thought one such as yourself could exist. But here you are.”

  She took a deep breath.

  He shifted and leaned closer, his knee brushed against hers and sent her insides into a rapid case of the flutters. A delicious chill went up her spine and nearly made her fall right out of her chair! Suddenly a small moan escaped her and she froze, eyes wide.

  Duncan froze too. Her eyes slowly met his.

  “Is that normal?” He all but whispered. “Did I do that?”

  She swallowed, her face red at her unbidden reaction to him, yet embarrassment did not hit her the way she thought it would. She’d made another sound and her elation at the moment far outweighed any embarrassment.

  Duncan began to massage her hand again. “That was beautiful. Do you want to try again?”

  She looked at him, her face full of wonder. No one had ever said such a thing to her before. Not even her father. Who thought an occasional squeak was beautiful? But Duncan did, and it made her feel like there was hope.

  She swallowed, took a breath, and tried to open her mouth. But something stopped her. As if an invisible hand placed itself on her jaw and kept her mouth from opening. She stiffened in frustration.

  “It’s all right. Just relax, don’t force it. It happens when you’re not thinking about it. I saw you do it the other day at the Van Cleets.”

  She looked to him her brow fully raised. Really?

  “Yes. Several times in fact. It happened naturally. I don’t think you noticed. I thought an occasional sound here and there must be normal.”

  She slowly shook her head no.

  He leaned closer. “Perhaps we should find a way to make it happen again?” His voice was soft, low, coaxing.

  She slowly sucked in her breath as she drank in his eyes. Eyes that roamed her face in a languid manner and Cozette soon realized she was doing the same.

  “Call me what ever you want, write on that paper what ever you want, but this I know.” He said as he leaned ever closer. “Cozette, I swear to you, you will speak again. I know it. I don’t know how I know but I do. And I’m going to help you.”

  Unconsciously her free hand flew to her mouth as tears escaped one by one at his sudden declaration. Duncan reached up and brushed them away with one hand. “There now, don’t cry.” He whispered gently. “I dare say, I won’t stand for it.”

  He leaned closer as his hand moved up her arm to pull her toward him. Her breathing picked up at the action and her eyes again widened.

  He brushed another tear away and looked at her. Deeply. It was the only word Cozette could think of to fit what he was doing.

  “Cozette... you haven’t given me your answer yet.”

  She stopped breathing all together.

  “About the dance.” His face was inches from her own now.

  She tried to swallow but couldn’t. Her mouth was too dry. She felt, saw herself lean closer to him, and was powerless to stop it.

  “Please, say yes.”

  Inches. INCHES separated them. Two, if she was going to get right down to it. They were so close she could see the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes she’d not noticed before.

  “Answer me, Cozette. Will you go to the dance with me?”

  She closed her eyes, her breathing slow. For once she didn’t need to worry about not having a voice. Her body did the answering for her and closed the remaining two inches between them. Before she knew it her lips were against his own. A large hand was suddenly in her hair while his other cupped her face.. His hands were warm and strong, yet ever so gentle as he began the kiss. The kiss itself, like his hands was warm, gentle, and strong all at the same time and, she sensed, controlled. Barely. A sudden heat, the same from the other day, seemed to burst into flames around them. But how could she really tell? Her eyes were closed and didn’t want to open. He deepened the kiss, his body becoming tight with... something. What, Cozette wasn’t sure but it must be the same thing that happened when he snapped at her a few days ago and sent her running into the house.

  Before she knew it, it was over. His lips parted from hers. But his hands remained where they were. “I’ll take that as a yes, m’ lady.” His hands slowly fell away from her as he leaned back in his chair.

  “I’m afraid I must bid you adieu. There is much work to be done tomorrow and... and I must above all remain a gentleman.” He leaned toward her again. “But I’ll see you in the morning.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, took one last long look at her as if to make sure he had enough to get him through the night, then got up from the table and left the kitchen. But he didn’t go out into the hall. He instead left through the back door and went outside.

  Cozette absently touched her lips as she stared after him. Yes, I will go to the dance with you. And if you asked me, so much more... Oh Duncan, I think I love you.

  * * *

  Colin and Belle listened intently just beyond the kitchen door. “I do believe he went outside.” Colin whispered to his wife.

  Belle cocked her head to listen. “I think you’re right,” she whispered back. “I’d better go check on Cozette.”

  Colin looked at his wife and did a double take. “Good Lord! What are you doing with that?”

  Belle quickly shoved the ladle she held behind her back. “I guess I take after my aunt Irene more than I thought.”

  Colin tried his best not to laugh. “Give it to me!” He reached behind her and pulled it from her hand as his other arm came around her. He kissed her then, sweet and slow. If she didn’t need to check on Cozette, and he on Duncan, he’d stand there and kiss her senseless. But his brother was probably in ne
ed of an understanding ear. That or a bucket of cold water dumped on his head, either of which Colin was happy to oblige.

  He broke the kiss. “Let us to work then. I’ll go see to Duncan, you get Cozette to bed.”

  Belle nodded, kissed him on the nose, then went into the kitchen.

  Colin sighed and looked to the ladle in his hand. Rather than set it down somewhere, he decided to take it with him and stuck it in his back pocket. Just in case he needed it.

  He left the house through the front door, didn’t find Duncan on the porch, so went to the barn next. Sure enough, his brother was standing next to a water trough, his head already dripping wet.

  “That bad, eh old boy?” Colin asked.

  “Any worse and I’d have to be arrested.”

  “Come now, I thought it all went rather well. She’s going to accompany you to the dance isn’t she? And after that who knows? We’d best start planning your wedding.”

  Duncan shook his head. “This is so different from what I ever thought to be doing with a woman.”

  “You never thought to be kissing a woman?” Colin teased.

  Duncan glared at him in the moonlight. “No, I didn’t plan on falling in love. Or should I say, feeling like it.”

  “Sorry chap, but I’m not following you.”

  Duncan rubbed the back of his neck. “To be honest I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know what this is. Every time I’m with her, I can’t take my eyes off her, I want to take her and... make her mine if you know what I mean. But there’s so much more to it. I just can’t explain it. And I swear if anyone were to ever harm her, I’d kill him. Kill him on the spot.”

  Colin stepped to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You do have it bad. But I think she isn’t just a woman to you. I think she represents something more. I felt the same way with Belle, but not as bad as you’ve got it. After thinking about it, I realized she, as a woman, represented everything I’ve tried so hard to protect.”

  Duncan stared at him a moment in silence. “You mean mother.”

  “I guess protecting Belle and wanting to seize her for myself in order to do so was in part because of mother. Neither of us was here to protect her, after all.”

  “Perhaps. I only know I cannot do this much longer. I must know she’s mine and that none can ever take her from me. It’s like a driving force. A thirst that will not be quenched until I have her.”

  Colin nodded slowly. “You were always the one to sense things. Know things before they happened. And you were never wrong, Duncan. It kept us alive in prison, remember?”

  “I remember. This sounds crazy, but I know that in this case I must marry her and soon. But this has nothing to do with the title or inheritance. It does have to do with protecting her. I have no idea what it is, or why the need is so strong. I only know I have to.”

  “Then let’s make her your wife. We did invite Mr. King our beloved preacher to the dance, did we not?”

  “Indeed we did.”

  The brothers smiled at each other. “Let’s to bed then.” Colin said. “Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”

  “Yes, it will.” Duncan agreed and then turned toward the barn.

  “I say, what ever are you doing?”

  “Going to bed.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “Yes, dear brother. It is indeed.”

  Colin shrugged. “You know what’s best. Do you need a blanket?”

  “Already have one, brought one to the barn when I found out she was staying the night.”

  “Oh dear. Well, then. Good evening.” Colin said and turned to go back into the house.

  “Good evening.” Duncan said as he watched him go and noted the ladle in his back pocket. He laughed to himself before he let go a long sigh. Maybe he should be the one with the ladle. Maybe if he could hit himself over the head with it a few times, it wouldn't turn out to be such a long night.

  Twelve

  On the Seventeenth day...

  Duncan awoke to find Cozette already gone. Her father had come incredibly early and whisked her away to hunt. Everyone had a hard time envisioning the petite Cozette out hunting, but when she returned with her father later that day wearing new buckskins and toting a fresh kill, they were able to get a better grasp on the idea. Besides, she made the best venison stew any of them had ever tasted.

  On the Eighteenth day...

  She made a roast from it which she insisted be cooked over a fire outside. It too was delicious, and Duncan began to realize what a prize she was. It was all he could do not to let her out of his sight.

  On the Nineteenth day...

  Belle had to practically pry Cozette away from Duncan so they could have a cooking lesson with her aunt Irene, who pleased with their progress, only smacked the girls once or twice with her ladle. At least she hadn’t brought her hatchet to the lesson. For that the girls were grateful! And the bread, rolls and pot roast they made was served to the many men who came to Mulligans’ to eat that day. All of which was a huge hit. Except with Duncan who brooded about while working the stock and whose mood grew much worse by that evening.

  On the Twentieth day...

  Duncan didn’t see Cozette and became crabbier by the minute. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and for the life of him didn’t know why. All he knew was he wanted to be with her, no- had -to be with her, or he would surely die. Which was crazy. Who ever heard of such a foolish thing?

  On the Twenty-first day...

  Duncan’s condition worsened. But it wasn’t his foul mood and brooding that worsened. It was the state of his heart. If his brothers didn’t know better, they’d say he was ‘heart sick’, but unsure such a physical condition actually existed, dismissed the idea and concluded that their eldest brother must have eaten something that disagreed with him. How wrong they were.

  And on the Twenty-second day...

  There was a loud knock on the door. Cyrus looked to Polly as they sat at the kitchen table having breakfast. “Now who could that be this early?” Cyrus said as he stood. He went to the door to answer it, but not before peeking out the nearby window to see who it was.

  “Good Lord!” Cyrus exclaimed and ran to the door. Duncan had slumped to the porch and all but fell across the door’s threshold when Cyrus opened it.

  “Duncan lad! What’s happened?”

  Duncan raised his head. He hadn’t shaved for several days and looked awful. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken. Cyrus helped him to his feet and steered him toward the kitchen where he managed to deposit him in a chair at the table.

  “Oh my goodness!” Polly exclaimed. “What’s happened? Is he hurt? Has he been shot?”

  Cyrus quickly examined him. “I don’t see any wounds and he isn’t bleeding.”

  “Duncan?” Polly began, her voice pleading. “Talk to us! What happened?”

  Duncan looked at them but didn’t speak. His breathing was shallow and he looked as if he’d lost a lot of weight in the last two days. A sound suddenly caught his attention and he turned to the kitchen doorway.

  Cozette stood and stared at him, her eyes wide. Cyrus and Polly watched as Duncan’s eyes widened in return. A strange sensation permeated the room and Cyrus and Polly could feel it. Not only could they feel it, but they could see it in the young couple’s eyes as they stared at one another.

  “Polly,” Cyrus whispered. “You remember how it was when we first met? Those weeks we were courting and thought we’d die without each other?”

  “Polly continued to watch as Cozette slowly made her way to the table. “I remember. I thought it only happened to us.”

  “I don’t think so. I think it’s happening to them. I called it a miracle then, I’ll call it a miracle now. These two are meant to be, Polly. As sure as I’m standing next to you, they are meant to be.”

  “You didn’t eat or sleep for days.” She said in recollection. “And you looked as bad then as he looks now.”

  “I had it so bad for you. I thought I’d die if I d
idn’t have you. Could feel it in my bones, my heart. Felt it with everything I had.”

  Cozette sat at the table and took one of Duncan’s hands in her own. His eyes softened at the contact and he managed a smile.

  “He looks like he hasn’t slept since he saw her last. Or eaten for that matter.” Polly said. “I’d best get him some coffee.”

  Cyrus sat across the table from the couple and continued to watch. Cozette rubbed one of Duncan’s hands as if it was terribly cold and continued to look into his eyes. It was the same between Cyrus and Polly when they were young. He could see it plain as day. A soul searing love that only happened once in a blue moon. A pairing of two people that for whatever reason, the universe saw fit to do. And once done could not be undone, for if it were, surely death would follow. Rare, yes. And if Cyrus hadn’t experienced it himself, he would never have believed such a thing existed. But he’d lived it and to this day could hardly stand to be separated from Polly for any long length of time. An entire day for example.

  Polly set a cup of coffee in front of Duncan. He looked at it numbly before picking it up with his free hand. He took a small sip, followed by a long swallow, then set the cup down. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this Cyrus,” he began, his voice a low rasp. “There is no excuse for my behavior. But I dare say, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Cyrus smiled. “Don’t apologize. I remember what it was like when I was young. Had it just as bad as you do! My, my, but I think we’d better help plan for something more than a dance next week!”

  Duncan looked at him as his eyes glazed over. “I agree with you there, but as to the rest of my current condition, I... I really don’t know what else is wrong with me.”

  Cozette looked him over carefully, even going so far as to pry one eye open enough to examine his pupil. She moved his head this way and that and shot Cyrus a concerned look when Duncan made no move to stop her. Cozette suddenly gasped and immediately stood. She tried to open her mouth but couldn’t seem to manage it. She then banged her hand on the table to get everyone’s attention.

  “Cozette!” Polly exclaimed. “What is it?”