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Authors: Suzanne Enoch

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BOOK: One Hot Scot
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“Shall we tell my family then, lass?”

She grinned up at him. “This should be interesting.”

*   *   *

A little better than two hours later, Julia Prentiss wasn’t Julia Prentiss any longer. She was Julia Lenox. The priest had hesitated, but clearly he knew who buttered his bread. And just as plain was the respect he had for Duncan, the way he’d known that Mr. Lenox didn’t do things frivolously.

Before she said her vows she’d attempted to trace the route of her money, tried to discern once and for all if this had somehow been Duncan’s way of manipulating circumstances in order to gain her dowry. It wasn’t logical, though. Aside from the grand state of Lenox House, his lands were green, his gardens well-kept—every sign that he had a fair amount of wealth all on his own. He hadn’t known who she was in the world, and the papers he had written up by the solicitor Mr. Finchey, who’d accompanied Father Ross to the house, clearly stated that her income was to go to their mutual child. If that turned out to be impossible, it would be inherited by Lord Glengask, and no one there seemed to doubt for a second that the marquis would see the money returned to her—not as a conditional dowry, but as an actual cash sum
to
her and
for
her.

It was actually a better arrangement than she could have hoped for even in a love match. Because anyone who wooed her would do so knowing she had a purse worth forty thousand pounds attached to her wrist. She had hesitated to even believe any of the sweet words her potential beaux had spoken to her for that very reason. But Duncan … Duncan had found a way to give the money back to her, or at least for the benefit of her children.

She looked at him as he leaned over the table and signed the last of the hastily-written agreements. Duncan. Her Duncan, now. It wasn’t at all how she’d imagined her marriage, because her parents would have seen to it that she had a huge, grand cathedral wedding as befitted an heiress and daughter of a viscount. As he’d said, though, today or six months or a year from today, it would have been him and her. The setting was secondary.

As if sensing her gaze, Duncan glanced up at her and flashed a grin. “Ye’ll have quite the note to send yer mother now, won’t ye, lass?” he said, handing the pen back to Mr. Finchey.

“I imagine she’ll be relieved, once I explain.”

Walking up, he cupped her face in his broad hands and leaned down to kiss her. “Are ye certain ye won’t stay inside with Grandmama and her blunderbuss?” he asked in his deep, rolling brogue.

She shook her head. “If you and Father Ross and Mr. Finchey are going to be standing there facing him, then so am I. Otherwise he might think it’s a ruse, that I’ve escaped and you’re trying to mislead him or something.”

“Ye’ve already proven yerself, ye know. If ye dunnae wish to see him face-to-face, I’ll nae ask it of ye.”

“Master Duncan, they’re coming up the road!”

He turned at Murdoch’s bellow. “They’re early. I’m nae surprised, but it’s a wee bit rude, dunnae ye think?”

“Don’t jest. He’s a dangerous man.” And she was very, very nervous. If any little thing went wrong, she could well lose Duncan. And she’d only just found him. She wanted a forever to get acquainted with her husband.

“I’m a dangerous man as well,
leannan
.”

As she saw the expression in his light green eyes, she believed him. He’d already defied the earl twice, at gunpoint, and he’d stood practically on his own against Fersens and Campbells all around him for his entire life. Warmth flitted down her spine. When this was finished—and she had to believe that it would go as planned, because anything else was intolerable—it would be him, and it would be her. Together.

He held out his hand to her. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“I’m ready.”

Outside the house five horsemen had arranged themselves in a semicircle facing the front door. Behind them another two or three dozen men on foot and on horseback trudged onto the wide, stone-covered drive. According to Father Ross’ whispering, they were mostly Campbells.

“So you’ve decided to hand her over to me, then?” Bellamy asked, his steel-gray gaze pinning her in a way that made her feel like an insect beneath his heel. “It’s almost a shame you’ve come to your senses.”

“Why is that?” Duncan asked coolly, his face expressionless.

“Well, here you are, alone, and here I am, with nearly thirty men. And you can see who I happened across at my house.” He gestured at the tall, lean man beside him. The fellow had reddish brown hair nearly as long as Duncan’s and a faint scar that ran across the right side of his face from his chin up beneath his ear. “Or are you not acquainted with Mr. Gerdens-Daily?”

Duncan inclined his head, a muscle in his jaw clenching. “George.”

“Lenox. I hear ye’ve stolen my cousin’s wife.”

“Nae. I aided a lady yer cousin kidnaped.”

The scarred man tilted his head. “I havenae heard that version of the tale.”

“Because it’s a lie. Julia Prentiss agreed to marry me, and then she fled. I want her back. Now.”

Light brown eyes, almost amber, turned to look at her. Dangerous eyes, in a different way than Bellamy was dangerous. The eyes of someone who might slip up behind a man in the night with a knife. She shuddered.

“Miss Prentiss,” he said, his tone level, “why dunnae ye tell us what happened to ye, and why ye fled my cousin on the day ye agreed to marry him?”

“I did no such thing!” she snapped.

“What do you care what she says, George? Duncan Lenox lied to me. He’s been harboring my property, and he threatened to blow my head off. He’s the MacLawrys’ cousin. And we all know what you’ve said about the MacLawrys, how they all belong in the ground.”

Duncan took a step forward. “My argument’s nae with ye, George.”

Gerdens-Daily lifted a hand. “Tell me yer story, lass.”

Taking a breath, her gaze never wavering from the scarred man’s face, she told him. Everything from agreeing to dance with a familiar face to waking up in the carriage to stealing the horse from Bellamy Park and fleeing, to meeting Duncan—although she didn’t mention that he’d been naked—and hiding from Bellamy when the earl came to the shack looking for her.

“None of it matters now anyway,” Duncan broke in. “I’ve taken steps to see that ye cannae get what ye want from her, Bellamy.”

The earl’s eyes narrowed. “What steps?” he asked succinctly.

“I’ve married her.”

Bellamy’s face turned a blotchy gray. “You
what
?”

“Aye. Father Ross married us. Mr. Finchey and a dozen of my men witnessed it. Her dowry is now mine. Ye’ll never have it, no matter what ye do. So turn around and go home, and be grateful I don’t pull ye off that horse and have ye arrested fer what ye did to my wife.”

For several moments Bellamy sputtered and spat, until Julia thought he might suffer an apoplexy and drop dead on the Lenox House front drive. The thought didn’t trouble her at all.

Finally, the earl jabbed his finger at Mr. Gerdens-Dailey. “You’re a Campbell, George, just as I am. I demand that you and Orville destroy Lenox for what he’s done to me. Burn his damned house to the ground and all his family with it.”

Gerdens-Dailey crossed his wrists over the cantle of his saddle. “Do ye, now, Hugh? Ye
demand
that I do yer dirty work?”

“He’s a bloody MacLawry! Put him beneath the ground!”

Behind them the sound of muskets and rifles cocking in the windows was quite possibly the most frightening thing Julia had ever heard. Even though he’d told her to stay clear of him, she edged a step closer to Duncan. Her Duncan.

“Ah,” George drawled. “Well, it just so happens that I stopped by yer house today on my way back from London. I had someaught to tell ye. While I was there staying with Berling, I had a wee conversation with Ranulf MacLawry.” He glanced over at Julia. “That’s Lord Glengask, if ye were wondering.”

“You did? Is he dead?” Bellamy looked like a rat who’d just scented cheese.

Duncan, on the other hand, paled. “And how did this conversation end?” he asked slowly, taking a half step away from her, putting distance between them again.

“Most of it was private,” Gerdens-Daily went on easily, as if he was unaware of the roiling emotions all around him. “But it ended with us shaking hands and agreeing that fer a time, at least, we’d refrain from spilling each other’s blood.” Abruptly he reached up, doffed his hat, and bowed to Julia. “So my best wishes, Mrs. Lenox. Mr. Lenox. We’ll be bidding ye good day.”

“We— No, we will not!”

The scarred man wheeled his horse, cutting in front of Bellamy’s mount and making the gelding hop backward nervously. “Aye, we will. And ye will leave them be, or I’ll hear aboot it. Ye’ll not make me a liar because of yer own bloody greed, Hugh.”

“I—”

“Tell me ye understand, Hugh,” Gerdens-Daily insisted, pinning his cousin with that amber gaze.

“I … understand,” Bellamy finally grunted, deflating.

“Good.” Turning again, Gerdens-Daily replaced his hat and inclined his head at Duncan. “
Meala-naidheachd ort
,” he said. “Consider this yer wedding gift from the Campbells.”

“Aye. I will. Thank ye, George.”

The men turned west, back the way they’d come, with George Gerdens-Daily bringing up the rear. In a few moments they were gone over the crest of the hill. Julia couldn’t stop looking, though, waiting to see if they’d changed their minds, if they would turn back and ride her down and drag her away from her new-found paradise.

Duncan’s arm slid gently across her shoulder. “Ye look rooted to the spot. Do ye regret marrying me, now that we’re finished with that
amadan
?”

She didn’t know what the word meant, but it didn’t sound at all like a compliment. “What did Mr. Gerdens-Daily say to you?”

“He said, ‘congratulations’.” Slowly he turned her to face him, so she could gaze into his light green eyes. The serious determination she’d seen in them a few minutes ago was gone, replaced by a growing amusement and … affection. “Do ye regret it? I can have Father Ross here annul the whole thing, ye know.”

Father Ross cleared his throat. “Actually, the Church has to—”

“What do ye say, Julia? Will ye stay a Lenox? Will ye stay with me and be my wife?” Duncan interrupted, clearly not interested in facts.

She held his gaze for a long minute, a slow smile curving her mouth. “How do you say wife?”


Bean
. And husband is
céile
, if ye were wondering.”

“Then I will stay and be your
bean
, Duncan Lenox, and you will be my
céile
.”

He lifted her in his arms. “Forever?”

Now
this
was a Christmas gift, better than any she would have ever dared imagine. A gift, and even more. There was truly some sort of magic in the Highlands. She’d thought that might be so when she’d seen Duncan emerging, naked, from the lake. Now, as she looked down at his grinning face and his wild black hair, she knew it. “Forever.”

 

 

Read on for an excerpt from Suzanne Enoch’s new book

 

THE DEVIL WEARS KILTS

 

Available December 2013 from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

 

 

“There’s no need to worry on that account; Jane welcomes any excuse to shop.” With a grin, Lady Charlotte Hanover kissed her sister on the nose, then stood.

“I’ve no wish to upend your schedule,” Lady Rowena MacLawry returned in her soft, lilting accent. “It’s poor enough of me to arrive on your doorstep with nary a warning.”

“Nonsense.” Lady Jane Hanover gripped her friend’s hand. “I’ve been inviting you to visit for what seems like years. Your mother and my mother were practically sisters. Weren’t you, Mama?”

“Yes, we were.” Elizabeth Hanover, the Countess of Hest, nodded. “And I’m so pleased you began corresponding with Jane. You do look so like Eleanor, you know.” She sighed, offering a soft smile. “You’re welcome here, my dear, for as long as you care to stay. And of course I’ll sponsor your Season. It’s only fitting that you and Jane debut together.”

Jane clapped her hands together. “You see? You should have come down ages ago, Winnie.”

“Oh, I wanted to, believe you me. It’s only Ran who dug in his heels about it. He thinks every Englishman is…” She trailed off, clearing her throat. “Well, he’s very narrow-minded when it comes to London.”

She flipped a hand, laughing, but to Charlotte’s gaze young Lady Rowena didn’t look entirely at ease. Of course she was fairly certain she wouldn’t be, either, if she’d traveled alone with no one but her maid through half of Scotland and nearly the entire length of England. Clearly Winnie had badly wanted a London Season.

For an overprotective brother, this Ranulf MacLawry had failed in rather spectacular fashion. A young lady who’d never left her own shire had no business navigating England alone. Or of traveling in a mail coach. Charlotte had half a mind to write Lord Glengask and tell him precisely that. Surely no one could be so ignorant as to think it unnecessary even to send a letter to precede his sister to ensure that someone would be home to greet her and to take her in for the Season. It was … it was unconscionable, even for someone ignorant of English custom. Surely he could read a newspaper, after all. And he must have a modicum of common sense.

She exchanged a glance with her father, who lifted an eyebrow before returning to the conversation. Jonathan Hanover, the Earl of Hest, was not a fan of chaos or upheaval of any kind, but he did dote on Jane and her to excess. Of course Lady Rowena would be welcomed into the house, and she would never see so much as a hint from him or anyone else that he would rather the family didn’t have live-in company for the Season.

Longfellow the butler and two footmen arrived with cold sandwiches and tea for them; it was far past dinner, and evidently Mrs. Broomly had gone from the kitchen to spend the night with her very pregnant daughter near Tottenham Court. As the servants set out plates, the knocker at the front door rapped.

“I’ll see to it, Longfellow,” Charlotte said, since she was already standing and nearest the hallway door.

BOOK: One Hot Scot
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