The Heart of a Duke (6 page)

“Really?” He kept his tone neutral.

“Really,” she confirmed. “I could not figure out what had her so bothered.” Emily looked at him then. “Until I saw you.” Her gaze strayed to Julia. If he was not watching her, he might have missed her next words, so quiet were they. “I do not know why you decided to return home or how long you intend to stay, but your arrival is opportune, for my sister could use a distraction. And”—her eyes lifted to his, a teasing spark in them—“it would not hurt for her to be pink-cheeked and flustered as well.”

Surprised, he raised a brow. Soon thereafter, he was too busy thanking his change in fortunes to ponder Emily’s enigmatic comment. Jonathan and Lord Taunton had departed to observe an archery competition, and Emily’s commitment to judge a flower show had her making her excuses as well. In a desperate ploy to escape him, Julia was quick to offer her assistance with the judging.

“I wouldn’t hear of it.” Emily looked rueful. “Mistress Turner has declared your gardening talents both dangerous and deadly—her words, not mine—so I fear she wouldn’t hear of it either. Really, Julia, Father would be most upset if you left Lord Bryant here bereft of an escort so soon after his return home.” Emily’s pitiful look in Daniel’s direction had him biting his tongue to suppress his smile. She cleverly played to her sister’s weaknesses. He would have to remember to guard his.

“Well, I—” Julia stammered.

He needed no further encouragement than Emily’s
what are you waiting for?
look. “Yes, I would be quite lost without Lady Julia’s company. So now that that is settled, I think we should be off before the day is lost.” Or Julia escaped. He caught her arm and, ignoring her tug of resistance, looped it securely through his, clasping his hand over hers and trapping her by his side.

He bowed to Emily, swung Julia around, and ventured forward. As if he had won a coveted prize and he had no intention of losing her.

“What are you doing?” Julia asked, looking pink-cheeked and flustered as she removed her arm from his.

He admired the color on her fair features. “Enjoying the fair, the day, and the company of a beautiful woman.” He tossed a coin to a village girl who braced a basket brimming with floral bouquets against her broad hip. He extracted one and offered it to Julia, inclining his head. “For a fair damsel.”

She hesitated, then grabbed the flowers, frowning when the girl scurried away, her trill of laughter floating behind her. “I cannot fathom why after ten years away, without word or warning, you have decided to return home. But—”

“I wrote. I wrote to Robbie. I would have visited sooner had I known I was missed. Emily said—”

“That is enough.” Seeing curious stares turn their way, she closed her mouth and caught his arm. “Please, come with me. There are matters that need to be settled.”

Surprised, he found himself towed in her wake.

She drew him down an alley separating the jugglers’ tent from one showcasing a fortune-teller. She must be a bit of a bluestocking, for a young lady did not touch, let alone drag, a gentleman anywhere. Another admirable character trait; for after his years in America, he was finding England a bit straightlaced, like a stiff-backed old woman, set in her ways and resistant to change.

She released his arm and faced him. “Please, you have to stop giving me flowers. I am betrothed to your brother. More importantly, I do not know what you and Emily were whispering about earlier, but you need to promise me that you will stay away from her. Emily’s been through too much already, and—”

“You cannot be serious,” he cut her off, a choked laugh escaping him. “I have no designs on Emily.”

Instead of his response placating her, she reeled back as if stricken. “And why not? What is wrong with my sister? She is perfect, gentle and kind. Everyone loves Emily.”

“Just like a woman.” He shook his head. “Condemned both ways. What makes you think I have any designs on your sister? After all, it was you that I kissed. It is you whom I—”

“Please,” she cut him off, casting a furtive glance around the empty alley. Rumbles of laughter carried to them, and an occasional shout rose from a satisfied patron. “Please, let us not bring that up again. I told you, it was a mistake, a minor indiscretion that a gentleman would not keep—”

“I am beginning to think you have never been kissed before.” He crossed his arms, amused.

“Excuse me?” she breathed, the color draining from her face.

“To classify that kiss as minor reveals your ignorance of the matter.” He shrugged. “A peck on the cheek or lips pressed to a gloved hand is minor, but what we did was explosive. Smoldering. It lit—”

“Stop! It may not . . . ah, did you say explosive? Really?” She paused, her annoyance forgotten, replaced by wide-eyed intrigue.

Delighted, he inclined his head toward her and lowered his voice to a husky timbre. “And smoldering. I have never—”

“Enough,” she cried. She had been leaning toward him as well, his soft words reeling her in, but sudden awareness of her actions caused her to straighten like a poker. “If I agree with you that it was . . . well, it was done rather well, you must agree with me that it was dangerous
and
more important, a mistake.” She pressed a hand against her temple. “I cannot believe I am having this conversation with you. It is ridiculous. I do not do ridiculous, am far too old for it.”

Amused and fascinated, he watched her struggle to compose herself.

He preferred her pink-cheeked and flustered.

She drew in a ragged breath. “We cannot discuss this again. Please. It may have been lovely for one moment and done rather well, but . . .” She stopped and started again as if she had lost the thread of her thought. “The point of the matter is, it was a mistake, and one we both need to forget.”

The finality of her words irked him. He did not like being dismissed like the forgotten boy he had once been. “You are absolutely right.” He unfolded his arms and stepped closer, crowding her. She regarded him warily, but held her ground. He caught her upper arms and drew her to him, ignoring the alarm swimming in those luminous blue depths. “We are done talking. I think a demonstration is in order. You see, you keep saying our kiss was a mistake.”

“Yes, it was—”

“My dear Julia.” His eyes roved over her features, admiring the perfect symmetry and soft, flushed skin. “There is something you should know about me.” He cradled her cheek, lowered his head, his mouth inches from hers. “I am a man who likes to correct his mistakes.” When her lips parted in surprise, he captured them in a deep kiss. He kissed her as he had dreamed of doing again since yesterday afternoon.

She tasted better than he remembered, his memory a pale comparison to the reality of holding her warm, supple body flush to his. His arms circled her, one hand sliding up the curve of her back and pressing her closer and still closer, the flowers she held crushed between them.

Desire roared through him as he kissed her deeply, thoroughly. Her lips were full and soft. He tasted honey, apple, and cinnamon, the remnants from a tart she had eaten earlier. The taste was bold and sweet, capturing the essence of her. He delved deeper, his tongue dancing with hers as he drank her in. She was fire and passion, and for one fleeting moment, he could pretend she was his.

He lifted his head and stared into her heavy-lidded, glazed eyes. “You might have been right about yesterday being a mistake. I am glad we corrected it, for this was much better.”

“Excuse me?” Julia moistened her swollen lips and blinked up at him, her expression dazed.

“If you do not agree, we could always try again.” He dropped his eyes to her lips.

“No!” She came alive, shoving him away and swatting at him with the squashed bouquet. Sweeping her gaze around the secluded pathway, she tugged down the waist of her jacket, and held out a hand to hold him at bay. “Don’t! Please Lord Bryant, this has to stop. You are not allowed to kiss me, it is—”

“I know, exciting—”

“And wrong,” she gasped, stumbling back.

He frowned. “I thought we got it right that time. You still disagree? Perhaps we should try again.”

“No!” She planted her hands on his chest, the flowers slapping his chin. “We cannot—” Suddenly she quieted and paled. Breaking away, she glanced around the area. “I . . . I thought I saw someone.”

Too late, the familiar prickle climbed his neck. Immediately alert, he searched the area, but found no one. “Let us continue this in a more public venue.” Catching her arm, he cast another glance around as he escorted her from the secluded path and onto the festival’s busy thoroughfare.

The bustle and cries of vendors and patrons would cover their conversation, but it could not drown out his unease. He cursed his lapse in a vigilance he usually wore like a second skin when in Edmund’s territory. He blamed Julia for distracting him. He had known she was dangerous, now he knew just how much.

“We will not be continuing anything.” She tugged free, her blue eyes flashing, her lips swollen, and her color high.

She looked magnificent.

“This is over.” She drew herself up, and with an unsteady hand, she swiped back the stray curls tumbling over her forehead. “Should you kiss me again, you will have Edmund to deal with. Then you will truly understand the meaning of the word
dangerous.
” She spun on her heel, momentarily stumbled, but righted herself before he could assist her.

She looked just as magnificent from the back.

But she was wrong. He was well versed in danger. When Lakeview Manor had been set ablaze and he nearly lost his life, he had learned the true meaning of it. His brother had also introduced him to dark shades of it years earlier. Daniel would be damned if he let his brother teach it to Julia. He tipped his face to the sky, and blew out a frustrated breath.

He did not think it possible to hate his brother more than he already did.

Kissing Julia a second time taught him otherwise.

T
WO
kisses. Two mistakes. Julia paced a well-worn path in the Aubusson carpet of her room. She did not know what had come over her. Actually, she did, and it was not a
what
but rather a
who
.

The man was bold and reckless. He was as dangerous as the kiss they had shared, or rather
kisses.
But there would be no more. One couldn’t continue kissing one’s fiancé’s twin brother. It just was not done.

She rubbed a hand against her throbbing temple.
Of course
, kissing a man who was not your intended was not done. It was scandalous. Should word of it reach Edmund, she dared not contemplate what other foreboding adjectives could be added to that list. When
disastrous
sprang to mind, she dropped into the chair before her vanity, propped her elbows on its glass surface, and cradled her head in her hands.

She used to be a responsible woman. She was never ridiculous, nor did she drag gentlemen into alleys to take them to task. And she certainly did not exchange kisses with
any
men—her fiancé included.

And why was that?

At the betraying thought, she lifted her head and met her startled reflection in the mirror. Guilt pricked at her, but she refused to back down, for they were fair questions. Why wasn’t Edmund trying to kiss her senseless in empty alleys? Or on secluded paths? Or anywhere? Why wasn’t
he
buying her flowers at the fair? His brother was having no trouble doing so—and doing a very fine job of it, too. She bit her lip, but she was not so cowardly as to deny it in the privacy of her own bedroom.

Daniel had only spoken the truth. Their kiss had been powerful. But what he did not know, could never know, was how deeply it had touched her. It had dug into yearnings she had buried in the deepest corner of her heart. Uncovered tugging aches to feel wanted . . . desired . . . beautiful. To be seen as more than the dutiful daughter, the doting sister, or the mortar that kept her family from crumbling in their grief.

Since her eighteenth birthday, when these stirrings had simmered, she had hoped Edmund would satisfy them once they became betrothed. When Edmund had failed to do so, and Daniel had answered her needs with one scorching kiss, she had responded.

How could she not when he gave her all she had craved for so very long?

She could never forgive him. Not for kissing her, but for not being his brother.

Her vision blurred and she sprang to her feet, renewing her pacing. Her loyalty belonged to Edmund. She was duty bound, and being the daughter of an earl, she was raised to honor her duty. As a duke, so was Edmund. And as such, Edmund was preoccupied with far more lofty matters than dallying with his fiancée, alleviating her doubts, or kissing her senseless. He had numerous estates, thousands of acres, and hundreds of tenants dependent upon him.

More importantly, Edmund needed her. Daniel had not been there to support Edmund when he had gained his title and the weight of its responsibilities, but she would be. She knew about holding a family together
and
running an estate. Daniel might have stoked long-buried feelings, but there was no reason to believe she wouldn’t respond similarly to overtures from Edmund.

Her heart lightened, and she tapped her brush against her palm as she pondered how to proceed.

There could be no more transgressions with Daniel. She was not too concerned over the matter, for he would soon return to America, and the vast breadth of the Atlantic Ocean created a formidable barrier between them. Until then, she would erect her own defenses and do so quickly, for at her father’s invitation, Lord Bryant was due to join them for supper that evening.

Daniel trespassed on
her
grounds now, and he wouldn’t dare behave with impropriety before her father.

Or would he?

For goodness’ sake, Lord Bryant was to be her future brother-in-law. As such, she would treat him with courtesy and respect. In return, she expected him to treat her with equal civility.

To bolster her confidence, she would wear her high-waisted Empire gown, the sapphire blue one that highlighted her eyes. Belgian lace circled the puffed sleeves and the daring décolletage, while an embroidery of scattered leaves lined its hem. Emily had said it set off her figure beautifully. She usually dismissed her sister’s compliments, but tonight she hoped she spoke true. She needed to be firm in her resolution and not falter when Lord Bryant’s eyes dipped to her mouth . . . or hers to his.

F
OR THE TEMPERATE
September evening, the French doors to the upstairs drawing room had been thrown open to allow a breeze to whistle inside. Distant cries lured Julia onto the balcony. She crossed to the balustrade, her gaze drifting over the stretch of pristine back lawns, her brother’s squeals piercing the air.

Her lips parted at the sight meeting her. Jonathan dangled precariously over Daniel’s shoulders, his legs kicking, his fists pounding Daniel’s back. His protests were interspersed with high-pitched yelps of delight as Daniel dipped and twirled the wildcat he carried like a sack of seed over his shoulder.

Daniel’s state of dress—or rather undress—kept Julia frozen in place, as riveted to the sight before her as she had been to the foreign exhibits at the fair.

He had discarded his hat and jacket, and his dark waistcoat stretched taut over his lean torso. The sleeves of his white linen shirt had been rolled back, leaving his muscular forearms brazenly bare. Beguiled, Julia’s gaze was glued to the teasing display of naked skin, and she swallowed.

“Jonathan could use a big brother, being coddled and cosseted by the two of us.”

Julia snapped her mouth closed as Emily joined her. Her sister’s comment gave her pause. Edmund would be Jonathan’s brother,
not
Daniel. But she could not fathom her haughty duke with one gleaming button undone, let alone wildly frolicking with her brother. Or perching him on his shoulders as Daniel had done earlier at the fair.

Truth be told, Edmund bowed politely in Jonathan’s direction and gave him a proper how-do-you-do. He then sought out Jonathan’s nurse, as if greeting her brother was another duty to be dispensed with and the boy summarily dismissed.

“Few men interact well with children, Julia,” Emily said softly. “I am sure it’s different when it comes to their own.”

Disconcerted at her sister’s astute reading of her thoughts, Julia summoned a brave face and forced conviction into her tone. “Of course. I am sure Edmund will make a wonderful father.”

“Mmh,” Emily said.

Julia worried over her sister’s noncommittal response, but another cry from Jonathan returned her attention to the scene below. A breeze combed through Daniel’s dark hair, and as if it carried her scent, his head lifted and those compelling green eyes caught hers. As their gazes locked, he flashed her a white-toothed smile.

His gaze roamed over the blue ribbon securing her recalcitrant curls into a tight chignon, her bare shoulders, and the décolletage of her bodice. Like a ray of sun, his bold, admiring perusal warmed where it touched.

His smile abruptly vanished and he grunted, doubling over. With his guard down, Jonathan’s foot had managed to connect with Daniel’s gut. Recovering, Daniel caught Jonathan in time to slow his snakelike slither down Daniel’s lean body and smooth the boy’s landing on the ground.

The spell broken, Julia stepped back and savored the breeze that cooled her body.

Emily’s laughter trilled, and she curled her arm through Julia’s. “Shall we rescue our guest before Jonathan inflicts serious damage?”

She allowed Emily to draw her inside as a voice piped up in the back recesses of her mind.

And who would protect them from their guest?

“H
E IS AN
American sailor,” Jonathan explained over a mouthful of succulent duck as he bounced up and down in his seat. “My ship captured him to help us fight Napoleon. He is my prisoner now.”

“I see. While I am impressed by your exploits, I cannot say the same in regard to your display of table manners, or lack thereof,” the Earl of Taunton said dryly, addressing his son. “Manners dictate one finishes chewing their food before speaking
and
refrains from fidgeting at the table.”

Chastised, Jonathan slumped in his seat and regarded his father balefully. He dropped his fork with a clatter onto the fine Limoges china, the earl’s crest gracing the top rim of the plate. “Done! Can I take my prisoner to walk the plank now?”

Her father eyed Jonathan’s discarded fork and sighed. “It appears we have more work to do before you are ready to join the adult table. Your prisoner is our guest for the remainder of the meal, so plank walking will have to commence at a later date. You are excused, but next time
ask
.” He waved his hand dismissively. “See to your ship in the kitchen.”

“But you’re eating with the enemy!” Jonathan protested.

Julia had to agree with her brother as she observed Daniel glower at him in a mock threat, which Jonathan met with a ferocious scowl of his own.

They had settled in the family rooms, their intimate party too small for the cavernous formal dining area. Julia was stationed at the head of the table opposite her father, Daniel to her right, and Emily across from him. Jacket securely in place, snow-white cravat neatly tied, tousled hair tamed, Daniel was the portrait of a proper English gentleman. But like her brother, Julia knew what dangers simmered beneath his handsome, well-groomed façade.

“I think we can brave his company for the remainder of the evening. That will be all, Jonathan.”

Jonathan sighed dramatically as he slid from his seat, snatched his napkin from his neck and stomped from the room, muttering under his breath. “As the captain, I should be giving the orders.”

“Yes, well, if our Navy had refrained from conscripting, or rather, impressing American sailors in the first place, it might have saved us the expenses of what our foreign minister called that
millstone of an American war
,” her father grumbled. “Waste of men and money with nary a thing to show for it.”

“Actually, the Navy’s poor compensation to their sailors planted the real seeds of the war,” Daniel corrected. “Bad business practices.”

“Bad business?” Her father furrowed his brow.

“The Navy first began seizing American merchant ships to recapture their own sailors who had fled by the thousands to the American vessels because they paid twice the amount in wages as the Royal Navy. You cannot blame the poor blokes for deserting in droves. The Royal Navy should have increased the sailors’ pay, but with resources stretched to cover two wars, they were unable to do so.” Daniel shrugged. “Inadequate wages breeds disgruntled workers, which leads to mutiny, or in this case, desertion.”

“Hmph, good point,” her father conceded.

“Is the war the reason you were unable to return home, Lord Bryant?” Emily asked, and Julia’s interest perked at the question. She noted Daniel’s slight hesitation before he responded.

“Partially. I left in 1810, and as the Royal Navy had blockaded all of America’s eastern ports by 1814, a return trip would have proved difficult. That being said, the blockade proved a fortuitous boon for my company, so I am grateful to it despite its inconvenience.” Giving a rueful smile, he lifted his glass and took a sip of his claret.