Duchess of Mine (11 page)

Further, why of all the idiotic times was it
now she finally felt something for a man?

This was absurd.

Yes, this had to be stopped.

Chapter 9

S
ilence always made Rory feel
uncomfortable, but tonight he’d suffice with it. After all, he had
Fleur on his arm, while Duncan and his mother led the way back to
Mrs. Cameron’s house. It was a rare warm night. The sky was filled
with twinkling white stars against a velvet black. Only a few
torches lit the way. Rory had made sure to stroll slow enough to
gain some distance between himself and Duncan, and he’d thought
about chatting with Lady Fleur, but her delicate hold on his bent
arm, the slight feel of her breast against him, made him appreciate
the solitude he’d created.

“Have you lived in this area all your life?”
Lady Fleur asked, interrupting his hazy thoughts about her body
being so close.

He shook his head. “Just returned from
Edinburgh. I was there for the last six years.”

“Hmm. What for if you don’t mind me
asking?”

Again, he shook his head then looked down at
her. She was so lovely. A huge bulbous, yellow moon helped capture
her appearance—glowing skin, bright dark eyes framed by thick black
wings of lashes, and that adorable wee nose of hers. He wondered
what she would look like in his bed, wrapped tight with pleasure
while he was between her long legs. He smiled and felt his solar
plexus tingle, his groin tighten. Lord, those full pink lips of
hers seemed to beg to be kissed.

“I was there to learn.” His voice sounded
unstable, and he had to clear it. “I don’t ken if ye have something
like it with yer clans, stewarding, but we foster our young nobles
out to other noble families to assist with education and the
like.”

“And the like?”

He laughed, loving her questions. “I learned
to dance and write poetry and all sorts of nonsense.”

She granted him a wide smile, and he felt as
though he’d smashed through a mountain. The power went to his head,
and he found himself chattering away. “I also learned the art of
sieges, tactics—”

“Warfare.”

He nodded. “As much as I learned, Duncan is
truly the master. It’s an honor learning even more from him.”

She squeezed his arm and settled closer. He
marveled at this, because in so doing she’d pressed her breast
against him that much more. Lord, it was hard to think with that
perfect globe against his arm.

She inhaled a bit sharply, bringing his
attention back to her beautiful visage. “Why—why do you need an
army? Now?”

“We’re Highlanders. We always need an
army.”

She giggled at his jest, which he hoped she
would, but she was persistent. “Seriously, with Cromwell in power,
isn’t having an army...threatening to him? To the Parliament?”

Rory glanced down quickly, trying to gauge
her face, looking for any sign that what she’d asked might mean
more than she’d indicated. There were spies everywhere. And if
there weren’t spies, Cromwell’s new policies made it so neighbors
testified against neighbor, kin against kin. It was madness and had
to be stopped. His own father had been executed from the bloody
revolution. The thought pained him, but he pushed it aside as he
always did. In the years after Cromwell had stormed through
Scotland, anarchy, not an English parliament, ruled.

However, his brother was trying to calm the
chaos Cromwell had created. Rory was proud of his brother for
taking the lairdship after their father’s execution. Even prouder
when he’d whispered to him the secret plans to be on the ready for
Cromwell again. The new English sovereign was getting old, and this
parliamentary rule would have to shift eventually. Then the MacKays
would be ready. No plans were in action, other than to be armed and
prepared. With so many Highlander men dead or lost from the war,
they’d had to recruit children—lads of four and ten and older—to
become soldiers, but soon enough the lads would grow into fierce
men. And Rory would be at the helm, leading them back to glory.

Rory patted Lady Fleur’s hand, wrapped around
his arm. “Nothing to worry yer bonny head about.”

She frowned and looked away.

Shite, that had been the wrong thing to say.
Well, of course it had been. He could tell from her roaming dark
eyes, so insightful and intense, that she was highly intelligent.
Placating her by calling her pretty wouldn’t do. He sighed.

“Aye,” he whispered, which made her head
swivel back his direction. “’Tis threatening to build an army in
these times, but being unprepared might kill us all, Lady
Fleur.”

She nodded with a sympathetic glance.

“Besides, we need some sort of law now.
Cromwell’s not here to help with the bedlam that’s ensued since his
reign.”

“The mosstroopers? They help with the bedlam?
What are they, by the way?”

“They used to serve a good purpose, defenders
of the land, but since Cromwell they’ve turned into thieves. And,
aye, they ensure pandemonium persists.”

“And building an army would stop them?”

“Should.” He nodded.

She blinked and looked ahead. Thinking, Rory
was sure. Still, she seemed to cuddle a tad closer, and, again, it
made him feel as if he were the strongest man alive. Lord, he liked
her. Loved her thoughtful questions. And those eyes. God, they were
so dark, so deep with contemplations he wished she’d share with
him.

What might have begun as a juvenile
competition between himself and Duncan, whether the man knew it or
not, had turned into something far more serious in one day’s time.
Lady Fleur was unlike any other woman he’d met, and he wondered
about a future with her. Some of the best men he’d read about in
history had a strong woman beside them, and that woman had been
their best advocate and council.

He knew he was jumping to conclusions with
Lady Fleur, but he couldn’t help himself. She was so...different.
Refreshing. Lovely. Tantalizing.

Mrs. Cameron and Duncan walked through her
front garden gate, and Duncan held it open for Lady Fleur and him
while Mrs. Cameron walked ahead toward her porch and front door.
Duncan stared at the lady as they walked past. Jealousy tore
through Rory’s brain and stomach, making him feel hollow.

“Good night, Ma,” Duncan said as he shut the
garden’s gate.

In the middle of the stone garden path, Rory
turned to Duncan with Fleur still on his arm.

Then Duncan bowed his head slightly. “Good
night, Captain MacKay, Lady Fleur.”

“You’re leaving for the night?” Lady Fleur
asked. Her voice a bit too panicked for Rory’s heart.

Duncan nodded. “Aye.” Then, the too tall man
turned to head around the house.

“But—but I thought you slept here,” the lady
called out, which grated on all of Rory’s nerves, making him take
small breaths.

Duncan turned back, but it was Helen, already
at her front door, opening it for Lady Fleur to step through, who
answered. “He sleeps in the barn. Always has. ‘Sides, I don’t own
any animals any longer to make it smell horrid.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Rory
sensed tension rising from the man. He’d heard the rumors that
Duncan preferred to sleep like a dog rather than a man in a bed,
and it was odd to watch the confirmation. Rory wondered why the
brute would sleep where cows usually would, instead of under the
roof Lady Fleur chose. But no matter the reason. His jealousy
subsided a bit, realizing Duncan would not be near the gorgeous
woman through the night.

“Good night,” Lady Fleur whispered
sweetly.

Duncan nodded his head, glanced at his mother
once more, then strode off into the darkness beside the large stone
house.

Lady Fleur removed her warm hand from Rory’s
arm, and instantly he wished her back.

“Well, I suppose this is good night.”

“Aye.” He could only stammer. Lord, how he
wished it wouldn’t end so early.

“You’ll visit me again?”

He gave the lady a wide smile, feeling his
cheeks grow tight in his enthusiasm. “Aye. I’d like to very much.”
Only then did his manners kick in, and he swooped down to kiss her
hand. “Good night, my lady.”

She giggled softly, and his body instantly
responded by growing tight with the tension that desire can pull.
But when he said good night to Mrs. Cameron that helped moderate
his passions. He didn’t want to seem too eager for the lady, not as
though he was some hound sniffing after her for only one thing.

As he left, after he’d promised to visit the
women on the morrow, he’d made sure to slink around the house and
watched Duncan prepare for bed in the barn. If that hulk of a man
took one step in the house, he’d...Actually, Rory didn’t know what
he’d do. Duncan had proven he was not only a knowledgeable warrior,
but faster and more powerful than Rory. That was why, in the last
two weeks, he had woken earlier than any other to train, so he
could beat the famed Duncan. Not in a literal sense of beating.
Nay, he’d never thought of attacking him.

Until now.

If Duncan touched the lady, Rory would make
sure the man would rue the day.

Chapter 10

D
uncan hadn’t slept so restlessly
since his first battle. He’d tossed and turned in his straw bed.
Oddly, his anxiety was similar to pre-combat jitters. He’d worried
the whole night through that he wouldn’t do enough, would be too
scared, wouldn’t do the right thing. When dawn arrived he finally
admitted to himself whom he was nervous about. Fleur had left her
mark on him as sure as if he’d fought against her. Actually, it had
been his heart that had done all the fighting. Nonetheless, he knew
she had been the winner.

He’d come a cropper.

Why, though, would he want a woman who wanted
another man? A much younger, titled, probably richer man? It had
nearly killed him seeing Fleur with Rory last night. All his
jealous tendencies had flared, making him want to punch Rory in the
too perfect nose. He hated the way Rory had looked at Fleur, his
desire obvious.

As much as Duncan was dubious about working
for the laird’s younger brother, he’d come to find that Rory was
intelligent, sometimes funny, and usually considerate, especially
regarding the green troops. That was a real asset to have in a
leader, a man who treated his subordinates well. Rory would make an
excellent captain one day soon.

It was clear he’d taken a fancy to Fleur too.
Well, what man in his right mind wouldn’t? She was only the most
beautiful woman any man had ever run across. Although, he might be
biased, since beauty was supposedly subjective. Still, she was
lovely with her long black hair, dark intriguing eyes, and those
full lips that made him want to press his own against hers. Made
him think of being close to her, of listening to her talk about
anything she pleased.

Hell, he didn’t even know the woman, and he
surely didn’t understand why he’d taken to her so quickly. Mayhap
he should get to know her. Perhaps she was snobbish, too silly, or
superficial. Further, she believed she’d come from another time,
which might mean she was insane, at the least. But he kept hoping
she’d merely gotten hit on the head and couldn’t remember why she
was truly here. Such a God-awful thing to hope for.

He rolled out of his bed, shaking himself
free from the straw, although none was on him. His mother had given
him many a quilt and plaid to lie with, to keep him warm and free
from the straw poking at him. He’d kept a bucket full of water to
wash in, and did so letting the too cold water both soothe and
invigorate his tense body. Yesterday’s run should have worn any
stress out, but he woke feeling restless and...well, randy. Jesus,
Mary, and Joseph, this was a fine mess, and making it worse he
suddenly realized that when Fleur had been close to Rory, Duncan
couldn’t recall her once looking at the laird’s younger brother
with anything much other than polite curiosity. Duncan couldn’t
help but wonder if she might...

Just as he was finishing brushing his teeth,
he heard a quiet slap of a door being shut. Glancing through one of
the windows in the barn, he saw Fleur, dressed in, what he could
only guess was, one of his mother’s old black kirtles, and flying
away at a quick gait. The sight of her in a dress...Lord, the image
went straight to his cock. Yesterday, he’d enjoyed the view of her
legs, something he’d rarely seen amongst women. However, he could
only imagine her upper torso under that too-large black coat of
hers. Until now, that was. She wore a white shift tucked into that
boned kirtle, enhancing her breasts, forcing her décolleté to be
seen. Suddenly, she stopped, twirled around, and ran back into the
house. In a second she returned with one of his black coats wrapped
around her thin shoulders, making her look so tiny with it reaching
almost down to her knees. He liked her wearing his coat. He liked
it a lot.

Then she took off, jogging, toward the east
and back to Cave Smoo, he guessed. Without thinking, Duncan rushed
out of the barn and after her, thanking God he’d had the foresight
to put on his boots and even to have them laced. He decided
reconnaissance would be for the best—to follow her, mayhap not
approach, but to merely see what she was about.

And that wasn’t perverted at all.

Lord.

As he reconsidered his plan, to let her know
he was following her, she hiked her skirts a little and began to
run faster. A lot faster. It was hard to keep up with her actually.
He admired her for running as fast as she could in thick skirts she
held with firm fists at her sides. Before long he was puffing and
beginning to sweat, then she sprinted toward the Geodha Smoo, and
he realized they’d gone farther faster than he would have
thought.