The Scottish Duke Page 28

  One of these days she would get used to being called “Your Grace,” especially by people she used to work with, but she wasn’t comfortable with it now. Yet she knew if she asked Peter not to call her that, he would balk, turn red, and stammer.

  The problem was hers, not his.

  She stood and walked toward him, taking the envelope from the silver tray he extended.

  “And I’d like to thank you, too, Your Grace.”

  “What for?”

  Peter smiled brightly. “I’m to be apprenticed to Mr. Stanton. He says that he has lots of work for me and I’m to learn the trade.”

  She knew Stanton. The carpenter was employed at Blackhall, lately working on the restoration of the Great Hall.

  “It’s because of the duke’s recommendation, Your Grace, but he’d never have known about my work unless you pointed it out to him.”

  “No, it’s because your work is beautiful. But is this something you want, Peter?”

  He nodded emphatically, his blond hair flopping on his brow. “Yes, ma’am. The duke says I have a lot of talent that shouldn’t go to waste. I’m to start next Monday.”

  “Then I’m glad for you,” she said.

  “It’s more money than a footman pays, Your Grace. I’d have enough to put by for the future.”

  “A wise decision. Perhaps you’ll be able to take a wife shortly,” she added with a smile.

  She hadn’t missed the relationship that had grown between Nan and Peter, although neither of them spoke of it.

  “Do go and tell Nan,” she said.

  His smile was sudden and shy, making her want to hug him.

  “Is she feeling better, Your Grace?”

  “She is. She’s able to sit up and eat something and is already planning her escape. I know she’d be pleased to see you.”

  He nodded again, causing that one lock of hair to acquire a life of its own. She watched as he left the sitting room and walked a short distance across the hall, where he placed the salver on a table. He stood in front of the room Nan was currently occupying and slicked his hair back with one hand before examining his jacket, trousers, and shoes.

  Smiling, Lorna closed the door and opened the letter.

  Once she read the contents, she moved to one of the wing chairs in front of the hearth, sat down and stared for a moment at the cold fireplace. Evidently, Peter had not been the only one to benefit from Alex’s interest.

  Your Grace, the letter began, we would be excited to publish your late father’s definitive work on Scottish herbs and flowering medicinal plants. There was more, about dates and times that might be convenient to discuss further plans, compliments about her drawings, and praise for her father’s knowledge.

  Her heart felt as if it had expanded to fill all the empty spaces since her father’s death.

  She hadn’t missed his book. When had Alex taken it to a publisher? When he’d been in Edinburgh? He hadn’t said anything, but then he wouldn’t, would he? Alex did things without fanfare or the need for recognition. He simply moved mountains or made cottages available or banished troublesome relatives.

  She pressed the letter against her bodice with both hands and bowed her head.

  Please, don’t let it be just something I want to see. Please let him love me, too.

  The Reverend George McGill would say that she had no right to pray, that God would be sickened by her implorations, sinner that she was. But while the Reverend George McGill might be sanctioned by the Church of Scotland, the man did not have a charitable thought in his mind. Even officiating at her wedding hadn’t softened his heart.

  She glanced over at the door as it opened, glancing away when Alex entered the room. She was on the verge of tears and that was hardly the reaction he deserved.

  “Lorna? Is everything all right?”

  She nodded wordlessly, trying to compose herself. When he crossed the room to her side, she handed the letter to him.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for this.”

  He lifted his eyes from the letter and smiled, revealing both dimples.

  “It’s a beautiful book, Lorna, and deserves to be published.”

  “It wouldn’t be but for your involvement.”

  “I don’t believe that,” he said, taking the adjacent chair. “I think it would have eventually found a home.”

  “Not as quickly without the support of the Duke of Kinross,” she said. “Thank you, Alex, it was a wonderful gesture.”

  He placed the letter on the table, reached out, and took her hand.

  “I find that I want to do a great many things for you, Lorna. I think we should have an apothecary here at Blackhall. You could keep your herbs there and make up your potions.”

  “Neither potions nor cures,” she said with a smile. “Just aids in healing. That’s all.”

  “Then aids in healing,” he said, studying her hand.

  “You would do that?”

  He nodded. “And anything else you’d want.” He examined her fingers with great intensity. “I’m not used to being uncertain,” he said, surprising her. “And I am around you. It’s disconcerting.”

  “Why do I make you feel uncertain?”

  “Damned if I know,” he said, then apologized for his language. “See? I don’t normally swear.”

  He smiled, a curious self-deprecating expression. “I had you judged as one thing, but you weren’t that at all. Instead, you’re a devoted mother, a loyal friend, a healer, and an artist. You tell me about things I’ve never known in my own home. I’ve even started looking at the world differently. I see something growing beside the road and wonder if it has healing properties. I hear someone complain about their arthritis and think that your balm would help them.”

  “Is that why you stayed away so long?” she asked softly. “Because you don’t like feeling uncertain?”

  He looked at her, his gaze intent.

  “No,” he said. “I stayed away because you scared me, Lorna. I didn’t want to feel so much for anyone, let alone someone who confused and constantly surprised me.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at him. Happiness bubbled up inside her, crowding out every other emotion.

  Pulling her hand free, she stood and moved in front of him. Thank heavens she was only wearing her at-home petticoats. She removed them easily and kicked them out of the way.

  “What are you doing?” Alex asked, but she noted that there was a twinkle in his beautiful eyes.

  “Just testing a theory,” she said, crawling into his chair.

  She placed a knee on either side of his legs, pulled her skirts up so the material wasn’t trapped beneath her, and sat.

  “What theory would that be?” His mouth quirked in a half smile.

  Raising up on her knees again, she brushed the backs of her hands against his cheeks, feeling the stubble against her knuckles.

  “If you were as sensitive to my touch as I am to yours.”

  “You could ask me,” he said.

  “That’s true. But it’s so much better to test a theory, don’t you think? You’re a proponent of the scientific method, I believe.”

  She placed her lips gently against his, but pulled back when he would have deepened the kiss.

  Placing her cheek against his, she kissed his earlobe, then explored the curve of his ear with her tongue.

  “Lorna.”

  “Umm,” she said, dipping to place a kiss against the side of his neck.

  The pulse there was beating furiously.

  She smiled.

  “Do you have your answer yet?”

  “No,” she said, bending forward to begin to unfasten his shirt. “You’re always so perfectly attired. Are you going to hire someone to replace Matthews?”

  “Must we talk of valets?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, brushing a kiss on each eyebrow. “We mustn’t. Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to kiss your eyelids.”

  “Why?” h
e asked.

  “I want to kiss every part of you.”

  “Lorna.”

  “Umm. Close your eyes.”

  He finally did, and she placed a gentle kiss on each eyelid, then his nose. She hovered over his mouth for a moment before resting her lips against his.

  His hand at the back of her head meant she couldn’t escape this time. Not that she truly wanted to, not when his talented tongue began to dance with hers.

  What was there about a kiss that seemed tied to the core of her? When he kissed her, she felt it deep inside, as if her body awakened with a jolt.

  Her fingers slid through his hair to his neck.

  She’d never felt so alive as when she was kissing Alex. Or looking at him. Or being around him.

  She had never thought that anyone could ever matter as much as her child, but he did.

  Her body was heating from the inside out. She moved closer, wanting to touch him everywhere.

  His fingers were unbuttoning the buttons of her dress.

  She pulled back to help him.

  “Is this a new dress?” he asked, intent on his task.

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to discuss her clothes at the moment, especially when she was desperate to remove them.

  “Very well,” he said, his voice harsh. “I won’t rip it off you.”

  She wanted to be naked in his arms. Take her here or on the floor, on the settee or wherever he wanted.

  Because she was still nursing Robbie, her corset had been adapted, cut low. The lace-trimmed shift was new, something Hortense had cleverly devised to allow her freedom. Slipping the two buttons loose from their loop revealed both breasts.

  Her areolas were large and dark, the nipples erect and hard. Alex used both hands to stroke her soft skin, one breast at a time. She raised up and he touched one nipple with the tip of his tongue. She closed her eyes at the sensation, pressing both hands against the back of his head.

  A shudder escaped her when he slid one hand beneath her skirts, slipping into the split of her pantaloons and cupping her.

  Had they locked the door? Shouldn’t she care more about their privacy? If someone walked in he’d be shocked, but that would be his fault.

  Desire swirled through her, heating every inch of her skin. Alex moved his fingers, her slickness easing his path. She could feel the pulsing inside her as her body readied for him, needed him.

  “Do you want me?” he asked against her mouth.

  How could he ask that?

  “Yes,” she said, the word pushed out from between lips that felt swollen.

  His finger stroked her with a slow intimacy. Anticipation made her tremble. Her breath halted then began again as if she had forgotten how to breathe. Instead, every sense was concentrated on what his hands were doing.

  “Kiss me, Lorna.” She could feel his smile and gently bit his bottom lip.

  Need shuddered through her along with anticipation. What would he say next? What would he do? Where would he touch her? Would he allow her to reach down and unfasten his trousers?

  She matched his smile as she did exactly that, freeing him to fill her hand. She’d never contemplated doing what she was doing, never thought to mount him while sitting on a chair.

  “Lorna?” He pulled back. “It would be more comfortable in our bed.”

  “No,” she said. “Here. Now. Besides, we might wake Robbie.” She reached down and held him, stroking her fingers over his length.

  “Do you want me?” she asked, daring herself.

  He smiled, his lips curving, deepening his dimples, adding a sparkle to his beautiful blue-green eyes.

  Instead of answering her, he pulled her down for another kiss, all the while sliding his hands below her skirt. She heard her pantaloons rip and didn’t care. His palms cupped her buttocks, lifted her up.

  She lowered herself over him as he guided himself into her.

  His lips skimmed along her jaw as he murmured her name. She held herself still, savoring each sensation as he slid inside, hard and hot. Lightning tingled through her body. Liquid fire followed in its wake as he stroked her breasts with his fingers.

  She lowered her head against his shoulder, her lips against his neck, her teeth gently grazing his skin. Her hands lay weakly against the arms of the chair. He moved his hands to her waist, lifted her slightly, then lowered her onto him once again.

  The slow invasion was gentle, tender, and devastating.

  Reaching up, she wound her arms around his neck, placed her mouth on his and held on.

  Her breathing was fast and shallow; her heart was thundering. Her thoughts were centered only on him.

  Pleasure surged through her, stealing her breath, curling her toes and fingers. The sudden climax caught her by surprise, the contractions beginning in her core and spreading outward like waves on a beach.

  She needed it to stop for a moment so she could get her breath, but she never wanted the sensations to end. Her body mastered her mind. She couldn’t help the long moan that slipped from her lips or the shiver that shook her frame. Her knees clamped against his hips as she was lost in ecstasy.

  Chapter 32

  “It’s always the same,” she said weakly. “I always lose my mind around you. Is that normal?”

  He patted her back with one hand, the other still below her skirts.

  “Nothing about our relationship has been normal from the beginning,” he said.

  “Is that a bad thing?” she asked, watching him.

  His eyes were closed, but a smile was curving his mouth.

  “It is the very best thing,” he said.

  Love surged through her.

  She would always remember this afternoon. Nor would she ever be able to look at this chair without blushing. At the very least, she’d smile. She couldn’t help but wonder if the other furniture at Blackhall Castle had a similar history.

  Moving first one leg then the other, she stood, fiddled with her skirt before adjusting the shift and buttoning her bodice.

  “I’m surprised we weren’t interrupted,” she said.

  “Our son has a great deal of tact. A trait he’s probably picked up from his grandmother.”

  She glanced over to find him smiling at her and for a moment her heart stopped. He was handsome and irresistibly charming. Perhaps she should make a love potion of sorts for herself. Something that would render her a little less susceptible to his appeal. No, it was an eon too late for that, wasn’t it?

  “I’ll go and check on him,” she said.

  “I’ll get him.”

  He stood and was presentable in only seconds, while it still took her a few minutes to adjust her clothing.

  She finally entered the bedroom to find the cradle empty and Alex leaving the dressing room by the door to the corridor.

  “Alex?”

  He wasn’t holding Robbie.

  “Alex? Where is Robbie?”

  “With my mother, I think.”

  They exchanged a glance. Did he share her sudden embarrassment? Had Louise come to get the baby and peeked into the sitting room? Dear God, she’d never be able to face the woman again.

  Louise was sitting in the family parlor, reading. Every time she saw her mother-in-law, Lorna thought she appeared much younger than her age.

  Louise glanced up at their entrance and put aside her book.

  “Is Robbie with you?” Alex asked before Lorna could speak.

  “Why, no.”

  “Nan,” Lorna said, turning and racing from the room. Nan might have come to get the baby and not wanted to disturb them.

  When she entered the room, Peter was sitting with Nan, on the edge of her bed, his bright blond hair once more falling down over his brow.

  “Did you take Robbie?” she asked Nan, panic a growing bubble in her chest.

  Her eyes widened. “No, I wouldn’t, Lorna. Not without talking to you.”

  When Alex entered the room, Lorna turned to look at him.

  “Nan didn’t take him. Your m
other didn’t. Who did?”

  “Mary.” They said the name at the same time.

  Alex left the room. She followed him, racing to catch up.

  A few minutes later they were in Mary’s suite, a lovely set of rooms decorated in peach and a soft blue. When she thought of Mary, it was in harsh reds, blacks, or greens so glaring they made you squint.

  Mary wasn’t in her room, but her maid Barbara was, bent over one of five trunks scattered through the room.

  “Where is she?” Alex asked.

  The woman straightened.

  “I don’t know, Your Grace,” she said, her tone civil but her sideways glance at Lorna leaving no doubt that what she was thinking wasn’t nearly as pleasant.

  Barbara was a brownish gray. Her hair was gray; her skin had a gray tint. Even her eyes were a grayish hazel.

  Lorna had avoided Barbara when she was on staff because of the woman’s sly and vicious tongue. The maid was more than willing to share tales, especially if they ridiculed others.

  She’d always thought the woman cunning, but evidently that cunning didn’t translate to intelligence. Anyone with a scintilla of sense would know she was in danger at the moment.

  Alex’s eyes were as cold as a frozen pond. His lips were thinned, as if they’d never once smiled. He was a statue. The muscle in his cheek didn’t flex as it often did when he was annoyed. He didn’t blink. He merely stood there watching Barbara, his attention directed solely on her.

  Lorna would have been terrified in Barbara’s place.

  Was the woman truly that foolish? Did she think Mary paid her salary? Did Barbara believe she was exempt from being fired on the spot?

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Barbara said, then added, “Your Grace.”

  “Is she still at Blackhall?”

  Dear God, what if she wasn’t? What if she’d left the castle, taking Robbie with her? Lorna couldn’t breathe for the thought.

  “You told her to leave. Maybe she’s saying her good-byes.” This time Barbara didn’t bother trying to pretend any respect.

  Alex folded his arms, his gaze still on her.

  “Get out,” he said, his voice calm. The expression in his eyes would have given Lorna pause, but the foolish maid didn’t see her peril.