Lord Love a Duke (33 page)

Juliet tried to ease Jonas
back into a prone position but he would have none of it. He
gathered her into his arms, pulling her across his lap. “You.
Love.
Me
!” he triumphed before he
settled his mouth across hers.

“It worked, it worked! I knew it would
work!” a gleeful voice bragged near the couple. They broke their
kiss to look at an obviously disguised Miranda still holding the
dueling pistols in her hands. Suddenly recollecting her appearance
and location, Miranda began to back away. “Pay me no heed. I am not
here. Pray continue on with your love making” she choked out before
turning and running back for the house, nearly knocking down
several of the arriving staff.

“Your Grace?” questioned the head gardener
with a peculiar look of worry mixed with embarrassment coloring his
face. Juliet scrambled off the Duke's lap and averted her face to
hide the crimson blush staining her cheeks.

“All is well, Jones, just a small accident
with the berries,” he offered, indicating the sticky red stain on
his shirt. “You may return to your work. We will clean up
here.”

“But, the gunshots– “

“Merely a poorly-timed and ill-planned trick
of my sister. I will address it later.” Jonas waited for the man
and his helpers to retrace their steps toward the house. “It will
take further investigation to understand the particulars, but I
believe we can firmly say my hare-brained sister tried to shoot us
this morning.”

Juliet spun her face back to his, a dawning
look of understanding crossing her visage. “She told me Melville
was still about. Obviously I was meant to act exactly as I have,
thinking that reprobate had returned to shoot you.” She looked over
the Duke's ruined shirt and the crushed basket and berries. “I owe
you an apology for all this.”

Jonas grinned and reached out to grab her
wrist. “Miranda owes us both an apology, but I find I am strangely
inclined to forgive her this folly. Make no further effort to
prevaricate, my lady. I heard your oath. I have succeeded and we
will wed.” His grin widened as he tugged her back to his lap.

“You are mistaken. You have won nothing.
This--” she gestured wildly, the sweep of her hands encompassing
the berry and basket mess, his dishevelment, and her perch on his
lap. “This changes nothing.”

He grabbed her arms and
quieted her. “It is y
ou
who are
mistaken, sweetheart. One thing above all has changed: you and I
are most thoroughly, unalterably, and irrevocably in love,” he
pronounced before claiming her mouth in a searing kiss.

Juliet's mind was a maelstrom of swirling
thoughts of love, duty, marriage, and being shot at by her best
friend, but rising to the top was the feeling of all-consuming
pleasure from the Duke's possessive kiss. She forced her mind to
the situation at hand and tore her mouth from his.

“We should not – that is, we should think of
where we are. Any-anyone could see,” she stammered, the connection
between her mind and tongue having dissolved, making coherent
thought an impossibility.

“We can and we will. This is our house, our
land. We may do as we please and damn who sees,” he swore before
dipping his head again. Juliet surrendered to the onslaught, their
lips parting, tongues twining. She finally mastered the mechanics
of simultaneous kissing and breathing and took in a long breath,
smelling earth, man, and . . . strawberries? She pulled back from
the Duke and ran a hand down the red stain on his waistcoat and
shirt.

“How is it that you are not shot? What is
this?” She leaned down to smell his chest. “You are soaked in
strawberries! I thought you shot!” She pushed Jonas away and
struggled to gather her skirts and stand but was stopped by his
large hands on her wrists. He pulled her back down and her legs
fell astride his. His pulse leapt in response to her provocative
position but he focused on the words he must speak.

“The basket and berries were crushed when
you dived on me and my head slammed to the earth. I was temporarily
rattled but none the worse for your rescue. Were those gunshots
aimed to harm you would have saved my life.” He put a finger to her
lips as she opened her mouth to argue. “No words yet, my lady, if
you please. I know your character well. You would now declare to
have moved thus to aid anyone in harm's way. But it was me, and you
worried, and you were frantic, and you,” he swallowed convulsively,
nervously. “And you said you loved me, Juliet.” His statement
sounded half fact and half question. “Please, please let it be
true,” he pleaded in earnest.

Juliet watched him struggle with his
thoughts, words, and emotions, and felt the same conflict raging
within herself. She wanted to be forthright and brave and tell him
her feelings and concerns, but the idea of baring all her most
private cares filled her with a fear that was nearly
paralyzing.

Jonas could not stand the silence and his
compulsion to fill the void led to more confession from his heart.
“My greatest fear in holding this house party was not what Miranda
might do, but how I was to survive a fortnight under the same room
as you. You are a thief, Juliet – you stole my heart – and I have
been continually at your mercy, your hopeful victim.” He paused to
grab her hand and bring it to his chest. “I beg you put me at ease,
sweetheart. I love you, have probably loved you for years, and I
cannot keep the declaration inside any longer. And I find that I
have never wanted anything in this world so much as to have your
love.”

“Oh, Jonas!” Juliet cried, wrapping her arms
around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. “I swore I would
never give up my freedom, never be mere chattel to a man. It was
worth the price I would pay with loneliness and solitude to never
be a burden or just a duty to a man. Please tell me opening myself
up to love will not hurt. Please tell me I will have no
regrets.”

Jonas' strong arms wrapped tightly around
her, his hand stroking up and down her back in a soothing manner.
“Would that I could promise you the world, Juliet, but I cannot.
Simply living leaves us open to hurts. Life is full of trials,
sometimes daily. But I would not trade one difficulty, one tragedy,
if the price were never holding you again, never sharing life with
you.” He raised her from his chest so he could look deeply into her
eyes. “Do not ask it of me, Juliet. I love you so much my heart
aches – physically aches – at the thought of living without you. I
will do everything in my power to keep you safe, secure, and free
from hurt. And I can make one promise quite easily to you: I will
never, ever cease loving you.”

Juliet returned his stare
and saw the truth and intensity of his words. His eyes glittered
with the sincerity and ferocity of his promise. A sense of security
and contentment settled over her and her eyes widened in surprise.
She
trusted
this man. His every
intention toward her was good and honorable. He had not taken
advantage of any situation nor tried to change her in any way.
Their personalities complemented each other well, and his quiet and
taciturn nature hid his wry wit and devilish sense of humor. From
the first, after that ill-fated night, he had spoken of honor and
duty but also of want, desire, and choice. He wanted to marry her.
He desired to share a life with her. He chose her.

Jonas watched the emotions wend their way
around her mind and across her face. He saw the battle wage between
her heart and mind, and her growing smile caused hope to rise in
his chest. He searched her gaze and finally saw love shining in the
glittering depths of her eyes. She was his! He cupped her face in
his hands, brushing a light kiss across her lips before drawing
back to fix her with a stare full of unbridled love and
devotion.

“Lady Juliet Quinn,” he began with a slight
tremor in his voice. “Would you do me the honor of consenting to
become my wife?”

Juliet's smiled widened and her eyes
sparkled with sudden mirth. “I thought you'd never ask,” she
replied, leaning in to kiss him with all the love she let flow
freely from her heart.

The scene that unfolded in the fields had
held promise when the gentleman in the woods thought the Duke had,
indeed, been shot. A scornful sneer spread across the onlooker's
face as he watched the Duke get pushed to the ground and heard the
fear in Lady Juliet's voice as she called for help. He
unconsciously cracked his knuckles as he began formulating a new
plan to work his way back into the house party. His thoughts had
barely gathered coherence when a small lad in baggy clothes and hat
dashed toward the downed Duke from another area of the copse. He
had to strain to listen but the movements he witnessed were clear:
the Duke was not injured and was, in fact, kissing Lady Juliet
quite thoroughly.

Viscount Melville slipped quietly from his
hiding place and stalked back to the hunting cabin nestled between
the Leighton and Quinn properties. The rustic but functional
cottage had served his purposes well. Before fleeing Edgecliff
after his altercation with Lady Juliet, he had prevailed upon his
friend, George Burke, to meet him on the beach in two days. Dear
George had been most helpful, bringing a sack of purloined
foodstuffs of cheese, bread, some biscuits, a fine bottle of
claret, and even a meat pie. He also told the Viscount of the
location of the hunting cabin that had served as his shelter these
past several days.

Melville stewed in his own thoughts,
alternating between fury over the failure of his plans to work in
his favor, the obvious health of the gentleman he had just assumed
shot, and the fact that his sister was seemingly embraced by the
family while he was now held in contempt. Daylight faded into
darkness and he realized he must bring his sister back into
cooperation with his plans. Throwing on his darkest jacket, he left
the cabin for Edgecliff.

It was relatively easy to sneak into the
huge estate; he had known the staff would be busy fulfilling the
desires of the family and guests, so his trek up the servants'
stairs to his sister's chamber went completely unnoticed. There he
waited patiently, quite magnanimously, he thought, for the
retirement of the sibling he now considered a traitor. He held no
love for the girl prior to this fiasco, so he felt no remorse in
placing the blame for his current situation entirely upon her
shoulders.

The door opened soundlessly and light
shallowly spilled into the room from the brace of candles his
sister carried. She closed the door, setting the trio of candles on
the table beside her bed. She heard not a sound as her brother
moved across the room to confront her. She realized she was not
alone only after a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm wrapped
tightly around her neck.

“Make no sound, dearest sister, or I will
snap your worthless neck,” Melville whispered maliciously. “Your
unwillingness to help me the entire time at this house party has
put me out of charity with you.” Lady Margaret swallowed, holding
her body rigidly still save for her nod of acquiescence. “The hand
over your mouth goes, but the arm around your neck stays, until I
am sure of your completely cooperation.”

He did as he said and Margaret relaxed her
body but not her guard. “Your presence will not be welcome in this
house, George. Lady Juliet's brothers have not ceased in their
search for you.”

Melville slid his arm from her neck and
turned her to face him, only to wrap the fingers of his left hand
around her throat. “I know this, you stupid girl,” he snarled. “Why
think you I hide? Twas all your fault. Had you only aided my cause
with Lady Juliet, I could be her betrothed rather than Dorset. I
saw the touching scene on the lawn today, and they are terribly in
love, it seems. My chances are ruined and our situation grows dire.
Mayhap when there is no food on our table you will feel regret for
your failure to aid my cause.”

“Oh, George, if you would only cease your
machinations and instead seek a bride the proper way, I'm sure
someone would have you,” began Margaret, only to be stopped on a
gasp as her brother's fingers tightened.

“I had plans to wed a very proper bride, but
everyone was against me from the outset!” Melville abruptly
released his hold on her neck and began to stalk back and forth
across the carpet by the bed. “You were supposed to chat me up to
Juliet, tell her of my charms and wit, and make her see a union
between our families would be amenable.” He stopped in front of his
sister, a look of rage washing over his countenance. “But you set
out to thwart me and gave me no assistance. Your downcast eyes and
meek nature cast me as the overbearing brother. You played me for a
fool!”

He made a move for her throat but Margaret
threw her hands up to catch his hands. “Please, George, I beg you
to stop! No one wished you ill, least of all me. Lady Juliet was
not interested in marriage; she told us all that very thing. She
did not wish to lead you on a merry chase and sought to set you
down with care and ease. You just refused to see or believe
it.”

“So, now I am a fool?” he snarled, brushing
her hands aside and grabbing her arms above the elbow. He gave her
a rough shake. “Lady Juliet was simply casting about lures. She is
stubborn and far too indulged, but I knew her claims to eschew
marriage were false. And I am proved right! She snared a Duke with
her dramatics, after all.” The look in the Viscount's eyes had gone
slightly crazed. “I detest how you speak my name, Margaret. You
will show me the respect I deserve as your brother. I am
Melville.”