The Danger of Dukes (2 page)

“Fits,” she echoed, “how does it fit?”

“Because you fit that image in my mind, now before I go mad, woman, hie yourself upstairs and pick a room.”

She went towards the main staircase, but glanced warily at the steep long staircase. “Do you need help?”

“No, I can make it, I shall see you up there before you nod off,” he said with determination.

She nodded with a smile, rushed over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek in thanks but ended up tripping on the rug and took them both down. She landed on top of him and he gave a painful grunt.

She leaned up on his chest a little and breathed a little, “Sorry.” She gave into impulse and kissed him quickly on the lips. Quick as she could she got up, help pull Lord Brendan up and ran for the stairs, blushing like fire.

Chapter Three

Two weeks passed of her spending most of her hours with Lord Brendan, neither of them mentioned the kiss again and she felt a growing struggle within, for she wanted to talk about it and kiss him again however she feared he saw her as no more than a younger sister, but today would be the day she ask him. She didn’t like having to sit still so she made him walk until it hurt, then a short break to massage his leg then off again. He was showing great improvement and he was always gentle with her, but he was too kind about it.

              Frowning she walked down the stairs for breakfast after waking up rather later and a strange sight greeted her on the stairs. Lord Brendan was slumped over on the last few stairs at the bottom at an odd angle and then she spotted the blood. She flew down the steps and cradled his head in her arms. There was a deep gash on his temple and more blood still coming from it, it looked as though he had been there for a while.

              “Johnson!” she screamed, “Somebody help!”

              But no one answered. So instead of panicking she took a deep breath and decided with she would have to do. Somehow she needed to get him back upstairs and into his room, but first she had to staunch the bleeding. Seeing no other means she ripped cloth from her hem and put a wad to his head wrapping a few strips around his head to tie it in place with that done it was time to get him moved.

Slowly she slipped us to the main floor and then placed one of each of his arms around her neck and lifted him best she could onto her back. He was too big to carry like a child but with taking it one slow and painful step at a time she made their way, both up the stairs and to the room she knew to be his.

              Placing him upon the bed was not graceful but it worked and she wiped the sweat from her brow and went in search of the things she would need.

              The wound was cleaned, dressed and now that she look down at him she knew it wasn’t life threatening. She became tired after a few hours and rested her head upon the edge of his bed for a nap.

…

A groan shook her out of her sleep and she glanced up at him quickly.

              “What happened?” he asked.

              “A bit of a nasty bump to the head, I am afraid. What were you doing? There was no one here to help, if I hadn’t of found you-!” the last ended on a sob.

              “Shhh,” he said quietly and smoothed a rough palm down her cheek. “I’m alright now see? You saved me, but,” he frowned, “How did I get back to my bed?”

              She sniffled. “I brought you up, carried you on my back.” She frowned, “You are really heavy, you know.”

              He laughed and then groaned in pain. After a few moments he relaxed. “Thank you, I don’t like the thought of bleeding to death on my own floor.”

              “I don’t think you would have really died, but you need stitches to close that I called for a doctor but none has come. I can’t even find Johnson.” Her lower lip trembled.

              “Darling, I faced war and came back alive, even if in a few pieces, there is no way this could kill me. I can’t die now when I have something to live for. A very special reason,” he said softly.

              She cried over his chest with him stroking her head and soon she yawned again.

              “What time do you think it is, Darling?” he asked.

              “About midnight now I suppose.”

              “Time for bed then, you need some sleep,” he ordered.

              “I will not leave this room until the doctor comes to look at you!” she said sitting up and crossing her arms over her breasts.

              “But-” he started.

              “No buts,” she cut in. “I will stay here! If I have to sleep on the floor I will.”

              Suddenly he tugged her onto the bed where she tumbled over him. He gave her a grin and then winced.

              “Sleep on the bed then.”  Her worried look he added, “I won’t do anything to you.”

              Too tired to argue she said, “Wake me up if something is wrong, got that?” then she drifted off before she could hear what he said.

…

Warm and toasty was what it felt like to wake up in the arms of a man she found she liked quite a bit indeed, but the next event of there being a knock on the door and then a short little man with only a few tuffs of white hair on his head walked in calling, “Yer Grace?”

              She scrambled off the bed, over to the little man and pointed at Lord Brendan. “He had a bad fall and hit his head, I did the best I could but I fear that it may need stitches, and please,” she added more quietly, “Do not stare at his scars it bothers him.”

              The old man smiled and patted her hand. “Don’t worry dear, we’ll get him fixed right up.”

              The doctor was quick and it was almost painless, but she had to turn away for she loathed needles so. When he was done the doctor told him loudly he needed his rest, some good food and good person to take care of him. The old man winked her way and said to Lord Brendan, “You have a most becoming wife, my lord, but not only that, she may have saved your life. You are very lucky.”

              Without either of them getting a word in he left with a wink and a smile.

              She turned to Lord Brendan and blushed clear to her roots. “I am sorry he mistook-”

              “Well I am not, now come here,” he demanded from where he was propped up with pillows. She did as she was bid and sat when he told her to. Lord Brendan took her hands in his and gently stroked them with his thumbs. The accident has had me thinking and I believe it is best for both of us-”

             
Please don’t send me away now!

             
“-that we stay together as a team of sorts. I clearly need you. What do you think?”

              Puzzled she frowned a bit, thinking. “I guess so.”

              He laugh softly at her confused look. “I am asking you to stay. With me. Forever.”

              Her eyes widened. “What?!”

              He frown slightly. “Is it not to your liking?”

              She shook her head vigorously. “Not at all! I was merely surprised. I would love too. As long as you are okay with one thing?”

              “What is that?” he asked seriously.

              “You have to let me love you. I won’t stay without love,” she said with a smiled softly.

He pulled her close and squeezed her in his arms. “Thank you for bothering to put up with an old man.”

“You are not an old man, you are my brother’s age, and I think, you did grow up together which makes you no older than thirty and I am eighteen, my Mama was younger than Papa by twenty years. It is alright.” She tapped her chin with a finger, “The only problem is telling my brother that I am going to be your mistress.”

Brendan spluttered, “Mistress? That’s what you got out of what I asked you?”

“Well yes, in general terms,” she said with a smile. “I do not mind.”

He sat her down and stared into her eyes. “I don’t want you as my mistress.”

“But-”

“No, I want you to marry me. I did mean forever, there will be no breaks. Besides,” he grinned, “my mistress is the sea.”

Chapter Four

“I don’t think he took the news so well,” she whispered in her husband’s ear. His answering chuckle was payment enough for the act her brother was making. At first he had laughed then he had yelled and now he was simply gaping at them.

              “You didn’t want a wife,” Jackson stated at Brendan.

              Brendan nodded. “I didn’t want a wife. I wanted your sister, my old friend.”

              Then his gaze rested on her, “You needed a husband…so you married him?”

              “I didn’t want nor need one, but you cannot control love.” She gave her husband’s hand a squeeze. “I guess everything happens for a reason.”

              Finally Jackson smiled again. “Beauty and the Beast, so the fairy tales are true.”

              “Which will make your tale of the Three Bears,” she said with a laugh, “just be careful whose house you wonder into, Brother dear.”

              “But by special license?” he asked once again.

              They simply laughed.

A Duke’s Willful Mistake

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015

Cover Design © Wicked Cover Designs

wix.com/wicked_art/wicked-cover-designs

Unwanted Orphan

England 1819, Blackwood Castle

Flames licked the stone walls and embers flew away on the strong summer wind, causing the fire to grow stronger by the second. The brokenhearted wail of a small child echoed in the night as a man in a black cloak came rushing out the front door and smoke with a little girl in his arms. Only moments after he stepped into the cool air the roof groaned in protest then caved in.

              The man looked at the sobbing eight year old in his arms and with a grimace walked to his horse and mounted with her in his arms. He would do the duty asked of him as his final pence and would finally, gratefully disappear forever.

…

He traveled hard and long into the night the child finally falling in to a restless deep sleep against his chest under his thick black cloak. It would not be long now before he was upon Ravenbrood Abbey.

              The fortress of the abbey rose above the ancient gnarled trees of the estate, weathered but preserved by nothing more the shear stubbornness of refusing to be condemned to ruins. Well over four hundred years it has lived to its fullest.

              Crossing through the gates and thundering over the bridge he drew to a stop before the great wooden double doors adorned with iron works. Gently he patted his horse’s neck murmuring his praise and slipped from its back careful not to drop the child. The girl stirred in his arms opening wide blue, trusting eyes that quickly filled with tears, but she did not open her mouth to cry out.

              Swiftly he was up the stairs banging down the door. Rain had started to fall, his heart was heavy with the deed that had been done and pity for the girl.

              “Blast it!” roared a man from the other side of the door before it was yanked out to revile a young man in his fine silk dressing robes. When he saw who was at his door his mouth dropped open, agape.

              “What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

              “This girl is now your problem,” he said in a deep gruff voice handing over the girl to the young man. “Her father left her to be your ward until she comes of age and in so can collect his estate and funds. I wish you well, my lord. And,” he paused then shook his head, “Just take care of her; let no harm befall that child.”

              Lightening split the sky.

              “I shall try,” vowed the young lord.

Shadowed Memories

The fire was coming from every direction its burning eyes searching for me under the bed. It had spread, already taking Mama and Papa into its glowing arms. I curled up, quivering in fear, waiting for it to consume me as well, but it never came. A stronger pair of arms stole me away instead bringing me in to the cool night air. Sobs racked my small body making it hard to breath and finally I had the air to let out a long keening wail.

              I woke up with a start in my bed gasping for air. I rolled over and lit a candle on the bedside table to send the shadows fleeing back. I was safe; the fire couldn’t get me here.

              “Mistress?” a soft voice called quietly from my bedchamber’s door.

              “Yes, Millie, please come in,” I answered back softly.

              She slowly entered closing the door quietly behind her. She sat gently on the edge of the great bed.

              “I’m sorry, but I thought to wake you before Cook hears you downstairs, you were screaming.”

              “Hateful old hag, she is, I tell you what,” I huffed. “I will be eight and ten tomorrow and no longer a child, I will no longer shrink from her beatings anymore. Plus, what would our lord say if someday he magically reappears and sees me covered head to toe in theses bruises?” I peeled back the arm of my nightgown showing purple bruised hand and cane marks upon my left arm.

              “Oh my,” she gasped. “Why do you not write our lord? Surely the Master could do something?”

              I set my chin. “Now that I shall be old enough I shall stand up to her, I will. She has taken care of me these past ten years while your Master went prancing about the mainland. I need to stand up for myself once in a while. I hate being meek,” I pouted.

              Millie giggled at my pout. “That you do, Mistress. That you do.” She sobered, “But what if it goes on after?”

              “She has beaten me for years when I truly did nothing wrong, really I didn’t. But that shall stop. I am the ward of the Master and as such she has to listen to me, if she doesn’t change I shall toss her out on her ear!”

              Millie looked unsure, but nodded. “If you say so.” She rose and went to the door. “Are you sure you shall be fine alone tonight?”

              I nodded and smiled a little. “Of course, thank you and good night, Millie.”

              She nodded and left.

              Of course I would be fine; I had a plan in mind.

…

Millie hadn’t taken her Mistress’s words to heart. The girl meant well, but Cook was twice her size and a hand taller, the older woman would have no trouble fending the poor girl’s attack off. So Millie took out a piece of parchment and wrote a quick note to the Duke of Ravenbrood. She knew the moment he got it he would have no choice, but to come save Miss Isadore from Cook. Too many times had she seen the younger woman’s bruises.

              It was time the duke came home after ten years away, time for him to face his unwanted orphan.

              She slipped the note to the waiting rider and bid him to make haste if she was lucky he would be back within a weeks’ time.