The Duke (28 page)

Lady Adella seemed unusually mellow to him this evening, but then again, money had continued to flow freely up to Penderleigh. He could well imagine that the old lady would keep her ire in check so long as he made it worth her while.

“How is yer cousin Mr. Braidston?” Lady Adella asked, her sour look and sour tone gone for the moment. “Such a natty fellow he is.”

“Giles goes along very well, Lady Adella. As my decision to come up to Scotland was rather sudden, I was forced to write him a note. I'm sure he would have wished you a fond greeting.”

“Too much of a dapper dog for my tastes,” Claude said. “It isn't healthy to know so much about so many people. It can come home to roost.”

It was hard, but Ian managed not to be too blatant in the direction of his eyes and his conversation to Brandy. Jesus, how he wanted her. He wanted to shout to everyone that she would marry him. Why had she insisted on waiting until tomorrow? He'd thought and thought, but couldn't figure out what her reason could possibly be. He decided that he would personally burn the muslin gown she was wearing, along with the tartan shawl.

In the middle of a bite of fish, he was suddenly reminded of the two hundred pounds—for clothes, she had told him. Well, she was a bad liar. He'd see to it that she told him soon enough what she'd really done with the money.

He looked up as Lady Adella said, “Ye look burned to a socket, my boy. Because dinner was so delicious and I'm feeling particularly mellow, I'll spare ye the torture of the girls' singing. Crabbe, ye old sot, pour all of us a glass of port. Then our duke can take himself off to bed.”

So he was “our” duke, was he? Times had changed.

Shortly thereafter, Lady Adella led Constance and
Brandy from the dining room, exhorting Bertrand not to bore Ian on his first evening back with estate affairs. “I told him he could take himself to bed, but here ye are, wanting to pelt him with yer sheep talk. He'll have plenty of time to poke around yer sheep, after all. And ye, Claude, don't whine too much to him either. At least not yet. Give him a day or two to settle in.”

Claude didn't whine, but Bertrand's enthusiasm was difficult to stem. It was a good twenty minutes before Claude thwacked his cane on the floor and demanded to join the ladies.

Brandy wasn't in the drawing room. Ian took the excuse Lady Adella had given him and made his way up the winding staircase, down the long, dim corridor toward the earl's bedchamber. He paused momentarily outside Brandy's room. He raised his hand to knock. He wanted to see her. Hell, he wanted to kiss her and caress her until he felt like he would die if he had to stop. Well, damn, he couldn't do it. He went on down the hallway to his room.

The summer storm had blown in. A pounding rain streaked down the windowpanes in the earl's bedchamber. Ian pulled the faded curtains and moved toward the sputtering fire. He added more clumps of peat and stirred the crackling embers with the toe of his boot. As with his first visit to Penderleigh, he was without the assistance of Mabley, whose carriage rumbled along a good day behind him.

He slipped a small pistol from his portmanteau and laid it atop the table beside his bed before he stripped off his clothes and changed into a dressing gown. He poured himself a glass of claret and sank into a deep leather armchair, stretching his feet toward the fire.

The claret was smooth and warm in his belly. Soon the flames were fanning outward in blurred patterns.

He was suddenly jerked awake by a soft, insistent knocking on the door. He quickly rose, grasped the small pistol, and called, “Enter.” He couldn't believe his eyes. “Brandy, what the hell are you doing here?”

S
he stepped slowly into his bedchamber, closing the door quietly behind her. She was dressed from neck to toe in a flowing white cotton nightgown that made her look absurdly young. He caught his breath at her hair. It hung in long, thick waves nearly to her waist. She was pale. She looked scared to death. What was going on here?

He took a step forward. “Love, you know that you shouldn't come to my room. No, forget that nonsense. What's wrong? What's happened to upset you?” He reached her, wanting desperately to bring her against him, but he forced himself to hold back. He just took her hands in his.

“Brandy? Come, what is it? Whatever is wrong?” He couldn't help himself. He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Good God, you're shaking. And here I am holding this ridiculous pistol.” He quickly laid it on the bedside table and returned to her. “Come to the fire and warm yourself. Then we can talk.”

That ridiculous nightgown. She must have had it for years. It left only her bare feet showing. She wouldn't look at him. What the devil was wrong?

“Sit here.”

He pulled up a chair near the fire and pulled his own over to face hers.

She didn't sit down. She took a very deep breath and plowed forward, knowing what she must do. “Ye wondered why I didn't want to announce our engagement this evening. I do have a good reason.”

“Let's hear this very good reason,” he said. “But I won't believe it when you tell me, I warn you now.”

“It's an excellent reason. Please be patient and don't ye dare laugh at me. Now, listen. Ian, it was Marianne ye shared yer passion with that first time.”

“Not just the first time, it was the only time.”

“Don't quibble and don't interrupt. I must be certain, don't ye see? I've got to know that it's me ye love, for myself—that it's me ye desire now, not Marianne.”

This was a kicker. For a moment he could only stare at her. He said finally, very slowly, “So you wish to stay with me tonight? Share my bed? Do I take it that on the morrow you will tell me if I have passed muster? Really, Brandy, I've always believed you very creative, but this strikes out into new territory.”

“Mayhap that part of marriage isn't important to ye, Ian, but it is to me. That is, it's important, I know. Don't ye dare grin at me like that, ye miserable man. I am perfectly serious. Please, Ian, let me stay with ye tonight.”

“I do hope that I don't fail your test, Brandy. What if I murmur my mother's name in my sleep? All right, I'm not laughing at you. But I didn't lie to you. Marianne is in the past where she belongs. She's no longer a part of my life, just there in my distant memories, some painful, some nice, but all vague and blurry now. She's got nothing to do with us. I do think she would be pleased that I've finally seen the light and moved on in the right direction with my life, namely in your direction, Brandy.

“There's more to this, you know. What a comedown
it would be for me were you to refuse to marry me because you think me a poor lover.”

“Ye know very well it's not about that at all.”

“Very well, Brandy, I now consider myself irrevocably compromised.”

She wanted to hit him for twisting about her reasons, but the opportunity slipped by unnoticed. He came to her and pulled her to her feet, all the while smiling down at her in a way that made her bare toes curl. “Little idiot,” he whispered, and lowered his mouth to hers. He pulled her tightly against him, winding one hand through the masses of hair and allowing the other hand to sweep down her back to her hips.

He released her after a moment, grinning down at her.

“That's very nicely done. Please, give me some more, Ian.”

“You mean you don't remember what else is to come? Perhaps it's better that you don't, since it wasn't very pleasant for you. But this time, Brandy, this time I swear to you that you're going to have quite a fine time with me.” He began to kiss her. Ah, she enjoyed kissing and now she was opening her mouth to him. He thought he'd died and gone to heaven. He felt her pressing hard against him. He knew she felt his sex hard against her belly. At least his body wouldn't come as a surprise to her. No, she admired his body, and that made him feel very good.

She moaned into his mouth and jumped at the sound she'd made. “Give me more,” he said, and his tongue was in her mouth. Gently he eased his hands to the tie string at the neck of her nightgown and began to draw it open. To his surprise, she stiffened and tried to pull away from him.

“What is this, my love? How can you seduce me if you won't let me get this nightgown off you?”

It had come down to it. There was no going back now, but, oh, it was difficult. What if he looked at her and winced? She'd guess even if he didn't change expressions, she'd know he found her repellent.

“Brandy?”

She straightened, shoulders squared. “Nay, I must face up to it. I must do this myself. Please, Ian.” She took a step back from him. She said nothing when he cocked his head to one side in question. “Just a moment.” She drew a deep breath. There was no going back now. She pulled the ribbons open on the nightgown. She took another very deep breath and slipped her arms from the sleeves and let the nightgown fall to her waist. She squared her shoulders. She waited. She looked at him closely.

The duke very nearly swallowed his tongue. He sucked in his breath. He couldn't believe his eyes. Surely there could be nothing more amazing in this world. To think he had believed her a slender, almost thin young girl, still immature. He stared at the most glorious breasts he had ever seen in his life. They were incredibly white and rounded, the nipples a soft, pale pink, blending with an artist's touch into the creamy ivory. They had to be the most beautiful breasts in all of England.

“Good God!”

Perhaps she'd expected him to pale a bit, and he had. Oh, God, all her worst nightmares had come true. She turned away, wishing she could die.

“Brandy,” he said, utterly baffled.

She tried to cover herself with her hands, but it was impossible. She gulped, not wanting to do anything except run, but she managed to say, “I understand, Ian, truly I do. I've hidden my ugliness from ye, and it wasn't right. I should have told you about it before I accepted your marriage proposal. I wasn't fair to
you. If you can't bear me, then I will release you. No one will ever know.”

“What ugliness?” He searched for a disfiguring mole, perhaps a birthmark on her shoulder that bothered her, but all the gorgeous flesh he could see was smooth and white and looked so soft he thought he'd spill his seed. He wished she'd move her hands.

She did, her arms now at her sides. “I'm sorry. I'm a cow, ye can see that well enough. I just wouldn't stop growing and had to bind myself so no one would know how awful I'd gotten.” She couldn't stand his staring at her any longer. She clutched her nightgown against her breasts. She looked as if she would burst into tears at any moment.

What had she said? Her breasts were ugly? He could only shake his head. He had to feel his way carefully through this war zone.

He said slowly, “Let me see if I've got this right. You're telling me that you think your breasts are ugly? You think you're deformed?”

She nodded, looking more miserable and pathetic than before. He couldn't hold it in. He threw back his head and laughed.

“I hadn't believed ye'd be so unkind.”

He gulped in air and controlled his amusement. God, she really believed it. “Listen to me, Brandy, I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at this ridiculous situation. Tell me, who the hell gave you the notion that you were a cow? That you were somehow misformed? Did someone actually tell you that you were ugly?”

“Aye, Morag did. When I was fourteen my dresses wouldn't button across my chest. She laughed at me and said I was in a fair way of growing two fine melons for the market. She said I'd be a laughingstock if anyone ever guessed what this earl's granddaughter was hiding under her clothes. She said all the men would
stare at me and think I was loose because I was so big.”

“Damnation, let me at that woman. I'll kill her. At least, if I kill her now, she'll go to her grave clean.”

“But she was right. I tried as best I could to bind myself, but Percy knew, even though I always wore my shawl. He was always staring at me like I was some sort of freak. I didn't understand it. If I was such a freak, then why did he want me?”

“He didn't think you were a freak, Brandy, do you remember when we were alone in the crofter's hut? I wanted you then and you pulled away from me?”

“I thought it was ye who pulled away from me. But it's true. I didn't want ye to see me. I was ashamed. I didn't want to see ye stare at me and look revolted.”

“Do I look at all revolted to you?”

“Well, I've got them covered right now.”

He reached out and yanked the nightgown out of her hands and let it sink back to her waist. “I'm still not revolted. You know something? I think we've spent much of our time together being confused as to the other's motives. And the blue velvet gown I brought for you from Edinburgh? It was quite low-cut if I remember correctly.”

“It's a beautiful gown. I felt like a queen when I put it on. But, Ian, I couldn't wear it. I looked like two huge breasts. My cleavage starts at my throat.”

He smiled. He didn't laugh, not now. He said, “Brandy, have I ever lied to you, or done anything to make you mistrust my words?”

“Nay.”

“Give me both of your hands and drop the nightgown. That's right, let it fall to the floor.”

For a long moment she couldn't move. She just stared up at him. “This is very difficult.”

“Come, give me your hands.”

“Oh, dear,” she said, and thrust out one hand
toward him, still clutching the nightgown at her waist with the other.

“Both hands, if you please.”

She closed her eyes tightly and blindly thrust out her other hand. The nightgown rested an instant on her hips, then fell with a soft rustle to the floor.

He nearly swallowed his tongue. Dear God, she didn't realize how beautiful she was? How utterly exquisite? His hands itched to touch her, to caress all that white flesh. He wanted to taste her, he wanted to wallow in her. The fullness of her breasts was emphasized even further by a narrow waist that curved into very nice hips. Her belly was flat, her creamy skin covered lower down by a triangle of curling dark blond hair. Her legs were long and sleek, firm with muscle. She was without a doubt the loveliest female he'd ever seen in his life. Well, he loved her. Of course she'd be the loveliest.

Ah, those breasts of hers. He'd never tire of looking at them.

“Open your eyes, Brandy. Now, come with me.”

He helped her step out of the nightgown and led her by the hand to a long, narrow mirror that hung next to an old armoire. He held her in front of the mirror, his hands on her shoulders. “You're a beautiful woman. Look at yourself and tell me if you can possibly doubt my words.”

His hands tightened on her shoulders. She forced herself to look in the mirror. Her breasts stared back at her. “Oh, God,” she said, “this is horrible.” She tried to pull away from him.

“I won't have you calling your husband-to-be a liar. Dammit, Brandy, look at yourself. You're incredible and it makes my knees knock together to think that you're all mine.”

She opened her eyes and looked again at herself in the mirror. She saw that he was standing behind her,
his hands on her bare shoulders. His eyes met hers in the mirror, and very slowly he pulled her hair back from her face and shoulders. He brought his hand around and cupped her chin in his palm.

“Do you have any dislike for your face? No? Excellent. Let's move down a bit.”

Control, he thought. He had to keep himself controlled. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his adult life. He drew a deep breath, and sent his hands downward. He let his fingers caress her, until each hand cupped a breast. He swallowed convulsively.

Her eyelashes fluttered. Her lips parted. He leaned down and planted a light kiss on her temple. He was a man, not a boy. He could deal with this, he had to deal with this. He heard himself say in a deep voice, “Your breasts are exquisite. Contrive to remember that Morag is quite scrawny. Jealousy and sheer stupidity made her say what she did.”

He forced his hands to leave her breasts and move down to encircle her waist. As his fingers roved to her belly, he felt her shudder. He hoped it was lust on her part and not embarrassment at what he was doing. Ah, yes, her breathing had quickened. It would be close, but he would finish this. She would believe him, trust him, and then he would wallow in her.

“Remember you once told me that I was the beautiful one? Such a fool you are, Brandy.”

She turned in his arms and wrapped her own about his neck. “Ye promise, Ian?”