Her Duke's Surrender Read online

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  “Hello,” she said to him. “You are a friend of Lord MacNevin?”

  “Aye,” the man said. “I’m a friend of the laird.” Brodie shot him a dark look when he said the title. “M’name’s Gregory, at your service.” He bowed low.

  She was fairly certain that the man was mocking her; she glanced at Brodie for confirmation, but his head was turned the other way, ignoring her.

  “Well, Brodie,” Gregory said, nudging his friend in the ribs. “At least she’s easy on the eyes.”

  Brodie mumbled something in Gaelic that made his friend shrug. “All right, I’ll get going. Ye two have fun now, ye hear?”

  Brodie shot Gregory another annoyed look before he reluctantly turned to face Diana. “Shall we go, then?” he asked.

  “Upstairs?”

  “Where else would we go? To the moon?”

  Diana glanced behind her with apprehension. How naïve she was to think that they would go about their separate ways without consummating their marriage first!

  Was she nervous because she didn’t want to consummate the marriage, or because she did? Brodie was handsome, in a dangerous sort of way that she had never seen before in a man. He was the lieutenant general in his regiment after all, wasn’t he? He would have to be a strong, powerful man to have such a title.

  “Don’t let him take advantage of you, Diana,” her brother had said. She was sure he meant that in more way than just one.

  She followed her husband inside the inn. The tavern was mostly empty, save for a few drunken patrons ignoring the couple in favor of their drink. They continued upstairs, away from the loud noises and putrid smells of the tavern, to a small room at the top of the building that Alex had rented out for them beforehand.

  Brodie held the door open for her and she peered in. A simple four-poster bed sat in one corner of the room. At the other corner was a writing desk, with a decanter of wine and a pitcher of water with two glasses next a single red rose held in a slender, white vase. A petal had already fallen.

  How many hasty marriages in Gretna Green were finished in this room? Diana wondered. She swallowed down a bubble of hysterical laughter.

  “Ye look ill,” Brodie remarked.

  Despite of her nervousness, her temper rose. “Is that any way to talk to your new wife?” she retorted.

  “I just don’t want ye fainting on me while we… y’ken…”

  “While we make love, do you mean? We might as well be honest with each other.”

  “Is that what you’re calling it?” Brodie asked, raising an eyebrow. “Making love? I’d like to think of it more like putting a seal on a bargain.”

  Diana put her hands on her hips. “Why are you so bitter? You could have refused to marry me, you know.”

  “So could ye. But we both agreed, didn’t we? So I suppose we have nothing more to do than to get on with it.” He waved vaguely towards the bed.

  “If you really don’t want to, we don’t have to,” Diana said slowly. “I assume you’ve told your townspeople we’re already married with a child on the way.”

  “Aye, I did. “

  “And what did they make of it?”

  He shrugged. “I dinna care what they think,” he told her, and then gave her a side-glance. “What about your London friends and family? What do they think of this charade? ”

  In truth, she hadn’t told her acquaintances about her pregnancy or her marriage, and did not plan to until much later. She hadn’t even told her mother yet. The woman was a gossip and would tell all of society the truth. It was better to mention her elopement after she arrived in Scotland. Yes, it would still be a scandal, but it wouldn’t be as terrible as admitting that the child wasn’t even Brodie MacNevin’s.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she told him lamely.

  “Humph.” Brodie walked over to the writing desk. He popped the stopper on the decanter of wine and poured himself a drink. “I’m sure this isna how ye expected your wedding night to be,” he remarked. “Wanna drink?”

  “No, thank you,” she said, then went to pour a glass of water instead. Diana sipped it gratefully as she sat down on the bed—her throat had been dry all morning. “No, I expected to be married to Lord Evans.”

  “Is that the father of your bairn?” he asked bluntly, glancing down at her belly.

  Diana colored at his words. “Indeed. But he is to marry another woman. As everyone is so focused on their good news, I doubt anyone will be wondering about me if I’ve gone missing for a while.”

  “I see.” Brodie sipped his own glass, regarding her with those cool, blue eyes.

  Already, the events of the day were beginning to affect Diana. As fatigue took her, she leaned back onto the bed and closed her eyes.

  “What is it that ye want, Diana?” It startled her that he had used her given name. She opened her eyes and raised her head to look at him, unnerved by the gentleness in his voice. What does he mean, what do I want? Lord, this man is simply aggravating!

  “I want to sleep,” she finally answered.

  She thought she saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but he firmed his jaw and nodded towards the bed. “I’m not stopping ye.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  Diana stood up slowly and glanced around the room. She wasn’t going to sleep in her wedding gown—the lace was itchy and the gown was making her sweat—yet there were no screens to change behind. Also, her night clothes were still packed in the carriage along with the rest of her belongings that she was to take with her to Ciarach. She would be forced to sleep only in her thin chemise and her drawers.

  I should have planned this better!

  Brodie raised an eyebrow at her as he sipped his drink, watching her like she was a character in a play for his entertainment.

  “I need you to turn around while I change,” she told him.

  He shrugged and moved his chair so that he was facing the door. Still not trusting his discretion, Diana turned her back to him as she took her necklace off and placed it on the table next to the bed. Next, she undid the ribbon tied around her waist and folded it neatly next to the necklace.

  “Almost finished?”

  “I’ve barely even started!” she squeaked. “Don’t turn around!”

  “I’m not!”

  The buttons on her dress were the most difficult task. She was no contortionist by any means, so by her third attempt at unbuttoning the top button she let out a curse.

  “Do ye need assistance?”

  Diana looked sharply over her shoulder at him. His back was still turned. No, she wanted to say—but really, she had no other choice unless she actually did want to sleep in her itchy gown.

  “Oh, fine,” she told him. “Come over and help me.”

  He got up and walked over to her. Diana turned back around and held her breath as he unclasped the top loop of the silk cord. With him so close, she could smell the fruitiness of the wine, along with an earthy, intoxicating scent that seemed to belong only to him. Her gown now loosened, her sleeves dropped from her shoulders. She put a hand against her chest to keep the gown from sliding down to the ground completely.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, not able to meet his eyes. She found it suddenly difficult to breathe. “You may turn around now.”

  Diana heard him sigh. After glancing over her shoulder to make sure his gaze was averted, she quickly stepped out of her gown, folded it, and placed it on the side table—with her dagger hidden underneath the fabric—before quickly sliding under the covers of the bed.

  “Are ye finished, then?” Brodie asked.

  “Yes,” she replied and glanced at him.

  At some point while she had been changing, he had removed his emerald green kilt, leaving him dressed only in his long linen shirt.

  The dress shirt revealed nothing but his long, muscular legs, but it was enough for Diana to wiggle uncomfortably as he came near the bed. She held her breath as he slid under the covers next to her. His warm body already radiated toward her
side of the bed, yet still she shivered.

  “That looks uncomfortable,” he remarked.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “Do ye always sleep in your stays?”

  “Oh, uh… no, I do not,” she admitted, and then pulled the blanket over her shoulders to her chin in an attempt to hide the undergarment.

  “Ye are obviously uncomfortable. Would ye rather me sleep on the floor?”

  “No, that’s not necessary. Goodnight, Lord MacNevin.”

  “Brodie will do. It reminds me too much of my father when people call me MacNevin.”

  He said that like it was a terrible thing. She wanted to ask him about it, but could not find the courage to. Lord, she had never felt so confused around a man before!

  “Fine. Goodnight, Brodie.”

  She tried to fall asleep, but the whalebone in her stays dug ruthlessly into her ribcage. Determined not to make a sound, she slowly unloosened the cumbersome garment and breathed a sigh of relief as she dropped it to the floor.

  It was cold that night, but her husband’s body kept the bed warm. The sound of rain tapping on the windows lulled her into a sleep she hadn’t received since the four-day journey from Surrey to Gretna Green.

  At some point during the night she suddenly awoke, huddled against Brodie’s body. He was asleep; his arm draped lazily around her as he breathed steadily, his warm breath tickling her ear. Her own breath ceased as he shifted, his bare legs now entangled with her own.

  We fit so perfectly, she thought groggily, as the pull of sleep started to take her once again.

  A sudden pounding on the door made her jump out of her skin.

  Brodie was out of bed and on his feet in an instant, as lithe as a cat. A dagger seemed to have magically appeared in his hands. He pressed himself against the wall next to the door.

  “Who’s there?” he asked darkly.

  “It’s Gregory.”

  “Christ, Gregory. What is it?” Brodie lowered his dagger and turned towards Diana, his brows furrowed with confusion, as though forgetting she was in bed with him.

  “Sorry to interrupt ye, but we need to leave now. The ship departs in an hour.”

  “Now? I thought we weren’t leaving until tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Change of plans. The ship’s captain wants to avoid an impending storm.”

  Brodie cursed and rubbed his hands across his tired face. “Verra well; I’ll be out with ye soon.”

  “I’ll wait downstairs.”

  “You’re leaving then?” Diana asked softly.

  Brodie turned around flashed a lazy grin. “Will ye miss me?”

  Flustered at his cynical words, she shook her head. “I will only miss you keeping the bed warm,” she said before she could think of a better choice of words.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Well, ye might want to find someone else in the meantime; I’m going to be gone for a while.”

  Diana’s mouth dropped open. “I would never do such a thing! W-would you?”

  “There aren’t many women where I’m heading,” he said idly. She assumed he was being sarcastic; she had heard stories from her friends of how lustful men were when they were away at war. As he put on his trousers Diana caught a brief glimpse at the side of his bare arse and flushed. “But I’m married now, and I keep my vows sacred, even if they were made in Gretna Green.”

  “Well, I do too,” she said adamantly.

  She didn’t know what she expected, or what she wanted. Did she want him to run over to the bed and smother her with kisses? To tell her that he would love her and her baby forever?

  They had just met. Why would he do such a thing?

  After he had finished dressing, he turned to give her one last look as he reached for the doorknob.

  “I hope ye enjoy Ciarach,” he told her, and then left.

  Struggling to stave off tears, Diana stared up at the ceiling, focusing on a hairline crack that ran across half of the room.

  It was too quiet. She blindly reached for her dagger and slid it under the pillow next to her. It was still warm were Brodie had rested his head just minutes before. Satisfied that she was protected from danger, she then leaned back onto her own pillow and wrapped her arms above her belly.

  “I’m not alone,” she told her child. “I have you.”

  Tick-tock, tick-tock.

  “We’re just about here, milady,”

  Snapped out of the memory of her wedding night, Diana dropped the locket onto her lap and then craned her neck out of the carriage. She wrinkled her nose.

  She had always thought the Thames smelled terrible, but this place was staggeringly worse. She lunged for her handkerchief and covered her nose.

  “My husband’s estate is near a fishery?” she called out to the footman, once she stopped retching.

  The footman, Bartholomew, did not seem particularly distressed from the odors. Perhaps it was only her pregnancy exacerbating the scent. She prayed it was so.

  “Just up the road, milady,” Bartholomew called out to her. “We’ll be there in two minutes.”

  “Lord, help me,” Diana muttered.

  Her brother’s estate, Ramsbury, was located near a small town named Chertsey. Yet, even though it was small, it still had the influence of nearby London: the buildings and streets were kept in repair, and the townspeople always wore the latest fashion.

  Ciarach was without a doubt steeped in poverty. The roads were worn, the buildings dilapidated—some had been burned completely to the ground—and the villagers stared at her with such scorn that made Diana lean back into her seat and shield herself from their sight. Living in such destitute conditions, could she blame the villagers? With her fancy carriage parading down the street, they probably thought she came from a different world.

  The carriage continued up a small hill, away from Ciarach and into the countryside. A small, thatched roof house covered in green ivy stood at the top of the hill, with a stable adjacent to it. Diana was surprised when the carriage suddenly stopped. She glanced around for Brodie’s estate.

  “Is this Lord MacNevin’s house?” she asked Bartholomew as he helped her avoid a puddle of mud when she stepped out of the carriage.

  “It is, milady,” Bartholomew replied. The other Ramsbury footman was already unloading the second carriage filled to the brim with her belongings. Was she going to be able to fit half of the things in that tiny house?

  “Brodie MacNevin is a duke, isn’t he?” she wanted to ask Bartholomew. She had heard that he was desperate for money, but she had just assumed he would still have an estate, maybe not one as big as Ramsbury, but an estate nonetheless. What stood in front of her was essentially a groundskeeper’s cottage.

  Diana breathed in deeply. The strong fish scent was gone, and she could only smell the salty air. The hill gave her a gorgeous view of the dark blue sea that was called Moray Firth. Behind her was the Highland mountainside, and more wilderness than she had ever seen in her life.

  A portly woman stood on the steps of the door to the cottage. She held a broom that she had just used to shoo two chickens away from the flower bed. When she noticed Diana, she put a hand on her hip and gave her a smile.

  “Diana MacNevin?” she called out.

  Diana almost turned around, before realizing the woman was speaking to her. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to hearing anything but Lady St. George.

  “Y-yes,” she stammered, and then took a breath to calm her nerves. It wasn’t like Brodie was waiting for her on the other side of the door. He was now well on his way to the Netherlands.

  That meant she would be alone for the foreseeable future. If he survived the battle, it would be a month or longer before he arrived back to Scotland.

  But if he didn’t survive… what then? Would she want stay in Ciarach as his widow?

  Heaven’s no. She had thus far avoided scandal and had found a prestigious title and land for her child. Now she could easily find another husban
d, so long as the truth remained hidden.

  “Shoo! Shoo, I say!”

  It wasn’t the chickens that the woman was now trying to chase away, but a scrawny boy—more limbs than not—who had been hiding in the garden bed. The boy shot up, holding a chicken in his arms. As the broom came down towards him he darted away.

  “Och, not with my chicken, ye wee devil!” the woman screeched after him. The boy set the chicken down carefully on the grass before sprinting behind the nearby stables.

  The woman shook her head. “I can’t get that wee whelp out of my gardens. She’s worse than a roomful of midges.”

  “She?” Diana asked.

  “Oh, aye. That one is a lassie. I’m afraid she hasn’t a home, but with the way things are I can’t verra well take her in. Except, perhaps now…” she glanced up at Diana, and seemed embarrassed. “Anyway, m’name is Lisabeth.”

  “Hello, Lisabeth. Are you… the housemaid here?”

  The woman nodded. “And the cook, and the butler, I suppose. We havena any maidservants, so you’ll need to pick up the slack every once in a while.” She gave Diana a shrewd look. “You’re a bonny one, aren’t ye? I ken all about your story. Don’t worry; I won’t tell a single soul.” Thankfully, Diana did not need to think of reply; the woman was still muttering to herself as she took notice of the two carriages.

  “Heavens, are ye thinking of bringing all of that in here?”

  “Honestly, I had thought that I would be living in a larger house,” Diana conceded.

  Lisabeth chortled. “Well, ye thought wrong, unless Brodie somehow found a way to get Alban Castle back.”

  “Alban Castle?”

  The woman pointed towards the hills just below the mountains. Diana shielded her eyes as she looked. In the distance, nestled in the trees, she saw a large, sprawling stone building.

  “That was his family’s castle,” Lisabeth explained, shaking her head. “It was built two hundred years ago by his ancestors, and his family managed to keep it long after Culloden, but… Brodie’s father left all of it for Edinburgh.”