The Duke’s Scottish Lass_Brethren of Stone

  The Duke’s Scottish Lass

  Brethren of Stone

  Tammy Andresen

  Copyright © 2018 by Tammy Andresen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Tammy Andresen

  Scottish Devil

  Chapter 1

  Other Titles by Tammy

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  This book is dedicated to all the adventurers at heart. Even if, like me, you travel from the comfort of your couch.

  Prologue

  One family united by loss, driven to find love…

  Dundee, Scotland 1790

  Roderick Maddox, fourth Duke of Manchester, stood at the helm of his newly acquired ship, and surveyed the river inlet he was steadily maneuvering. He was about to visit his Oxford chum, Reginald Alban, the third of five brothers, the sixth Alban a sister. She was the real reason for his visit. Reginald’s eldest brother, Stone, held a Scottish earldom but had been wildly successful using their coastal land to run a shipping company, among other endeavors. The Albans had become one of the richest families in all of Scotland.

  That reason alone made Lady Delia a wise choice as a prospective bride. Though the wedding would not be held for at least five years as Lady Delia was only thirteen. Beyond her wealth, however, Reginald had told him, with a twinkle in his eyes, that Delia was one of the few ladies on the island capable of mending Roderick’s ways. After all, she held five older brothers in check. And his ways, in truth, were in need of mending. After the passing of his father, he’d found himself in charge of a dukedom, and its less-than-stellar assets, but without much direction or knowledge of how to improve them. Nor was he terribly popular with the ton. A few trysts with questionable ladies had given him quite the reputation—not that he cared.

  Even if she could not tame him, he was certain starting a shipping company with the Alban brothers definitely would; and so he was off to meet his prospective bride and her family. Should all go well, he would enter into business with the men when he married their sister.

  His navigational skills were improving by the day and he reckoned one more bend and he would reach their private docking harbor. It was essential he master this skill if he were to join their shipping business as the southern branch. The river narrowed slightly and the water moved faster. Large rock faces jutted up on either side of him, making him feel closed in, almost claustrophobic.

  Just up ahead, he noticed several men standing on one precipice of the cliff. He smiled, recognizing Reginald instantly. But the smile died on his face. There was an oddness to their behavior. Shoulders hunched, they paced, nearly running into one another, their eyes trained down, closer to the water.

  He followed their gazes until his eyes reached an overhang halfway down the cliff where a small figure crouched on the narrow ledge. His gut clenched, the little one was too far down for the men to reach. Moving swiftly toward them, he watched as Reginald and two other men attempted to lower someone down. He looked to be a teenager, thin and lightweight, but he had barely been lowered below the lip of the cliff when a shower of rocks rained down, splattering the water and the ledge on which the child rested.

  The little head lifted and terrified eyes met his. His heart raced faster. A girl with the largest, bluest eyes he had ever seen looked at him with absolute terror. Her skin was nearly white, making the shade of blue even sharper. She may have screamed but the noise of the rushing water muted the sound so that it looked as though she mouthed the word, “Help.” Then his racing heart nearly stopped. Between her pale countenance and her voiceless plea, it was almost as though she were already a ghost.

  Roderick looked up for but a moment to see his friend, Reginald. “Catch her,” he mouthed over and over. He turned his focus back on the child, her eyes were still trained on him.

  They were nearly underneath her when a noise did rise over the water. A large crack rent the air, and Roderick didn’t have to look to know that the cliff was giving way above. He didn’t know what would happen to the men standing there, but he couldn’t focus on them now. His eyes stayed on her and he yelled louder than he had ever yelled anything in his life. “Jump, jump now!” He moved down the ship as it passed to stay under her and his brain screamed a prayer—jump, please jump, just jump, I beg you jump—but he was running out of room on the boat. She wasn’t going to do it. He would pass her by and, unable to look away, he would watch her be crushed by falling rock.

  Four more strides and he would reach the end, three and he would run out of space, two and then it would be too late, one and suddenly she saw the end too. All in one motion, she stood and hurtled herself into the air. Her body sailed toward him, arms and legs splayed wide, trying to slow her momentum. Dimly, he was aware that she was larger than he had thought, but not one second later, his hands made contact with her torso and he pulled her toward him. With a force he wouldn’t have thought possible, her body crashed into his and he stumbled backward, hitting the rail. For a sickening second, he thought they might both fall into the tumultuous water, but he clenched every muscle he had, even his face turned to granite, as he held her to him, both leaning out over the foaming, churning water.

  Her eyes, even larger and bluer than they appeared on the cliff, stared into his. Unable to look away, by increments he straightened up with her in his arms so that they were not leaning over the water but solidly on the boat. “You’re all right,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “I’ve got you, you’re fine.”

  Her purple lips parted, as though to answer, but nothing came out and then he watched as her eyes blinked twice and then closed. Her body went limp against his. For just a moment, he was afraid that he had still lost her, but then her warm breath blew across his cheeks even as her body went limp in his arms. He clutched her tighter and finally peeled his eyes away from her face.

  In that instant, he knew that this was Delia. Reginald had been correct. This slip of a girl would change his ways because, in this moment, something deep inside him shifted. He would give everything he had to keep her safe from harm. Life came into sharp focus.

  From up above, a shower of large boulders cascaded into the water and the smallest flash of white caught his notice. His eyes raised up to the top of the cliff but all the men above trained their gaze to the foaming river where the rocks had crashed.

  His brow crinkled, Reginald wasn’t there.

  Chapter One

  Five years later…

  Lady Delia Alban stared out the window from the salon in the northern tower, rolling her eyes at her brothers’ flare for the dramatic. They couldn’t have had this meeting in one of the many formal spaces within their home. It had to be the highest tower in their rather large castle.

  The giant structure was a relic of days when regular English raids had demanded that their home provide protection. Ridiculous, really, because nearly half her lineage was English. But her eldest brother, Stone, used the building to its fullest advantage. He had turned it into the hub of a successful shipping business and a training ground to prepare his sailors for pirate attacks.

  And n
ow he wished to further spread that business by partnering with a southern Duke. His Grace, Lord Manchester. Delia found this arrangement completely unacceptable. Rumors swirled around the man. The ton called him a rogue and she knew for a fact that his voucher from Almack’s had been revoked. Unusual, but not unheard of for someone so closely related to the king. Being a northerner, she had far less regard for polite society, but his reputation caused a ripple of unease to travel down her spine. Rogues did not make good husbands.

  Inwardly, she sighed. It mattered not if he made a good husband. In fact, she deserved to marry a rogue or worse. But, it was known that he was devastatingly handsome and that he had a reputation for pleasing the ladies. She simply couldn’t have it.

  “He’s here,” her brother’s voice flowed over her.

  “Fine,” she gritted out.

  Four of her brothers filed in and stood in a line. She knew Stone wanted to impress this man, but it was absurd.

  Shifting the rest of her body to face the door, it slowly opened. Manchester absolutely filled the doorway before he entered the room.

  He was tall and strong, handsome too. His eyes glittered a marvelous shade of pale green while his dark locks curled delightfully around his face, almost softening the hard lines of his jaw and cheeks. His lips were full and appeared to be the softest thing about him. A woman would fall in love with a man like that. If his reputation was any indication, he was most assuredly in love with himself.

  “The Duke of Manchester,” the butler called in his droning voice. All of her brothers bowed, and so she followed suit with a deep courtesy. Of course, she would never dream of being so bold as to not show respect but a tiny part of her wanted to rebel against Manchester and this meeting.

  His eyes were somber as Stone grasped Manchester by the hand and then embraced him like a brother. A lump formed in her chest then. Manchester had been friends with her late brother, Reginald.

  His eyes slashed into hers and her heart started hammering in her chest. Try as she might, there was no looking away, and something in the depths of his eyes startled her deep inside. It was a familiarity that called to her. It nearly burned her, and she tore her gaze from his, averting her eyes to make her pounding heart slow.

  “Your Grace, my sister, Lady Delia.” A hint of irritation laced Stone’s voice. Most likely he could sense her desire to rebel. Delia dismissed it. Stone loved her but he was easily displeased. If one worried about his fits of temper, one would rarely do anything else.

  She dipped into a curtsy, keeping her eyes on the ground. “Your Grace.”

  “My lady,” he responded. His voice rumbled straight through her. Even the roots of her hair seemed to tingle.

  The floor was no place to look, Stone was watching her like a hawk and would soon notice. Not wanting to meet his eyes again, she focused at a point just over his shoulder. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “And you as well.” There it was again, that voice that made her insides vibrate.

  The entire meeting was most unsettling. Not knowing what else to do, Delia turned to look back out the window. Stone would chastise her later for her rudeness but she could see no other way. She had never intended on marrying, but since Stone was hell bent on matching her with someone, it would have to be someone less…attractive. If she must endure marriage, it would be to someone ugly or old, preferably both. Someone she could stand next to without fear of developing an emotional attachment. Obviously, Manchester could not hear her internal dismissal and so he moved closer. And while he was oblivious to her turmoil, she was painstakingly aware of his presence when his body came near hers. But she did not turn and kept her eyes focused out the window. “How far south do you live?” It was a deflection.

  One that failed. He stood just behind her and his breath tickled her neck as he responded, “It is but a day’s trip by the ocean, though a three-day journey by land.”

  Delia glanced back, another mistake. His piercing green eyes stole her breath and his chiseled jaw was close enough to reach out and touch. His brow quirked ever so slightly. “Oh,” she managed to murmur. She didn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t tell him that he made her insides melt like the spring sun to winter ice, or that she would never marry him because it was so. Because she didn’t deserve the happiness he would bring.

  * * *

  Roderick watched her as a myriad of emotions flitted across her perfect face. Her eyes were exactly the same as he remembered them. Large and expressive with that blue-gray color that mirrored the ocean below. But everything else about her had bloomed into life. She had gone from a little girl to a stunning woman. He hadn’t expected to be attracted to her. It caught him completely by surprise.

  He wasn’t sure that he was happy about it. He’d made a promise to marry Delia and he’d see it through. In fact, he’d spent years readying himself to be the man she’d need him to be. But attraction, that had not factored into his plan.

  Neither did her ignorance to his identity. She knew who he was, of course. But Stone had told him that she did not realize he was her rescuer. Her brother had cautioned him that he should get to know her before revealing said information. He had no idea why, but he was about to find out. For more reasons than he could name, he was hell bent on marrying Delia Alban.

  “Should we sit?” he whispered closer to her ear than was necessary. She smelled truly delicious. Like cinnamon or pastry crust. She practically jumped at the nearness. Most curious.

  “Of course.” Her soft, pink lips turned up into the smallest of smiles. It still lit her entire face, her high cheekbones becoming more pronounced and the blue flecks dancing in her eyes.

  She was stunningly perfect. His gut clenched as he further assessed her features. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose coif with pieces artfully cascading around her shoulders and face in long waves. Her overlarge breasts tapered down to a tiny waist and the flare of her hips, well, it made a man want… He stopped himself. Four of her brothers still stood behind him and this was not how it was supposed to be.

  Even now, her large eyes held a vulnerability that pulled him to her. They were like a beacon in a storm.

  Finally, he realized that she was waiting for him to move. Stepping back, he made his way to the pair of settees and settled himself on one. He must look ridiculous on this delicate piece of furniture, but he tried to act as though it were comfortable.

  She sat across from him. It would have been too much to hope that she might sit next to him. All the warmth had left her gaze. The fortunate part was he could now study the lines of her face without interruption.

  Another five seconds passed and he realized neither of them had spoken. Blast, her beauty was addling his brain and all his perfectly rehearsed words were failing him. Casting about in his mind for conversation, he realized she had attended a recent wedding. “How were your recent travels? You attended Manchester’s wedding?”

  “The trip to and from His Grace’s wedding were most uneventful. Though the nuptials themselves were beautiful. I had never been in a London church and I found it remarkably ornate.”

  It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. He knew Stone had yet to give Delia a proper season, but she hadn’t been to London at all? As a lady of a very wealthy earl, even a Scottish one, she could surely be sponsored. Perhaps this was a carrot he could use to entice her into accepting his courtship. Despite his attraction, he fully planned on proceeding with his plan. Not only did he and Stone intend on combining their shipping companies, he’d made a promise to Reginald long ago that he’d keep now. It mattered not that he did not deserve such a woman. Though Stone was as set on the marriage as himself, he wished Delia to come to it willingly. “Your first time? Wait until you see the palace, or Almack’s. I journey to London regularly.”

  Her mouth opened slightly and excitement lit her eyes, but then she clamped it back shut, her eyes glazing over, as she looked at a point above his shoulder. “I’m sure I won’t be going to London anytime s
oon.”

  Clearing his throat, he gave her an assessing look. He sensed some resistance on her part but now it was confirmed. He didn’t understand why she didn’t want him. As a duke, he had to confess to most women going out of their way to attract his attention. Despite her brother’s success, he was still a fair prize for her.

  But she was making it clear, she wasn’t interested. Considering their engagement was almost a certainty, it was odd indeed but he was nothing if not determined. I fact it seemed his determination alone would pull this match together. His and Stone’s. A new tact would have to be found. She looked away and he studied her profile. The blue of her gown brought out the color of her eyes. He could still see them on the day of Reginald’s death, staring at him, wide with fear. It made him want to touch her, hold her even. “Life can bring all sorts of unexpected things.”

  Turning back to him, her eyes met his again and she bit her lip. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, appearing to battle with herself. Finally, she spoke. “What unexpected things has life brought you?”

  He took a breath, it was important that he do this correctly. She was weary of him and he wanted to put her at ease. “I once saved a young girl. It near broke my heart and it positively healed it. I had been lost prior to that and I didn’t understand what was really important.”

  Her eyes, always large, were round saucers now, a mix of vulnerability and, he hoped, admiration. He didn’t want her affection to matter but somehow, it did. “Thank you for sharing something so…” she seemed to search for the appropriate word, “personal. She must be very grateful, who was she?” Curiosity brimmed from her gaze now.