Her Wild White: Dark Duke’s Legacy

  Her Wild White

  Dark Duke’s Legacy

  Tammy Andresen

  Copyright © 2021 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.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  His White Wager

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Tammy

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  Hugs!

  Chapter One

  Sayden White stood on the deck of the three-masted schooner, grey mist swirling about him making the air as thick as split pea soup. As a rule, he liked the rain. It was quiet. Well, he supposed sometimes it could be very loud but perhaps it was more that his mind was quiet in the rain.

  Washed clean.

  Sayden wasn’t one of those mopey sorts. He loved life and he lived it to the fullest, but there was something about rain that was like a pause. A breath of deep, fresh air.

  And so, when a soft summer rain had begun to fall, he knew most of the crew and guests on this boat would retreat below deck, he’d come up here to seek a moment of solitude. Quiet in what had been a very loud week.

  Only he wasn’t alone.

  Another stood on the deck, just visible in the swirling fog as she stood at the bow of the ship, her arms wrapped about her waist.

  And honestly, Samantha Longnook was the last person he wished to see.

  Unusually tall and slender, she wasn’t his sort at all. He liked a lush woman, not that Sam was a love interest. Even if he could get past her glasses, and the way she stared over the top of them, and her grey eyes silently accusing him of being daft, there was no way he could overlook the fact that she was not even the least bit interested in him.

  It was another way in which she was completely unusual. An anomaly.

  Sayden knew he was handsome. Dark hair and broad shoulders, he’d perfected his alluring smile years ago. It both said he didn’t care while still giving the appearance of charm. Women generally melted at the sight of it.

  Not Miss Samantha Longnook.

  She’d given him her glare in return. The one she’d likely perfected from years of making men feel small and inferior.

  To be clear, he had not been attempting to seduce her. He’d used his smile for another reason entirely. She, being a true bluestocking, seemed to understand the particulars of bogs and swamps and the possible presence of coal. The hows and the whys of how she understood the topic concerned him far less than the fact that she did. And it was information that he desperately needed.

  With the end of the Napoleonic War, his days as a manufacturer of gunpowder were limited. His eldest brother had taken over an indebted dukedom from their crook of a father. And best of all, their father had been in business with a man who’d been attacking them. William Parricide, also known as Erwin Macklemeyer.

  To cap the entire affair off, his father had done all of it to pay for his monstrosity of a Gothic Revival home, which Parricide had just burned to the ground.

  Hence, why he needed silence now.

  And why he’d asked the bluestocking for help. And though she’d resisted his famous grin, it turned out there was something she wanted more than his charm. Money.

  “I can hear you breathing,” Samantha called over her shoulder, not looking back at him.

  He jumped, startled by her words. Which irritated him. No one took him by surprise. He manufactured gunpowder for fuck’s sake. A task requiring skill and finesse and a great deal of concentration. Not to mention courage. And horse piss. But that was another conversation. “You cannot.”

  “Then how did I know you were there?”

  He hated her logic. The way she always used it to throw him off balance. He’d charmed scores of women. None of them ever ruffled him. But she managed it over and over with a single word or two. “I don’t know, Sam. But I’m sure you’re going to tell me in some long-winded conversation likely to bore me to tears or to sleep.”

  He’d taken to calling her Sam, and he said the nickname like it was an insult. He curled his lips around the single syllable, crossing his arms. But the truth was, it was a bit of a compliment. She was smarter and able to handle herself better than most men he knew.

  “I shall keep it short then, so as not to bore you. Your nose whistles.”

  Displeasure rippled down his skin at the cut she’d just given him. Damn her. Damn her and her big fat head. Well, actually it was a nicely shaped head with a lovely crown of dark thick hair. But the mind held within was annoying as hell in its intelligence. Unless those smarts were being used in regard to his future business. That was another matter entirely. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” And then, without explanation, he began moving toward her.

  Would he throttle her? Lean in close and catch a whiff of her scent? An aroma carrying a bit of earth and flowers, sweet and clean.

  She sniffed, her nose notching in the air. “It’s true whether you think it’s ridiculous or not.”

  Sayden let out a rumble of frustration. The desire to continue to argue with her danced on the tip of his tongue, but he clamped his lips shut. Why did she make him feel like a schoolboy all over again?

  He reached her side, noting the lovely curve of her back as her arms wrapped around her body. He rolled his eyes at himself. When had he begun to notice her back? Any back for that matter? Normally, he assessed far more obvious assets. Like asses. Without meaning to, he glanced down and was surprised to note that hers was delightful. Perfectly plump with just the right amount of round to add a lush quality to her trim frame. Fuck.

  He also noted that she was freezing cold. Out here on the open water, even in the summer air, the wind bit at his skin. And with the damp air…

  He shrugged off his coat and dropped it around her shoulders. “Here. Take this.” The garment was going to smell like her later. He knew that and he told himself he was absolutely not going to hold it up to his nose when she gave it back.

  For a moment, he wondered if she might take the coat back off and return it to him. Reject even the bit of warmth he offered the way she always seemed to reject him. He should be used to the feeling at this point in his life but somehow she managed to sting him in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to be hurt in years. Not since his father. But then she pulled the coat tighter about her shoulders. “Thank you.”

  He gave a quick nod. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

  She looked up at him then. Not that she had to notch her chin far. She was tall. Taller than most women with a long, graceful neck to match her body. Her full lips parted, and he had to confess that they were another rather lush feature. Soft and full they beckoned for him to come closer. The muscles in his abdomen tightened.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I needed some time to think.”

  “You can’t think in your cabin? You’re one of the few people on this ship who has their own.”

  She made a tski
ng noise. “I like being outside. The fresh air clears my head.”

  His eyes widened, surprise making him straighten up a bit. They had something they shared. “Me, too.”

  “What do you know,” she murmured. “Common ground.”

  He shook his head, stepping a bit closer. He’d come out here, if he were being honest, to think about her. Why she managed to have an effect on him. Of course, he’d been thinking about the future of his business and the events that had brought him to the moment where he needed to rely on Sam to help him move forward. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Bogs,” she answered, her gaze casting back out over the water.

  “Bogs?” he asked, disappointment making his shoulders slump. “You came out in the rain to think about bogs?”

  “And swamps,” she answered, without turning back to look at him. “They require more precipitation than evaporation, so rain is the perfect time to consider. What were you thinking about?”

  Well, shit. What did he say to that?

  Why had she just asked that question?

  Samantha closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. With his jacket about her shoulders, his scent had wrapped about her, clean and masculine with hints of the last cheroot he’d smoked. Lord Sayden White always managed to unsettle her. Satan his family called him. The name fit.

  Which was why she should have just continued discussing swamps. Safer.

  Swamps she knew and understood. They had specific patterns of behavior, and in various conditions, acted in predictable ways.

  There was nothing predictable about Lord Sayden. Not that she understood most men, but until he came along, she’d never tried or been curious about them either.

  But that was not the case with this large and wild lord. From the start he’d unsettled her. It began with his dark, piercing eyes, his handsome, strikingly cut features, the strong line of his jaw. And then there was his smile.

  His smile spoke of naughty secrets that both intrigued Samantha and made her pulse jump, sent her heart racing and her blood thrumming through her body.

  He knew all sorts of things she was completely ignorant about. Which wasn’t difficult. Samantha had spent all her time researching the natural world and very little time studying people. It was a decision she’d been completely content with until she’d met Lord Sayden.

  “I was thinking about William Parricide or Erwin Macklemeyer,” he answered, his features tightening. “Do you think he has more names than just the two?”

  “Likely,” she murmured, glad they were once again on safe ground. Thinking about the smuggler who’d terrorized his family and hers was definitely easier than discussing her feelings toward Sayden.

  The tiniest bit of disappointment twisted in her stomach, because she’d been thinking about him when he’d clearly been thinking about someone else. Parricide had attempted to marry Samantha’s cousin Violet while posing as a legitimate businessman, Erwin Macklemeyer. Of course, he’d also posed as Destrian White’s right-hand man in Destrian’s shipping business while he’d been using the position to bring illegal wine into the country. “You’re worried that he’ll attack you again?”

  “He did just burn my father’s masterpiece, Whitehaven, to the ground. Never mind the financial aspect of the attack. Ben was drowning in debt before. Now he’s likely sunk. My father betrayed us all to see that monstrosity completed and now it’s gone. I hated the house but our sacrifice was for nothing.”

  Samantha winced. For a moment, she considered touching him but held back. They didn’t know each other well enough for such a gesture and besides, it was likely a bad idea to engage in physical contact. Who knew how she might react?

  But like Sayden, she understood all about terribly selfish fathers who didn’t properly care for their children.

  Granted, her own father’s lack of care had made her strong, independent and able to take care of herself. Unlike a lot of ladies her age, she didn’t dream of marriage. Her father’s aloofness and selfishness had taught her all she needed to know about the downfalls of being dependent on a man.

  She was strong enough to make a living in a world dominated by men, pay off her father’s debts, and remain unattached in the future if she so chose. Which she did. Why had she even thought of remaining single as a maybe? She had a plan to help Sayden White find coal and then, with the money she earned, she’d be good to live on her own for the rest of her life. Free to pursue whatever interested her.

  Migrating animals, or marine life, or deliciously devilish lords with rippling muscles and…she forced herself to stop.

  Her uncles were attempting to circumvent her plan by marrying her off posthaste. They even considered Sayden a possible candidate. Had they no sense? Couldn’t they see the man was too wild to tame? And didn’t they realize she herself was not in need of a husband to save her?

  Samantha had to concentrate because Sayden’s patronage was important to her future. She’d managed to avoid debtor’s prison, but she’d been living off the care of her uncle and that was a state she couldn’t tolerate. She’d live by her own hand, no one else’s.

  “I didn’t know dukes could be sunk,” she murmured. She, herself, was precariously close.

  He shrugged. “They get a great deal more allowance to pay off their debt than the rest of us.”

  She nodded. That seemed more like the world order she’d come to understand.

  Sayden stepped closer. “If there is coal on my land, what kind of money are we talking about?”

  She shook her head. “It’s too difficult to say. If it’s there. If the conditions have been right, there’s no telling what the size of the vein might be or the quality of the coal. Depending on the peat—”

  “Peat?” he asked. “Like what they use for huts?”

  “Precisely.” She turned to him, her mouth opening as she prepared to explain how, over time, peat was converted into the harder, more porous substance of coal. Certain environmental conditions made it more likely that veins of the substance might be found. But then his dark eyes met hers, penetrating and all-seeing in a breath-stealing sort of way. His body curled slightly to bend around hers and heat came off him, steaming the slightest bit in the cold moist air. Without his jacket, she could see it rising off him.

  She ached in the most private places as her mouth went dry. What would it feel like to press into his warmth? “Peat,” she repeated completely lost for other words and aware that the repetition was useless, silly even. But all the other words had flown from her head. Where were the barbs she normally hid behind? Or the scientific facts?

  She tilted her chin up as she found herself moving closer, a chill creeping up her spine. Was she cold or just aware of him? She couldn’t say but as she closed some of the distance between them, she really could feel the warmth that rolled off him in waves.

  How delicious.

  His eyes narrowed and for a moment she wondered why. Had she annoyed him by coming closer? Could he see her interest written all over her features? She’d been working so hard to disguise it.

  “It’s starting to rain harder,” he said, low and deep, the sound reverberating through her.

  “Is it?” She lifted her face to feel several drops of rain splash against her skin.

  “It is. You should go below before you’re soaked to the bone.”

  He settled his hand on the small of her back. Even through his heavy jacket, she could feel the heat of the touch. His palm and fingers were so large, they seemed to span the entire distance from one side of her waist to the other. Her chin snapped up as she stared into his face. His full lips curved into a partial smile, one corner lifting. It wasn’t that all-knowing smile, the one that whispered of secrets. This one was just like a warm, comfortable blanket.

  No less devastating, just different. “I’m a biologist, Lord Sayden. I’m used to the elements.”

  His smile grew. “I’ve noticed that about you. Tough. And don’t get me wrong, I like it. But I need yo
u in top condition when we reach Northumberland. All our futures depend on it. Even the Duke of Whitehaven’s.”

  Even the duke’s? Samantha shivered for another reason besides the press of his large hand. Pressure. She’d had to rely on herself and she’d even had to support her mother before she’d died. She’d wanted this responsibility. But supporting herself and an entire family of nobleman? What if she failed? Or worse, what if the duke decided that he didn’t wish for her services at all? She could not go back to her uncles and be forced into some match. She’d have to plead her case, but fear made her chest tighten enough to turn her heart to coal.

  Chapter Two

  Sayden looked out at his family assembled on the pier and attempted not to groan. He wasn’t much for family togetherness.

  Never had been.

  That likely wasn’t true. At one time, when he’d been a small boy, he wanted nothing more than to be part of the club.

  But he’d been the youngest of the White sons and the quietest as a child. That had meant he’d been mostly forgotten.

  Not that he was complaining. He could see his siblings had had it worse growing up, but he’d always felt apart from the rest of them.

  And somewhere along the way, he’d started to apply himself to gaining attention with wilder and more dangerous acts climbing tall trees, swimming through dangerous waters, taming unbroken horses until the behavior had just become part of him. In fairness, he excelled at them. He didn’t feel fear the way others did, and he craved the excitement that came from breaking away from the normal.

  Which definitely did not include cozy family reunions.