Chapter Eight #3
“I am sure there will be many visions that night.” Merry stabbed a chunk of meat with her knife while glaring at the viscount. “Make it known to Lady Atterley that you are in search of your viscountess, and she will line up dozens of likely prospects for you, I am sure.”
Brixham twitched a nonchalant shrug. “There is no need for a line. The lady I have already chosen is far above all the rest.”
Duncan nearly choked on his wine and barely stopped himself from snapping the crystal goblet’s stem. He cleared his throat and carefully set the glass back on the table. “Ye speak as if ye ordered the woman from a shop window. Does she have no say in the matter?”
“She will come around. After all, as a wealthy viscount, I am in great demand with the marriage-minded mamas of the ton.”
“Again, it seems as though the lady’s wishes dinna matter to ye. Ye speak of yerself and the mothers of Polite Society, but not of the lady herself.”
Lord Brixham leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Should we step into the library or another parlor, my lord, so I might make myself clearer?”
“Gladly.” Duncan shoved away from the table, champing at the bit to teach this sorry bit of horse shite a lesson.
“This will stop immediately.” Broadmere rose and glowered at them both. “How dare you behave in such a manner in front of my sisters?”
Clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles popped, Duncan bowed his head first to the duke, then to Merry and her sister. “His Grace is quite correct. I beg yer forgiveness, ladies.”
The viscount remained in his seat, arms folded across his chest, pouting like an overindulged child.
Merry stood and stepped away from the table. “Come with me, Lord Kirkston.”
“My lady?”
“Come with me,” she repeated before turning to Serendipity. “Coming, sister?”
Serendipity tossed her napkin on the table. “Most definitely.”
Lord Brixham started to rise from his chair, and Merry shook her head. “You are not invited, my lord. You are my brother’s guest. Not mine.”
The man’s jaw dropped, sending a surge of victory through Duncan’s veins.
Such a fiery lass. As obedient as a pup, Duncan followed the ladies into the kitchen. He would follow Lady Merry anywhere, even through the gates of hell if need be.
“Cook,” Merry said, “forgive us for being such a bother, but might we enjoy our supper in here at your worktable? There is no need for the fanciness you provided for the dining room. Buttered bread and jam would be ever so lovely.”
The older woman with silvery curls peeking out from under her cap fisted her hands atop her ample hips.
“When the lads told me it was Lord Brixham coming to supper, I wondered if that would happen. I remember how poorly the two of you always got on. Him always teasing you, and you filling his breeches with nettles.” She wheezed out a hearty laugh.
With a clap of her work-reddened hands, she shooed the scullery maids into action.
“You heard Lady Merry. Buttered bread and jam for our guests. Set the worktable whilst I get water boiling for tea.”
With a dramatic flourish, Merry offered Duncan one of the stools. “Your seat, my lord. I hope you do not mind.”
“I much prefer this seating to the other, my lady.”
“Lass or Merry, remember?”
“Aye, lass. I remember.” He could sit in this kitchen forever as long as Merry was there.
Lady Serendipity seemed much more at ease as well, and her color had improved.
Still feeling contrite about stirring so much trouble, he bowed his head to her. “Again, my lady, I do apologize for my behavior, and I should not have come calling today. My mother and brother warned against it, but I fear I had to come.”
“I am glad you came, my lord. Who knows how bold Brixham would have gotten if you hadn’t been here.” She reached and took hold of Merry’s hand. “He must not be encouraged. I shall speak with Chance as soon as we are rid of him.”
“I did not encourage him. In fact, if I had been any blunter with that cod’s head, you and Chance would have fallen out of your chairs.” Eyes flashing, Merry clenched her fists on the table. “I wish he would return to the Continent or, even better, move to America.”
“He cannot be trusted and must be watched,” Lady Serendipity said, turning back to Duncan. “Even when Chance informs him Merry is not available, Brixham will fight it.” She wrinkled her nose, once again looking like a puzzled hare. “Merry is not available, is she?”
“She is not, my lady.” Duncan locked eyes with Merry. “I pray my intentions are clear—and welcomed. As soon as ye allow it, I shall speak to yer brother.”
“I am of age,” she said, “and your intentions are clear and welcomed. We shall dance every dance at Lady Atterley’s ball to set the ton talking and make it official.”
Doing his best to resist the urge to lunge across the worktable and pull her into their first kiss, Duncan thumped a fist to his chest. “I shall speak to yer brother immediately, then—as a courtesy.” Happier than he could ever remember being, he rose, walked around the table, and knelt in front of her.
Taking her hand, he grazed a kiss across her silken knuckles.
“Say ye will do me the honor of being my wife, Merry. I would delight in hearing the words.”
Her eyes gleaming with tears, she leaned forward and touched his cheek. “I will, my champion. I will.” Then her lips parted the barest bit, and she seemed surprised.
“What is it, lass?”
Tears overflowing, she hurried to frame his face with her hands. “You are smiling.”
*
Heart beating wildly, Merry didn’t bother trying to hold back her tears.
Duncan looked happier than she had ever seen him.
He was still smiling, and dear heavens alive, it made her fierce, growly Scottish champion even more handsome.
“You are smiling,” she repeated, not caring that she had already said it twice before.
“Ye made it so, lass.” He rose from his knees and stood in front of her, taking her hands in his. “I would like verra much to kiss ye, if yer sister would see fit to allow it.”
“My goodness.” Serendipity rose from her stool at the worktable and started for the door. “I do believe I hear Chance calling for me.”
Cook and the scullery maids disappeared like steam waved away from a boiling pot.
Staring up at him, Merry swallowed hard. It was so difficult to breathe. Was her silly heart going to thump its way out of her chest? She wet her lips and barely shrugged. “I…uhm…do not know what to do. Forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” he said softly, as he cupped her face and leaned in closer. “Nothing to forgive at all, lass.”
Then his mouth was on hers. His warm lips.
Soft. Insistent. Ever so perfect. She slid her hands up his chest, stepping into his embrace, clinging to him as she had when he pulled her from the river.
A wonderful dizziness overtook her, weakening her knees.
She molded herself against him and kissed him harder, hungry for all that he had to give.
With a soft groan, he lifted his head and blew out a ragged breath. “Lore a’mighty, my own. Ye’re as sweet as nectar.”
Trying to catch her breath enough to speak, she ran her fingertips along his jaw. The dark shadow of stubble bristled against her nails. “I did all right, then?” Good gracious, she needed… Well, she wasn’t sure exactly what she needed other than more.
He smiled again, thrilling her immensely. “Aye, lass. Ye did better than all right.” He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, lingering there as if savoring the connection. “I hope ye feel the same.”
She hugged him tighter. “I feel delightfully inappropriate and wish we were already married.” Her wanton confession set her cheeks on fire.
She surely had to be blushing as red as Mama’s reddest roses.
She drew back a bit and peered up at him, hoping she hadn’t shocked him. “Should I not have said that?”
He groaned again, then gently set her aside.
“I wish we were already married as well, and ye can say anything like that ye wish to me—any time ye wish.” He reached for her again and pulled her back into his arms. “Forgive me, lass, but I must have another taste before I go in search of yer brother.”
“Gladly.” She allowed him to draw her in for another kiss.
This was so much better, so much more exciting, than the kisses her sister Fortuity had written about in her novels.
The gentle hardness of his mouth. An urgency.
A need that pounded into her as they explored as much as they dared.
No wonder chaperones were so essential. Who knew kisses could be so wondrous and set her afire, making her want even more?
From somewhere in the distance, she vaguely heard Serendipity say something about Chance not calling out for her after all. Then a throat was cleared. Once. Twice. Then a great deal louder.
Duncan lifted his head and sheepishly increased the distance between them to a more respectable space. “I would like to speak to His Grace immediately,” he said to Serendipity. “Has his guest taken his leave yet?”
Serendipity waved him toward the door as she held it open. “Indeed, he has. Lord Brixham has left for the evening, and Chance is recovering with a glass of port in the library. I feel sure he would like you to join him.”
Duncan bowed over Merry’s hand. “I shall return shortly, my own.”
Unable to speak through all the emotions crashing through her, Merry nodded and watched him go, longing for him to return for another forbidden embrace. It took her a moment to realize that Serendipity was staring at her with something akin to sadness. “Seri? What is it?”
“You are the last,” her sister said, her voice breaking. “How will I manage here all by myself?”
“You will finally be free,” Merry gently told her. “It will be time for you to find your own happiness.”
“I was happy looking after you and all the others,” Seri whispered. “I’ll not know how to behave.”
Merry took hold of her sister’s hands and held them tight.
“You will learn. This will be the first time since Mama died, even before that, really, that you can look after yourself rather than always taking care of everyone else.” She hugged Serendipity close.
“And I am not gone yet. The banns haven’t even been read.
We have a month.” She couldn’t help but laugh.
“And here I wanted to wait until Duncan and I knew one another better. Apparently, Lord Brixham helped me settle my mind. I shall have to thank him.”
“That oaf had the audacity to inform Chance that you were to be his viscountess.” Serendipity shuddered with barely controlled rage. “He didn’t ask his permission, but told him. Can you believe it?”
“Out of that cod’s head? Absolutely.” Merry shuddered as well, a coldness washing across her at the very thought of the man. “You set Chance straight on that matter, did you not?”
“Of course, but in Chance’s defense, he told me he would never allow you to marry Lord Brixham even if you did think yourself in love with the selfish man. As it turns out, our brother has finally outgrown his wicked childhood playmate.”
“About time.”
“Chance will still be cordial to him.” Serendipity wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something burning in the fire. “But only as much as is required by Polite Society.”
“Well, I shall give him the cut direct.” Merry eyed the door to the hallway. “I hope it goes well between Chance and Duncan.”
“Chance as much as gave his blessing to Duncan at your birthday party, but the man seemed inclined to wait because that is what you wished.”
“Well…I am done waiting.” Merry pushed the door open and leaned into the hallway, straining to hear the slightest sound. “I don’t hear anything.”
“We are too far from the library. Unless they choose to shout, we won’t hear anything.”
“No shouting is good, correct?”
“Correct.”
Chance’s rumbling laugh echoed down the hallway, making Merry smile.
“And that is even better,” she said.
“Most definitely.” Serendipity linked arms with her and tugged. “Come along. We should join them and celebrate with a toast.”
Another shiver of excitement swept across Merry.
A toast to her very own forever. She hoped Mama and Papa were smiling down at her and pleased with her choice.
She grinned as she and Serendipity hurried down the hall.
Mama and Papa would definitely choose Duncan over the insufferable Lord Brixham. Of that, she had no doubt.