Chapter Thirteen #2
He turned away from the window and glanced around the room.
There was a large mahogany desk in the center, quite masculine in appearance and not at all a dainty lady’s desk.
Off to the side were bookshelves that contained binders that each had a year running down the spine, mixed in with an assortment of books.
Upon closer inspection, he noted that the books were on financial and agricultural topics.
Miranda had a head for business.
The carpet was of oriental design in shades of maroon and gold. Clearly, this was a working area and not merely decorative.
Gwenys rushed in while he was still perusing the room.
“Your Grace! It is so good to see you again. I’m sorry we did not have the chance to speak earlier, but we were inundated by callers, as you saw.
I’m so glad Aunt Miranda invited you to dine with us.
We shall have the chance to speak quietly and at our leisure. ”
“Aye, lass. I was thinking much the same.”
“She said you were going to escort us to our evening engagements. Is this true? I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear this. Not that I expect any problems to arise, but…”
“What is it?” She was obviously worried about something.
“That Lady Trowbridge is one to cause mischief, isn’t she? She and my family ought to be back in London by now.”
Bram nodded. “Aye, lass.”
“They are not through hurting Miranda. It was obvious during those few encounters we had with them while traveling down to London. Lady Trowbridge and my stepmother will try to get at her through me, I fear. Or am I worrying over nothing?”
“Ye have cause to be concerned. I think those two harpies are no’ above hurting either of ye,” he said, taking Gwenys’s hands in his. “Rest assured, I will do all in my power to protect ye.”
“And Miranda?”
“Aye, of course. However, they are more likely to plot against ye first, because hurting ye is what will cause Miranda the greatest pain.”
“Oh, I know. They are such foul creatures. I understand now why she was so strident in keeping me away from them. They’ll do something horrid now, perhaps whisper in my father’s ear and try to convince him to match me to someone completely wrong for me.
Or try something stupid, such as tricking me into a compromising position with some penniless lord they’ve paid off because they cannot bear to see me happily matched to your Douglas.
” She shook her head and sighed. “Why would these two who have been blessed with every privilege wish to hurt others?”
“I dinna know, lass. Some people are just filled with bile. But this is why I am determined to stay close to ye and yer aunt. If anyone attempts to harm ye, they’ll be answering to me.”
“That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
“Nay, lass. It is my pleasure to protect ye.”
She cast him a sweet, lighthearted smile. “On a happier note, we are delighted to have your company for the duration of your time in London. Miranda might not admit this, but she is filled with elation that we’ll be seeing you often.”
He laughed. “Is that so?”
Gwenys nodded. “You should have been with us this morning. She moped through breakfast, hardly touching her food and glum as anything. Then she stared at the wall clock throughout the day. I’m sure she was counting the minutes until the start of our at-home hours, and then frantically watched the parlor door for your arrival. ”
“Frantically?” He liked that bit of information, for it was good to have confirmation that Miranda was missing him as intensely as he was missing her.
A groan from the doorway drew his attention.
He grinned. “Good evening, Miranda.”
She smiled back. “I was not frantic or even moping, merely lost in my thoughts.”
Gwenys gave a light cough. “Brooding.”
Miranda laughed. “All right, perhaps a little out of sorts. And I was only staring at the clock this afternoon because you were late and I was worried something serious might have happened to delay you.”
“Oh, what utter rot. You stared at it all day.” Gwenys rolled her eyes. “Just admit you were breathlessly awaiting his arrival.”
“Gwenys!” Miranda sighed and shook her head. “I am glad to see you, Solway.”
He liked it better when she called him Bram, but was not going to insist on it while in Gwenys’s company. “Same here, Miranda.”
Gwenys clapped her hands. “Well, I’ve forgotten something important. Please excuse me while I figure out what it is.”
She raced off, closing the study door behind her.
Bram arched an eyebrow. “The lass is subtle, isn’t she?”
Miranda laughed. “She thinks I am a fool who needs a shove in the right direction.”
“And what direction would that be?”
“Into your arms. Isn’t it obvious? She adores you.”
He stepped toward Miranda and drew her into his arms. “What she adores is seeing ye happy. Do I make ye happy?”
She rested her cheek against his chest. “Yes, you do. Is there a doubt?”
He tucked a finger under her chin and raised her gaze to his. “Ye do the same for me. I was in agony all night long and throughout the day, so desperately missing the sight of ye. Ye are my happiness, Miranda. I dinna know how else to say it. Having ye near me fills my heart with joy.”
“You do the same for mine, Bram.”
But he saw her expression crumble again, as it always did when they spoke of permanence between them.
She regarded him with sorrowful eyes. “What if this feeling doesn’t last for you?”
“For me? What about yer feelings? I would think it more likely that ye tire of me, no’ the other way around.”
Her eyes rounded. “I never would.”
“How do ye know? I’m an oaf. Coarse and unrefined.
I’m forty years old and have grown quite set in my ways.
I dinna like being in London, canno’ abide English Society and its rigid rules, and rarely attend parties.
Having to sit and make dull conversation at a dainty tea is sheer agony for me.
” He sighed. “I like to toss logs with my kinsmen, as ye once accused. I prefer to walk around without a cravat, walking cane, or beaver hat.”
“Or shirt,” she added with a chuckle.
“Aye, that too.” He smiled. “I curse and drink too much. Although I promise ye, lass, I dinna ever get drunk. Ye’re already reluctant to marry me. I suppose this gives ye more reasons to reject me.”
“No, this makes me love you all the more.” She gasped upon realizing what she had just admitted and tried to scoot out of his arms. But he would not release her, for his heart was filled with elation.
“Ye love me?” Yes, the words had slipped from her mouth unwittingly. But she would not have confessed this had she not held feelings for him.
This was all the confirmation he needed. He would wait for her forever, if necessary.
“Ye love me?” he repeated when she did not immediately answer him. “Och, dinna deny it. Ye said it, Miranda. I heard it. Dinna dare take it back.”
Her lips were tightly pinched, and she looked as though she wanted to leap out of the study window.
She finally relaxed in his arms and nodded. “Yes, I love you. Do you think I would be so anguished if I didn’t? As for everything you said just now, do you understand why this makes me love you all the more?”
He gave a laughing groan. “No’ a clue. Will ye kindly explain it to me?”
“Oh, Bram. You are hopeless.” But she was now smiling, so he did not care that she thought him dense and a dolt.
“It is simple, really. You hate all things about our English ways and manners, and yet you would endure every nonsensical rule and every dull affair for me. Is this not more special because you are thinking of me above all else?”
Blessed saints. She was right. He would do anything to make her happy.
“Oh, look at you,” she said, laughing heartily. “You look so bemused.” She threw her arms around his neck, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him on his gaping mouth. “Do not change a thing about yourself, you big Scot.”
He said nothing in response, just took control of the kiss and turned up the heat of it to scorching. At the same time, he tossed his pouch of invitations off the small table and set Miranda on it to better get at her body, because he wanted her to feel his kiss everywhere.
But he had no sooner positioned himself between her legs—actually been yanked there by Miranda, who understood his intentions and probably thought he was taking too long about it—when he heard an urgent knocking at the study door.
“Bram! It isn’t locked,” she whispered frantically. She squirmed off the tabletop while he picked up his pouch and set it back on the table. “Sit,” she ordered him, pointing to one of the leather chairs in front of her desk.
“A moment.” He straightened the bodice of her gown, which was askew, for his hands had strayed where they should not have.
He had just taken his seat, bemoaning that a forty-year-old duke had to behave like a wayward schoolboy, when she threw open the door.
No doubt she expected to see Gwenys, but it was Humbolt knocking urgently. “Lady Miranda, come quick!”
Bram was on his feet in an instant because he suddenly heard muffled screams. “What in blazes?”
He nudged Miranda behind him as they both ran into the entry hall in time to see Gwenys’s father and stepmother with two of their burly footmen attempting to drag Gwenys away. One of those footmen had a hand over Gwenys’s mouth to silence her cries.
“Over my dead body,” Bram said with menacing calm, barreling into the fray and quickly dropping those men to their knees with a few swift punches.
Of course, neither of them were going to continue the fight when Humbolt shouted, “He’s the Duke of Solway! Are you willing to hang for striking a duke?”
They lowered their fists, having more sense than their master or mistress, and ignored Lady Lowery when she shouted at the top of her lungs for them to grab Gwenys.