Chapter 7
Seven
Swyft Castle, Scotland
After her first solid night's sleep, Nicole padded over to the window and, with a fresh perspective, she rediscovered the beauty of the rolling green hills that she’d once left behind for a boy.
Never again would she act so foolishly. It was well overdue for her to focus on her responsibilities, rather than dwell upon those of a man who had easily cast her aside once again.
“Lass, mind if I come in?” her father asked from the stone-encased door.
She walked back to her bed and donned her wool robe hanging over the footboard. “Of course, you may enter, Father.”
“Ye best sit down. In fact, it might be best if we both sit.”
Since their return to Scotland, her father appeared to have aged beyond his years. His shoulders stooped, his head hung low, and the lines about his eyes were no longer remnants of laughter but reminders of worries.
Nicole placed her hand over her father’s upon his knee. “Whatever it is, we can sort it out.”
“I received word that Felix is now the Duke of Strandon. It seems his father’s passing coincided with Logan’s, which is why ye’ve no heard from him.” Her father turned and stared directly at her. “He’s on his way here.”
“Felix lost his father?”
“Aye, lass.”
“Och, I see.” Her rusty Scottish brogue emerged as she processed the terrible news. Nicole gripped her father’s hand and squeezed. “Are ye alright? I know you haven’t been on the best of terms recently, but he was a dear friend to you for many years.”
“Strandon was a proud man. I understood his reasons for isolating himself. If I were in his position, I might have done the same.” His father gave her a weak smile. “Felix is a good lad, like his father he is.”
“I’d rather not think of him right now.”
“Well, he’s been spotted not but a day away, and I’m not gonna turn the lad away. I wish to speak to him.” Her father’s expression turned even more somber. “I’m not gettin’ any younger, lass. Ye need someone to look after ye.”
“He’s abandoned me twice!”
“Mind you, it was out of duty, and ye weathered the storm just fine. Give Felix a chance… for me.” Her father’s eyes pleaded with her.
He rarely asked much of her, and there wasn’t really any reason to deny her father’s request. Especially since deep down, she wanted to see Felix and find out how he was faring after the loss of his father, see if he still loved her as she loved him…
Bah! She was a fool for continuing to love the man.
Even if it might mean heartbreak, she resigned herself to see Felix one more time.
“Very well. I shall meet with Felix, but I’ll not make you any promises. ”
“Ye made one to yer Uncle Logan… remember?”
Blast her father for reminding her. “Yes, Father. I’ve not forgotten my pledge to live fearlessly. If I hadn’t given my word, I’d have left London years ago.”
“Yer a brave lass. I wish yer Uncle Logan had seen ye married before he met his maker.”
“You and me both,” Nicole said sadly.
The sound of booted feet running up the stairs had Nicole jumping to her feet. “I thought you said Felix was at least a day out.”
“Apparently, I was misinformed. It wouldn't be the first time, now would it?” Her father stood and placed his hands calmly behind his back.
Nicole hid behind her father. “He can’t see me like this.”
Hands on his knees, Felix appeared at the threshold, heaving for air as if he’d run the entire way from London. He looked like a madman—coat wrinkled, cravat askew, and a face full of whiskers as if he hadn't shaved in days. “Ba… Bar…”
He sounded like one of the sheep that meandered the hills. Nicole forced herself not to giggle, although the blasted man always found a way to lighten her mood no matter the circumstance.
Felix straightened and tried again. “Baron Swyft, might I have… have a word with Nicole, please?”
Her father glanced over his shoulder at her and gave her a wink before turning back to Felix. “Of course, ye can, Your Grace.”
Nicole stiffened at her father’s betrayal. “Father. You can’t simply leave. It’s… it’s highly improper.”
“The two of ye need to have a good long chat, and the sooner the better.”
As her father made his way to leave, Felix retrieved a note from his long coat and gave it to him. “Long overdue, but it’s a message from my father,” Felix said in a solemn tone that Nicole had never been privy to before.
She wanted to go to him and comfort him, knowing the pain and sorrow he must be experiencing, but her feet remained unmoving.
Blast the man. If he’d simply sent a note, she wouldn’t have thought the worst. Nicole crossed her arms over her aching chest and waited.
Ugh. She was done waiting. She marched over to Felix and intended to turn him about by the shoulders and shove him out the door, except he caught her first.
“Nicole, please… Please give me a chance to explain.”
"I don't want to hear your excuses." She stared at his cravat, not daring to meet his gaze. "You should leave."
"Not until you hear me out."
"There's nothing you can say that will change matters. The wager is done. A month has come and gone, and you've fulfilled your obligation. You may return to London with a clear conscience."
His fingers gripped her then relaxed before Felix’s hands fell away. "The wager was a ruse… an excuse to spend time with you… I never intended to leave after a month, and you well know it.”
Ire roared through Nicole, and she glared up at him.
"A ruse, was it?" Felix was a no good rake, after all.
She planted her hands on her hips and continued, "I suppose a note from you was too much to expect after you made your grand declarations and played the devoted suitor for as long as needed.
Then you go and disappear without word, like you always do. "
"I disappeared? You are the one who left a note telling me you can’t marry me.” Felix’s tone no longer held a ducal calmness; instead, it was infused with a deadly sharpness that made Nicole blink as she tried to recall exactly what she had scribbled in haste.
“Did I say I wouldn’t marry you?”
“Read it for yourself if you don’t believe me.” Felix reached into his vest pocket and retrieved a very crumpled and worn piece of parchment. “That is your penmanship, is it not?”
Nicole unfolded the tattered note, and she stared at the words scribbled in her own hand. “I was…”
“Shh… I know. You were in a hurry. In a daze, mayhap. It was a misunderstanding,” Felix tucked a wayward tendril of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed against the sensitive lobe.
Her cheeks warmed as his touch. She had wronged him, believed he’d abandoned her, when it was she who had inadvertently rejected him. “I’m sorry.”
He hadn’t left her. He loved her.
“I’m sorry for your loss. It wasn’t until a week ago that I was informed of your uncle’s passing. I returned to London as soon as I heard, but when I discovered you hadn’t returned, I vowed I’d hunt you down. I—”
Nicole rolled up onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck to draw his head down to her, cutting off his words. She pressed her lips lightly to his and then pulled back ever so slightly. “I should have trusted you.”
“I should have sent the damn letters I wrote.”
“You wrote to me?”
“I did. Every day since I left for Oxford.” He bent and kissed her on the forehead. “I have three years' worth of letters stacked in my office and another month's worth in my valise. I can’t imagine my life without you.”
She closed the minuscule distance between them, pressing her body to his. “I’m never going to let go of you again.”
Felix hummed his agreement and kissed her.
His lips were firm yet soft as she remembered, but as he deepened the kiss, the light friction of his stubble left a warm, tingling trail across her cheek.
Nicole jumped back at the giggles from farther down the hall.
She’d forgotten they were in the threshold and in plain sight.
He was about to follow her into her chambers, when she placed her palms flat against his chest and said, “The maids.”
Felix looked to his left and then to his right. With a look of resignation, he turned to face Nicole. “We shall continue after I’ve spoken to your father.” He cupped her face with one hand and brushed his thumb over the skin that his whiskers had rubbed against.
She nodded as the corner of her lips curled into a smile. He turned on his heels and marched down the hall toward her father’s study. Nicole closed her door and leaned her back against it.
Felix hadn’t abandoned her after all. She was going to marry the man.
A bath was drawn in the drafty, stone-walled guest chambers he’d been assigned to, and Felix sank into the hot water with a groan of relief.
His muscles ached from days in the carriage, and exhaustion was finally catching up with him.
With the back of his head rested against a cloth perched on the edge of the metal tub, Felix closed his eyes and smiled.
Nicole had kissed him. She might not have fully forgiven him, but she loved him, and he was going to make her the Duchess of Strandon.
“A few more minutes,” he said at the patter of slippers. When the maid didn’t respond, he opened his eyes only to discover Nicole standing next to the tub. All thoughts of a quick nap vanished.
She'd changed out of her night gown and was now in a cheerful yellow morning dress, her hair in a loose knot at the base of her delectable neck. In the dim rays of sunlight cascading through the narrow castle windows, she looked like an angel. His angel.
"Your valet appears to have been worn ragged. He’s sound asleep. I thought I might assist you in his stead," she said softly.
Felix's throat went dry. "Nicole—"
"Yes.” She took another step closer.