The Duke's Seduction of Lady M Read online

‘Really?’ he drawled the word and sent tingles down her spine. ‘Just what do you think I intend?’

  ‘Truly?’ she shrugged. ‘Apart from bending me to your will? I have no idea nor do I want to.’ Fibs, all fibs.

  ‘Liar,’ he said amiably as he opened a door and led her into a large room full of boots, walking sticks and sturdy outerwear, which she thought most probably belonged to the staff. ‘Your body says otherwise.’ He glanced at her bosom, then her face. ‘Your breath is uneven, your skin aglow and your breasts? Why they strain at their confines and beg for my touch.’ Brody leaned forward and oh so gently ran his finger down her cheek, across her shoulder to rest, teasingly, where the remains of the lace started.

  Damn him. She slapped his hand away and he laughed.

  ‘Does the truth hurt, my dear?’

  Mary didn’t need to look to accept he was correct. Her nipples were tight and hard to the point of soreness.

  ‘Your Grace,’ she began, wondering just what to say to deter him when her whole being cried out to say ‘yes, take me.’ ‘I…’

  ‘Brody Charles Dominic Weston, just what do you think you are doing to that poor girl? Dragging her indoors through here for goodness’ sake, like a skivvy or worse. She’ll wonder what sort of house we run.’

  Brody swore under his breath, straightened, and dropped his hand as if it was scalded.

  Mary spun around to see a plump lady, she knew well standing arms akimbo and staring at them both. That lady turned slightly, so Brody wouldn’t be able to see her expression and winked at Mary.

  ‘Miss Mary, come on in and ignore His Grace,’ Mrs Loveage said. ‘His manners seem to have stayed in the stable.’

  Brody flushed. ‘I…’

  ‘You,’ Mrs Loveage said implacably, ‘were behaving like a boor. Enough. Apologise to Mrs Lynch this minute.’

  Mary swore and let out a long breath. Why on earth did Mrs Loveage choose now to remember her correct – or as correct as she had admitted to – title?

  ‘Mrs Ly… one moment, did you say, Mrs?’

  Mrs Loveage went red and flashed a silent apology to Mary. Mary smiled her acceptance. There was no point in doing anything else now. Mrs Loveage and she had met when Mary first moved into the village, and become firm friends. One sunny afternoon, they’d encountered each other at the dairy, sat for a while next to the pond and talked. Somehow Mary had confessed a lot, though not all, of her past to the motherly lady. They’d both agreed it was Mary’s business and no one else’s and the village had accepted that though she was a widow, just as the schoolchildren used the title Miss, so would they.

  ‘Mrs?’ Brody repeated.

  Mary nodded. It had been foolish to hope her status wouldn’t be revealed. Did it really matter anyway? Widowed or single, she was out of his league and not made for playing games. That thought annoyed her. Why wasn’t she?

  Ahh I’m going crazy.

  ‘Mrs?’ There was an edge to Brody’s voice she hadn’t heard before.

  Oh lord, she’d forgotten to answer him. ‘Mrs Lynch. I’m a widow.’

  His eyes widened as he looked at her with speculation. What on earth did he want her to add?

  ‘Not a merry one, so don’t get ideas,’ she said firmly. ‘I still mourn my husband.’

  Behind him Mrs Loveage dipped her head in satisfaction. ‘I’m going to make tea and get you some water for a nice warm wash, Mary.’

  ‘And find a gown that will suit her,’ Brody said. ‘The hoyden look is not down to me but to a spooked horse.’

  ‘Of course it isn’t down to you.’ Mrs Loveage tut tutted. ‘Or it best not be. I made sure you were brought up better than that. There’s a nice sprigged muslin of Lady Morven’s that should fit. I’ll leave it with the washing water in the Green suite.’ Mrs Loveage bustled out and a few seconds later, pots and pans could be heard in the next room.

  Brody turned to his companion and grinned. ‘She’ll never forget that she was responsible for me when I was a child. And to be honest, I don’t want her to. Not that I understand love, but she is the person in the world that matters to me most. Much more than my mama,’ he said, in a surprised voice. ‘I have to admit that unnatural or not, it is true. I have the necessary respect for my mama, but, I accept, not the depth of feeling I have for Lovey.’

  ‘You can’t force yourself to love someone,’ Mary said. ‘Nor respect. Both have to be earned.’

  ‘Love?’ Brody looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Now, I don’t know that exists. Lust, definitely, desire, most certainly, but love?’ He shook his head. ‘Only found in those romantic novels so many people read these days.’

  What would he say if she told him she enjoyed such things? And knew love, true love, existed.

  ‘There we must agree to differ. However, it stands true that not everyone finds it, or bestows it on another. Your mama was always polite, but…’ She broke off, not sure how to put into words her instincts.

  ‘Exactly. But. Mama has always been too conscious of who I am, and never stopped reminding me of my role in society. She loved me for what I might be, not who I am. Lovey taught me how to behave, and showed me how to go on, and what I must be. And yes, today is not what she would condone, but sometimes … sometimes I say hang to everything and act as I want, not as I should. That apart, it was wrong to subject you to scrutiny. I’m not saying I don’t like your look, the hint and tease of torn lace is very enticing. However, it should be for me and me alone.’

  ‘In your dreams.’ If he ever saw her like this again she would scream. Next time she would be dressed, and behave, as befitting a lowly widow, even if it killed her. She curtseyed, in a parody of how she should behave, and his shoulders shook in silent laughter.

  ‘Oh yes, and in my reality. Soon. How long since your husband died?’

  Did he sound as if he thought a husband was a figment of her imagination? She soon disabused him of that notion.

  ‘Around nine months. I can give you chapter and verse if you desire?’ she said somewhat sarcastically. ‘All the gory details.’

  ‘No need. And nine months is more than enough time to grieve, get over your loss and move on.’ “With me” seemed to be suggested if not spoken aloud.

  The man needed taking down a peg or two. If only she could be the one to do it. Sadly, she wasn’t sure she had the ability to pierce his “I am sure it will happen” attitude, but she would do her best. ‘As I said, in your dreams.’

  ‘I so love my dreams, don’t you?’ He did the quizzical, raise-one-eyebrow expression that sent her body into “what if” mode.

  ‘I have no idea how you dream, so how could I?’ Mary replied, trying for an indifferent tone, but unsure if she was successful. ‘However, if they please you, feel free to indulge.’

  Brody shook his head, in what she recognised as mock despair.

  ‘Ah, Mary, Mary, you’re so sharp be careful you don’t cut yourself. Just believe me, they please me well. I dream very explicitly. In colour. Don’t they say dreams do come true?’ It wasn’t couched as a question. ‘Shall we wager on the outcome? By Christmas, you will come willingly to my bed.’ The look that accompanied that was enough to make any woman swoon and fall to the ground at his feet. Or run a mile. Seriously, Mary decided, it should be outlawed.

  ‘You’d lose.’ Or would he? When she thought over how he made her feel she seriously doubted that. However, that was one thought never to be shared. It was too much, too soon. He’d only known her for a few hours and already had decided she was to be his next mistress? To her chagrin, that idea excited her and tightened her body. Her muff was damp and her feminine places tingled.

  ‘Then if you’re so certain, wager with me.’ He looked at her, the challenge obvious in his eyes. ‘If I lose, you choose my forfeit.’ She opened her mouth and he put his finger over her lips.

  ‘Don’t say I must leave you alone. That is not negotiable. I’m the Duke. Everyone who lives in the village is my responsibility, whoever they are.’
/>   ‘Even Mrs Denham and her odio… ordinary daughter?’ Mary didn’t bother to hide the humour in her voice. The woman and her daughter were notorious for their encroaching manners.

  Brody laughed out loud. ‘Sadly, yes. Though some people see my estate manager, or Mama when she is around, not me. Mrs Denham is one such person.’

  ‘Or you wife when you marry?’ What on earth made her say that?

  He shook his head. ‘Marriage? Not to be thought of, but yes when eventually I do, my wife can have that pleasure. On second thoughts the chance not to have to deal with certain people is almost enough to make me think of matrimony.’

  ‘And a word in the poor unfortunate’s ear would be enough to put her wise as to why she was being given that honour,’ Mary said with snap to her tone that made him blink.

  ‘You don’t approve? It would be more than that, I assure you. But we’ve strayed off topic. If I win? You’ll go naked for me, for a day.’ He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. ‘I look forward to it.’

  That did it. The erotic ideas that conjured up, plus his smug certainty, made Mary see red. Her hand shot out and caught him across the jaw.

  He rocked, slid sideways, scowled and rubbed his cheek. ‘You…’ Brody spun her around so fast she saw stars. Scant seconds later she saw several more, as he administered several sharp taps to her posterior.

  ‘Remember that my dear, you lash out and I retaliate. I’ve taken enough from you. From now on, every time.’ He patted her abused rear and turned her around again. ‘Every time.’

  Red mist covered her view, and for one moment her temper threatened to get out of hand. Mary reined it in with difficulty. With another oath, she fisted her hands so tight she swore if she could have seen them they would be white. Why, oh why hadn’t she learned to curb her abominable temper? Nowadays she rarely lost it quite so spectacularly, but it seemed around Brody she reverted to childhood.

  Because he could matter to me. That wayward thought shocked her. Surely she didn’t really think that? She hardly knew the man, and from what she’d seen so far, she should be certain she didn’t want to know him any better. However, her body seemed to think otherwise. God help me.

  ‘The Nivens,’ Mary reminded him through gritted teeth. At this rate she’d grind them into dust if she didn’t calm down. She hadn’t realised you could speak with your mouth so firmly shut, unless you were a ventriloquist. She counted to ten as she remembered her staff. How could she have forgotten? Easily, it seemed, when in Brody’s presence. ‘Please send a message to tell them I’m fine and where I am.’ The begging note in her voice was easy to hear. She shook her head to clear it, the last thing she needed was for him to know she’d beg. What else will he expect me to beg for? ‘And accept my apologies. Violence is never the answer.’

  ‘Sometimes it is,’ he replied, darkly. ‘But at the moment, I agree we’d be better to gain satisfaction elsewhere.’ His inference was obvious. ‘However, for now, can I suggest a truce?

  She sighed. What else could she say? As she had no intention of living at loggerheads with the man who wielded power in the area, acquiescence was needed. ‘A truce and a message to the Nivens.’

  Brody grinned. ‘Consider it done. I’ll also get my groom to add that you came of your own free will and weren’t coerced in any way.’

  ‘You mean your staff will lie for you?’ Mary spread her hands out, and wished she hadn’t. Surely that wasn’t a suspicious tearing noise she could hear? She glanced down. Had her gesture strained the ribbon-held lace? Had she heard an ominous rip? Were the gaps in the lace bigger? She thought they were. The best thing she could do was to divert his attention elsewhere. ‘How very convenient with regards to your staff.’

  It didn’t faze him. Brody looked down, and then up at her with a wry grin. She followed his gaze to where she noticed his other staff; his own very personal staff was neatly outlined under the buckskin.

  ‘Not all of my staff, my dear. As you can see. This one?’ he gestured. ‘Never. The others?’ He took hold of the hand nearest him and very properly kissed the back of it. ‘Yes it is convenient, isn’t it?’

  She had to giggle. He was incorrigible.

  He was a rake and don’t forget it. Perhaps still is one, duke or not. Whatever they say to the contrary, remember, once a rake, always a rake. Whoever they are.

  ‘Your Grace, please…’ Please what? Please kiss me, touch me, take me? Mary swore under her breath. The man had mesmerised her.

  ‘Oh sweet Mary, I intend to.’ He bowed. ‘To pleasure you is my goal.’

  That was it. His casual use of her name and the mocking look he gave her was enough to make her blood boil and stiffen her backbone. She might wish to explore what could between them, but that arrogant attitude was enough to stiffen her resolve not to.

  Mary fixed him with a gimlet stare. No more fisticuffs, however tempted she might be. Cool, calm and collected had to be the way to go. Instead of her attitude making him back off as she thought, it made him chuckle.

  ‘Oh, so well done.’ Brody clapped his hands slowly. ‘A pity it has no effect on me. Therefore, what next?’

  ‘My lord, enough. You are cruel to tease me.’ She tried for a plaintive woe-is-me look. Somehow she didn’t think she succeeded, for he chuckled and shook his head.

  ‘If it were teasing I would agree. But this is not teasing, I assure you. It is a statement of intent. I intend to have you.’

  ‘Intentions have a way of not working out.’

  Judging by the state of her body, she may well soon find that out to be true.

  ****

  She sounded so, so confident. Had he gone too far? Miss Mary… or, he amended in his mind, Mrs Mary, looked somewhat taken aback, which in the circumstances, he allowed, was more than acceptable. He was pushing. Pushing well out of the areas which were considered acceptable in polite circles. Why? What had she done to ensure that?

  She’s got under my skin. Made me hard, and wanting. Intrigued, interested and in need of her. Only her. Over and over. Why did that not frighten him? He, who always shied away from permanency. But then he reasoned he had no intention of permanent, did he? So surely he could like, use and discard?

  The stab of something that hit his mind like an arrow surprised him. Surely not regret? It couldn’t be. He’d gone all these years and never ever felt the need to settle down. Oh he understood the necessity for marriage one day, even though he had younger brothers, but it would be to someone who understood it was a union to produce an heir and no more. For the first time ever, that idea didn’t satisfy him. What on earth was going on?

  The thought of his brothers made everything less certain in his mind.

  His brothers. Whom he loved, teased, fought and cried with.

  Euan refused to discuss anything, and had walked away from his mother on more than one occasion when she tried to discuss his future. Just before his mother had taken them on her extended tour, Euan had politely, but emphatically told her he wasn’t going. He was, he emphasised, an adult and just because he frequently spent time at Welland, did not mean he bowed to his mother’s authority.

  The argument that had ensued hadn’t been pretty, and it ended with Euan saying he’d do what he wanted and damn them all. After Brody’s intervention, Euan had reluctantly accompanied the rest of the family – to escort them to each destination, make his bows and, as he put it, bugger off. He warned Brody it was a temporary measure and he would cut completely loose as soon as he could. It was better than Brody had hoped for and less than he knew his mother would accept. Brody foresaw several tumultuous weeks ahead. His sisters would be helpless to intervene, and he had to hope his mother wouldn’t return post-haste and command him to do something. Because, he knew now, he wasn’t going to interfere.

  Blair, his other brother, said equivocally he wasn’t ducal material, so Brody would just have to get on with it, and Blair immediately took himself on a tour of the highlands with one of his friends. Therefore… Th
erefore stop it now. Brody brought himself out of his introspective thoughts and faced the woman next to him. She, he hoped, could be… be what? Tamed wasn’t the correct word, coerced most certainly wasn’t, but… seduced? He could wish for that, surely?

  ‘I seem to have stunned you into silence.’ Mary said quietly. ‘That’s good, because you do utter some nonsense.’

  ‘Do I call you Miss or Mrs?’ he asked bluntly. ‘Or just, my sweet?’

  ‘Not your sweet. I assure you, sweet is the last thing I am,’ she said emphatically. Too emphatically? He’d enjoy testing that out. Brody realised with a happy jolt he felt more alive than he had for months. He actually looked forward to what might or might not happen between them.

  ‘As for the rest? Does it matter?’ she asked in a wondering, why-on-earth voice. ‘The village in general call me Miss, as the children at the school do. In fact the children started it and others followed suit. Miss Mary the widow. It’s immaterial.’

  He hit the wall with the flat of his hand and winced. ‘Damn. That always hurts more than I think it will.’

  She tittered.

  He knew he’d get no sympathy there. ‘Matter? Of course it matters, you bloody infuriating woman,’ he said in a voice that could break rocks. ‘As a Miss you are out of my orbit, which, I freely admit I sometimes choose to ignore. But not on my doorstep. However, as a Mrs you are fair game.’

  By the look on her face, she wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. A pity, but he had to make sure she understood his desires. There would be no chance for her to say she was mistaken with regards to his intentions.

  ‘Splitting hairs, Your Grace. I’m still me, whatever you chose to call me. Be I Miss or Mrs, I am still my own person. And I will add again, I’m not a plaything to be picked up and discarded at will. I’m a grown woman, I have a brain and I use it. If, and I reiterate that is a big “if”, if I choose to…’

  She paused and Brody watched the expressions on her face as she must have thought how best to say what was in her mind.

  ‘To spend time with you, it will be because it is my desire also, not solely yours,’ she finished, and to his amusement dusted her hands together.