Dukes By the Dozen

By the time she walked into Jack’s library where the brandy was kept she’d almost forgotten that the duke waited for her. All she could think of was the soothing tonic that also awaited her. She didn’t enjoy spirits. But right now she positively yearned for the burn of the liquor down her throat. She desperately needed not only the distraction, but the harsh comfort.

She walked in to see Adam turn from the decanters, two snifters in his hands. “I took you at your word,” he said with a gentle smile. “How is our brave girl?”

Georgie couldn’t imagine any man looking more dear at that moment. She managed another smile for him. “Quite full of herself for kicking young Ned when he tried to grab her. She has decided she should join the army when she is old enough.”

Adam laughed as he limped toward her. “I pity whichever enemy she faces.”

Georgie nodded. “I pity the army she joins.”

Her chest hurt. She laid a hand against her breastbone, as if she could help ease the growing tightness. Adam handed a brandy to her, but she found herself just staring at it, as if she couldn’t make out what it was.

“Georgie?”

She opened her mouth, then shook her head. Oh, no, she thought, breathing fast to dispel those hateful tears building behind her ribs. Not now. Not in front of him. She reached for the brandy and downed it in one swallow. She didn’t even choke. That fire exploded inside her and eased the pain in her chest a bit.

She saw the growing alarm on the duke’s face and tried to smile. Instead she laughed, except it sounded like a sob. She pushed her fist against her mouth, as if she could force it back in, but it happened again, and then again, until she was shuddering and the tears splashed her arms and she dropped the snifter to the floor where it rolled across the parquet.

Adam must have set his own snifter down, because suddenly his arms were around her,

holding her up, holding her against him, holding her safe as she dissolved into the most hideous, mortifying sobs she had ever spent.

She had no idea how long she wept, only that she thoroughly soaked Adam’s waistcoat and creased his coat where she clutched at it to hold herself up. She just knew that for the first time since her Jamie had gone to sea, she felt safe with a man. Protected. And yes, comforted. Just the steady thud of his heart against her ear soothed her, his hand rubbing her back, his murmurs in her ear.

“Fuist,” he finally whispered, his hand holding her head to his chest. “Tá sé ceart go leor.”

Still gasping with sobs, she pulled her head back. “’It’s all right?’ You...know Irish?!”

His smile was gentle as dawn. “It helps to know what your Irish troops are saying about you.”

Her chuckle was very watery, but she found she could smile. She was still trembling like a blancmange, and she felt the chasm of what her father had done. Tried to do. Meant to do. But she felt a little calmer.

And then she looked into those sea-blue eyes. Piercing, compelling, like wells in a desert. She couldn’t seem to look away. She couldn’t breathe correctly. It was as if the world stood still and waited.

Before she could think or pull away or step closer, he cupped her face in his hands and drew her back to him. For a moment, he just brushed away the tears that still tracked her cheeks, his eyes soft and kind. Then, without real intention, as if it was simply meant to be, Georgie found herself being kissed.

And oh, what a kiss. Her Jamie had been all bright energy and boyish enthusiasm. He would buss her as if she were running past him. This man was deliberate, gentle, suggestive. His mouth was soft, inviting, clever, coaxing her to open to him until she couldn’t seem to think or protest. She felt his fingers stroke her cheek and heard the quickening of his breath. She didn’t know what she felt, except that somehow this seemed right. It seemed inevitable. It seemed to fill her with a sweet fire that warmed her far more than the brandy. She couldn’t even think to wrap her own arms around him. She could only stand where she was, lost in a kiss.

When he finally pulled away, she saw that his pupils were large and black, that he looked as surprised as she felt. She wondered if his insides felt as liquid, as warm and unsettled.

She knew she should say something. The only thing she managed was an astonished, “Oh.”

His smile was a bit rueful, a bit hesitant. “Exactly.” His voice was rough, as if emotion had scored it. “Oh. I should apologize, I’m sure. But...I very much fear I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you smile. Do you mind?”

And oddly, she found that she didn’t. Not at all. She wanted to reach up and touch her lips to see if they were still that warm. She wanted to melt back into his embrace, this man she’d known only by word and deed almost as long as she’d known her Jamie. Should it be such a surprise that after the way Jamie had glorified him she should react so sharply to him?