Duke Herheart Final (5 page)

Kathryn smelled so enticing, her pungent aroma now wafting to his nose. With his face just inches from her hair, Michael thought she had a wonderfully tropical smell like citrus and bananas and there was a touch of baby softness he could not place. It was an odd but entirely sensual mix.

Michael’s gaze fixed unbidden on a single bead of sweat trickling slowly from Kathryn’s temple down her sculpted cheek. As he watched the droplet disappear under the mat that had become her hair, he found himself wanting very much to taste her, it, the sweat and her skin.

“So how far is it until we get to your home?”

Her words jerked him back from his fantasies with a start. “We’ll just miss the village and this path will connect soon with the lane to Hawthorne. Not long until you will see the towers.”

“Towers? Like a castle?” She was breathless and turned her face disconcertingly close to his.

His lungs seized when she looked at him like that. “It’s not exactly a castle,” he choked out.

Michael considered telling her the truth of his home’s origin as a fortress ordered by William himself in preparation for an 11th century Welsh uprising but decided on a more circumspect answer. She was an American. Would she even know of William, of Normans or earlier, Viking, Celts… “Hawthorne was originally built for protection but in the last one hundred years, so many changes have been made that it looks much more like a large manor home than a castle. I confess, it might seem imposing if you are unused to six-story sandstone towers as part of your house.”

“So when was it built—the Norman period or later?”

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Duke of Her Dreams – Olivia Ritch

What?
“The Norman period. You know some history then?”

“Yes, they do teach us a little English history in American schools but actually I know it because my family’s part English. My grandfather traced our family all the way back to the Vikings. Does that surprise you?”

“Yes.”
More than you know
.

“It’s true, and my mother has some Welsh blood. She told me I look English, got the cleft chin and the cheekbones. Probably have to remove the hair highlights for me to look really authentic though.”

Michael recalled in vivid detail the cleft of her chin again and the very high cheekbones he had just been admiring and wondered how he had missed it. She
was
English. There was a tell-tale aristocratic tilt to her chin, leanly muscled limbs, the gorgeous hazel eyes, and the altogether stubborn profile. Then, in contrast, there was the oddly striped auburn hair, and glowing freckles and well the bronzed all over complexion. She could easily grace the pages of a picture book on Viking women or Valkyries. Her smile brought out the laugh lines at her eyes. He knew Vikings were bold and adventurous. She was surely that.

He could not decide which described her better though because Kathryn was also a petite package.

“I’ve surprised you. You thought that the silly American girl could not possibly know anything. Well, I know who I am and I think you agree based on that intense look on your face.” She laughed loudly startling him from his closer than proper examination of her physical features.

“You do look rather…familiar,” Michael admitted.

“I think that might have been another compliment?”

“Two in one day. What would my staff think?” He regarded her wryly and shook his head at his own relaxed manner.

“Yeah, what will they think? Or more to the point, do you have any family who will freak out with you showing up with a strange woman?”

“I’ve not much family left. My brother, the first-born, died last year and my Father has recently died. That’s how I came to be heading home just now.” His voice was resigned.

“I’m really sorry for your losses. My mother dying just about killed us.”

“I too am sorry for your loss.” He hesitated. “My Father’s and brother’s deaths were…part and parcel of their lifestyles.”

“Lifestyles? Tell me about them.” Her counselor’s instincts were pricking at this intriguing admission about his male relatives.

“My elder brother Charles spent summers here at Hawthorne with 27

Duke of Her Dreams – Olivia Ritch

our cousin Harold Stafford. They were six years older, inseparable and left me largely to myself. I was much too young for them to even bother with teasing me ,which suited me fine. My earliest memories were that the two of them were much like my father—arrogant, taking their due as lords of the land. Lord Charles was heir to a Dukedom of course.”

“They don’t sound particularly nice. You obviously didn’t approve of their attitudes and behavior?”

“No,” he agreed but amended. “Not that I meant them any harm but I wasn’t like them.”

“So …?”

“You want more of the story? I suppose you want to know how they died,” he sighed.

“If you want to tell me.” She was quite sure he did want to keep talking.

“Charles’ accident had happened just as Wellington was amassing our forces in Belgium before Waterloo. I could not leave the continent for the funeral since I was intimately involved in the planning and execution of what ultimately became the defeat of Napoleon. I have only learned there was a fall from a horse. He died of a bleed. My presence in Wilton would have done nothing to assuage Father’s grief over losing his favored son so I didn’t leave Wellington. My brother’s death made me the only son however, thus my return to a home that now belongs to me.”

“As a Duke?

“A Duke, yes.”

He remained quiet while she digested his story. Charles had been gone for almost a year; it was their Father’s death in January that had finally pulled him home, to the duties and responsibilities of their family—so that he could assume the title. The fortress he had never expected to inherit beckoned, calling him to the land, his new destiny.

He was vaguely aware the woman on his horse figured somewhere in that destiny.

* * * *

Her rescuer had gone quiet and Kathryn recognized someone who had been drawn into the past. It suited her to remain silent as well. As they ascended the grand drive lined with trees, she became extremely aware of the magnificent castle coming into view. “Phew, Wow.” He didn’t respond and she just drank in the sheer size and grandeur of the castle.

Kathryn’s seat was all but numb while the flesh that had been rocked slowly back and forth had been rubbed raw and was now throbbing painfully. She was eternally grateful the horse had stopped 28

Duke of Her Dreams – Olivia Ritch

moving but as the hulking presence that had overcome her senses slid from behind her, she felt oddly alone and empty in his saddle.

She had been acutely aware of the large male form pressed to her back. With each step of the horse, she had eased back and forth into the Captain and every time she brushed him, fascinating smells reached her.

He was wearing musky cologne that covered a slight smell of sweaty man. There was the tangy odor of an old-fashioned soap but none of the soaps or colognes could cover the distinctly earthy smells of leather and wool and coffee and something like sausage, as if every smell he had encountered today clung to him. He had had an erection. She was sure of it. It was oddly flattering to think that she had had that kind of effect on him.

Kathryn had dismounted horses, on two previous occasions, so swinging her leg over was, while not as impressive as his smooth motion, not altogether embarrassing. Before she reached the ground, his hands closed about her waist and she found herself gripped by arms of steel sliding down a startling wall of muscle and bone that was his expansive chest. Their gazes locked. She watched him battle his own instincts to finally release her.

* * * *

The same lad who had retrieved Fury from Michael earlier ran for Thunder only to nearly trip over his own feet upon coming face to face with the new arrival. This was probably more excitement in one day than had occurred in his whole life as a servant here. Eyes pasted to the ground, he towed the great beast away. Michael watched the lad’s reaction with amusement. Kathryn’s introduction to his household promised to be entirely eventful and possibly pleasurable. Forcing the smirk from his face, Michael plastered on his mask of country ease as he reached for Kathryn’s hand and was jerked to a stop when she recoiled from his touch. “Miss Kathryn, it is customary for a gentleman to escort a lady. You need not fear I am stealing your hand.” It had come so easy to call her by her Christian name.

“Oh, yes, oh, I’m so sorry. I knew that. I feel stupid.”

“No, I apologize for startling you.”

“I admit, I’m a little nervous. This house is so huge and you’re Lord of all this?”

“This is my home and I hope you will not feel intimidated. I know it is imposing on first glance. You do get used to it.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that. Now, I’m ready.” She extended her right hand to him.

“I almost forgot…the staff will expect to address you formally. May 29

Duke of Her Dreams – Olivia Ritch

I have your surname.”

She blinked, and he watched her register his question. “It’s Ragland, but I am perfectly happy with everyone calling me Kathryn.”

“Kathryn, I can assure you
they
will not be fine with calling you that.” He hesitated to allow Kathryn to take in her surroundings.

Ragland, well she was also part Welsh. He had to shake off the
sensation that she was not as foreign and unfamiliar as he had assumed.

He watched her face while she considered the towers, wonder, excitement, awe. So many emotions were there. “When I was a child, I imagined the watching guard with his suit of armor and a telescope scanning for invaders.”

“Yes, and there would be colored flags flying poles all around the top,” she said her voice trilling higher.

“I think you are right. And probably an archer always at the ready,”

Michael warmed to the game.

“And don’t you think there would have been a bugler?”

“Miss Ragland, I do believe you have a wonderful imagination for medieval make-believe.”

“I am counting on a tour up there sometime and we’ll see what other characters we can conjure.” She cried delightedly. “Oh, but that was totally presumptuous of me.”

“Not at all. I will be delighted to show them to you.”

She smiled that glorious smile that made the green-gold eyes sparkle. She was truly dazzlingly lovely. Then, he felt her wince as they took their first steps on the gravel and he heard the groan she tried to suppress. “Miss Ragland, your feet. Are they injured?”

“Just sore. I don’t think I can…” She shrieked when he lifted her smoothly from the ground, towing her at his side a few inches above the sharp stones then placing her firmly at the foot of the wide stone steps.

His erstwhile butler emerged wearing an inscrutable expression.

“Miss Ragland, let me present Hallthorpe.”

“Hello, Mr. Hallthorpe. It’s nice to meet you,” she said breathlessly.

“The pleasure is mine I assure you, Miss Ragland. Let me show you to your room. I am sure you will want to make yourself comfortable.

Ellie will attend you. Luncheon will be served at noon.”

“Luncheon? Wow, that sounds…formal. I’ll be fine with something simple. Don’t go to any trouble for me. I don’t want to impose on you.”

“Miss Ragland, I will see you at luncheon. Hallthorpe will see you settled.” Michael stepped back, reluctantly releasing her into Hallthorpe’s more-than-capable hands.

“Thank you, Lord Stafford. For everything.”

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Duke of Her Dreams – Olivia Ritch

“It was my pleasure Miss Ragland.”

The butler was climbing the stairs briskly and she struggled on her sore feet to keep up with his long strides while also gawking distractedly by the house. It reminded her of a particular Bed and Breakfast she had stayed in during her one and only trip to England as a teenager with her family. It was all there—a collection of swords on the walls, beveled glass windows, and the suit of armor on the first landing of the majestic staircase. Candelabra sconces were everywhere, obviously for lighting. It was a prominently displayed tapestry with what she assumed to be the family crest that made Kathryn realize what an amazing privilege she was being afforded to be in a castle, in England, built in 1100! It was an enviable position and she would make every effort to appreciate it even though she had not landed here intentionally.

“Miss, your room?” Hallthorpe stepped back, allowing her to enter.

“Ellie is here to help you settle in and find some suitable clothes from among our meager offerings. I fear we have not had many ladies in the house in sometime so our spare garments are well, spare.”

Chuckling at the very proper butler’s pun, Kathryn was struck all over again by the opulence of the feminine bedroom. She hesitated just inside the door of the massive chamber that was graced by a four-poster bed with billowy curtains and a virtual cloud of pillows with soft pink covers that were so inviting she could have curled up in them immediately. She couldn’t believe she was being shown into this room, and that she was going to sleep here tonight.

Kathryn was so awed by the splendor of the furniture and accessories and the history of the castle she forgot momentarily about its lack of modern conveniences like electricity and running water. She almost reached for the switch at the door but recalled that there would not be light switches or hairdryers or electric toothbrushes.
Would there
even be toothbrushes at all…and tampons? Oh no, no
tampons
in
eighteen hundred-something
! That ranked right up there with not having any money and even higher than being without shoes as one of the unfortunate drawbacks of being back in time. This
was
still a fabulous room though, and an amazing highlight to cap a bizarre morning’s adventure.

She noticed Hallthorpe waiting patiently while her mind worked.

“This was the Dowager’s room, miss. We hope you will find it to your liking.” He passed Ellie the bag of clothes Michael had scrounged earlier that included the day gown they had packed that would be squashed.