Page 283 of Desires of a Duke Collection

Perched precariously on the coach bench, Bronwyn wrapped her arms about her midsection and gasped for air between bursts of laughter.

Landon’s forehead was scrunched and his lips drawn into a tight line, his attempt at imitating Mr. Rutherford.

Gasping for air, Bronwyn pleaded, “Stop. You must stop; my stomach aches.”

She rolled back, and Landon caught the back of her head before it hit the wall of the coach. His impressions of various members of the Network were on point.

Her fiancé had kept the mood light the entire day as if Landon had sensed her growing apprehension toward arriving in Scotland. For the past three days they shared both serious and humorous stories of their upbringing. Landon, in turn, had kept his promise and provided her with kisses at the most unexpected moments.

As they neared their destination, her fear of failing him grew. He was a remarkable man who needed an extraordinary woman for a wife. Not a shopkeeper’s daughter who happened to be born with a mind for debate and a tongue that longed for the taste of him. Despite his reassurances that she was the wife he wanted, the persistent suspicion that she wasn’t good enough for him waged a war upon her confidence.

Landon gripped her hand. “Are you nervous?”

“Aren’t you?”

He shook his head. “I’ve no concerns about marrying you.”

Landon reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the rondure and a shiny ring with a unique stone in the center. Landon slipped the coin back into his pocket. The freedom to be herself over the past few days had lulled her into believing he was simply a man ready to wed. But in truth, Landon was an extremely wealthy and powerful man in need of a wife. How could he have no misgivings about marrying her?

She didn’t believe love was required to make a marriage successful, but as the days had passed, she had begun to wish for him to utter the foolish words. He desired her, as she lusted for him. Was it enough?

Landon reached for her hand. “This ring is for you, a symbol of my true intentions. But before I give it to you, I want you to know that while it is my wish to marry you, I will not force you or order you to marry me.” He placed the ring in the center of her palm and closed her fingers over it. “If you decide to wear it, I’ll know you believe me when I say there is no other woman for me.” He placed a chaste kiss upon her hand and exited the travel coach, leaving the door open behind him.

Landon was no liar; if she decided to change her decision, he’d most likely ensure the blame fell upon him. She opened her hand and peered at the ring. Exquisite pink gems surrounded her birthstone.

Willa peeked her head in. “Is something the matter?”

She needed a moment to think—alone. Clutching the ring tight in her hand, she shifted her skirts about. “I can’t come out, there’s a tear in the side of my gown.” The lie rolled off her tongue, and she immediately regretted it.

“Not to worry. I’ll fetch you a coat.” Willa disappeared.

For the first time since Landon’s initial proposal, Bronwyn believed that the decision to marry was solely hers. Previously she had amassed arguments for and against marrying a titled gentleman who happened to also be a PORF. This time, she swiftly ran through the advantages and disadvantages of marrying Landon, the version of the man she’d come to know during their journey.

A great coat appeared in the doorway. Bronwyn’s hand trembled as she slipped the ring onto her finger—a perfect fit. With a burst of warmth in her heart, Bronwyn rose and exited the coach. Feet on the ground, and the coat was wrapped about her shoulders. Landon’s scent tickled her nose.

In a teasing tone, her betrothed said, “Last chance to change your mind.”

She linked her arm through his and rested her hand upon his forearm. Bronwyn tapped her finger and was pleased to see Landon’s dimple appear as he caught sight of the ring. She grinned and said, “You shall be stuck with me for life.”

“Wonderful.” He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before all and sundry. “The innkeeper is ready whenever you are.”

Willa nervously stood in front of them, blocking their way. “My lord. Bronwyn—” Willa shook her head at her mistake and then continued, “I mean my mistress is not yet ready. Emma will kill me if Bronwyn doesn’t wear the bridal gown that she labored on all night.”

It was going to take some time for Willa, like herself, to adjust to their new positions, but together they would muddle through.

Landon smiled, but his devilish dimple failed to appear. “We wouldn’t want to cause Emma upset now, would we? I shall wait.”

Hauled into the cozy inn, which appeared to be connected to a blacksmith shop, Bronwyn gave into Willa’s every demand. Her friend, now maid, tugged, pulled and pushed every strand upon her head until her scalp ached.

Bronwyn exhaled the last particle of air that remained in her lungs as Willa tied her stays strings tight. “I suppose I’ll have to address you as Peyton after I’m married.”

“And I shall refer to you as my lady.”

Bronwyn raised her hand and stuck out her little finger in the air. “Only in the company of others?”

Willa shook her head. “We’ve been friends ever since we were children, and we shall always remain friends. I’m honored you chose me, but if I’m to succeed, I need you to become the lady I know you are.”

Blast! Why did Willa have to always speak the truth? Bronwyn should have known there would be drawbacks to having a trusted friend as a maid. Willa was right. By day’s end, she would become Countess Hadfield, and she had best learn to behave like a lady and quickly. First, she’d start by thinking and referring to her friend as Peyton.

Peyton bent down and removed a simple white gown with an intricate white lace overlay from one of her traveling trunks.

Bronwyn gaped at the dress. Emma’s creation was splendid.

Peyton held up the dress to her body and spun. “It’s the adult version of the white shift we used to wear when play-acting as children.”

“Aye, except it was Emma who always wore the dress, and I wore breeches.”

They both giggled as Peyton assisted Bronwyn into the dress.

As each button slipped into place, Bronwyn’s anxiety increased. What if she made a hash of their wedding night?

“Peyton.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Do you know how consummation occurs?”

Her friend blushed bright red. “Ah. Didn’t your mum explain?”

“We didn’t have time to discuss much of anything before I left. And you know how tough it is to obtain privacy in my house.”

Peyton’s brow creased. “Remember the time we saw the horses playing in the meadow?”

“Aye. But that’s not what I’m inquiring about. I understand what must go where and such. What I want to know is how am I to please him. He needs me to produce an heir.” Bronwyn began to pace as she continued with her concerns. “I’m well aware that it might require the act to be repeated. How do I ensure he’ll want to…well, you know.”

Hands-on her hips, Peyton asked, “Why do you believe I’d know the answer?”

“You have five older brothers. Both you and Emma have had a series of beaus while I’ve had none. Plus, you’re my maid, and so you are supposed to have all the answers.”

A burst of laughter escaped Peyton, and she bent at the waist. “I’ve been your maid for less than a week. My brothers are useless sources of information. Besides a few stolen kisses, I’ve not a clue as to what occurs between husband and wife. However, I am determined to be an excellent maid. While you get hitched, I’ll make inquires and report back when you return.”

“I knew I could count on you. I’d never have been able to ask anyone else about such matters.”

Peyton gave her a hug. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“And I for you.” Bronwyn pulled back to ask, “Now that you are part of the Hadfield staff, do you think your brothers will be less likely to scare off possible suitors?”

“Not likely. Regardless of our new positions, or the new world we will be thrust in, the Network will always protect and shelter us.” Peyton turned her about to face the door. “If I were to find someone mad enough to marry me willingly, the poor sod would still have to seek out my dad and brothers’ approvals, and if he wasn’t already a member of the Network, he’d have to seek out permission from the elders.”

Midstride, Bronwyn swiveled to face Peyton. The elders were a protective bunch. Had Landon sought out permission from the elders? He needn’t have. Peyton’s chuckles broke her train of thought.

With a knowing smile, Peyton said, “Lord Hadfield didn’t have to seek anyone’s approval. As head of the PORFs, the man can do as he pleases. But I heard he did meet with your dad and the Network elders and was given a good roasting. Only after a long night of negotiations did they give him their approval to marry you.”

“He did that all for me?”

“My lady, I believe Lord Hadfield is smitten with you. He gave into nearly every demand the elders made in order to have you as his wife.”

Bronwyn shook her head. Why would Landon do such a thing?

Her maid brushed the back of her finger over the top of her cheekbone. “You are worthy of his love.”

Was she?