Page 21 of Hot Duke Summer

Moonstone Landing

Cornwall, England

July 1832

J ames Pennington, ninth Duke of Ashford, painstakingly made his way to the naturally formed pool along the river that flowed behind Stoningham Manor, home of his friend Daire and Daire’s wife, Brenna, the Duke and Duchess of Claymore. Daire had taken his entire family on holiday and left the manor house to James for the next two weeks, insisting this place was where he needed to be in order to heal. “Bloody stupid idea,” he muttered to himself, already tiring from the walk. “I should have gone to Bath instead.”

However, the idea of taking the waters at any of the crowded pump rooms held little appeal for him. Anyone who was anyone went there to see and be seen, not necessarily to drink the mineral waters or soak in them. The marriage-minded mamas prowled those pump rooms and assembly halls and would hunt him down as diligently in Bath as they had in London.

Daily teas and nightly balls were out of the question for him. He was injured and seriously needed time to recover.

He trudged along the uneven ground, past the manor’s garden and across a small meadow and its sweep of red poppies. The meadow sloped upward toward a copse of trees, and the pool, he had been told, was hidden just behind those trees. He eyed their pale-green leaves shimmering silver in the early morning light. A warm breeze rustled through the tree branches with a gentle whoosh and birdsong filled the air. He glanced down, noting the grass still held a crystal coating of dew, a remnant of the nightly mist that fell from the nearby sea.

All right, he had to admit this was a beautiful place.

However, that uneven climb was going to do him in.

“Thank the Graces,” he muttered, taking a moment to rest now that he had reached the copse and heard the soft rush of the river flowing beyond it. He walked behind some tall shrubs, propping his cane against a fallen tree and then settling himself on it to remove his boots. He had just taken off one when he heard a splash.

Perhaps a bird had dropped a pebble into the water.

Thinking nothing of it, he tugged off his other boot.

Another soft splash.

He paused a moment, then shook his head and tossed off his shirt. A squirrel, no doubt, or a bird knocking something off a branch into the water. He was about to undo the falls of his trousers when he heard an unmistakably feminine trill of laughter and then more light splashes.

Bollocks.

Had someone usurped his pool?

He moved closer to peer through the shrubbery, almost falling backward as he caught sight of a perfectly rounded bottom, pale and glistening, poking out of the water. It was immediately followed by a pair of heavenly legs that also poked out for a moment before disappearing beneath the water.

A mermaid?

No, she had legs.

He felt a sudden yearning to see the rest of the young woman’s body.

He did not have long to wait before she suddenly reemerged, breaking through the water with a dolphin-like grace, her long, dark hair whipping in the air and her pert, round breasts fully exposed to his view.

He turned away, his mind in a scramble and his heart about to burst through his chest as he debated what to do next. Leaving this spot seemed the most sensible thing, but it had taken him too much effort to get up here in the first place, and he really needed that dip in the pool.

“You are going to hell, James,” he muttered, turning back to watch the lovely vision as she continued her mermaid dance, unaware of his presence while diving under and then coming up for air with hardly a ripple in the water.

He should go.

But for the life of him, he could not move.

One would think he had never seen a naked woman before.

In truth, he had seen more than his share. However, he could not recall ever responding so forcefully to a single one, not even those celebrated beauties considered ton diamonds. What made this little mermaid so special?

For one daft moment, he considered jumping in to join her. After all, women constantly invited him into their boudoirs. Did this pool not count as a mermaid’s boudoir? And was he not considered England’s most desirable catch? Nobody cared that he had a damaged leg. The Marriage Mart frenzy continued despite his accident because he was a duke and the young ladies all wanted to snare his title.

However, something stopped him from approaching her.

Gentlemanly good manners? A conscience?

Well, he would never be mistaken for a gentleman because he was still staring at the young woman and could not seem to stop. “Turn this way,” he whispered, hoping to get a better look at her face. He had seen her body and deemed it spectacular, but it was her face that intrigued him most.

As though hearing him—which he knew was not possible—she turned, her gaze suddenly fixed on the shrubbery that sheltered him. Big eyes, the vivid green of a Highlands faerie glen, met his gaze. Lips the soft pink of rose petals now pursed slightly. Her slender, aquiline nose twitched. She took a hesitant step toward him, then abruptly changed her mind and hurried out of the water.

Blessed saints!

Was he dreaming?

He watched her dress, her movements lithe and sensual as she hastily donned her shift and then her gown, which would be damp because she hadn’t stopped to properly dry herself off. She hurriedly tucked her feet into walking boots, laced them up, and ran off.

Wait!

He wanted to call out to her, but knew it was folly. What could he possibly say to make things right? The words “I did not mean to see you naked” would not work. “No, definitely not a proper introduction.”

But with his mermaid gone, he could now have his swim.

Still lost in thoughts of her, James stripped off the last of his clothes. He meant to ease his way into the pool but slipped and lost his footing because of his lame leg. Flailing like an ungainly whale, he tumbled into the water with an enormous splash.

He came back up angry with himself, cursing and sputtering. His leg had twisted awkwardly and was now in spasms. “Bollocks. Bollocks. ” He grabbed his leg and began to knead it along the scar tissue in the hope of making the excruciating pain stop. One particularly bad spasm tore through him and wrung another cry out of him. “ Bollocks .”

“Serves you right,” a young woman said, staring down at him from her perch on a flat rock beside the pool.

He raked a hand through his hair to brush it off his face, and blinked to clear the water from his eyes. The vision in green muslin was his mermaid. Her hair was still unbound, the wet tresses spilling over her shoulders and curling about her hips.

“I thought you’d run off,” he said through clenched teeth as another spasm gripped him. She was a beauty with her clothes off, but just as stunning with them on.

“I heard your cries and thought I had better return to help you on the chance you were drowning. I would not wish that on my conscience, even though your spying on me was reprehensible. Are you in terrible pain?”

“Yes,” he muttered. “But it will pass eventually. It usually does. I did not mean to spy on you. Completely accidental, I assure you. I had no idea anyone else would be here. In fact, I was told no one would be here. My only intention was to take a morning swim to strengthen this leg.”

“Your dive was quite graceful,” she said with a note of teasing. “I mistook you for a fish.”

“Very funny,” he muttered. “I thought you came to help me.”

“I did. I’m sorry. What can I do for you?”

All manner of ideas crossed his mind, none of them appropriate. “Nothing for the moment. Just make sure I don’t lose consciousness and sink beneath the water.”

“Is the pain that bad? Have you passed out before?”

“No, but it is sometimes a close thing.”

She continued to eye him warily. “How much of me did you see?”

His silent stare told her everything she needed to know.

A blush stained her cheeks and she groaned lightly. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I shall hold you under the water and drown you myself.”

“I assure you, Miss… Er, what is your name?”

Up close, she looked soft and innocent. He knew she was never going to do anything to hurt him. However, she was profoundly embarrassed knowing that he had seen her in the altogether.

An innocent.

Now he felt truly depraved for watching her.

The fact she was taking in an eyeful of him did not really settle their score. He did not care that she was staring at him. As far as he was concerned, she was welcome to look her fill.

“I have no intention of telling you who I am,” she said, pursing her lips in a way that made him want to kiss her. “Who are you ? And what are you doing on the Claymore property?”

“I might ask you the same question. In fact, I did just ask it. But for the sake of calling a truce to this awkward situation, I am James Pennington.” He revealed no more, not quite ready to let on that he was a duke. “Claymore is one of my good friends. He invited me to stay here while he and his family are on holiday. What’s your excuse?”

“I do not owe you an explanation.”

“You owe me your name, at least.” The water was crystal clear and he was in it only up to his waist. How much of him could she see beneath the water? Not that he was particularly bashful, but the water was quite cool at this hour and his nether region was feeling it. No one was going to mistake him for a magnificent stallion at this moment.

“I am not giving you my name.”

“Very well, I shall call you my mermaid.”

“Do what you like. We won’t ever see each other after today.”

“Why? Are you going away?”

“No.” Her eyes narrowed as she watched him still kneading his leg. “But I will have to avoid this pool, since I cannot risk meeting you here again.”

“You needn’t. Let’s work out a schedule for the next two weeks. Do you always swim at this early hour?”

She nodded. “Yes. Is this how long you will be staying? Two weeks?”

He nodded. “That’s right. Then I will head to Bath or return to London; I haven’t decided which yet. But about our schedule… What if I come an hour later? Will that give you enough time to finish your swim and return to your mermaid cove? Then I shall have my turn. Workable plan?”

She knelt on the rock, and her expression gentled as she mulled over his proposal. “Do I have your solemn oath you will not spy on me again?”

“Yes. I never meant to look the first time. Have you seen enough of me yet? Or would you like a closer examination?” he said in jest.

“I am fine right here.” Her mouth tipped up at the corners in the hint of a smile. “Is it feeling any better? Your leg?”

He sighed. “Not really. My efforts to ease the cramping have been a failure so far.”

She leaned forward. “Perhaps you shouldn’t massage it so hard. Let it go and try stretching your body instead. Like this.” She rose and then began to arch her own body, gracefully dipping one way and then the other, like a sapling gently swaying in the wind. “Make sure you bend far enough forward and then back so that you feel the tug of the leg muscle in each direction. Hold it to the count of five, then put your weight on the injured leg. Try this every morning when you get out of bed.”

“I’ve already tried exercises,” he muttered. “They haven’t helped so far.”

“Because you are probably doing them wrong. Have you tried the one I just showed you? It is remarkably simple.” She nibbled her lip. “We have an excellent army hospital in Moonstone Landing. Our local doctor, Dr. Hewitt, volunteers his time there often. You ought to speak to him as well as the army commander, Major Brennan. There may be something they can offer to ease the pain.”

“Some miracle treatment the finest doctors in London could not come up with? I’ve tried enough of them, and they don’t work.” He did not mean to sound surly or dismissive, but he had been dealing with this problem for months now with no relief from the unrelenting agony.

“They are city doctors. It is not at all the same thing. Even I could do better than them.”

“Is that so?” He studied her, surprised by how difficult it was to stop looking at her lovely face. There was intelligence behind her eyes, and a softness in the curve of her lips. Lord, those lips. They dipped at the ends in a sensual pout. “What would you suggest I do?”

“Apply warmth to the injured area, a hot, moist cloth several times a day. Stretching the injured limb will help, as I mentioned. Massaging it as you are doing now should also help, but softer. You are rubbing too hard and bruising your leg.”

“Any other helpful hints?” She was not telling him anything he had not heard a hundred times before from his team of doctors.

“Lavender oils will help,” she said, overlooking his surliness. “Chamomile or yarrow oils also work, but they don’t smell as nice. Mr. Bedwell’s mercantile serves as our local apothecary. You’ll find whatever you need there. But I would also recommend eating plenty of apples and dried fruit, especially apricots and raisins. Cherries are excellent, too. Best before they fully ripen so they are still a bit tart. Drinking brine or cider will help. My preference is cider. Brine will only make you gag. Stop consuming wine or scotch, or any other spirits, for that matter.”

He had never heard of these suggestions about food and drink before, and now wondered whether she was making up these country remedies to make a fool of him. But there was an earnestness about her that made him trust her. “Are you suggesting food will heal me?”

“They will help reduce the inflammation that is the cause of your pain, Mr. Pennington. Just ask anyone in town. Better yet, ask Dr. Hewitt. He will confirm every word.”

Who was this girl?

He needed to see more of her… No, not in the sense of taking her clothes off. Well, that too. But he wanted to get to know her better. She seemed educated and her voice was refined. Not snooty or pinched, as often heard among the Upper Crust. Her gown was well made, but he would not call it fashionable.

She had no fear of being caught trespassing, he noted. Her only concern had been about his seeing her without her clothes on. Otherwise, she seemed quite comfortable here. Did she know Claymore and his wife socially? She was no one’s servant, that much was clear. Her gaze was too direct when she studied him.

“Will you meet me at the mercantile later this morning and assist me in selecting those oils?” he asked.

She laughed and shook her head. “No. But I shall write out my instructions and leave them on this rock for you tomorrow. Remember, I swim first. This is our deal.”

“I gave you my oath and I will keep to it.”

“Well, then. There is nothing more to say to each other. Good morning, Mr. Pennington.”

She flitted off before he could ask for her name again.

No matter—the village was not very large. He would find her. He simply had to. It was a rare event to encounter a mermaid, even one with legs. He had no intention of losing her.

Would he find her here tomorrow?