Page 11 of Starlight and the Duke (Cherish and the Duke #5)

The sun glistened on the water, its rays shimmering all around them, but he was too worried to pay attention to nature’s beauty right now.

They were not far from the boys when one of them suddenly lost his footing and fell with a shriek backward into the water. Rob’s heart shot into his throat, for those swirling waters would spin the lad under and hold him down.

“Stay close. I might need your help.” Rob shoved the oars into Fiona’s hands and dove in after the boy before Fiona could do the same.

Between her compassion and her competitive streak, he knew it was a distinct possibility that she’d intended to dive in first. Which also meant she would drown along with the boy, because she hadn’t the muscles needed to fight a strong current.

But she wouldn’t dive in now that he had gone in, for she also had enough sense to understand they could not both risk their lives, or they would help no one.

Rob felt the strong tug of the tide as he swam beneath the surface to look for the boy. The waves roiled the clear water, stirring up the bottom sand. But as he drew closer to the rocks, he saw the boy struggling and noticed blood flowing from his leg.

Doubly dangerous, for the blood would attract predators.

He grabbed the boy and shoved him upward so that his head broke through the water, and Rob soon followed.

“Grab him, Fiona,” he said between great gulps of air, his voice raspy because his lungs were burning.

She had rowed closer and now tucked the oars in so that her hands were free to take hold of the boy.

Rob pushed him up into the boat and then swam to the outcropping to get the younger lad, who looked to be about eight years old.

He was seated on one of the flatter rocks, afraid to move and crying. “Is my brother all right?”

Rob put a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Yes, but I think he must have cut his leg on one of those sharp rocks when falling in. We’ll get him tended and then deliver you home. Is your father there?”

The boy nodded. “Papa’s going to kill us. We’ve lost the boat.”

Rob glanced at their craft, which was now bobbing out to sea. “He’ll get over it. A boat is replaceable but his sons are not. Who was watching you? Why were you out in the cove on your own?”

The boy cast Rob a sheepish look. “Our governess refused to leave London, so…no one is tending to us at present. Well, our Papa is, but I don’t think he counts. Anyway, Papa has a meeting with several important people, so he told us to keep out of his way for an hour.”

Rob arched an eyebrow. “Did he also happen to tell you to keep out of trouble?”

The boy blushed. “Yes. He might have said that, too.”

“Come on, hop into our boat. We’ll get your brother’s leg treated and then it shall be time to face your father. I’ll have Lady Shoreham send a footman over to let him know you are both safe.”

“Is she Lady Shoreham?” The lad pointed to Fiona, who had taken off her bathing cap and was now pressing it to the elder boy’s leg to stem the bleeding. Several of her curls had blown loose and her hair had a marvelously wild look to it. “She’s beautiful.”

Gad, they started young.

Or was Rob just getting old himself?

He could not help but smile as he glanced at Fiona. “Yes, she certainly is.”

However, he could not think of her right now, not when getting the boys safely back on solid ground was the priority.

The boat had drawn close enough to the rocks that Rob could grab it and hold it steady while the younger lad climbed in. Then Rob did the same, trying his hardest not to capsize their tiny vessel because it was not meant to hold four people.

The water became much calmer once he rowed them away from the rocks. With strong, swift strokes, he soon had them almost to the shore. Fiona instructed the younger boy to keep her cap firmly pressed to his brother’s leg, and then hopped into the water to help Rob drag the boat onto the sand.

“That was a close call,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Too close.”

“You have good instincts. I would not have realized the danger until it was too late. You saved that boy’s life. I’m so proud of you,” she said, staring up at him with her big, gorgeous eyes.

That look.

She knew just how to make him feel like a king.

He was exhausted, but that did not stop him from casting her a wicked grin. “Does that earn me a reward?”

She laughed. “From me?”

“Well, I’d hardly ask anyone else for the reward I have in mind.”

She gasped and then giggled. “Shush! The boys will hear you.”

Rob did not think the pair were listening in, for they were too busy holding back tears and commiserating with each other over the punishment they felt certain to receive from their father. “I’ll take the blame,” the elder boy said. “I’ll let him know that I forced you to go along with my idea.”

“No, it was my fault. I’ll tell Papa that you got hurt trying to keep me safe.”

Rob noticed neither of the boys expressed any particular fear of a beating, so he expected the now-widowed marquess was not one to use physical force on his boys.

He hoped he was right. His own father had not been a kind man, usually cold, distant, and disapproving, but also one who enjoyed using his fists because he thought it would instill strength in Rob.

Utter rot. It only instilled pain, rebelliousness, and distance.

“What are your names?” he asked the pair.

“I am Lord Hatcher,” the elder one said, tipping his chin up and sounding quite authoritative.

Rob grinned, for the boy was obviously proud of his courtesy title. “And your given name?”

“Oh, Jordan. Jordan Milbury. My mother’s family name was Jordan, so my parents used it as my given name. This is my brother, Robert Milbury.”

“Robert? That is my given name, too,” Rob said, smiling at the scrawny lad.

The boy’s eyes brightened. “I am a Right Honorable.”

Rob’s grin broadened. “I happen to be a duke. The Duke of Durham, to be precise.”

Jordan laughed. “Then you outrank my father. That is a stroke of luck. Will you order him not to punish us?”

“Because we really were doing our best to behave,” young Robert insisted, his eyes big and round, his expression one of utter sincerity.

Rob smothered the urge to laugh heartily at the boy’s remark. Only a child would define “behaving” as rowing into dangerous currents and then climbing onto slippery, jagged rocks.

Fiona could not resist a chuckle. Her laughter spilled forth as light and gentle as a summer breeze. “Not certain how hard you were trying,” she remarked. “Can you both swim?”

“Not all that well,” Jordan admitted, turning to Rob. “The current was swifter than I realized. I think it would have kept me under had you not come to my rescue.”

“How old are you?” Fiona asked.

“Eleven, and Rob is eight.”

“Rob?” she repeated softly, and then turned to the youngster. “Is this what your friends and family call you?”

He nodded.

“This is what the duke’s friends call him, too.”

Both boys smiled at Rob. He felt his heart turn soft. This was why Fiona was so adamant about his marrying and siring sons. It was not so much about the title, although that was important—it was more about becoming a father and having the joys and tribulations of raising his own children.

He had felt it when first seeing those children in Brighton eating their ices, and now saving these two lads. But this only added to his turmoil, for he could not imagine anyone other than Fiona as the mother of his children.

A deep and hollow ache filled his heart.

The ache was for her. This was what she had been desperately wishing for during her marriage to Shoreham, a wish never fulfilled.

But this also gave him a sliver of worry, for the marquess was a widower and had his two sons. They appeared to be good boys, even though they had done a foolish thing. But was this not the nature of boys? To be curious and want to explore?

It was in the nature of some girls, too.

Fiona, for example. She was always taking him on adventures whenever they were together in their younger days. Hiking, climbing trees. Pretending they were pirates exploring caves to hide their booty, mostly small caves hidden among the rolling hills on either of their family estates.

Would she be so foolish as to undertake another adventure…this time without him? Would she set her cap for the marquess?

He knew the workings of her mind. By marrying the marquess and helping him raise his sons, she would not only gain a family, but make herself unavailable to him .

She would do this knowing he would never marry anyone else while she remained unattached.

No, Fiona.

Don’t.

Nothing ever affected him, for he had faced death and misery many times before, and had endured.

But losing Fiona to another? He could not allow this to happen again. It would destroy him.

He watched her as she chatted with the boys and they looked up at her as though she were their fairy princess.

He suddenly felt apishly possessive.

She is my fairy princess.

Would the Marquess of Milbury steal her away from him?