Page 14 of The Duke’s Absolutely Fantastic Fling (The Notorious Briarwoods #15)

T eague prayed that her uncles were not having him on, and that the window on the second story at the far-right corner of Heron House, framed with roses that climbed up from the beds below, their pink shade almost silvery in the moonlight, was indeed Josephine’s room.

If it was not, he would find himself attempting to climb into someone’s bedchamber, only to likely find himself clobbered on the spot.

Then again, perhaps not. The Briarwoods seemed quite comfortable with the idea of people climbing through their windows!

Now, if it was the duke and duchess’s room, well, his night would get very interesting very quickly. It was true that Leander had suggested that he have a bit of a climb, but somehow he felt that it would be quite awkward to meet them in the middle of the night in such fashion.

Perhaps they’d give him tea and pointers on how to do better. He grinned in the darkness. This actually seemed a more likely outcome to clobbering, given the Briarwoods’ attitudes.

As it happened, he was an excellent climber.

A gentleman of his level of activity and desire to be outside in the Highlands meant he had the abilities of a mountain goat. He could climb steep rock faces and craggy bens with skill and little fear.

He eyed the side of the house and contemplated the potential footholds. Tilting his head back, he gazed upward and spotted Josephine.

His breath froze in his throat. She did something to him. By God, she did. Just the sight of her warmed his heart and his body.

Yes, there she was.

She paused by the window, silhouetted in the amber hue. She did not look out but was contemplating something in her chamber.

She was in her night rail and he sucked in his breath. The curves of her delicious body were perfectly outlined in the candlelight, and he hungered to finally see her. All of her.

He would strip her naked, then kiss and stroke every bit of her until she was wild with need for him.

Just the very thought drove his brain half mad for her.

This was what they both had been waiting for, what she had agreed to.

He would come and visit her. The affair would be in full swing now, with no looking back.

He was only grateful that he had been there when she had come to visit him at his new estate today, and that instead of making things worse for her, he had, in fact, actually made things better.

Or at least so it seemed. He would continue to do that.

This Season was going to be the brightest and best for both of them. And by the end of it, she would not be able to think of marrying anyone but him. He clapped his hands together, bolstered his nerves, and took a step forward, ready to ascend and claim her.

Just as he stepped towards the soaring wall of the house, something grabbed him from behind, threw him up into the air, and then plunged him down onto his back.

Teague saw stars, not the real ones up in the sky, but metaphorical ones. White lights pierced his eyes. He let out a painful groan as the air whooshed out of him and the ground pressed hard into his back.

A man, quite large, pressed down on him, wrapped his arm around Teague’s throat and wrestled him, so that he was holding him from behind, and started twisting.

“Who the devil are you?” the man commanded.

Teague tried to reply, but he could not.

The air was being cut short from his lungs.

“Who the blazes are you?” the man repeated. “What were you doing staring up at my cousin’s room, you scoundrel?”

Teague slammed his hand against the man’s leg, but the man was big, persistent, and skilled at fighting. Teague was also skilled at fighting, but this fellow had a hold on him and had surprise on his side.

Teague could not hate the fellow because he was obviously standing up for what he perceived as Josephine’s endangerment. In fact, he applauded the man for protecting her.

But he wasn’t going to let the life be choked out of him either.

There was only one thing to do.

Teague went for the man’s genitals, driving his closed fist backwards and into the sensitive flesh.

The man let out a yelp of agony just as Teague had hoped, providing enough time for Teague to scramble back and choke down air.

They eyed each other from their sprawled positions on the manicured lawn, each assessing their own level of damage.

He couldn’t talk for a moment, but then rasped, “I’m the Duke of Rossbrea, betrothed of Miss Josephine…essentially. And you?”

Teague peered at the man and his gut dropped as a flicker of recognition went through him. He’d not met this man, but he certainly looked like family. Teague blinked, then managed, “You’re Nestor’s brother, the Duke of Westleigh’s son, aren’t you?”

The man who was sprawled on the dirt, face white, wincing, gritted, “I am indeed Nestor’s brother. And you, sir, fight without honor.”

“You attacked me from behind and wrestled me to the ground.”

The man shrugged, the golden lapels of his coat gleaming in the night. “Trifles.”

“I was going to die, and you kept asking me a question I couldn’t answer with your arm wrapped about my throat.”

Calchas, it had to be Calchas, for Teague had heard much about the naval man who was the second son of Westleigh, tilted his head to the side and said, “Fair point.”

And then Teague pushed himself to his knees and offered his hand.

Calchas narrowed his eyes. “Josephine’s betrothed? There was a touch of doubt to your voice.”

“It’s complicated,” he replied.

Calchas sighed, wiped a hand over his face, and declared, “Of course it is.”

But then he took Teague’s hand. And the two of them got to their feet together.

Again, the two of them eyed each other, like two dogs who were not quite certain if they were friends or foes.

“What were you doing outside her window? Just because you are the Duke of Rossbrea, it doesn’t mean you should be looking up at her window like that.”

Rossbrea nodded. “If you must know, I was planning on scaling the wall and going inside.”

Calchas arched a brow and warned, “You know I have a pistol. I should shoot you, but I want to hear your story because things that are quite strange do happen here at Heron House. And before I commit murder, I need to know why I am doing it. I’ve certainly done enough killing in the past.”

The last words were bitten out quite painfully.

“I’m sorry to hear it,” the duke said quietly.

“War, you know,” Calchas said with a tight smile. “It makes one quite adept at taking another person’s life, but I’m withholding judgment on you.”

“Understood.” And he didn’t really think Calchas was about to shoot him, but again, he rather admired the man who would protect Josephine so entirely.

“You see, your uncles told me that the best way to get up to her room was to be terribly romantic, a la Romeo and Juliet , and go into her room from the window.”

Teague paused, then added, “It would help if there was a balcony.”

Calchas let out a groan. “Bloody hell, that sounds like something they would actually say. You are going to marry her? What is this complication you speak of?” Calchas narrowed his eyes. “Damnation, I know. You two are having a Season affair that no one can know about?”

“Perhaps it’s both,” he replied, chagrined.

Calchas stared for a long moment, then threw up his gloved hand. “It’s one of those Seasons, isn’t it? Trial periods, affairs, trysts. How my family loves them. Why can the Briarwoods never have a normal Season?”

“Would you actually want them to?” Teague asked.

Calchas’s lips suddenly tilted in a smile. “I say, old boy, you are not so bad. Perhaps you understand my family.”

He inclined his head. “I think I do, and I quite like them. Don’t you?”

Calchas narrowed his eyes. “Are you insinuating that I don’t like my own family?”

“There was no insinuation about it. You inferred your frustration.”

“Frustration is not the same as dislike.” Calchas blew out a breath.

“I love no one better in the whole world than my family. That doesn’t mean that I don’t sometimes find them positively infuriating and that they need to be protected from themselves.

But I haven’t been around for quite a while, and I’ve been protecting nobody specifically.

Just the country at large. And I’m done. ”

“Are you?” the duke asked, shocked. “Did the war end?”

Calchas snorted. “No, it did not. But I’ve been given a break. I need it before I go back. Things have gotten damned difficult.”

Teague tried to understand but knew he never could. Not really. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Calchas said with surprising sincerity.

“My life? It’s not what you think it is.

I’m not some damn hero fighting on the Continent.

I’m a naval captain, and I have been at war with the United States of America for the last years.

Do you know how long we have been at war with the United States of America this time? ”

“I do actually,” the duke replied.

“About three years,” Calchas ground out.

“Three years and the treaty has been signed but not sent to the United States to be ratified, and the war will simply not end. Do you understand how terrible this is? If the war could just be done, we could focus on Napoleon, but too many people cannot wait to try to bring our former colony back to heel. And I like Americans,” Calchas ground out. “I know. Shocking, but I do.”

Teague’s lips twitched. “I like them too, if I’m honest,” he said. “If I wasn’t a duke who needed to take care of so many things, I might find myself over there.”

Calchas laughed dryly. “Me too, actually. But there are problems there too. Let’s not pretend there aren’t.”

Teague inclined his head. “Problems are everywhere,” he said.

Calchas smiled slowly, the tension easing from him at finding an ally in his way of thinking. “So you’re in love with Josephine?”

“I am.”

“Tell me about her then,” Calchas instructed.

“Why?” Teague asked.

Calchas arched a brow. “Because I want to know if you’re honest.”