Page 4 of The Duke’s Absolutely Fantastic Fling (The Notorious Briarwoods #15)

I f one was to run the full gamut of emotions in but fifteen minutes, this was how one would feel. Josephine stared up at the incredibly handsome face of the duke and wondered how the devil this had happened.

But moments ago, she had felt as if she was soaring in the air, completely relieved at his presence. And now she was, quite frankly, wishing that he had never descended from Scotland to come and ask her to dance, let alone potentially ask her to be his wife.

She hated this sharp feeling deep in her gut. She felt completely torn.

And yet there was really only one reply.

She swallowed, took his incredibly large hands in hers, squeezed them, and said, “Yes, of course I shall marry you.”

And she drew in a breath, ready to explain more.

But before she could continue, his eyes lit with joy and relief. He squeezed her hands, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her.

It was the most intense and wild thing she’d ever experienced. And as he swept her up in his embrace and stole every thought from her head and made every incredible feeling race through her body, she wondered how the devil she was going to say what she needed to say.

After several moments of blissful kissing, and any shred of logic being completely pulled from her brain, she found herself simply swooning against him.

How could one not?

When one had the opportunity to kiss such a giant, gorgeous, powerful, Scottish man, how could one not savor every moment?

When might one have the opportunity again? Never, that’s when. And he could be hers, all hers. She could have him whenever she wished if she but married him. She could have him all day; she could have him all night. She could have him all year. She could have him for the rest of her life.

Such a thing certainly sounded akin to heaven and made her body, which was now wildly hungry for him, hungrier, though she could scarce believe that it was possible.

But if there was a heaven, there was also a hell, and she had very strong concerns that their heaven might descend into hell if she was not careful.

And so after a moment, reluctantly, she managed to pull back, her body aching at the separation and said, “But…”

“But,” he prompted, his eyes completely dazed with passion. He looked like a man who was drunk, drunk on her, drunk on the possibility of what might be between them. And he still held her, though she was no longer fully entwined in his arms.

“Yes, but …” she affirmed.

A bit of the passion dimmed form his gaze and his brow furrowed. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I thought you would not.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to speak with an emotion that had nothing to do with her desire for him.

No, she spoke from that deep instinct, that inner voice that doubted the prospect of this marriage, if not their affection.

“I will agree to say yes, though I should actually say no, on one condition.”

“Say it. Anything,” he declared. “Whatever you wish.”

She girded her proverbial loins and let her thoughts flow into words.

“That we give you and I a trial period. That we have an affair. And at the end of that affair and our time together, at the end of the Season when we all must go our separate ways and the ton departs for their country estates and you go back to Scotland, we shall decide. You shall tell me if you actually want me for your duchess and that it isn’t some sort of one-off where you think you want me, but really you just want to have me and enjoy being with me.

I don’t want to marry a man who just wants to have me and enjoys being with me. I need a man who…”

“Yes?” he prompted.

She clamped her mouth shut. This was far more complicated than she wished to admit. For her inner voice knew something. It had almost since she’d set eyes upon him.

She didn’t dare put it into words yet because she didn’t want to hurt him. Because he hadn’t even figured it out himself yet, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell him if he hadn’t.

She understood him…because in many ways, she was like him. Too like him for a happy marriage, surely.

Like him, there was a shadowy part of her, a part that would come out in the darkest hours of the night and sometimes during the day too, even though she was surrounded by the loveliest and most wonderful people.

Children who had experienced things like she had often suffered ill effects; there was no escaping it.

One could not undo the pain of the past, nor could they outrun it.

She no longer tried to because she understood that it would come in waves, in tides, in extremely difficult moments that tried to rip her back into a dark sea of torment, though she had long stood on the shore of joy surrounded by a family that loved her.

But the duke? Well, he did not understand that he was the captive of something dark inside him. Despite all his merriness, despite his beauty, despite his strength, there was a shadow there that he did not let most people see.

And she did not fool herself into thinking that she could repair or heal that. One of the great blessings of being a Briarwood was to understand that she could not repair or heal anyone but herself.

She could perhaps lead him to the light, show him the light, but ultimately, he would be the one who would have to root out and face that darkness.

He ground his teeth together. “Actually, you are telling me no.”

She pursed her lips. “It’s possible that one could take my answer as a no.”

“It is a no,” he stated, not angry but flummoxed. “You’re really saying no right now. You won’t wed me at present. And you shall wait and give me an answer at the end of the Season. It could be no.”

“Well, I suppose that’s correct, isn’t it? And not just me. You could say no too.”

“I’m not going to say no,” he returned.

“You can’t be certain.”

“I can.”

“How?”

He groaned, then drove a hand through his thick hair before he stepped back. “I don’t really care for how that feels.”

“Life is full of feelings that we don’t like,” she replied.

He snorted. “Good God.”

She nodded patiently. “This would be an indication that perhaps I am not the woman for you, because I am going to say things like this all your life.”

He drew in a long breath and let out a heavy sigh. “My brothers are always saying difficult things to me,” he said. “I don’t mind. It shall make you more appealing—”

“Your brothers may tell you things, but not like me,” she said.

“You’re correct. Not like you. But perhaps that’s a good thing for me.”

“You say that now,” she returned, wishing her dratted inner voice would just let her dive in, “while you are on the floating edges of having kissed me, but when we are four years deep into marriage with three small children and I am saying such things like this, you will not like it.”

“How the devil are you so wise?” he asked.

“Because I am surrounded by married aunts and uncles and cousins and loads and loads of babies, and I can see how incredibly difficult such things are, unless, of course, one loves their partner desperately,” she rushed.

“And it’s still quite difficult, if you ask me, even with an army of servants.

I don’t wish to go into such a fray with a man who I fear will ultimately not like me. ”

His eyes shot wide, and his lips parted with shock. “How can you say that you think I ultimately will not like you? I like you immensely.”

“And I like you immensely,” she said, “so let us be ourselves fully and completely for the duration of the rest of this Season and see where we stand. And if you cannot accept that as an answer, I guarantee you do not wish me as your wife. I am not doing this just for me,” she whispered.

He scowled. “Who are you doing it for then?”

“You,” a voice boomed down the hall.

She cringed. “Oh dear, how long have they been there?”

The duke tensed. “Dear God, I hope not too long.”

“You two put on a mighty fine show,” her uncle Lord Ajax Briarwood declared as he and his brothers, Hector and Zephyr, strode towards them.

“How much of a show?” Rossbrea gritted.

“Not too much, thank heaven. We don’t want to be sick,” said her Uncle Hector.

“You’re lucky that you are still standing and breathing though,” Hector added.

Ajax nodded, his big shoulders tight against his perfectly cut coat. “Indeed. We are very familiar with this kind of behavior, but we’re still her uncles, don’t you know, and she is still our niece. And, well, frankly, we really should rip your guts out through your nostrils, but that’s hypocrisy.”

“And the Briarwoods?” put in her Uncle Zephyr. “We dance back and forth between embracing hypocrisy and trying to be free of it, so it really depends on the day, you see.”

“And today you’re lucky,” said Hector merrily.

“Today we don’t wish to be hypocrites,” added Ajax.

“Exactly,” said Hector.

“Right,” said Zephyr.

Ajax gave a shake of his head. “But we will say this. We do hope to hear banns are read or that the two of you practice far more discretion.”

“Dear God, Josephine,” Hector said. “You’re standing in a hallway adjacent to a ballroom, kissing the Duke of Rossbrea. Do you wish to throw away your reputation?”

She grinned. She couldn’t help herself. Her uncles were the best men in the world. And she loved that they were so protective and yet weren’t total idiots about it. They had fun protecting her. In fact, their love made her eyes sting with tears for a moment as she smiled.

“Oh, God,” Hector said, “ do you?”

“We’ll love you just the same, you know. But it’s rather exhausting,” Zephyr pointed out.

Then Hector grinned. “I suppose we need to be exhausted every few years. We’ve been getting rather boring.”

“Exactly,” Josephine said. “But I promise we shall do better.”

Hector let out a strained sound. “Your father—”

She sucked in a breath. “My father will be perfectly fine with all of this.”

“Achilles will of course seem perfectly fine with all of this, but he’s the most protective of all of us,” put in Hector.

“For good reason,” she said.

“I’m glad you understand that.” Ajax leveled a hard stare at the Duke of Rossbrea. “But you better understand it. Achilles is particularly careful with his children.”

Rossbrea straightened his shoulders. “I admire him for it.”

“Good,” said Hector, “because you will have to impress him, you know, to marry her.”

“We haven’t exactly agreed to marry,” she said.

The three uncles looked at each other, then looked at her. “Why not? Is something wrong with him? He seems perfect.”

She laughed. “Oh, he is perfect.”

Hector folded his arms over his broad chest. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with you, so why in God’s name haven’t you said yes?”

Rossbrea brought his hands to his eyes before letting out a beleaguered note. “She has said both yes and no.”

“Bloody hell, it’s going to be one of those Seasons, isn’t it?” Hector drawled.

Josephine smiled. “I suppose so.”

“You’re going to lead us on quite an adventure, aren’t you?” he mused.

“I hope not,” she said. “I promise we shall be careful.”

“Do,” said Hector.

Ajax crossed to Rossbrea, beamed, and clapped the duke on the back. “We did know that we liked you up in Scotland. But remember, it is quite easy to hide a body in London, and we know people in the East End.”

The Duke of Rossbrea rolled his eyes. “From what I understand, you three are always threatening death.”

“I know. And we truly long for the day when we get to finally do it.”

“The whole threat fills us with joy,” said Hector.

“It’s why we are always doing it,” added Zephyr.

“Getting to see a man’s face when we suggest imminent death is a delight,” said Ajax merrily.

She rolled her eyes. “Stop it, the three of you.”

“Now, lad,” Hector said, not ignoring her but not quite brushing her off, which she only found slightly annoying, “come with us.”

“I’m not a lad,” the duke pointed out. “I’m the Duke of Rossbrea.”

“Yes, but the three of us are now tottering into our dotage,” Hector said with a great deal of drama, because none of them were anywhere near their dotage, though they were all no longer young bucks. “To us, you are but a green youth, so come along and we’ll let you know how this is going to go.”

“What do you mean you’ll let him know how it’s going to go?” she spouted.

“There are rules to these sorts of things,” Hector said.

“I thought being a Briarwood meant living with almost no rules,” she rushed.

“Then you haven’t been paying attention, Josephine. And I know that you pay attention to everything,” Zephyr said.

She sighed. “All right. Help him understand the way you mad lot of men behave.”

“I thought I already knew,” Rossbrea said.

“Oh, what you saw in Scotland was just a taste of it. You’re here in London. Our ground now, old boy,” Ajax said with another pat to the duke’s shoulder. “Get ready, because you’re about to go on a ride the likes of which you’ve never known.”

The duke gave Josephine a plaintive look. “You see,” she said. “I told you an affair first was a good idea before you choose this for life.”