Page 8 of Two Nights with the Duke (Cherish and the Duke #3)

T he morning light shone down on Jocelyn’s face as Malcolm stood beside the bed they shared and stared down at her. He had quietly gotten up at sunrise, washed and dressed, and meant to walk over to the wheelwright’s shop in a few minutes to see how the repairs were coming along. The shop was not far from the inn and he would be back within the hour, but he did not want Jocelyn to think he had run off if she awoke and did not find him asleep beside her.

Lord, she was beautiful. A dark-haired angel of his very own.

Their coupling last night had been incredible, as though her body had been made to fit his, and her skin was just the right softness beneath his roughened palms.

But it was not merely that their bodies matched so well. He dared not think about the fit to his heart or the way she filled his empty soul.

Too soon.

Too soon to hope this could be real.

He knelt beside her and shook her gently, smiling when she responded with a snuffle.

The lass was also a sound sleeper. Perhaps because she felt safe with him.

“Jocelyn,” he whispered, giving her bare shoulder a light caress. “I’m going to check on the carriage wheel. All right?”

She mumbled something unintelligible and swatted his hand away.

“The carriage, lass. I’m going to see if the repairs are done.” He intended for them to leave the village as soon as they had their proof of marriage in hand, for he could not risk that sneaky rat Burling finding the Earl of Ballantry and sending him here for a confrontation.

Jocelyn grumbled and finally sat up. “What time is it?”

He smiled, for she had not donned her chemise after their coupling, and he now caught glimpses of her warm skin and the lovely swell of her breasts that peeked out above the blanket. “Early yet, lass. But I dared not leave ye without yer knowing where I’ve gone.”

“The wheelwright,” she said with a lazy yawn, then noticed her state of undress and hurriedly drew the blanket to her chin. “How much did you see?”

“All of ye, Jocelyn. Did ye forget what we did last night?”

She blushed. “I remember it well.”

“I should hope so. Ye seemed well pleased.”

“I was,” she said with a light groan. “But I’m sure this does not surprise you.”

“It pleases me. I liked waking up next to ye.”

She nodded and emitted a trill of laughter. “Mutual, Camborne. Two nights beside you and I am not tired of you yet.”

“Nor I ye. Shall I have them send up a bath for ye, lass?”

“Oh, yes. A bath and a breakfast. I’m famished.”

He kissed her on the nose and then handed her the chemise he had removed from her luscious body last night. “That’s because ye exerted yerself something fierce,” he said, casting her a roguish smile.

She hastily donned the garment and gave him an impish grin in return. “Speaking of exertion, how does your back feel?”

“Perfectly fine. But I fear we’ve made a dent in the wall while going at it like a pair of wild monkeys.”

She laughingly gasped and smacked his shoulder. “Do not tease me.”

“Very well, sweetheart. Here, wrap this robe around ye, too.” He handed her one of the new garments purchased at Miss Farrell’s shop yesterday. “Latch the door once I’m gone. I won’t be long.”

He strode to the door and was about to walk out when she called to him with a voice so sweet, it wrapped around his heart. “Camborne…”

“What is it?”

“Last night was the best night of my life.”

He could not suppress his smile as he said, “Mine too, Jocelyn. Mine too.”

It was true.

He walked out before she saw how much her words had affected him. As he descended the stairs, he noticed Mr. Farrell coming out of the common room that appeared to be empty at this early hour but would soon fill up as travelers prepared for the day’s journeys. “Could ye send up a bath and a breakfast for my wife, Mr. Farrell? I’m going to check on my carriage repairs. We’ll be heading out today if the wheelwright has fixed the damage.”

“At once, Yer Grace,” the innkeeper said, and summoned one of his maids to give her the instructions.

The village was just starting to stir as Malcolm walked with a purposeful stride along the high street toward the wheelwright’s shop. This was a seacoast village, so there was always a light wind off the sea that carried the scent of salty water, seaweed, and fish. Gulls soared above the water, and some circled the dockside for discarded scraps.

The sun shone with the intense brightness of morning light, but there were storm clouds gathering on the horizon and slowly rolling toward land. The sea was also beginning to roil, for he could hear the light crash of waves upon the coastal rocks and noticed more whitecaps than usual as the menacing weather approached landfall.

He felt a few drops of rain begin to fall as he climbed the hill toward the shop. “Botheration,” he muttered, hoping to be done with the wedding ceremony and put some distance between them and Arbroth before the rain struck with full force. A soft mist or a few droplets would not slow them down, but a full-on storm was another thing altogether.

One could only hope those clouds would break up once they reached land.

He heard the clang of a hammer striking metal as he approached the wooden structure bearing the wheelwright’s sign. “Good morning, Mr. MacInerney. Any news for me?”

The burly man set down his hammer and wiped his hands upon his apron as he gave Malcolm a respectful nod. “Aye, Yer Grace. Happy to report yer carriage was repaired last night and ye’re all set. I was about to have one of my boys deliver it to the inn’s carriage house this morning.”

“Excellent. Have him do it at once.” Malcolm was not surprised the man was now referring to him with a deference accorded because of his title. Everyone in the village must have heard of his run-in with Burling and what had been said.

Malcolm settled up with the beefy Scot whose cheeks were already ruddy from working over his fiery kiln. He next stopped at the church to make certain the minister was prepared for the wedding ceremony.

Not that there was much to do in preparation of a rite he hoped would take no more than ten minutes to complete. But he wanted to be sure the witnesses would arrive at the appointed hour because every moment was precious. With a storm almost upon them and Ballantry hot on the heels of Jocelyn, he wanted no delays. “They will be here on time, Your Grace.” The minister checked his timepiece. “These witnesses are most dependable.”

“Get them here sooner.”

The minister regarded him with some surprise. “Sooner?”

“Aye, the weather is about to turn foul, and we have a long journey ahead of us.”

Malcolm thanked him and made his way back to the inn, an uneasy feeling in his gut that had nothing to do with the gathering rain clouds or the darkness over the sea. “Bah,” he muttered, silently berating himself for behaving like an old woman.

But as he turned the corner toward the inn, he saw a fancy carriage draw up in front and recognized the crest emblazoned on the door as that of the Earl of Ballantry. Climbing out was not only Ballantry, but that rat, Burling, and an older man and woman.

Jocelyn’s parents, perhaps?

He ran into the inn through the kitchen door and hurried up the servants’ stairs. A maid was just leaving the room he shared with Jocelyn. He waited a heartbeat for her to disappear down the main stairs before rushing into their shared quarters without bothering to knock. “Jocelyn! We have to get out of here right now.”

She had just gotten out of the tub and was standing naked in the center of the room with towel in hand. She gasped and hastily wrapped it around herself.

“No, lass,” he said, taking a moment to bolt the door. “No time for bashfulness. Dry yerself off and get dressed straightaway.”

But how he ached to toss her back in bed now that he had caught her in that state of undress. Gad, she had the most exquisite body.

He shook out of his improper thoughts, for there was not a moment to lose. “I’ll help ye with the laces. Here are yer shoes. Hurry, love. We haven’t any time.”

She paled as she rushed to dry herself off and immediately scrambled to don her new undergarments. She then grabbed one of her new gowns while he took the rest of her belongings and stuffed them into the travel bag he had purchased for her yesterday. “I need your help,” she said. “But don’t bother doing up every lace. Just help me tie a couple. I’ll throw a shawl over my shoulders to hide the gap. Are we all packed? Have we forgotten anything?”

“Dinna fret. I’ll buy us anything we leave behind.” He’d bought her a soft valise for ease of travel to his Highlands lodge and was glad he had thought of it yesterday and not left it for today. He had not expected them to be fleeing like hunted outlaws this very morning.

“Rotten luck,” he muttered, angry and frustrated that Burling had come upon Ballantry so soon and led him straight back here. What were the odds?

Well, it did not matter. Burling had found Ballantry and the older companions who could only be Jocelyn’s parents.

Jocelyn’s hair was wet from its fresh washing, but there was no time to properly brush it out or pin it up. He grabbed a fistful of her pins and stuck them in his pockets. In the meanwhile, she hastily dragged her hairbrush through her lush curls. A few droplets struck his face while he next stood behind her to lace up more of her gown.

But he left most of it undone, as she had suggested, because the voices were getting louder on the stairs. “We have to go. Now .”

“Wait! Where are my hairpins?”

“I have them, love. I think I have everything. Here’s yer shawl. Toss it on and let’s go.”

Fortunately, his own bag was already packed—he had never bothered to unpack it, since he found it easier to take items out as he needed them. He had gotten into the habit of moving fast during his war years, and this had never left him.

He stuffed her hairbrush in his pocket, then grabbed both bags. “Follow me, sweetheart.”

They tore down the servants’ stairs and raced to the inn’s stable. “Ready the carriage and put our bags in there right now,” Malcolm told the surprised ostler, thrusting both bags in his hands. “Send a boy to wake my driver and have him drive the carriage to the church. The boy should tell him it is urgent and he must meet us there right away. Right away. Got that?” He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and withdrew a few pound notes. “If anyone asks ye about us, ye’re to tell them the Duke of Camborne and his wife left fifteen minutes ago in his carriage—describe it as a ducal carriage with the Camborne crest on the door.”

“Yer crest, Yer Grace?”

He nodded. “A lion with his teeth buried in the neck of a wounded hart, and two swords dripping blood crossed over their heads.”

Jocelyn’s eyes rounded in horror.

“Aye, lass. The Cambornes were a bloodthirsty clan.” He turned back to the ostler. “Ye’re to tell anyone asking that we headed south.”

“South. Och, aye.” The man tucked the notes into his pocket and nodded. “Yer Grace, ye have no need to worry. I’ll no’ give ye and the lovely lass away.”

“The lovely lass is my wife,” Malcolm growled.

“Of course, Yer Grace.”

Obviously, no one was ever going to believe him. Besides, he had no time to argue with the ostler. He grabbed Jocelyn’s hand and stealthily led her from the inn. He hoped against hope that the ostler would lie for them. Jocelyn’s parents and Ballantry only needed to be distracted long enough for the wedding ceremony to take place.

Jocelyn was out of breath and in tears by the time they reached the church and rushed in. The minister came forward to greet them, but his smile immediately faded when he noticed she was crying. “Lass, are ye being forced to wed?” he asked, casting Malcolm a righteous look of disapproval.

Jocelyn glanced at him and then at the minister. “No! This man is my salvation. There is no one in the world I wish to wed more. I love him,” she said with such sincerity that Malcolm almost believed her.

Why should he not believe her? Jocelyn gave herself to him last night. For all her reputation of being a harpy, this lass was sweet and true. She could not have given her body to him without his also having won her heart.

This filled him with contentment, but he dared not dwell on it just yet. He took her hand in his as he spoke to the minister. “There are some evil people trying to keep us apart. The lady is of age. Obviously, so am I. We both wish for this wedding to take place immediately. Where are the witnesses? There is no time to waste.”

The minister glanced once more at Jocelyn, no doubt worried Malcolm was the evildoer and she was his innocent captive. At her nod of reassurance, he hurried off to summon the witnesses, which he advised were already here and waiting in his office.

“It will be all right, love,” Malcolm said, trying to calm Jocelyn, who was shaking and could not seem to stop. “Let me do up yer gown properly while we have a moment.”

She nodded and removed her shawl. He worked nimbly, hoping to finish the task before the witnesses returned and she was further embarrassed.

“There, love. Done. I might have missed a few eyelets, but no one will notice.”

She ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh, Camborne. My hair’s a mess.”

“It looks beautiful. Here, let me help ye brush it out a little better.” He fished her hairbrush out of his pocket. “Close yer eyes and take a deep breath. Everything will be all right. Ye’re with me now. I’ll keep ye safe.”

She nodded, but her hands were still shaking. He continued to brush back her hair, loving the softness of her dark curls.

“It is not even properly done up,” she said in a strained whisper as the minister returned with the two witnesses in tow. “What will they think of me?”

“Is it not customary for a bride to leave her hair unbound on her wedding day?” he replied, hoping to make her feel better as the three gentlemen approached. “If not, we’ll start our own tradition.”

The minister summoned them to the altar, and the witnesses took their positions immediately behind them. Jocelyn appeared so tense that she probably heard nothing of the introductions the minister made and had not a clue who these two men were. But Malcolm took note of their names and would make certain all was properly entered in the marriage papers.

The ceremony was quick, the prayers recited with blasphemous speed at Malcolm’s command, and then he and Jocelyn signed the parchments certifying their union.

The witnesses then did the same. The minister’s signature came last. “There, all done. Felicitations to ye both. May ye have a long and happy married life.”

Malcolm took Jocelyn in his arms and hugged her fiercely. “Ye’re safe now, lass. Ye’re my wife, truly and forever. No one can ever take ye from me.”

She hugged him back just as fiercely, once again shedding tears. “Thank you. Thank you, Camborne. I—”

“Stop the wedding!”

Whatever else she meant to say was interrupted by Ballantry’s bellowing. Malcolm thought she was going to say that she loved him, but he could not know for certain. The elderly gentleman and lady who had stepped out of Ballantry’s carriage along with him earlier were close on his heels. Burling ran in last, his face red as he gasped for breath because he was a sot and a wastrel, and the slightest exertion had him wheezing and panting.

Malcolm and Burling had been in school together. They were of similar age. However, the years had not been kind to Burling. He looked dissipated and worn out, but remained as nasty and spiteful as ever.

Malcolm drew Jocelyn safely behind him. “Ye’re too late, Ballantry. Jocelyn is married to me and I will no’ let ye touch her.”

“She is my betrothed! Ye had no right!” Ballantry snarled, attempting to reach around him to grab Jocelyn.

Malcolm blocked his path, for he was not letting her former betrothed anywhere near her. He gently nudged her behind him when she tried to step forward to confront the cur. But he would not allow it, not while the man was enraged and might strike her. “Leave him to me, lass,” he said.

“Try to calm the situation,” she muttered, no doubt concerned there would be blood spilled in this sacred place.

He had no intention of being the first to spill blood or even toss a punch. However, if Ballantry wanted a fight, then Malcolm was not going to back down from the challenge. He was no gentleman and would not pretend to be one. The only option he would offer Ballantry was to walk away and never approach Jocelyn again. She was now his wife, and the sooner Ballantry accepted it, the better off they would all be.

“Ye broke yer betrothal when ye broke faith with Jocelyn,” Malcolm said with the calm and reason of a diplomat. “Do ye dare deny it? She saw ye with her own eyes, betraying her not an hour before the wedding was to take place.”

“Ha! So what? Will ye pretend ye’re any better, Camborne? Yer reputation precedes ye. Is the lady so foolish as to believe ye’ll ever be faithful to her?”

“She has my vow. I will not break it. Now, back away before I run ye through with my blade. Think twice before ye tangle with me, Ballantry. As ye said, ye know my reputation.” He turned to Burling. “As for ye, ye little rat…”

Burling squealed and ran out of the church.

“Did ye pay him, Ballantry? Ye wasted yer money. Jocelyn will never be yers.”

“Now see here!” the older gentleman roared.

Jocelyn stepped to Malcolm’s side. “No, Papa. It is done. I am now the Duchess of Camborne. So choose your side carefully, for my loyalty is to Camborne now, and I shall never break faith with him.”

Her father glowered at Malcolm and then turned his anger on his daughter. “Ye’ve pledged yerself to this infamous Silver Duke? My child, I did not take ye for a fool. Do ye not understand what this man is? Married or not, he will abandon ye before the week is out.”

“That is a risk I am willing to take,” she said, her chin raised proudly. “Ballantry did not even give me the courtesy of an hour before cheating. As for Camborne, he will never cheat. He married me and gave me his sacred promise. I trust him always to honor that vow.”

“Jocelyn, how can ye be so blind?” her mother said with a sob, approaching. “Do ye even know the man? No one in Scotland has a worse reputation.”

“It is completely undeserved,” she said, looking up at Malcolm with such adoration, his heart melted a little. “Everyone calls me a harpy, do they not? Yet that is not who I am at all.”

“Lass, I’ll not give ye cause to doubt me.” Malcolm gave her hand a light squeeze.

Their exchange did nothing to lessen her father’s worry. “Jocelyn, child, ye dinna understand the problem. Ye have a betrothal contract.”

“That he broke!” she exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Ballantry.

The old man was not in the least swayed. “Dinna be foolish. We are bound by the terms, whether ye like it or not.”

“And so was he bound by these same terms, one of which was an oath to honor and respect me. I read the contract. I know what it said. Was I not the one who insisted on that language being included? All he had to do was be discreet, and he could not even accomplish that. He violated his oath of honor numerous times, including the very morning of the wedding.”

“I did not violate that oath, since we weren’t married yet,” Ballantry retorted.

“Your promise commenced upon your signing of the contract, as was clearly stated in the terms. And what did you do? The ink was not yet dry before you began to work your way through my cousins, my maids, and even the—” She glowered at him. “I shall not say who else I caught you with, but you know what I saw. Am I supposed to believe you would have behaved respectfully toward me for the rest of your life when you could not even honor our betrothal contract for all of five minutes? You cannot stand me. All you ever wanted was my dowry.”

“That’s right,” Ballantry said with a smug sneer. “And I’ll take ye, yer parents, and Camborne for all ye’re worth because ye are the ones who broke faith with me. I’ll drag the lot of ye through the mud. I’ll shame ye and then I’ll shame ye some more. Most of all, I’ll laugh hardest when Camborne tires of ye and tosses ye aside, as he will do before the week is out.”

“Cur!” Jocelyn curled her hands into fists and appeared ready to punch her former betrothed. “I’ll laugh hardest when my noble Camborne kicks you into the mud to wallow among the pigs, because that is what you are, Ballantry! A pig!”

“And ye are a harpy! Ye’re right, I canno’ stand ye. But I’ll have yer dowry, mark my words. What will ye think of her then, Camborne? She’ll come to ye with nothing, for I’ll have all of it and ye’ll be left with a sharp-tongued pauper.”

Malcolm had noticed her father and mother exchange frightened glances every time Ballantry mentioned Jocelyn’s dowry. What was going on? Jocelyn had confided some of her concerns to him yesterday.

Was it possible her parents had dipped into Jocelyn’s funds? How much had they taken?

And when did they think to tell Ballantry that her dowry was less than they had represented? Were they not concerned what he might do to her when he found out he had not gotten what he bargained for?

Had they lost it all?

Dear heaven, what would Ballantry have done to Jocelyn upon learning all of it was gone? Malcolm shuddered to think.

He gave a silent prayer that she had married him instead of that wretched fiend who only wanted her for her dowry. Ballantry, that fortune-hunting rat, would not have waited until the ink was dry on their proof of marriage before demanding her accounts be handed over to him.

The cur would have physically beaten Jocelyn when her parents admitted the funds were gone. How could they not have realized this? Or did they think she was too stubborn and independent, and deserved to be put in her place? Perhaps they thought she was clever enough to handle Ballantry.

He did not have the heart to mention it to Jocelyn, certainly not here and now. Perhaps he would bring up the subject delicately at a later time and confess his suspicions. After all, Jocelyn had brought it up herself, although she did not wish to believe it of her parents.

But he would have a private word with her father and get to the truth. They did not appear to be cruel people. By the distress on her mother’s face, he saw there was much motherly concern for her daughter. But he had yet to make out their characters.

The doors to the church had been thrown open when Ballantry and the others burst in, but the light spilling in was now darkened by a large, hulking shadow in the doorway.

“Ah, Terrence. Ye’ve arrived. What delayed ye?” Malcolm asked his driver, who was a giant of a man and had been a loyal soldier under his command in the years on the peninsula fighting Napoleon’s army.

“Sorry, Yer Grace. I stopped to have a word with Lord Ballantry’s driver. Had to tell him what was what so there would be no misunderstandings.”

“Ah, that was clever of ye.” Malcolm turned to Ballantry who was reaching into his boot, likely to withdraw a pistol. “Dinna try it. Ye will notice that Terrence already has his firearm drawn. I need only give him a nod and he’ll blow yer head off.”

Jocelyn’s parents gasped, as did the minister and witnesses.

Ballantry merely cursed as he straightened and held out his hands to show he was unarmed. “Call him off me, Camborne.”

“No.”

Jocelyn had been standing beside him, her hands still curled into fists, but she now looked pale as she glanced up at him. “No one needs to get hurt.”

“I agree, lass. And no one will now that Ballantry knows better than to ever draw a weapon on you or me. Isn’t that right, Ballantry? Because I will no’ hesitate to kill ye myself if ye ever do it.”

Ballantry growled. “This isn’t over, Camborne. I will be coming after ye. Ye stole Jocelyn from me and ye know it. Ye’ll pay for making a fool of me!”

“Ye did it to yerself, Ballantry.” Malcolm shook his head. “Ye’ll only get yerself killed if ye ever attempt to come at me. And I’ll kill ye slow and bloody if ye ever lay a hand on Jocelyn. But here’s my proposal to ye, since ye seem to be feeling aggrieved. My wife and I, and I hope her parents,” he said, nodding toward her mother and father, “shall meet ye in Aberdeen in a fortnight to settle matters. Ye want Jocelyn’s money and I want Jocelyn. I’m sure we can come to amicable terms without any blood being spilled…for it shall be yer blood, not mine, that pours onto the floor.”

“Now see here!” Jocelyn’s father cried. “In a fortnight? What’s to become of my daughter in the meanwhile? As her father, I have a right to know.”

“He’s taking me fishing,” Jocelyn said before Malcolm could stop her from giving anything of their plans away.

“Where I’m taking her is none of anyone’s business,” he interjected. “But I’ll have her safely back in Aberdeen at the appointed time, Lord Granby. Dinna fret about yer daughter. She is perfectly safe with me. Join us in Aberdeen in a fortnight. Ye’ll find us staying at the Balgownie Arms. Are ye familiar with it? It’s a lovely inn with a glorious view of the sea. Never ye worry—I’ll have my clerk secure rooms for all of us there.”

He turned to Jocelyn’s former betrothed. “This is where ye’ll find me if ye wish to talk settlement. I strongly suggest ye accept this gesture of peace I’ve offered ye, for I will never offer it to ye again.”

Ballantry cursed him. “I’ll see ye rot in hell for this, Camborne.”

“No, ye won’t. Ye’ll see reason once ye calm down and realize there is more profit to be had in settling rather than fighting with me. I dinna lose my battles. I never lose, as ye know from my reputation.” Malcolm turned to Jocelyn. “Love, we had better be on our way.”

But he knew by her expression that this confrontation had distressed her. Despite everything, she cared for her parents, and it would not be so easy to pull her away from them.

She held him back when he took her gently by the arm. “Camborne, may I have a moment with my mother and father?”

It wasn’t a good idea, not with Ballantry still fuming and itching to withdraw that pistol from his boot. But Terrence was now beside them and still had his weapon trained on the man. “All right,” he said with a sigh, hoping she would be quick about it.

Jocelyn drew her parents aside. He could not hear their conversation, for they were off in a corner and speaking softly. But he did hear her father’s outburst in response to something Jocelyn had said. “Ye mean to tell me ye’ve only known him two days? Lass, have ye gone mad? Two days!”

And two glorious nights, Malcolm thought.

Bollocks.

“Then he had nothing to do with yer running off?” her mother asked incredulously. “Ye were complete strangers until two days ago?”

“I had no idea who he was, but…” Jocelyn wasn’t going to confide what they had done last night, was she? He smothered a smile of relief when he heard her next words. “He’s been a complete gentleman, and…and I love him,” she declared, tipping her chin up as though daring anyone to take issue with her statement. “He’s wonderful.”

He and Terrence exchanged glances, for the driver had been with him for years and knew he was not anywhere near as wonderful as Jocelyn seemed to believe. Nor did Ballantry think he was anything other than a hound who stole other men’s wives and ruined their daughters.

He had never actually ruined anyone, for he was always careful to steer clear of virgins. In fact, Jocelyn had been his first—his first, and now the only woman he would ever touch from this moment on. Nor had he ever broken up a good marriage, only engaging in affairs with married women when both husband and wife were already unhappy with each other and had made no secret about it. Where was the harm when the spouses did not like each other and were never going to touch each other again?

But that last part Jocelyn had said about him, about his being wonderful…that stuck in his craw and troubled him, because it was not really true. He had spent most of his life keeping others at a distance. Indeed, who besides Bromleigh or Lynton, his fellow Silver Dukes, had he ever trusted or confided his worries to? Even with them, he often held back.

How could he ever be considered worthy when he took advantage of unfortunate situations and walked away without a second thought once he was no longer amused? Absolving himself of blame because he had not actually created the unfortunate situation was simply a convenient lie he had told himself to condone his bad behavior.

It could not be denied that he had taken advantage of unhappy situations and never felt an ounce of remorse for it. Was this not the very reason he was reevaluating the course of his life? Yet Jocelyn’s faith in him truly affected and heartened him. He wanted to be this better man she thought he was.

Well, she probably did not believe he really was all that good. She had just blurted those words in his defense because she did not wish herself to look like a fool.

Her parents had rightly accused him of the wretched things he had done. However, this was his chance to live up to Jocelyn’s hopes and prove he could be a husband to adore and look upon with pride.

“Tell yer baboon to drop his weapon and let me leave, Camborne,” Ballantry said, sounding deflated although his expression remained one of fury and disgust. “I’ll wait until Aberdeen to hear from ye, but ye’d better have a good offer on the table for me or ye’ll regret it.”

Malcolm nodded. Terrence lowered his pistol, but did not take his eyes off the untrustworthy Ballantry.

“Are ye coming?” Ballantry called to Jocelyn’s parents. “I’ll not be waiting any longer for ye to coddle yer viper of a daughter.”

Her father shook his head at Jocelyn and turned to leave. But her mother had taken only a step before she suddenly clutched her heart and fell against Jocelyn.

“Oh, no! Camborne, help me! Mama, what’s wrong?”

Her father immediately rushed to his wife’s side. “Love! Is it yer heart?”

His wife managed a nod.

Jocelyn’s father shot her a scathing glower. “Ye know she is no’ well. And yet ye did not think twice before putting her through this ordeal. Ye knew how delicate she was, and ye ran off anyway…and now ye’re married to this…to this… scoundrel who’ll abandon ye at the first opportunity.”

Ballantry stormed out laughing.

Aye, the man was all heart.

Malcolm motioned for Terrence to follow him out and make certain he would not get up to any mischief while they were all distracted.

Malcolm and Jocelyn’s father assisted the woman to a pew and helped her to lie down while Jocelyn fumbled through her mother’s reticule for smelling salts or medicine. “Papa, what is she taking for her condition? I cannot find anything in here.”

“It’s in Ballantry’s carriage.”

Malcolm ran outside to catch up to Ballantry and make certain he would not order his driver to take off and leave Jocelyn’s parents behind. Not that he cared if he stranded the pair here, since he and Jocelyn would take care of them. But her mother needed her medicine.

He had just stepped outside when he saw Ballantry’s driver toss their bags out with reckless disdain. Ballantry sneered as they landed in a muddy puddle. “The Granbys are yer concern now, Camborne. I dinna care what ye do with the lot of them, but I had better get my settlement. See ye in Aberdeen.”

He hurled a few more insults and then ordered his driver to head to Edinburgh.

What was there for Ballantry in Edinburgh? The courts? A judge to bribe? Society friends to spread more gossip? Malcolm shrugged off the concerns, for he had powerful friends, too. Ballantry was an irritating gnat he would squash if the man did not cooperate and accept the settlement Malcolm was willing to offer.

In truth, he would pay a king’s ransom to protect Jocelyn.

What was it about the lass…now his wife…that made him feel this way?

“Bloody bastard,” Malcolm muttered while he tried to figure out which bag held the medicine.

“Can ye not find it?” Terrence knelt beside him and watched with concern as Malcolm hastily burrowed through her things and found nothing, to his frustration. “Best we get Lady Granby to the inn, Yer Grace.”

“Aye.” Malcolm looked up as rain began to patter on the ground. “Toss those bags onto our carriage. Give me a moment and I’ll carry her out. But Terrence, I’ll want ye to follow Ballantry to Edinburgh once I have Jocelyn’s mother settled.”

“Aye, with pleasure. What do ye need me to do?”

“I’ll tell ye once we’re back at the inn.” Malcolm then hurried back inside.

Jocelyn’s father, the minister, and their witnesses were all gathered around Lady Granby, whose head was cradled on Jocelyn’s lap. Jocelyn must have found a vial of perfume in her mother’s reticule, for Malcolm could smell it on the handkerchief now pressed to the woman’s head. The men looked on helplessly while Jocelyn did her best to soothe her mother, but the poor woman was still struggling to breathe.

“Och, lass. I could no’ find the medicine. I looked through yer bags, too,” he said to her father. “Did she run out of it, perhaps? But she seems to have steadied.”

Jocelyn nodded. “She has, although she is still having difficulty breathing. Papa, did she finish her medicine?”

Her father raked a hand through his thinning gray hair. “It is likely. She’s been taking a lot of it these past few days.”

Jocelyn’s expression crumbled, for she surely blamed herself.

“Best we stay in Arbroth a few days longer and see that she recovers,” Malcolm said. “I know ye want to take care of yer mother. We’ll get her comfortably settled at the inn. All right?”

She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“I’ll have the innkeeper give them our room if there are no others available.” He turned to the minister. “Who’s the local doctor? Is he any good?”

“Och, aye,” one of the witnesses said. “He’s one of the Farrells. Samuel Farrell. He served in the Scots Greys, Yer Grace. Saved a lot of wounded men. He’s who ye’ll be wanting for Lady Granby. I’ll summon him for ye and have him meet ye at the inn.”

“Thank ye, Mr. Grampion,” Malcolm said, noticing the slight widening of Jocelyn’s eyes as he referred to the man by name. “That’s kind of ye.”

“Yes, Mr. Grampion,” Jocelyn said, casting the man an achingly sweet smile. “My family and I are most grateful.”

Malcolm carried Lady Granby out of the church and settled her in his carriage. Jocelyn once more held her cradled on her lap while he and her father sat opposite them. The ride was short, for this was not a large village and everything was close.

Malcolm hopped out as the carriage rolled to a stop and ran into the inn to find Mr. Farrell. “Plans have changed,” he said as the innkeeper hurried toward him. “We’ll need our room back for another few days, and a room for Lord and Lady Granby, my wife’s parents. Lady Granby is not well. She needs to be put into bed right away. I understand the doctor is a relative of yers.”

“Aye, Samuel Farrell is my cousin. And an excellent doctor, too. I’ll send one of my lads to—”

“Not necessary. Mr. Grampion’s already gone to fetch him.”

Within a matter of minutes, Lady Granby was settled in the chamber next door to theirs. Fortunately, that room and the one he and Jocelyn had occupied were still available. Malcolm secured them for the next few days.

Jocelyn remained by her mother’s side while her father helped Malcolm and Terrence look through the Granby belongings once more in the hope of finding his wife’s medicine. “Och, it’s all gone,” he said with a sigh of resignation.

“The doctor will tell us what she needs. There’s a local apothecary who will fill the order. I’ll take care of it,” Malcolm assured Lord Granby.

“Much appreciated, Camborne,” the man said grudgingly, and left them to see to his wife.

Malcolm and Terrence brought in the rest of the bags and made certain they were cleaned of mud before they were brought upstairs.

Terrence had been sleeping in the rooms above the stable, but Malcolm suggested he take more comfortable quarters at the inn. “No, Yer Grace. I’m happy where I am. Ye needn’t concern yerself with me. Ye’ll want me following Ballantry to Edinburgh soon anyway.”

Aye, he would. But having the driver wait in a stable in the meanwhile did not sit well with Malcolm. Terrence was more than a coachman to him. They had fought side by side in many battles, and the big, gentle man had always watched his back. In truth, Malcolm doubted he would have survived the war had Terrence not been protecting him. For this reason, he had offered Terrence employment after the war and always offered him better quarters than those above a stable.

It was almost a game by now. Terrence always declined the comfort, even when at the Camborne estates, claiming he was a simple man who liked being around horses and felt more at home among the stable grooms than other people.

In truth, Terrence wasn’t simple at all. He was honest, brave, and loyal. But he did feel more at home around animals and the grooms who took care of them. “Animals dinna lie to ye,” he always said.

Malcolm had to own that this was true, for one always knew when a dog was going to bite you or a snake was going to coil and strike a victim with its venom. The same could not be said about people.

“Then make certain ye get yerself a good meal,” he said.

Terrence grinned. “That I will, Yer Grace. Ye needn’t coax me for that. And ye get yerself a strong drink, for ye’ve not only acquired a wife but her entire family to look after.”

Malcolm laughed. “Och, aye. I certainly fell into that, didn’t I?”

“Ye dinna seem too upset about it,” Terrence remarked.

“I’m not.” Malcolm rubbed a hand across the nape of his neck as he gave it another moment’s consideration. “Surprising, isn’t it?”

Terrence shrugged. “Ye do what ye must for those ye love.”

“I—” Malcolm was going to say that he was not in love with Jocelyn, but stopped himself. He certainly had strong feelings toward the lass that he could not deny. “I had better see to Lord and Lady Granby.”

He stopped first in his chamber to wash the mud off his hands. The room had yet to be cleaned, but he knew Mr. Farrell would have his maids attend to it promptly. He was not going to fault the man, who could not have expected this morning’s chaos. Indeed, the hour was still early, not even ten o’clock in the morning. Malcolm and Jocelyn hadn’t been married half an hour yet.

He smiled as he scrubbed his hands.

Married.

How was he ever going to explain this to his fellow Silver Dukes?

The door had been left open, since he only meant to take a moment to wash up before looking in on Jocelyn and her parents, but he suddenly sensed someone watching him. He turned in a hurry, reaching into his boot for a weapon because he did not trust Ballantry and would not rest until the oaf had been bought off.

To his surprise, Jocelyn was the one standing at the threshold.

He quickly dried his hands and then set the cloth aside. “What is it, love? Is your mother still struggling?”

She nodded. “The doctor’s just arrived. He’s tending to her now. I left him talking to my father. I’ll question him afterward. Will you stay with me while I speak to the doctor?”

“Of course, lass.”

“Thank you. My father did not want me in there with them as they spoke now.”

Malcolm frowned. “Why not? What have they got to hide?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I hope to speak to him once he finishes his examination.” She stepped into their bedchamber and glanced around. “The tub’s still here from my morning bath.”

“The menservants are busy with the departing guests right now. They’ll take it out soon.”

She smiled. “Camborne, I enjoyed my sinful night with you.”

He laughed. “There’ll be plenty more of those, if ye wish.”

She came to his side and hugged him. “I’m very grateful for all the help you are giving to my parents, but I’m so sorry about the mess I’ve made of your plans. Truly, I have completely upended your life.”

“Ye haven’t. If anything, ye’ve made it more…interesting.”

She laughed as she stared at him, affection glistening in her eyes. “That’s a polite way of putting it. I think we broke the speed record on church weddings. I doubt the minister has ever gone through a service faster than we made him do it for our ceremony. He must think we are sacrilegious pagans.”

“No, just eager lovebirds.” He gave her a light kiss on the mouth. “Good thing we did hurry him along. Yer parents and Ballantry were very close on our heels. Had I realized just how close, I would have insisted on marrying ye last night. But ye’re my wife now, Jocelyn. Whether or not we broke all speed records, the ceremony still counts.”

“Then you don’t hate me yet?”

“No, lass.” He took her back in his arms. “I’m never going to hate ye.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. What will you do about your fishing trip?”

“It isn’t quite as important as it was before I met ye. The fish will be in the stream whenever I get there. Nor will they mind if I never get to catching them.”

“You are remarkably forgiving, Camborne. I doubt my parents will ever forgive me, especially now that I have pushed my mother to the brink of… I dare not even suggest the worst. She has always had these heart flutters, suffered with them for as long as I can remember.”

“Even in yer childhood?”

“Yes, even back then. But I thought she was faking. After all, I faked stomachaches to get out of having to take my piano lessons. She seemed to use her heart palpitations for similar reasons. What better excuse whenever confronted with something she did not wish to do?”

“Ye thought she was shirking her duties?”

She nodded. “Yes, because I surely was using my stomachaches as an excuse to shirk. As it turns out, I was wrong. They are real, and it is all my fault she is experiencing this latest difficulty.”

He took her by the shoulders and looked straight into her lovely eyes. “Dinna blame yerself. Ye dinna know all the facts.”

“What facts are there to know?”

He did not wish to confide his suspicions about her dowry and her father using it for himself.

“Camborne, what do you mean?”

His gut was telling him that her mother’s stress had more to do with a missing dowry than Jocelyn’s running off on the day of her marriage, which probably was a relief for her because the issue of the dowry would be delayed—if not forgotten altogether for months, or years—or possibly never come up if Jocelyn had remained a spinster. But rushing into the church behind Ballantry and realizing Jocelyn had married him, a reprehensible Silver Duke, must have put her in an apoplexy.

Jocelyn’s father had to be worried, too. It was one thing for the Earl of Granby to be dealing with the Earl of Ballantry. They were two peers on equal footing, although Ballantry was petty and not above being cruel. He might have hurt Jocelyn in retaliation for not getting the funds expected under the terms of the betrothal contract.

Did her parents believe she was clever enough to fight him off?

But to now be dealing with the Duke of Camborne, perhaps the most powerful duke in all of Scotland, had to be scaring them quite badly.

Malcolm knew he had an awful reputation. One he fully deserved. He was known to be ruthless. In fact, he had been just that whenever he deemed it necessary.

However, Jocelyn was his wife now. That vow meant protecting her and also those she loved, even if they were foolish and had spent her dowry.

“Camborne, tell me. What are you unsure about? The facts are plain. I have behaved stupidly at every step.”

“Ye haven’t been stupid, lass.”

She sighed. “You know I have been. And when I was not acting stupidly, I was acting selfishly.”

“Are ye saying ye married me only for selfish reasons?”

“Well, no. I never would have married you if I did not care for you. I could never have done what we did last night with anyone other than you.”

The admission warmed his heart. Perhaps this was why Jocelyn fascinated him so much. She spoke what was in her heart.

“Then where’s the problem? Why are ye beating yerself up, lass? Stop blaming yerself for yer mother’s ills. I saw the way ye were with her. Ye held her so lovingly. It was yer natural response. Ye care for yer parents. Just because ye dinna agree with them on whom to marry does not mean ye’ve been a disappointment to them.”

“I do understand this in logical terms, but it is so hard for me to see them ailing and take no responsibility for their suffering when I know I have contributed to it. I was the idiot who chose Ballantry because I was so tired of the constant carping about my spinsterhood. Thinking upon it now, my father was not quite himself after I announced my acceptance of Ballantry’s proposal. My mother was delighted, but he only grudgingly went along with my decision.”

She pursed her lips as she gave it more thought. “The betrothal contract was severe, and I do not believe my father expected him to accept the terms. But the wretch did. However, I did not come in here to bemoan my actions.”

“Ye came here to give yer father privacy while he spoke to the doctor.”

She nodded. “That and…I came in here to tell you again how grateful I am to you for everything you’ve done for me and are now doing for my family. Truly, I think I must be walking in a dream. I don’t wish to wake up from it and find you aren’t real.”

“Och, love. I’m real.” He gave her a soft kiss on the lips, but broke it off when he heard someone clearing his throat. He turned to the doorway and saw it was Jocelyn’s father. The man looked gaunt and broken.

Jocelyn gasped and ran to his side. “What did the doctor say about Mama?”

“It was a close call, but she will recover. She needs bed rest. She also needs things to remain calm around her. So, I need to know…are there any more surprises in store for us, Jocelyn?”

“No, Papa. That’s everything.”

He turned to Malcolm. “And yerself, Camborne? Let’s hear yer surprises now.”

Jocelyn stared at her father. “Papa, what are you talking about?”

But Malcolm understood the question. Her father wanted to know when he was going to abandon Jocelyn. Not if , but when . And whether it would be as early as this week.

He had questions for Granby, as well. “Granby, come downstairs with me. Ye look like ye’re in need of an ale, and we need to talk.”

Jocelyn cast him a warm smile, obviously thinking he was going to ingratiate himself with her father.

He wasn’t. He meant to find out just how much of her dowry he had squandered.

But there she was, gazing up at him with so much trust and admiration that he began to wonder whether he ought to simply back off and let the matter rest for now.

However, this was not in his nature. He wanted the truth. What he would do with it afterward, he had not an inkling yet.

But Granby was not keen on talking just yet, so Malcolm did not press the matter. Instead, he let the man return to his wife’s side.

When Dr. Farrell emerged from Lady Granby’s bedside, Malcolm and Jocelyn took him aside and asked their questions. The doctor did not appear keen on speaking to them, but Malcolm insisted and the doctor was not about to ignore a duke’s request. “Her heart is weak,” he admitted.

Jocelyn’s eyes began to tear.

“Och, Yer Grace, do not fret. Yer mother could live for another decade, if not longer. There is no telling with this sort of disease. I understand from yer father that she has suffered from palpitations of the heart ever since early in their marriage, perhaps longer. This leads me to believe it is a familial trait and she may have been born with this weakness. Keeping her free from strain will help, but there is no magic potion.”

They asked the doctor several more questions before he left. Then Jocelyn excused herself to return to her mother’s side. “I won’t be long. Do you mind terribly?”

“No, love. Take all the time ye need.” Malcolm needed to seek out Terrence, anyway. There was work to do in preparation for his meeting with Ballantry, and he needed Terrence’s assistance. The first thing was to send him off to Edinburgh to keep watch on the untrustworthy earl.

He found Terrence enjoying a hearty meal in the common room. “Ye wish me to leave right now?”

“Not a rush,” Malcolm assured him, settling at Terrence’s table and watching him eat. “He’s riding by carriage and ye’ll be following him on horseback. There are plenty of horses available, since this is a coaching inn and their stables are full of good stock. I’ll speak to the ostler. Select a horse and gather whatever ye’ll need.”

Terrence nodded.

“It should no’ take ye too long to catch up to Ballantry. Even if ye dinna catch up to him, ye’ll find him easily, since he maintains a townhouse in Edinburgh. Once there, ye’re to discreetly follow him around. But I also want ye to engage investigators to dig up whatever information they can about him.”

Terrence set aside his now-empty plate and nodded thoughtfully. “Secrets he wishes to hide?”

“Aye. The deeper and darker, the better. I dinna care if he tries to destroy me, but I’ll no’ be letting him humiliate Jocelyn.”

Terrence smiled. “Ye really care for her, Yer Grace.”

Malcolm chuckled. “Aye. Most inconvenient, don’t ye think?”

“Not at all. Ye’re now married to the lass, and I think she means to make ye happy. Dinna behave like an idjit and disappoint her.”

There were only three men in the entire world who could talk to him this openly and honestly. His two Silver Duke friends, Lynton and Bromleigh, and Terrence. “Ye hardly know her,” Malcolm remarked. “Why are ye so protective of her?”

Terrence’s expression turned soft. “Amid all the fuss over her mother, she still found a moment to seek me out and apologize for the disruption she caused.”

“She apologized to ye?”

“Aye, and then she asked me if I’d had the chance to have my breakfast yet.” He cast Malcolm a broad grin. “When I said that I hadn’t, she sought out Mr. Farrell and insisted I have the very best and advised him to charge it to yer account.”

Malcolm laughed. “Ye’re in my employ, so all yer expenses are on me.”

Terrence shrugged. “Ye might want to assure her of that fact. She thinks ye’re cheap and purposely had me sleeping in the stable.”

Malcolm laughed again. “But ye’re my coachman. Is this not the standard accommodation, rooms above the stable?”

“Aye, but she considers me yer friend and protector. I assured her it was my choice and my preference. She then thanked me for protecting ye at the church.”

“Seems the two of ye had quite the conversation. Took me months to get that much talking out of ye when I first met ye. Why so gregarious with her?”

Terrence grinned again. “She’s prettier than ye are, Yer Grace.”

“Aye, she certainly is lovely,” Malcolm said with some pride, for she was now his wife.

After seeing Terrence ride off for Edinburgh, Malcolm decided to take Jocelyn for a walk through the village to get her mind off her ailing mother. The rain had cleared and the sun was burning holes through the clouds to expose a deep blue sky.

She was reluctant at first. Malcolm insisted because there was nothing either of them could do for her mother other than let her sleep. “Is this what ye wish to do, lass? Just sit around and fret?”

“What else am I to do? It is such a helpless feeling.”

He understood well about those helpless feelings, as he’d watched his entire family die off one by one. But the doctor had assured them that Jocelyn’s mother would recover. Was this not the best news? “Come on, lass. Walk with me.”

“All right.”

It did not take long before she admitted to feeling better. “Thank you. I needed to get out in this clean air.”

They strolled along the dockside and stopped by the various stalls to look at the wares on display. The sun bathed Jocelyn in its soft light, and Malcolm thought she looked more beautiful than ever. It was an odd feeling, for he was such a cynical clot and could not recall any other woman of his acquaintance growing more beautiful with the knowing.

Then again, he did not pursue nice women. In truth, most were horrid, greedy, scheming. Was it any surprise their beauty dimmed with the knowing? Even the most strikingly gorgeous ones had a worn look to them if one studied them closely. None of them had a sparkling inner light. He supposed it was because they felt so little joy in their lives despite having every luxury at their fingertips.

But this was the sort of woman he sought out. No love involved. No hearts. All he’d offered were casual dalliances.

Then Jocelyn had come along.

“Anything strike yer fancy?” he asked as she admired some lace fichus at one of the stalls.

“You’ve already bought me more than enough,” she insisted.

He purchased a lace fichu for her. When her gaze lingered on another, he bought that one for her, too.

She smiled at him as they walked on. “Camborne, you cannot buy me everything I admire.”

“Why not?”

She pursed her lips and frowned at him, but it was not a serious frown. She was smiling at him again in the next moment.

Lord, he loved her smile.

Would he have fallen in love with her if they had met in a London ballroom? Or at a musicale? Or house party? Would he have been drawn to her under any of those circumstances? Or behaved like an arse and ignored her to pursue the wrong sort of woman?

He had jested about it the other day, told her that he might have chosen to court her.

Perhaps it was not a jest.

Was it possible Jocelyn was the missing part his soul had been seeking?