Dreaming of the Duke (The Dukes' Club Book 2) Page 13

  Jack eyed his brother, then his wife, then the pistol. He could reload. It wouldn’t take much time. Instead he found himself asking, “What are you doing here, Charles?”

  In slow degrees, Charles retracted from his childlike position and tentatively sat up. He winced and stared mournfully down at his cock then he sighed and lifted his attention away from his wounded southerlies. “If you must know, I was concerned.”

  “Balls,” Cordelia huffed.

  Charles’ eyes narrowed and he swung an accusatory stare up at Cordelia. “Must we talk about what pains me so greatly, madam? I have come all the way from town to the country, which I abhor. The place is riddled with animals for God’s sake and dirt, and” he shivered with blatant disgust, “fresh air.”

  Jack’s gloved fingers tightened about the reins and it was all he could do not to grab Cordy and ride like mad into the night. “Leave off with the dissertation on the ills of the country. Why’d you follow?”

  Charles gave him a lopsided grin. “Grandmama is sending riders after you.”

  “Famous!” Cordelia’s beautiful eyes widened. “What kind of dowager is your grandmother?”

  “The determined kind,” Charles said flatly.

  Bugger it. Jack winced.

  ’Twas no surprise, but he’d hoped his grandmother might act with a measure of restraint. She handled the estates and the political necessities with admirable aplomb but she did hate being defied. It was her one weak point. She’d have men chasing after them and then knowing their location, she would only be half days ride behind. Ready to reiterate why her plan was the only which made any sense and therefore must be obeyed.

  “Charles,” He drew in a good dose of cold air through his nose, and swung down off the horse, landing so hard, his boots crunched the hard earth. “Did you think in following me you’d lead them off the scent? Hmmm?”

  Charles smoothed his hands down the front of his waistcoat and in one quick move, sprang to his feet. “Please, no one can exceed my stealth.”

  Cordelia smothered a snigger.

  Charles eyed her with disdain. “Madam, I have more experience sneaking about at night, eluding discovery, than you could ever fathom.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” she drawled. But then a curious expression creased her brow and her gaze traveled first from Charles then over to him. And then she repeated the movement at least three times. Her gorgeously pert and stinging mouth opened slowly.

  It seemed she was making a mental list of their physical similarities. Jack had to grant her it was a shocking sight. No one could tell them apart except for dress and manner of speech. Even their mother, mixed them up on more than one occasion.

  “Tis a cursed and fair proof that if there is a God, he is not benign,” she whispered, completely astounded.

  “I do believe your wife is daft.” Charles arched one of his black brows and strode forward crossing the short distance between himself and Cordelia, then waved a hand in front of her staring eyes. “What is she on about?”

  She smacked his hand away. “A benevolent God never would have created two of you, you nincompoop.”

  “Nincompoop?” Charles drew up to his solid height of six foot four inches and peered down at Cordelia’s considerably shorter size. “Nincompoop. I’ve been insulted many a time in my life but never with a trivial word. If you’re going to insult someone, woman—”

  “Fine,” she snapped then smiled up at him with a hint of deviltry that would have lured even Mephistopheles out to dance, “You’re the oozing fester upon an ass’s behind.”

  “Ah.” Charles’ lips twitched. “Now that will do.”

  She nodded tersely. “Thank you. Now, may I be released from the Eversleigh family’s scintillating presence? I was making quite a good escape before I ran upon your twin.”

  “No,” he and his brother said in unison.

  “Why?” she demanded. “And you needn’t shout.”

  “We weren’t shouting,” Charles replied quickly. “Were we, old man?”

  “We were speaking with authority,” Jack agreed, falling into the pattern of discussion Charles and he inevitably took when conversing.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Besides it is not in your best interests for us to let you go,” Jack said, wishing he could get her out of Charles’ presence and back into the coach. The more time he spent with her, the more he found her to be infuriating and bullheaded. . . and absolutely breathtaking.

  Even now, with all the trouble she caused, seeing her standing, unrepentant and bold as brass was damned invigorating. He’d never met any woman who could keep pace with himself or Charles and she was doing such an admirable job, she might leave him in the dust if he didn’t keep upon the polished toes of his boots.

  “Why?” she repeated, this time folding her pale arms over her beautiful breasts. The gesture pressed the glorious mounds together, and he imagined how he might be able to suckle each nipple in turn till each was glistening and hard.

  “For a supposedly intelligent woman, you sound about three years old,” put in Charles.

  She glared at him, a glare so intense, what was left of Charles cock no doubt withered north.

  “My God, old man,” Charles quipped, “You’ve married Medusa.”

  “Better Medusa than a brainless sheep of a woman.” Her hands came down and she braced her fists on her hips, a passionately temperamental gesture. “I do not wish to stay in this damp, idiot infused country. So, why will you not free me at once?”

  “Firstly,” Charles started, “Our ancient grandmama, dearest dowager, our matriarchal queen, our commander, our Nelson, our Emperor divine…

  Her hands fell from her hips and she leaned forward studying him carefully before gasping, “Sir, you are drunk.”

  “How kind of you to finally notice,” Charles lilted, a slightly loopy and audacious grin lifting his lips.

  “He’s almost always drunk,” sighed Jack. “And he’s the most agreeable when drunk.”

  Cordelia gaped with astonishment. “This is agreeable?”

  “Tis a most pleasant state of being, drunkenness,” Charles drawled. “Almost the company of everyone one is inflicted with improves when one is drunk. However, yours, madam, may be without help.”

  Cordelia weighed this then ignored it. Her fingers flew back up to a folded position over her ribs, an action which caused her breasts to plump even further. “Fascinating as your thought patterns are, my lord, I do believe you were to tell us what you do here.”

  Jack stared. He knew she’d just spoken but concentration suddenly became damn difficult as did the realization that he was in a constant state of lust for his wife. Damn it all, he was about to wax poetic about her perfect breasts and how he longed to worship her at the fount of Venus.

  He couldn’t ever recall being so fascinated with a pair of breasts. Nor the woman that went along with them. The fact that she was his wife only added a confusing element to the mix. According to the law, he could have her when, where, and as often as he liked. He’d never realized how amiable such a law could be.

  It took Jack a moment before realizing Charles was also staring, his own dark eyes, transfixed on the pale globes. In fact, he seemed rather distracted by Cordelia’s perfectly formed charms.

  Jack crossed the short distance and grabbed his brother’s lapel. “You only just got your balls back brother.”

  Charles scowled and brushed at his hand. “Leave off. A lady gave me this waistcoat. ’Tis my favorite. Besides, you’ve never been one to be stinting. Perhaps she’d enjoy it.”

  “Enjoy what?” she asked.

  A groan tore from Jack’s throat.

  “We’ve always had splendid reviews.” Charles assured as he continued to dislodge Jack’s fingers from his embroidered waistcoat. “We can offer references.”

  “We?” she repeated, color lighting her cheeks, even in the moonlight.

  “Mmmm.” Charles grinned a devil’s grin, shoving at Jack’s grip.
“What about it, my dear. Would you like to pressed between twins?”

  Every raging instinct instructed Jack to belt his brother on the chin. Curiosity stayed his hand and he found himself desperately interested in Cordelia’s reply.

  She stared blankly for several moments then her face contorted with horror. “Oh!” She lifted a hand to her face and shook her head, an image no doubt branding itself on her brain. “I would rather drink camel urine.”

  Jack’s heart did a surprising leap in his usually unfeeling chest. The feeling was clearly relief mingled with pleasure. The very idea of sharing his wife or the idea that she might be interested in such activity curdled his stomach.

  “Charles, attempt to pull yourself from the gutter,” he ground out, unrelentingly holding his twin.

  “I don’t think that shall be possible, but I will limit myself to pertinent conversation.” Charles batted at Jack’s hand and managed to twist away. As he smoothed the wrinkled fabric, he blew out a irritated breath. “Now. Where was I?”

  “Why. . . I. . . Must. . . Stay,” Cordy said with the same slowness one used with confused children.

  “Ah. Yes.” Charles face brightened with amusement. “You must go with my brother, because grandmama sent for the Prime Minister this morning.”

  “And that is pertinent how?” she echoed.

  “Because, if grandmama wants your marriage to my dear brother here to be permanent that’s what she will get. Or if she wants you tossed out of the country, your name blackened in every court in Europe, that’s what she’ll get too. Given the glower upon her face this morning, it could go either way.”

  Cordelia stared, for once, apparently speechless.

  Jack cringed and finally let go of his brother’s clothing so he could lift his hands and rub them against his temples. He’d known his grandmother would be displeased by their mad capped escape, it was why he’d avoided a direct meeting. It had never occurred to him that the old girl would go to such extremes so quickly. “You’re certain?”

  “Heard them myself,” Charles defended. “The old girl thinks I sleep a good deal more than I actually do. In any case, I thought I should warn you.”

  “Why?” Cordelia asked, her voice considerably more concerned than it had been a few moments before.

  Jack thrust a hand through his hair, his stance growing tense. “Because if you stay with me for a few days, she may cool and we can come up with a plan to appease her. If you go off on your own, she’ll do whatever seems right to her now.”

  Charles nodded in agreement, his black hair flopping about his forehead. “And right now, she wants your guts for her garters.”

  “But all I wanted was an annulment,” she protested. “She didn’t even want me until yesterday!”

  Charles shrugged then pulled out a silver flask. “I don’t think Grandmama has truly given a single thought to what you want, only what she deems best for the family. So, you might want to get used to being called Your Grace, Your Grace. She wants you for his duchess, first and foremost and she seems to be certain that she can mold you.”

  “I’m not suitable.” Her lips pursed in a delightfully infuriated moue. “I won’t stay married to him.”

  Jack found her declaration to be surprisingly unpleasant. Granted, he’d shunted her off for a decade, but hearing her clear disdain for him wasn’t exactly reflective of his general ease with ladies. “Well, thank you for that resounding compliment.”

  “You don’t wish it either,” she said evenly, an unreadable note in her intelligent eyes.

  Untwisting the cap from his flask, Charles cleared his throat. “My suggestion—”

  “You have a reasonable suggestion?” she queried, cocking her head to the side. “I have my doubts.”

  “Faithless woman.” He lifted the flask in salute. “Of course I do.”

  Jack plunged a hand through his hair and wished his brother would just disappear into the night. Still, the man did usually have excellent ideas. Especially in regards to the ability to elude their grandmother.

  Still, the last thing he wanted was for Cordelia to be anywhere in Charles’ vicinity whilst he attempted to win her over.

  After all, it was Charles who had declared that he act without morality with regards to his wife. God knew what Charles would tell Cordelia. . .

  And he doubted seriously if Cordelia would allow him to whisk her off if she knew that he’d rescued her this morning with the sole intention of seducing her.

  No. There was only one way to convince Cordelia to come with him, and that was for her own protection and the promise of eventual freedom. And he would do everything in his power to protect her from the will of his grandmother, even if it meant that in a weeks’ time, he had to let her go. . . A thought that caused him a strange amount of pain. A thought he wouldn’t let himself linger on.

  Chapter 14

  All this time, she had assumed her husband was the least reputable man in Christendom. She’d been mistaken. His brother certainly took the crack brained cake and given the circumstances, Jack was handling himself with remarkable aplomb.

  Still, the very idea that she was imprisoned by not one but two Eversleigh brothers was more than there was to be born.

  For perhaps the thousandth time, she lamented her unfortunate decision to leave behind her simple existence of categorizing mummies and scattered beads. England, so bucolic, and ruled by strictures as reliable as time itself, had appeared to have been an un-intimidating custard of a place compared with the wilds of Africa.

  How mistaken she had been. And being mistaken was another state to which she was unaccustomed. In fact, in the last days she had been thrown into more unaccustomed states of being than she had in her entire existence.

  “Take my hand,” her husband ordered, extending the strong appendage towards her.

  She eyed it. “Whatever for?”

  He let out a long-suffering sigh. “My good woman, must you question every thing?”

  “As a general rule. . . Yes.”

  “You are going to ride with me,” he said simply.

  “I prefer to walk.”

  “You could always ride with me,” contributed Charles as he untwisted the top of his silver flask.

  “No!” she and her husband vetoed in unison.

  “You cannot walk,” Jack said tightly. “We will be traveling a goodly distance and you are hardly wearing trekking boots.

  “A practical point,” she conceded, feeling the rocks and clumps of dirt pushing up through the kid leather of her slippers to the pads of her feet. Not that her feet weren’t tough. Unlike London ladies, she could hie back to London without too much carnage to her toes.

  “Will such a consideration induce your co-operation?”

  She was about to reply with a firm, no, but from the distance, the rapid thudding of horse hooves intruded upon her ability to respond. Horse hooves indicated the possibly imminent presence of the ominous minions of the dowager duchess.

  “Well I—”

  Before she could even finish her reply, Jack grabbed her and hauled her upon the horse.

  For the second time that day, Cordelia found herself being carried in Neanderthal fashion.

  With a kick of his boots and a snap of reins, the stallion raced down the road. Cordelia stared at the dark road flying beneath her. Struggling seemed her first line of defense but she enjoyed the shape of her head and had no desire to fall beneath the steal shod hooves. So, with rising fury at his high handedness, she gripped Jack’s calf and forced her body to relax against the charging horse’s powerful body.

  She had no idea how long they rode, but they didn’t cease for hours, her own body vibrating with each powerful thud of the horse’s gate.

  Jack’s gloved hand, twisted into the back of her frock, kept her relatively stable, and her own familiarity with horses lent her some ease in the wild dash, but her stomach began to protest and the pressure in her head from its angle began to have the most upsetting effects on her eq
uilibrium. “Stop!” she shouted.

  He said nothing but kept on riding.

  It was tempting to cast up her accounts on his leg, but even she didn’t wish to undergo that undignified occurrence. “Cease or I shall be sick upon you!”

  That had its proper effect and the gate of the powerful animal slowed. With each loping step, she drew in slow breaths. When the animal finally came to a halt, she slid down off him. Her slippers hit the earth and her legs wobbled.

  Only Jack’s firm hold on her shoulder kept her upright. The sound of his own boots hit the earth beside her.

  “My apologies—”

  She held up her hand, gulping in the cold air. When at last her stomach stilled and she felt herself again, she whipped towards him. “I should punch you.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she demanded.

  “I was afraid.”

  “Of what,” she asked, her voice softening.

  “That you weren’t going to come with me,” he said simply.

  That silenced the set down she so longed to give him. “Why do you wish me to come with you so much?”

  “I have been compelled.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “To annoy your grandmother?”

  There was a long pause in the dark night. “I have been compelled not to not let you go.”

  Cordelia hesitated in her fury. “Why would you say such a thing?” she whispered.

  Those dark eyes of his bore into her with honesty, “It is the truth.”

  “It can’t be,” she protested, an alarming lump forming in her throat.

  “Why?”

  “Because you wanted nothing to do with me,” she whispered.

  “Cordelia,” he said, her name a soft caress. “I never knew you.”

  She folded her arms, determined not to let his words break down her defensive. No matter how much she liked them. “And now that you know me, you are entitled to drag me across the country?”

  “I am only giving us what we both so desire.”

  “And that is?” she challenged.

  Jack’s hand darted out and slid around her waist. The powerful splay of his palm pressed into the small of her back arching her towards him.