The Duke's Scottish Lass (Brethren of Stone 0.50)
Page 17
Roderick crossed his arms over his chest. “What role was that?”
“Well, he made you look like a fine catch. Didn’t even have to do anything, Sunderland did it all on his own.”
“I will have you know that I was winning Lady Delia over without Sunderland’s help.” Roderick feigned offense. “But, he did seem to move the process along. At some point I will thank him.”
“You had better not.” Stone grinned wider.
“I will need a few minutes alone with Delia, if I am to explain about the rescue.” Apprehension rose in his chest as the corners of his mouth turned down. “Mayhap I can join her in the kitchen again in the morning?”
Stone gave a nod of assent. “You have my permission, I trust you will be on your best behavior.”
“How could I possibly be anything but? You may consider clearing all the knives from the kitchen tonight, however. It’s Delia’s behavior that we should be worried about.”
Stone gave a hearty chuckle. “Removing the knives will surely tip her off. Besides, there are plenty more suitors to be found with coastal lands.” He knocked Roderick on the shoulder with his beefy fist.
For a small moment, Roderick was offended and then he realized that Stone was teasing him. It was a friendly gesture, one he rather liked. The banter of the Albans made him feel more at home than he had at any social engagement in London. “Perhaps you need me to thrash you on the training field again?” Roderick returned.
Stone threw back his head and laughed. “Perhaps I do. I don’t often find an equal training partner. Would do me some good.”
Roderick stood with a grin, it was much the same for him. Besides, if he wasn’t swinging a sword, he’d be pacing the floors. Now that the truth was upon him, he was damned nervous. “I’ll meet you in the yard in half an hour.”
“Done,” Stone boomed. “I’ll bring Matthew too. He’s slighter but quick.”
“I’d like that.” Roderick rose to prepare.
* * *
The sound of metal clanging against metal filled the castle for the better part of the afternoon. Delia was not at all surprised to see the men enter the salon before dinner looking worn out but pleased with themselves.
All but Lord Sunderland. He sat in a cravat of bright red, sipping cognac, and looking distastefully at the other men. She distinctly thought she heard him mutter, “Barbarians.”
Like much of their family customs, it was not normal for men of their station to spend so much time at sword play. Though Delia was certain many of them engaged in pugilistic contests, riding, and other manly pursuits. To her, Lord Sunderland seemed the one out of place. A man should be imposing and strong enough to protect the women he loved.
A flash of memory flitted through her mind. Sailing through the air into the arms of a waiting man. The feel of both of them careening toward the rail, only his strength keeping them from plummeting into the icy water. It was a much clearer memory than she had ever had and she found herself doused in cold sweat.
She looked up to see Roderick’s eyes intently upon her. He watched her always. Giving him a knowing look she moved to a secluded corner of the room and, just as she thought he would, he followed.
“Is something wrong?” he asked as soon as he reached her.
She shook her head but since he blocked the rest of the assembled party, she leaned her head on his chest. “I am fine, just a memory, that is all.” She tilted her head up and his was pointed down so that their lips were only a few small inches apart. What came over her, she didn’t know but she reached up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. “I am glad that you are here.”
“As am I.” His hand shot out to her waist to hold her firmly against him. “Try to slip out into the garden tonight if you can.”
“Dinner is served,” their butler called from the doorway. Delia stepped around him and scurried over to her family before anyone became suspicious. She glanced back to see Roderick’s smoldering gaze on her. With every touch, she came alive.
Though she would have liked to further explore her feelings for Roderick, Lord Sunderland had been seated next to her, a fact that Eliza would pay for later. Delia was forced to listen him drone on and on about his many decorating victories while Roderick sat across from her with his eyes dancing.
As the second course was served, and Sunderland had begun describing the unique shades of blue used to decorate his master bedroom, a hand grasped her ankle under the table. Giving a start, she looked up to see Roderick grinning. How he was able to manage the acrobatic feet, she had no idea, but his fingers danced up her skin, as shivers of excitement raced through her body ending in the sensitive nerves between her legs. She nearly gasped aloud when he gave her pantaloons-covered thigh a squeeze.
“Don’t you think so?” Lord Sunderland gave her a grin. She blinked twice. Once because Sunderland was actually looking at her and she could not understand his sudden interest, and the other because she had no idea what he might be talking about.
“I agree, Sunderland,” Roderick rumbled from the other side of the table. “That shade of grey blue is my absolute favorite. It reminds me of the color of Lady Delia’s eyes. The very first reason I ever wanted to marry her.”
Her eyes widened as she glanced quickly at Sunderland. His mouth hung open, perceivably because his conversation had been foiled, but Delia only saw it for a second before she swung her eyes to Roderick. “This is not the first time you have mentioned the list. And we met this morning and I did not get another item from its docket.”
His eyes danced with merriment as he responded, “Let me rectify the situation, then, my lady. The third reason is the swell of your hips and the roundness of—“
“Your Grace,” Sunderland stood up at the table. “I would not want to have to challenge you to a duel.”