Page 71 of A Scot on Duchess Square
She rested her cheek against his chest. “Yes, you do. Is there a doubt?”
He tucked a finger under her chin and raised her gaze to his. “Ye do the same for me. I was in agony all night long and throughout the day, so desperately missing the sight of ye. Ye are my happiness, Miranda. I dinna know how else to say it. Having ye near me fills my heart with joy.”
“You do the same for mine, Bram.”
But he saw her expression crumble again, as it always did when they spoke of permanence between them.
She regarded him with sorrowful eyes. “What if this feeling doesn’t last for you?”
“For me? What aboutyerfeelings? I would think it more likely that ye tire of me, no’ the other way around.”
Her eyes rounded. “I never would.”
“How do ye know? I’m an oaf. Coarse and unrefined. I’m forty years old and have grown quite set in my ways. I dinna like being in London, canno’ abide English Society and its rigid rules, and rarely attend parties. Having to sit and make dull conversation at a dainty tea is sheer agony for me.” He sighed. “I like to toss logs with my kinsmen, as ye once accused. I prefer to walk around without a cravat, walking cane, or beaver hat.”
“Or shirt,” she added with a chuckle.
“Aye, that too.” He smiled. “I curse and drink too much. Although I promise ye, lass, I dinna ever get drunk. Ye’re already reluctant to marry me. I suppose this gives ye more reasons to reject me.”
“No, this makes me love you all the more.” She gasped upon realizing what she had just admitted and tried to scoot out of his arms. But he would not release her, for his heart was filled with elation.
“Ye love me?” Yes, the words had slipped from her mouth unwittingly. But she would not have confessed this had she not held feelings for him.
This was all the confirmation he needed. He would wait for her forever, if necessary.
“Ye love me?” he repeated when she did not immediately answer him. “Och, dinna deny it. Ye said it, Miranda. I heard it. Dinna dare take it back.”
Her lips were tightly pinched, and she looked as though she wanted to leap out of the study window.
She finally relaxed in his arms and nodded. “Yes, I love you. Do you think I would be so anguished if I didn’t? As for everything you said just now, do you understand why this makes me love you all the more?”
He gave a laughing groan. “No’ a clue. Will ye kindly explain it to me?”
“Oh, Bram. You are hopeless.” But she was now smiling, so he did not care that she thought him dense and a dolt. “It is simple, really. You hate all things about our English ways and manners, and yet you would endure every nonsensical rule and every dull affair for me. Is this not more special because you are thinking ofmeabove all else?”
Blessed saints.She was right. He would do anything to make her happy.
“Oh, look at you,” she said, laughing heartily. “You look so bemused.” She threw her arms around his neck, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him on his gaping mouth. “Do not change a thing about yourself, you big Scot.”
He said nothing in response, just took control of the kiss and turned up the heat of it to scorching. At the same time, he tossed his pouch of invitations off the small table and set Miranda on it to better get at her body, because he wanted her to feel his kisseverywhere.
But he had no sooner positioned himself between her legs—actually been yanked there by Miranda, who understood his intentions and probably thought he was taking too long about it—when he heard an urgent knocking at the study door.
“Bram! It isn’t locked,” she whispered frantically. She squirmed off the tabletop while he picked up his pouch and set it back on the table. “Sit,” she ordered him, pointing to one of the leather chairs in front of her desk.
“A moment.” He straightened the bodice of her gown, which was askew, for his hands had strayed where they should not have.
He had just taken his seat, bemoaning that a forty-year-old duke had to behave like a wayward schoolboy, when she threw open the door.
No doubt she expected to see Gwenys, but it was Humbolt knocking urgently. “Lady Miranda, come quick!”
Bram was on his feet in an instant because he suddenly heard muffled screams. “What in blazes?”
He nudged Miranda behind him as they both ran into the entry hall in time to see Gwenys’s father and stepmother with two of their burly footmen attempting to drag Gwenys away. One of those footmen had a hand over Gwenys’s mouth to silence her cries.
“Over my dead body,” Bram said with menacing calm, barreling into the fray and quickly dropping those men to their knees with a few swift punches.
Of course, neither of them were going to continue the fight when Humbolt shouted, “He’s the Duke of Solway! Are you willing to hang for striking a duke?”
