My Dangerous Duke (47 page)

“Slow down,” he soothed. “What makes you think they’d put the key in the same location as whatever box it opens?”

She eyed him uncertainly. “You think the scrolls might be elsewhere?”

“Come, you’re smarter than that,” he teased in a low tone. “Were there any more clues we didn’t get to?”

“One, but I have no idea what it means.”

“Perhaps I can help. How did it go?”

She recited it to him: “ ‘Secrets kept where no thief can purloin, wisdom waits in shadow for the trial of the coin.’ ” She gave him a bewildered shrug.

“The trial of the coin?” he echoed.

“Gibberish, isn’t it?”

“No, I know exactly what that is,” he said abruptly, then he shook his head. “Damn, I should have known!”

“What does it mean?” she exclaimed.

“It means we need to get back to London.”

“The scrolls are—
where?
”

He flashed a roguish grin.

“Don’t you dare keep me in suspense!” she cried.

“Westminster Abbey,” he relented at once.

Her eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Entirely. Come on, let’s get moving. I’ll explain on the way. Right now, we need to find our way back to civilization before it’s dark. I think I see a village that way.” He nodded over his shoulder as he stood. He offered her his hand, pulling her up, but Kate winced as she gained her feet. “Are you all right?”

“I wrenched my ankle a bit scrambling out of that grave. It’s not bad. Lord, we look a fright!” She began laughing ruefully, glancing from herself to him.

In their long sealskin coats, completely covered in dirt from the Tomb caving in—their faces, their hair—they surely resembled two of the pagan barbarians who had built the stone ring centuries ago. “Honestly, we look like two ancient wild people who haven’t yet figured out how to make fire!”

“You speak for yourself. I look good.” He grinned, shook his long mane, and sent fine brown dirt scattering everywhere. Casting her a smile, he turned away and began trudging off through the snow. “Come. We’ve no time to dally!”

Kate lingered a moment longer, fascinated by the ring of towering, silent stones in all their raw, craggy power.

Nobody knew where these enigmatic monuments all over Britain had come from, but they were as old as the tales of Merlin, ancient even in the days of the Romans. The Dragon Ring stood atop a dramatic hilltop overlooking the sea. In all directions, the treeless expanse was dusted with a light layer of snow.

All of a sudden, a deep boom reverberated from a few miles out across the sea. Kate turned, drawing in her breath. Then she pointed. “Rohan, look! Papa did it! The Promethean ship is sinking!”

He quickly returned to her, narrowing his eyes toward the water.

“It looks like he’s leaving,” she said. “He’s not waiting for us?”

“That wasn’t your father’s ship that fired the last salvo. See, out there? The Coast Guard’s on their way.”

“The Coast Guard again!” Kate immediately thought of Caleb Doyle and his trouble with the Coast Guard after the smugglers’ shipwrecking activities. It was part of the reason she had ended up with Rohan in the first place.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll be in contact with your father later. We must go to London, and he had better get out of here to avoid arrest.”

“I hope Papa was able to rescue Mr. Tewkes.”

“Knowing your father, I’d wager he did. Wish I hadn’t dropped my telescope, or I might’ve been able to see something.”

“I suppose all we can do now is hope for the best. Good-bye, Papa—again,” she murmured, shielding her eyes as she looked out across the shimmering water and watched the frigate slipping away toward the horizon under full sail.

“You’ll see him again,” Rohan promised her softly.

His kindness was a comfort to her now, just as it had been when he had first stopped her from flinging herself off the Cornish cliff. She was so glad to be near him.

Then she smiled. “Look down there, on the beach.” She pointed to some shaggy sheep with curved horns grazing on the long strands of seaweed that had washed ashore.

After all the dangers of the past few hours, she savored the tranquil beauty of the Orkadian landscape, with its delicate pastel wash of lavenders and blues.

“This is a beautiful place,” she whispered, especially charmed by the flock of hardy swans honking and clacking on the hillside, and by the shaggy black pony that was staring at them from the edge of a barren meadow nearby, its long mane blowing in the breeze.

“Beautiful?” Rohan had turned to her. She could feel him staring at her. “You think so?”

She looked at him. “Don’t you?”

He shrugged, then shook his head. “Bleak and harsh and difficult.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled gently, gazing at him. “But there is an exquisite sensitivity in the color of the light. And the sweep of these hills bespeaks a calm strength,” she said slowly, her gaze traveling over the landscape. “Noble, but unpretentious. It is what it is. A hard land, maybe. But plain and honest.” She glanced at him. “I could live here.”

The morning light matched the soft blue shade of Rohan’s eyes as he gazed at her, sensing she was not talking only about Orkney. His wordless stare was so overwhelmed with emotion for her that although she was covered in grime and dressed like somebody’s footman, the way he looked at her made her feel as beautiful as a princess.

He suddenly lowered his head. “We should go,” he mumbled in a voice gone slightly husky. Turning away, he started marching ahead again while Kate followed at a slower pace, trying to force herself to walk without too much of a limp.

When she slipped on a little snow, however, she cursed under her breath in a puff of steamy air. “Any idea how far it might be to that village?”

He stopped and pivoted, his face instantly darkening when he saw her limp. “You’re hurt.” He strode back to her. “Damn it, Kate, why didn’t you tell me? Is it bad?”

“It’s just my ankle.”

“I’ll carry you.”

“Don’t be silly! I can walk on my own.”

He scowled, but turned around, scanning the whole area. “Wait here.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just stay there a moment. I have an idea.”

Keeping her weight on her uninjured foot, she watched as Rohan crossed the snowy meadow and approached the pony.

He began speaking softly to it, taking out a length of rope that had been attached to his weapons belt.

The pony’s ears pricked up. Kate smiled, charmed. Well she knew the persuasive power of that deep, velvet voice. The pony stretched out its nose and sniffed Rohan.

He edged closer and began stroking its fuzzy neck. Kate’s smile broadened as he slipped the rope over its muzzle, fashioning a loose halter. She watched him, enchanted, as he led the docile pony over to her.

“Look what I found.” As he joined her, Rohan put his arms around her. Kate stared into his eyes, tongue-tied with adoration, her heartbeat quickening. If it were not so cold, she’d have laid him down and loved him in that snowy field.

Then he lifted her onto the horse. She let her legs dangle down astride and took hold of the pony’s long mane. Rohan clasped the makeshift lead rope, clucked gently to the creature, and began leading them toward the distant village.

Neither of them spoke as he walked the horse for about ten or fifteen minutes. They were only about halfway to the village when the church steeple showed above the next rise.

Rohan suddenly stopped.

Kate furrowed her brow. “Is something wrong?”

He turned around abruptly and looked straight into her eyes. “Marry me,” he said.

Her eyes widened.
“What?”
She nearly fell off the horse.

“Marry me, Kate,” he repeated. He swallowed hard. “I need you in my life. Please. Say you’ll be my duchess.”

“Rohan…”

He took a step closer. “I know I said some boorish, stupid things that day in the music room. You were right. I was scared. I didn’t know how it could be between us, but I see it now. And that night on your father’s ship, I acted like a brute, telling you to prove your love by sleeping with me. It was wrong.”

She shook her head. “You needed me.”

“I did. I still do. I always will. I don’t know what I’ll do if you say no.” He lowered his head. “I know you’ve reason to be wary. That I can be a thoroughgoing bastard sometimes. I’ve had too many women in the past, but, God, I don’t want that anymore. And it is true, I, er, kill people now and then, but just to safeguard England. And if you can live with that—” He shook his head with a tempestuous fire in his eyes. “On my word, I will be true to you, and I will love you until the end of time.”

Kate had lost the power of speech. Indeed, she could barely breathe. Tears rushed into her eyes.

Lord Byron himself could not have uttered more romantic sentiments.

“There can be no other for me, Kate, but you.” The Beast walked over and stared hard into the depths of her eyes; sitting on the pony’s back, she was on eye level with him for once, and the whole tumult of his soul was there in his eyes, discovering love for the first time, setting his heart free at last. “You … make me feel things I’ve never experienced before. You’ve been so patient, and I’ve been such a fool.”

“No, you haven’t,” she breathed, wonder-struck by him. Was this just a dream?

“Stay with me always,” he implored her in a confidential whisper. “And love me … as I love you.”

“You—love me?” she echoed, her chin trembling in the most embarrassing fashion.

“With all my heart,” he vowed in a soft but fierce tone, looking as deeply moved as she. He touched her hair, tucking a windblown lock of it behind her ear. “Kate, you and I were meant to be together. I’m still superstitious enough to know when I have found my destiny. It’s you. You’re the one who broke the curse.”

“I thought you don’t believe in that curse anymore,” she chided tenderly.

“But I’d still be trapped in it if it were not for you. Give me an answer, Kate. You must be my bride.”

“Still giving orders?” she whispered with a tremulous smile.

He bowed his head with an almost humble half smile: “Please.”

“Of course, I will,” she breathed in a shaky voice. “You are everything to me!” She threw her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his as she held him in a clinging embrace. “Oh, Rohan, I’m so in love with you. I can barely stand it.”

“I know what you mean.” His arms were wrapped tightly around her waist. “I feel the same. It’s maddening, isn’t it?”

She nodded, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Is there any way to ease this feeling?”

“Yes,” she told him with a sniffle, pulling back again a small space to look into his eyes. “You must kiss me. That will help.”

With a tender smile, he wiped a tear off her dusty cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Gladly.”

But instead of the hearty kiss she had expected, he caressed her lips with his own in tantalizing softness until she moaned. “Oh, I need you to make love to me.”

“Before we’re married?” he teased in a very naughty whisper. “Shocking, Miss Madsen.”

“You really are a Beast.”

“And you love me for it.”

“Yes. With all my heart.” She trembled with sheer happiness. He was impossible—and she wouldn’t have him any other way.

Rohan rested his forehead against hers. They remained like that for a moment in wordless bliss. In truth, she had not realized how close they had grown after all they had been through, but she could feel it now. Their love surrounded them, wound them together with great invisible ribbons of devotion and delight in each other. A commitment to each other’s good.

There were no words for this moment, just the wind and the surf and the distant calls of seabirds.

“I love you so much,” she whispered again, breathing him in as he remained in her embrace.

“Oh, Kate, I’d be lost without you. You must know you own my very soul.”

“My love.” She closed her eyes against fresh tears and kissed his lips, then his forehead.

“I’ll always be here for you,” he promised.

“And I, you,” she answered.

“Well, then.” Taking a firmer tone, he pulled back slightly. “Let’s get on with it, shall we? Let’s go get married.”

“What, now?” She straightened up in surprise.

“Of course! I don’t want to wait a moment longer,” he declared. “As soon as we get to that village, I’m marrying you, by God.”

“Are you?” she exclaimed.

“We might as well make the most of our visit to Scotland, eh?” he added with a wink.

She laughed gaily. “You want to get married like this, looking like two barbarians?”

“Well, we are, aren’t we? Oh, come, Duchess, you’ll have your whole life of drawing rooms and finery ahead.”

Kate stared at him in amazement, then laughed. “I suppose I will! In that case, Duke, lead on—to the blacksmith’s forge, by Jove!”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned at her in unabashed pride. Taking the pony’s lead rope again, he strode the rest of the way to the tiny hamlet.

Any outsiders in so remote a place at this time of year would have been cause for local gossip, but when the two of them paraded into the one-street village, their odd appearance drew something of a crowd as they walked through the tiny island town.

They were such a mess that they did not even attempt to go to the little church, but went straight to that other august establishment where a Scottish marriage could be easily procured—not as respectable, perhaps, but every bit as legal.

The village blacksmith.

They found the “anvil-priest” hammering out a horseshoe. The leather-aproned giant had a wild orange mustache, massive forearms, and a considerable belly.

“Morning,” Rohan greeted him as he led her on the pony up to the smoky, open forge. “We’d like you to marry us, if you’re free, sir.”