Page 3 of Bred By the Duke

He won’t be off doing his Dukely duties of visiting places and making speeches. He will be here. Helping with the wedding.

Christ.

I came here with the intention of burying myself in work and wedding festivities so I could forget about my life. I’d accepted that I would see him on Saturday. He is the bride’s brother, after all. But there are three days before then that I thought he would be too busy to even be here.

“Right,” Cassia says, “I'm taking her. She needs feeding before we start on the next debacle.” She takes my arm, pulling me out of my thoughts and out of Lucas’s vicinity.

Chapter Two

Lucas

Once I’m back in my office I call Peregrine, who picks up on the sixth ring, breathing like a man walking uphill.

“Lucas! I was going to call you.”

“You've blocked the courtyard. I have a crane that needs to leave the property.”

“Have I? The fellow said anywhere.”

“There is no fellow. Move the van.” I watch two of the marquee crew edge a rolled length of canvas past the van’s back bumper with about four inches to spare. “And then tell me about the dog.”

Wind comes down the line, and a long, wounded pause. “Nester is perfectly well.”

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, praying for patience. “You know that wasn’t what I was asking.”

“The vet said it would be the second week of the month. There’s plenty of time yet.” The sound of a van door opening and closing punctuates his sentence for him.

“The second week of the month starts on Monday,” I say through gritted teeth. My patience is fraying faster than usual, and the reason why is currently eating lunch with my sister.

“Which is after Saturday,” he says, in the voice of a man laying down a winning card.

I have been managing this family's arrangements since I was twenty-six, and the single most useful thing I've learned is that the fastest route through my uncle is agreement. “You're right. Which is why she can't be in the house on Saturday, because on Saturday the house will contain a hundred and sixty people. It would be far too stressful for her.”

“Well, I’m not leaving her in the van,” comes his startled reply.

“She's a lurcher, Peregrine. She'll want somewhere dark.” I'm already going through the ground floor in my head. “Put her in the old laundry. It has a Dutch door , it's cool, and nobody uses it. I'll call the vet and have him on standby from Friday, just in case.”

“The old laundry.” He turns it over, and I can hear him deciding it was his idea. “That's rather perfect, actually. She'd like the tiles.”

“I'm sure she would. The van, please, Peregrine.” I hang up.

I find myself looking through the lead glass window, out over the south of the property.

The marquee, or the skeleton of one, is standing proudly in the centre, canvas half laced and guy ropes still slack in the grass. Rochelle has appeared, a sandwich in her hand, and is walking the length of the marquee beside the foreman, pacing out the distance in her own strides, floor plan folded down to a quarter of its size in one hand and a highlighter tucked behind her ear like she's forgotten it's there.

The last time I saw her, it was the twenty-sixth of December, somewhere past one in the morning. Everyone else had retired to bed for the night, but she’d gone to the library.

She had taken her shoes off at some point during the evening. I’d found them and wanted to return them to her.

I thought about waiting until the following morning, of just putting them in front of the door to the bedroom I knew she was using…but when I walked past the library, I figured I’d just give them straight to her.

She had laughed initially, when she saw the two strappy heels hanging from my fingers. She made a joke about the big bad duke looking after little old her.

Then my free hand was in her hair, pulling her towards me.

She didn’t pull away. Instead she wrapped her hands in each of my lapels and leaned into it. Putting every ounce of her into the place where her lips were pressed against mine.

I’d hardened instantly, and something about that fact made me come to my senses. I pulled away and stepped back. Looking at her for a long moment while she looked right back at me, her skin flushed and her eyes wide and searching.