After The Storm (32 page)

She woke to find sunlight splitting the gray sky, and gazed down at Hugh for the longest time. It seemed too good to be true, and only by touching him was she able to assure herself it was indeed, real.

When he finally woke, he reached for her, and she snuggled against him as he murmured, “You know, you have not yet answered me, Randi.”

Her head nestled firmly against his chest, she smiled. “Ask me again, then.”

His laughter was a deep rumble in her ear. “Will you marry me, you stubborn Scot?”

“Och, now, ask me as though you mean it, you boorish Englishman.”

The room echoed with laughter as he flipped her onto her back to pin her beneath him. Propped up on his forearms, he curved his hands against either side of her face. His smile faded, seriousness took the glint from his eyes, and his voice was deep as he murmured, “Will you marry me, love?”

The intensity in his eyes dimmed her urge to tease further. She slid her arms about his waist and trailed her fingernails up over his back. “What happens if I say yes?”

He smiled and shivered against her. “I spend quite a bit of time making up for the horrid way I treated you that morning when we were walking through the woods.”

“That is not what I mean.”

“I know. I’d gone to London with the intention of whisking you away to Gretna Green, I thought to bring you to Castle Wyndham. Only then I learned you’d taken your leave of England entirely. I convinced Arabella I’d find you and bring you back. It was the only way to keep her from traveling north.”

Miranda didn’t know if that was a comforting notion or not, so she chose to simply stuff it to the back of her mind. She cared naught about Arabella, and at the moment had more questions for Hugh. “Do you wish to stay here, in Scotland?”

“If it makes you happy, I’ll gladly live wherever your heart wishes to be.”

She bit her lip. Yes, she’d be happy. Unfortunately, she was not the only one who mattered. “Would you be happy?”

“You know how I feel about Scotland. I’d have to return to London when Parliament is in session, but other than that—” he shrugged his powerful shoulders. “I care not where home is, Randi, if it means you are there with me.”

She almost rolled her eyes at his sentiment, but it was said in such earnest, she didn’t doubt he meant it. “Will you be asked to relinquish your title?”

“My mother will be quite furious, as will the Hayworth family. Aside from them, I doubt anyone else cares overmuch. My mother will come around eventually.” He shook his head. “No. I will not relinquish anything. But
you
will become a duchess.”

“I care not about silly titles. They mean very little to me.” She thought about her grandfather the marquis and shook her head. Hugh’s title.
Her
title. Neither one was of great importance to her.

“So I’ve learned.” He dipped forward to brush her lips with a teasing kiss. “Are you afraid Arabella will still come for you? If so, I can assure you, I convinced her otherwise.”

“Do I wish to know how?”

His laughter was soft on her ear. “Probably not. I am
most
persuasive when I choose to be.”

She laughed with him. “I’m surprised she did not pretend I was dead. She wanted forgiveness, wanted me to absolve her of all guilt, and I refused. Perhaps it was childish sneaking out in the middle of the night.” She bit her lower lip and sighed. “I suppose I should go back and set things right with her.”

He nodded. “I think it best if you do. If nothing else, you’ll have peace of mind.”

Miranda shook her head to rid herself of the unpleasant thoughts. “Weren’t we discussing something else?”

He kissed her again, and again, each one deeper than the last. “If you ever deign to give me an answer about my bloody proposal, we can discuss whatever your heart desires. But you do need to give me an answer, you know.”

As he spoke, he crept downward, trailing kisses as he went. She sighed and threaded her fingers through his hair as he moved over her left breast. “Mmmm…”

Lifting his head to regard her with tender eyes, he murmured, “Perhaps
you
need a bit of persuading?”

She sucked in a sharp breath as he shifted to settle between her thighs. He brushed against her, sending a torrent of delicious chills through her. Those chills magnified as he reached down, and entered her with teasing slowness. “Mmmm…,” she murmured. “Yes…I do believe I need a bit of persuading.”

He thrust long and slow, a sigh woven into his words as he whispered, “I will persuade you as best I can, then.”

She melted into him, her fingernails grazing his back as he thrust again and fire filled her. It was sweet and delectable, the pleasure he gave, and she could deny either of them no longer. Lifting her legs to wrap about his hips, she whispered, “I will marry you, Hugh. But please, persuade me a bit more, won’t you?”

He shivered against her, thrusting deep, and groaned, “Absolutely, love.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Fat white flakes drifted this way and that beyond the leaded windowpanes and settled against the glass in silence. Miranda sighed at the sheer beauty of it, her eyelids heavy as strong arms snaked about her waist and warm lips caressed the side of her neck.

“Come back to bed, Duchess,” Hugh’s throaty purr rumbled down her spine as he pulled her back into him. “It’s late and you must be exhausted.”

She smiled as he wrapped his arms about her and bent over to press a kiss into the top of her head. She was sleepy, but in no hurry for the day to come to an end. “I do not wish to sleep. I am so afraid this is but a dream and I will wake up to find you are off in France, with Lady Sally.”

He let out a rueful laugh. “I can assure you, this is all very real.” His fingers threaded through hers and as he lifted her hand, the heavy gold ring on her fourth finger glinted in the candlelight. “You are now officially Her Grace, The Duchess of Thorpeton.”

She turned to face him. “That sounds so formal.”

“Well, that is only in the most formal of correspondence. Is Your Grace more to your liking?”

She giggled. “I still prefer Randi, if you must know the truth.”

“Yes, well…you’d best become accustomed to being addressed as Your Grace. Your days of being
Miss
anything are over. No one would dare be so informal as to address you as Randi. Now you’ll finally understand why I continued to ask you to call me by my name.”

Miranda laughed. It was too much to take in, she and Hugh were now truly married, and had been three days already. It was their first night at Castle Wyndham, nestled in her beloved Highlands. Situated just beyond the town of Inverness, the castle was but a stone’s throw from the once again empty cottage she’d shared with her father. It was amusing, Hugh had been so very close on so many different occasions, yet their paths only ever crossed that one, brief time, and even then, she still had to journey all the way to England to find him.

A comfortable silence settled over them, and she was content to remain there in his arms, her head nestled against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. It was the most perfect place in the world and she never wished to leave. Still, that wasn’t possible as sooner or later, Hugh had to confront his family about their marriage. And she had to face London society. Not the most pleasant of thoughts, but at least with the
ton
, the fact that she was a duchess would most likely help in her acceptance.

She lifted her head up to gaze at him. “What happens now?”

“We will spend some time here. I’ve sent word to my family telling them where I am, that I’m alive and well, and will be home soon.” He smiled down at her. “With my wife.”

“Do you think that a wise idea?”

“Love, I’ve yet to have a wise idea, save for whisking you up here. To be honest, I am not at all certain I am capable of a wise idea.”

“I strongly doubt that.”

“Well,
that
remains to be seen. In the meantime, I do believe I’ve had quite enough talking for now.”

He pressed her into the feathery tick and his soft kiss smothered her chuckle. She offered no resistance, but melted into him with the greatest of ease. It didn’t matter what happened when they returned to London, nor did she care. All that mattered was she was with Hugh, where she belonged.

Tomorrow would wait. Tonight was what counted and with that in mind, she arched against him, surrendering to the sensuous delights his kiss promised.

A word about the author...

Kim fell in love with historical romance when she was sixteen, and blames it on Kathleen Woodiwiss, since it was Kathleen’s book,
The Flame and the Flower,
that got her hooked. Not long after finishing it, she sat down to write one herself and now, many years later, she’s still writing them.

Born and raised in New Jersey, Kim still lives there with her husband, two children, the dog, and a handful of gerbils. When she’s not pounding away at the computer keyboard, she does crossword and Sudoku puzzles, knits, breaks wrestling matches between the kids, and occasionally she gets to read. She’s also a lifelong fan of the New York Yankees, the New York Giants, and the New York Rangers. She also loves Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel, Elton John, and the Rolling Stones.

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