Duchess of Mine (35 page)

Coyote kept nodding. “But you didn’t break
apart into a million pieces. You’re still standing, Fleur. Well,
sitting now, but you know what I mean. You’re still alive.” He
swallowed and lowered his voice. “It’s a funny thing, trauma. Your
Na worried that forcing you to leave would traumatize you. And it
did. But, Jesus, what a decision to make. You have this glorious
brain that understands bits of science and math better than the
majority of human beings, Fleur. Your Na understood that. She knew
you had a gift to give to the world, and if she held onto you—well,
you know. You were there. Still, she knew it would traumatize you
to let you go when you were so young.”

He took a deep breath and scooted closer.
Utterly surprising her, Coyote’s dark eyes instantly filled with
tears and spilled down his face. “My people are not strangers to
trauma as you know. Sometimes the trauma is as huge as the
desolation of a tribe, of many tribes. Sometimes the trauma seems
small. But trauma is trauma. One reason why Na decided to let you
go was because she thought you were strong enough to take it, to
take on this world without her.”

Fleur swallowed, her throat so tight.

Coyote frowned. “You know, Na will forever
regret her decision.”

That killed Fleur, to think that Na, in
whatever realm she was in, had a regret. That like Helen, she
lamented making a major decision. Two smart, capable women trying
so hard to make a wise decision, when there wasn’t a right or a
wrong.

Regret
...would she regret decisions in
her life too? When Fleur lay on her deathbed, what would she
regret?

Being a coward and not telling Duncan how
much she loved him.

“I,” she took a deep breath, “I want to stay
here.”

“In Scotland? In the Highlands?”

Shaking her head, she amended her wish,
knowing that Coyote was a charlatan at times. “Wherever Duncan is,
I want to be with him. Always.”

Coyote straightened his back, narrowing his
eyes. “Why? Why would you give up your science? After everything Na
sacrificed for you—”

“She made the sacrifice to give me a better
life, and I know it. Now it’s my turn to make the hard decisions,
to decide what’s right for me. And that’s Duncan. I’m not going
anywhere without him. Got it? He’s mine. And you can tell those two
red-headed muses the same.”

Coyote slid a one-sided smile into place.
“That’s my girl. There you are.” He nodded. “I’ll pass on the
message to the muses.”

“No. You’re going to tell them I’m staying
with Duncan. Tell them. Order them. I have to be with Duncan.”

“Does he have any idea how you feel about
him? That you’re willing to give up your job for him?”

She shook her head. “It’s—it’s not like
that.”

“But it’s exactly like that.”

She sighed and looked back at the earth in
her hands.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to
give up your life for him, to sacrifice your job. You can
contribute so much with your work.”

She huffed. “Don’t you get it? I don’t have a
life without him!”

“You love him then?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why haven’t you told him?”

She pursed her lips. “Because I’m a
weakling.”

He reached out, holding her hand. “No, you’re
not.”

She relaxed her shoulders a little.

“You’re a brave woman, Fleur. With everything
that happened you just forgot how brave you are. Were. You were
once a firecracker of a girl, sassing your cousins and kicking
their little asses. In Texas you learned a different way to survive
that wasn’t good for you, repressing and suppressing your emotions
and instincts. But now you’re changing all that. You want Duncan.
There’s no repressing that, huh?”

Fleur gave him a small shy smile.

He took a quick inhale. “You know, I love
manners. It makes it easy to find prey for some of my pranks.
People who are so filled with politeness, they overlook their
instincts. I always wonder about that. I wonder how it gets drilled
into their heads that being polite is better than listening to
their instincts and letting me make a complete fool of them.”

Fleur frowned. “What are you getting at? You
think I’m not listening to my instincts? I know what I want. I’ve
never wanted anything more than I want Duncan. He’s mine. Got it?
You can’t take him away from me.”

Coyote held his palms out to her. “Okay.
Okay. I got it. Wow, talk about a warrior spirit. See, you’re quite
the fighter. But I’m not talking about your heart being connected
to Duncan. What you feel towards him is loud and it vibrates
through all your bones, into your cells.”

“Down to my last mitochondrion I want him,
need him to be in my life.”

Coyote laughed. “Understood, geek girl. But
I’m not talking about those instincts. Love can be so big and noisy
like that. It helps you learn, or relearn in your case, how to
listen to your other instincts, the instincts that are often
smothered by rules of politeness, not rocking the boat, not wanting
to think through what your instincts are whispering to you.”

Fleur thought quickly. “Well, yeah, I get it.
If I stay here, times will be tough. Cromwell’s approaching.”

“The New Order Army is already here in MacKay
Country.”

“What? I have to warn Duncan.” She rose to
race away.

Coyote pulled Fleur back down. “Yes, you do.
But I need you to listen to your instincts, the ones you’ve made
quiet because you’re too scared of being impolite.”

Rory.
The one word, one name floated
through Fleur’s mind. She’d hugged him earlier and didn’t know why
she’d done that. She hadn’t wanted to. She just thought it would
have been rude otherwise. He’d been so kind to her since she’d
gotten here. She thought she owed him...What? What did she owe him?
She felt guilty because her heart had always been Duncan’s. So why
would that make her feel uncomfortable?

Finally, the answer came: She guessed Rory
had a wee crush on her and felt bad for not reciprocating the
feeling.

“I—I might have made a man think he had a
chance with me. And now—”

“You strung him along?”

“Well, no.”

“Then . . .?”

“I didn’t outright tell him to leave me
alone. I mean, he wasn’t rude to me, so why be rude to him?”

Coyote nodded for a long time. Finally, he
squinted his eyes. “Right, why be rude?”

Fleur snorted. “You expect me to be rude to
the man, although he’s done nothing to me?”

He shook his head. “No. What I hoped was that
you would tell that mammoth of a man you love your feelings. He’d
tell you his. Afterwards, when Rory doesn’t take the obvious
gesture that you and Duncan are meant to be, then be rude.”

“You mean, if.
If
Rory doesn’t take
heed of the gesture.”

Coyote narrowed his eyes all the more but
then finally smiled and nodded.

Fleur’s heart raced in nervous anticipation
at the way Coyote smiled.

Chapter 31

N
ever one for being comfortable in a
crowd, Duncan was relieved to follow Fleur into the cellar and away
from the continual wake. The solemn, sad wake. His mother had been
loved. Cherished. It took her death to finally see that everyone in
the town had treasured her, respected her, and also him. He’d
thought they had laughed at him, at his pain. He’d thought they had
been apathetic. Instead he found, time after time, the Durness’
folks approaching him hesitatingly, not because they didn’t care,
but because they cared so much. They’d told him tales of his
mother, tending to each and every one of them. After she was done
mending them, she’d brag about his exploits. Due to his mother,
Duncan had become famous.

So too they’d remembered the times with
Albert. One man came up to him at the wake and said he’d prayed for
Albert’s death, even knowing the consequences of eternal damnation
for it. But that hadn’t stopped him from making the request.

Initially, Duncan had wondered why the man
hadn’t gone ahead and killed Albert or helped Helen to leave. But
almost as quick he knew the reason. It was difficult to know the
right thing to do sometimes. Helen never left Albert, so was it
anyone else’s place to force her?

It had all gotten to him, made his heart feel
full of understanding, forgiveness, and warmth. With it too, and it
might always be there, was the pinching anger toward Albert. But it
had nullified, mollified, changed into something less bitter.
Perhaps now it was more righteous.

Spending so much time with the people of
Durness, Duncan realized he liked them, liked the village. It was
beautiful here, so lush and green. This year was hot, but it
usually wasn’t so unbearable. Typically it rained by now. A lot.
Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if Fleur would like to live here
with him. Would she tend to the garden, while he mayhap plowed some
fields? Grow some wheat. Or oats. Hell, he’d heard that outside of
London they were growing that American corn, and making huge
amounts of money from it. Fleur could teach him how to grow it,
mayhap. At night he could write his stories, find Fleur afterward,
and make love to her for hours on end, until they had their
bairns.

He liked fantasizing about their future.

Yet he worried if she ever thought about it.
Or if she could stay.

Hefting the heavy door to the cellar, he
blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. He knew
Fleur was still down there, seeing the light from her lantern, but
she was so quiet. Creeping down the earthen steps, he wondered
about her silence, when he finally saw her, sitting with her dark
dress swirled around like a cloud. The lantern illuminated her
gorgeous face, making her look as though she glowed. She sat so
still that he couldn’t help but worry.

“Fleur?”

Slowly she turned to him, her dark eyes so
wild and wide.

He rushed to kneel beside her. “Fleur,
darlin’, what’s wrong?”

She glanced away from him, briefly opening
her mouth, but never said a word, just staring for a bit at a
shadow. Then she lunged for him, pulling her arms around his neck
in a mighty hold. “You found me.”

“O’ course.” He couldn’t help but caress down
her back—mayhap too low, feeling her pert round bottom in his
palms. It had been three, almost four, days since he’d made love to
her, but it felt like an eternity. Suddenly, lust coursed through
his veins.

She pulled back enough to say, “Do you
remember seeing me that first time in Cave Smoo?”

He nodded. “I’ll never forget it.”

She smiled. “I won’t either. I couldn’t stop
staring at you. I knew it then. I knew it. I knew you were for
me.”

He sat down, shocked by her honesty. “Did ye
now?”

“Didn’t you?” Her eyes rounded, and he could
have sworn he heard her heart rumble waiting for him to answer.

“’Tis hard to explain how I felt.”

She frowned.

Well, he couldn’t let that happen. Chucking a
finger under her chin, he made sure she looked at him when he
answered. “I was so powerfully drawn to ye. There I was soakin’
wet, more tired than I’d ever been, and I walked to ye as if I had
no other choice, as though my legs would have walked another
hundred miles to reach ye.”

She took a deep breath and lunged for him
again. This time her full pink lips were on his, feathering against
him. He crushed her to him as he exploded with need. Her kiss had
been so dainty, so tender, while he’d nearly forced himself on her.
He pulled back, trying to pace himself. But she was there,
encouraging him with a kiss turned fierce. Lord, how he loved this.
Loved her.

Caressing a hand along his freshly shaven
face, her other pulled on his shoulder. “Duncan,” she
whispered.

He couldn’t seem to hold back any longer.
Kissing her with probably too much passion, too much strength, he
pushed his tongue in her mouth. She sucked on it—Oh, he liked
that—shocking him with how he instantly turned hard. As if reading
his mind, she sucked again. He wrapped a hand around her chignon,
already loose and hanging close to the nape of her neck. Fisting
that perfect black silk, he arched her head to deepen the kiss. She
moaned in his mouth.

He had to have her. Right here. Right now.
This second.

Growling, he bowled her over. He was going to
lie on her, pull up her skirts and . . .

Jesus, he was at his mother’s very long
wake!

He leaned away, which unfortunately made her
wobble. Catching her before she fell, he pulled her to his chest,
where his heart boomed.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could think of to
say.

She smiled up at him. “Oh?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was going to have my
way with ye right here on the ground.”

“Who says that’s not
my
way?”

He laughed. Then he’d almost said it: “I love
ye.” He’d almost let that slip. But he worried so much she’d run
from him if he did. He knew though one of these times it would come
out. He’d tell her he loved her, then she’d...

She had just told him that she thought he was
for her. Lord, he hoped that meant what he wanted it to.

“I suppose we should check on the wake, make
sure the people have their whisky.”

He nodded. But he didn’t want to leave the
earthen hole, so filled with his love for her, so heady with lust
and the unspoken sentiment. He spoke without even thinking through
what he was saying. “Ye ken how to grow corn?”

She furrowed her dark brows, but smiled.
“When my grandpa was alive, we had a small garden. We grew corn. I
think I remember how to do that. Why?”

“Mayhap we should grow some here.” He hoped
she hadn’t noticed how he’d said we, as if it hurt a little to say
it. It had, for he was terrified of the future, scared she’d leave
at any second.