Dark Duke Read online

  Now he understood.

  Now he understood.

  This was how James had felt about Helena. How Helena had felt about James.

  As though they would wither away to ash without each other. As though they could not breathe when apart.

  He loved her.

  He loved her and he would love her until death should they part.

  “Why are you smiling like that?”

  Ah, God. He adored her. She’d waltzed into his life and slapped him out of his insidious rut and excited him and invigorated him. She’d given his life back. Retrieved his soul.

  “Edward?”

  “Darling.” He kissed her, investing every shred of feeling into the embrace. When he returned, when he had reclaimed Violet and all was well with the world, he would ask—demand—that she become his duchess. A thrill skated through him at the thought, and with it, an odd tinge of bone-melting relief. Yes. She would be his wife. And his illustrator and, God willing, the mother of his own brood of hellions.

  They were in Scotland, for God’s sake. They could be married tomorrow.

  But first he needed to finish this. Besides, this was hardly the moment to propose a lifelong partnership.

  Transom cleared his throat. At the same moment, Ned said, “Ahem,” and Edward realized he was still kissing Kaitlin.

  He could kiss her forever.

  He would.

  “Trust me, darling,” he said, bussing her once more on her beautiful brow. “Everything will be all right.”

  Kaitlin watched Edward go, sorrow and regret weighing on her heart. “Trust me, darling,” he’d said. “I’ll handle this,” he’d said.

  Dear, sweet man.

  He had no clue with whom he was dealing. The McCloud would never let Violet go—not without Kaitlin in hand. As desperate as Callum was to pay off his debt, that was how desperate the McCloud was for a well-born wife. He needed the entrée to the haute ton and would do whatever it took to get it.

  She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, if the McCloud couldn’t have Kaitlin, he would force Violet to marry him.

  And she couldn’t bear the thought.

  The guilt was staggering. If only Violet had not helped her escape, her friend would be safe, right now, in the arms of her family.

  Kaitlin did trust Edward. She trusted him to do his best.

  But he would fail.

  She was the only one who could resolve this mess.

  The only way to do it was to give herself to the McCloud.

  And never see Edward again.

  She didn’t go upstairs to bed as he had bade her. She re-donned her gloves and coat and slipped out the door. Callum would know where to find the McCloud. Callum would take her to him.

  And she would marry the brigand. Just like Fiona had.

  But there would be no happily ever after for Kaitlin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Colonel Sterling, in his retirement, was apparently not retiring. He answered his door at Edward’s second knock, still dressed and smelling of perfume.

  He gaped at the three men standing on his stoop. Or two of them at least. Ned had been in short pants when the three had been interned together in Le Trou. “Charles Transom, as I live and breathe. And Edward Weston! You sons of whores! Come in. Come in.”

  Ned shot a quizzical glance at Edward, but he was loath to explain the spurious moniker. None of his fellow prisoners had known his real identity—only that the Duke of Moncrieff had been responsible for arranging their escape from that miserable hole.

  That was the card he would play when he met with McCloud. The man owed him an enormous favor.

  And this would be it.

  Sterling waved them into his parlor and shooed out his companion, bidding her to wait for him above stairs. He pulled out a decanter of whiskey and poured them each a drink. “So what brings you to Perth?” he bellowed. Sterling had always been something of a bellower.

  “We’re looking for Ewan McCloud.”

  “Och. Ewan.” Sterling stroked his beard. “He has a house right here in Perth.” Relief walked through Edward—perhaps they could finish this tonight—until Sterling continued. “Though I doubt he’s here. I heard he’d moved his, um, operations to the Cloud.”

  “The Cloud?” Transom refilled Sterling’s glass.

  “Aye. He, shall we say, acquired an old keep. On an island in the Firth of Tay, west of Dundee.”

  “An island?” Ned’s Adam’s apple worked in his throat. He shot a look at Edward that was difficult to work out. It seemed like horror.

  “Aye. Named it the Cloud.” Sterling chortled. “Because it’s usually shrouded with banks of fog.” He scratched his chin. “And because of his name, I suppose.”

  “And that’s where he’d be?”

  “Most likely.”

  Edward and Transom exchanged a glance. Dundee was less than a day’s ride. This Cloud sounded like the perfect place to hold a prisoner.

  They thanked their old friend and said their farewells, though he clearly wanted to continue the visit.

  “We should leave for the Cloud immediately,” Ned said as the door closed behind them. “Violet won’t like being on an island.”

  An odd thing to say. Edward had to ask. “Why?”

  Ned shuddered. His face was terribly pale. “She has a deathly fear of water. Almost drowned once.” His features tightened. “We have to get her back. Now.”

  It was agreed that they stop back at Agnes’ house, which was on the way, to gather some food for the journey as well as her coachman, who could drive through the night while they got some rest in the cab.

  Though he was dead tired and would have liked to wait until morning to set out, Edward couldn’t bear the thought of Violet somewhere, frightened and alone. He’d come to care for her deeply and it galled him that he didn’t know where she was, or in what condition. Anything could have happened.

  He had to believe Ewan would never harm her, but that was no excuse to tarry.

  They all bundled into the carriage, with Transom on the box. It wasn’t until they were underway that Ned asked the question he’d been dreading.

  “Why didn’t Sterling call you ‘Your Grace’?”

  And hell. Then he’d had to explain it all.

  Though everyone else had gone to bed, Kaitlin with them, thank God, Hortense was still awake when they arrived at the house.

  Ned and Transom went to arrange for provisions and Edward would have gone with them, but his aunt forestalled him.

  “What’s your plan?” she asked.

  He could tell it irritated her that she could not take a more active role. She would happily have ridden the charge with them. She was a warrior at heart. The McCloud could never hold safe against that cane.

  “We’re heading for McCloud’s keep. We feel strongly that he has Violet there.”

  “The three of you? Against all his men?”

  “I don’t anticipate I shall have to fight him for her.” He plucked a speck from his coat. “Ewan McCloud was once a friend of mine.”

  Hortense gaped at him. “He’s a criminal.”

  “He was, once, a hero. We knew each other—in the war.”

  “I see.” Hortense knew of his exploits, or at least some of them. “You must bring her back, my boy. She means more than you can ever know.”

  “I do know.”

  Her gaze sharpened. “You do not. You don’t know everything.”

  The way she said the word made him pause. That, and the fact Hortense had proven herself to be a font of dark family secrets. “What are you saying?”

  She blew out a breath and hobbled to the fire, frowning at it for a long while. When she spoke again, her words were puzzling.

  “Brianne named Ned after his father, you know.”

  Edward snorted. Perhaps the stress had made her dotty. “Ned’s father was Horace.” This he explained to her gently. Because Horace was Ned’s father and this was something she should still remember.


  She spun. Gored him with a gimlet gaze. “Was he?”

  Something uncomfortable crawled into Edward’s chest. “What are you saying?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “No.”

  She blew out an impatient breath. “Your Uncle Horace was not a Wyeth.”

  Surprise and confusion wrinkled his brow. “I beg your pardon?” And what on earth did that have to do with Ned’s parentage?

  Hortense rolled her eyes. “Right. I had forgotten. People don’t like to acknowledge infidelity.”

  She was making no sense at all. “Have you gone quite mad?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” She leaned closer on her cane and met his gaze. “But the fact of the matter is this—your grandmother was something of a whore.”

  Edward choked on his indrawn breath.

  “Oh everyone knew it back then. Well, everyone but the old duke. Your grandfather was only mildly puzzled when his second son didn’t have the family mark.”

  She allowed Edward a moment to reflect. No. Uncle Horace had not had the family mark—the curious mole on the left cheek each and every Wyeth had borne from time immemorial. He’d never really thought about it before. But it was odd. All Wyeths had it. Every one.

  Hortense whacked him in the shins with her cane. “Think about it, boy. Horace did not have the mark. Yet all of his progeny wear the family badge. Wherever could it have come from?”

  Edward tried to think this through. His mind was not cooperating. He was so damn tired—

  And then realization flooded him. “Are you telling me my father…?” No. It couldn’t be.

  “Was in love with his brother’s wife? Think about it, lad. Your father visited Perth exactly six times, nine months prior to each happy event.”

  Edward dropped into a convenient wingchair as the truth of this revelation hit home. “Do you…think my mother knew?” Yes. Judging from the constant snapping and snarling between them, his mother very probably knew.

  “Ah poor Clarice. They were married in some ridiculous dynasty match. My father was obsessed with strengthening the family fortune and standing in London. Back then we were considered the lowly Scots skulking about in town. So he forced his firstborn son into a marriage with the highest lady in the land. Well, the highest lady he could blackmail into marriage with a Wyeth. But in truth, your father had always loved Brianne. He never forgave his brother for marrying her.”

  “So he cuckolded him?”

  “No. He cuckolded his brother because he desired his brother’s wife. Don’t read more into this than there is. The bottom line is this—all Horace’s children are actually your father’s issue.”

  Edward swallowed. Images of Ned and Malcolm, Dennis and Sean, Hamish and Tay…and Violet danced through his head. “My brothers and sisters?”

  Hortense patted his hand. “Indeed. Every one. So you see. You must bring her back. Safe and sound and whole.” She dabbed at a tear. “I couldn’t bear it if you did not.”

  “I-I couldn’t bear it either.”

  It was so much. A weight on his soul.

  No one had ever needed him before and now so many depended upon him. He couldn’t let them down.

  Ned appeared in the doorway and Edward’s heart hitched as he saw the boy—his brother—with new eyes. A brave, valiant, frightened soul. A man who had taken on the responsibility of his family and was now faced with the loss of one of his dearest.

  God help him. He would not let them down.

  * * * * *

  Kaitlin stared up at MacAllister House, the home in which she’d been raised. It was not nearly as grand as Edward’s home, but it was grand enough. Resentment coiled in her belly. It was grand enough to sell and pay Callum’s debts. There would be some left over, but not much.

  He had never even considered that.

  She sighed and headed up the stairs. She found her brother deep in his cups in their father’s study. He sat in the one remaining chair with a near empty decanter at his elbow. The room felt hollow with all the books gone.

  He saw her and started. Narrowed his eyes against the gloom. “Kaitlin, is that you?”

  “Yes, Callum.”

  “Ach! Saints be praised. You’ve come back.”

  “You knew I would.”

  He staggered to his feet and folded her into an unwelcome hug. He was sweaty and damp and reeked of whiskey and desperation. “Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.”

  She pushed him away. “I can’t believe what you did. Have you no shame?”

  He blinked at her, surprised by her fury. Why he was surprised, she had no clue. His actions had been unconscionable. “I had to, Kait. You gave me no choice.”

  “You have always had a choice. I was the one not given a choice, and don’t you forget it.”

  “He’s not such a bad man, Kait. He’ll take good care of you. You could ask for worse in a husband.” He put out a lip. “Besides, it’s not as though you had other options.”

  She ignored the flash of pain stabbing her heart. She knew it was true. No man would ever marry her, especially now. But she wished it could have been different.

  She was a sensible girl, but couldn’t deny that hopes and dreams of Edward offering for her had skirted the edges of her mind. She’d banished them, each and every one. Each and every time. It was insanity.

  He was a duke.

  He couldn’t marry a fallen woman.

  What they’d had had been wonderful. Beyond wonderful. But it was over now. She had to let that chapter of her life close and open the next. As lamentable as that prospect was. She would always have the memories of Edward, though. She would hold them tight in her fist until her dying day. “You must take me to the McCloud at once.”

  “Of course.” He hiccupped, teetered. “First thing in the morning.”

  “Now.”

  “It’s a long drive,” he whined. “It’s cold outside. And I’m…I’m woozy.” He leaned toward her, and then, with a soulful groan, toppled to the bare floor. It was a pity he’d had to sell the carpet. It would have softened his fall.

  Kaitlin nudged her brother with a toe and blew out a disgusted breath. They would have to wait until morning to leave because only Callum knew where the McCloud had taken Violet.

  She trudged up the stairs to search for a bed. Naturally, the only one left in the whole of the house was in Callum’s chamber. Fortunately, he would not be needing it tonight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Despite their determination to hie off to The Cloud with all haste, a broken wheel slowed them down and, to Edward’s and Ned’s consternation, they had to spend the night in a tatty inn until they could procure another carriage. They didn’t arrive at their destination until midday.

  It was a gloomy day, befitting his mood, and the island was indeed wreathed in fog. It rose from the mist looking something like Mount Olympus, ominous, distant and impregnable. And Violet was there.

  Two hulking nefarious creatures stood guard at a little dock on the bank of the firth. When Edward, Ned and Transom descended from the carriage, the men rose from their fire and bristled.

  “We’re here to see the McCloud.”

  One of the men, a hideous creature with a melted face, growled, “The McCloud don’t see visitors.”

  “He’ll see me. We’re…old friends. Our business is urgent.”

  The two men grumbled amongst themselves and then finally, the huge troll, a man named Mungo, nodded and waved to the skiff bobbing on the tide. “I’ll take you in.”

  They frisked them, looking for weapons. They found none. Then, one by one, they climbed into the boat. It rocked with every movement.

  “Oh,” Ned warbled. “She would have hated this.”

  Mungo eyed Ned intently as he rowed them across the firth, into the swirling fog. As though he knew the way blindfolded, he steered the little skiff toward the far shore, landing at a dilapidated dock. He led them up the decrepit stone steps from the dock to the keep and into a great hall teeming
with men in all states of drunkenness, despite the hour. The hall was filthy, the floor littered with scraps, the tables covered with old plates and overturned cups. A dingy pall hung over the chamber as the chimney sported a wide crack.

  Boisterous cackles and shouts echoed off the stone walls. One large man dandled a serving girl on his lap and roughly fondled her breasts as she chortled. Several others were playing cards at the table and as they entered, a brawl broke out among them.

  Edward sidestepped a reeling combatant as he wheeled past spouting profanities. His gut wrenched. The thought of Violet here, held captive by such ignoble creatures, was revolting.

  “Wait here,” the hulk growled. “I’ll fetch the McCloud.” He stomped up the stairs and disappeared into the gloom of the keep.

  “Hell,” Ned muttered.

  Edward dropped an arm around his shoulders. Ned was shaking. “Fortitude, my lad. Try to remain calm.”

  “But Violet—”

  “I know. The most important thing is getting her back. Let’s keep that in mind.”

  Transom cleared his throat. “It might be best if we do the talking.”

  Ned nodded, but he didn’t seem persuaded. As he took in the unruly scene, he went from pale to looking a little green. “If they’ve hurt her…” His fingers flexed in and out of a belligerent fist.

  Edward frowned. He’d been on the receiving end of that fist. If Ned lost his temper and hit one of these men, there was no telling what kind of disaster it could provoke. They did not appear to be as civilized as he was.

  “Remain calm. Remember, Transom and I know the McCloud. He owes me a debt. We shall get her back.”

  “But if they hurt her—”

  “I know, my boy. I know.”

  Ewan McCloud descended the stairs. Edward studied him. He was still the same brawny, handsome man, but for the jagged scar he’d always worn like a badge on his left cheek. But he was older. There was a weariness about him that was unfamiliar.

  When he saw them, his eyes widened with surprise. “Transom? Weston? By all that is holy. I never thought to see you here!” He shot a look over his shoulder and laughed. “The place is something of a mess. Had I known you were coming, I would have tidied up. How long has it been?”