Duchess of Mine Read Free Page A

old man, eh?
Well, of course they’d call him that. He was two and thirty, while
they were almost twenty years his junior.
    Standing beside Cave Smoo—the troops
destination before they retired further in to Durness, his
hometown—Duncan focused on the deep, greenish gray Geodha Smoo, the
bay that licked at the cave. Making sure no one was close by of the
few houses on the other side of the dirt road, he took a deep
breath. Or tried to. After the run, he was puffing like an old man
who couldn’t get enough of his pipe. Walking again made him feel as
if he was flailing about similar to a wounded stag. All for his new
captain, Rory, the MacKay’s brother fresh from the Lowlands,
thinking he’d teach his recruits a thing or two about military
discipline by running the devil out of them.
    Time for a soak. A just reward for the crazy,
much too long dash he’d endured. He stumbled toward the cold water,
wondering how on God’s green earth Rory thought killing off the
troops with all this scampering about made for a good military.
Wasn’t the point to win the battle, not to run from it? But
what did Duncan know? He was merely a man who’d been in war or
fighting for the last decade and a half of his life.
    The icy seawater splashed over his body as he
charged into it. Finally up to his chest, he let out a huge breath,
mayhap releasing a little bitter resentment too. Nay, why let go of
anger and his grudges when they served him so well? He dunked his
head under the water and felt the immediate dichotomy of intense
panic to surface yet the equally strong sense of peace in the quiet
solitude. Eventually, he rose and trudged back to the beach, paying
heed only to the water rippling off him. Caught by a breeze, a
loose strand of his red hair glimmered in the sun, holding his
attention for a moment. Best he cut it. Then the sand was back
under his leather boots. His hose squished under his toes, angering
him, for he’d been too hasty wanting to cool off with the dip to
take off his boots.
    Looking over his shoulder, he saw the crowd
of recruits still far off.
    Laird MacKay had asked for Duncan by name to
help train the new troops, since the laird’s brother, Rory, was new
to the captaincy. New to military life in general. Duncan had been
the obvious choice because he’d been a soldier then a soldier of
fortune, for a decade and a-half. And now was the time when Himself
needed soldiers. Ah, hell, was there ever a time when soldiers
wouldn’t be needed? After Cromwell had burnt through Scotland, the
chiefs and lairds kept speaking of revenge. Reciprocity, they’d
said. What the hell did they know if they hadn’t lost one of their
own, say, a younger brother with sparkling mischievous green
eyes?
    Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him for
thinking such things again?
    He shook his head, startled upon seeing
orange flames from the corner of his eye. After a second look, he
realized he was standing less than ten feet from a small fire right
at the entrance of the cave, wondering how he couldn’t have seen it
when he first arrived. But it was the sight beyond the sparks that
entranced him, sitting so still he thought mayhap she was a statue.
But eventually one side of her full pink lips curled up in
a...Jesus, what a smile.
    “Hi,” she said. Her voice was melodious and
fluid, as if she’d just woken.
    It seemed to take him an eternity, but
finally he said, “Hello.”
    “It’s probably illegal to have this fire,
huh?”
    Fire? What fire? All he could do was stare at
her. He’d never seen a woman so beautiful in all his life. She was
dressed in black, yet nothing like he’d ever seen before. But
she—her—Lord Almighty, from her blackest black hair to her tiny
nose and those full pink lips, she was wildly exotic. Her eyes
shone back at him, sparkling like onyx. As much as she wore black,
even her dark coloring, she glowed as if she were made from
heaven’s own light.
    Mayhap she was an angel.
    “Am I in big trouble