Free In the Bed of a Duke by Cathy Maxwell Page A

sisters…but I wish now I hadn’t read it.” She also wished her knees didn’t shake so. His calmness was frightening. Still, she could not resist asking, “Is it true?”
    He folded the letter. “I don’t know.”
    “But you are on your way to see Laird MacKenna to find out.”
    “Yes.”
    “And that is why you were so violent when you realized I was riding in the laird’s coach. You thought I was in league with him.”
    “Are you?” He’d moved inside the hayrick.
    Charlotte turned, following him with her eyes. “No. I know nothing of this.”
    He picked up his jacket and tucked the letter into a pocket. His calmness unnerving.
    “What are you going to do?” she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out. “If that letter is true, you stand to lose everything.”
    “If that letter is true, I have a brother to protect and defend.”
    “Yes,” she whispered, the true enormity of what he faced settling in. “I had nothing to do with this.”
    Colster tossed the jacket down. “I am certain you didn’t. I didn’t know at first…but I do now.”
    For the first time since he’d discovered her with the letter, Charlotte felt safe enough to release her breath in a sigh of relief. “And please, I won’t say anything to anyone in London. You can trust me,” she assured him, well aware that for the first time in her dealings with the duke, she had the upper hand.
    He’d do anything to keep this information secret. Delicious possibilities poured into Charlotte’s mind. Colster could see that Constance’s name was on the list of all the important London hostesses. And with one word, he would return all the business her brother-in-law Alex’s shipping firm had lost over the scandal.
    Even better, he could do nothing to her personally now. Colster wasn’t like Klem and his cousin. He was a man of honor.
    She was as smug and happy as a cat who had the songbird in her mouth.
    Some of what she thought must have shown on her face, because he said, “You aren’t going to speak of this to anyone.”
    That depended on him, didn’t it?
    His face was in the shadows, but it wouldn’t have made any difference. She was no longer intimidated by him.
    “Of course not,” Charlotte answered with a purr. “I’ll keep mum to everyone in London.”
    “Oh, no, you aren’t going to London.”
    This was just too satisfying. “I will go wherever I wish, Your Grace,” she told him, proud to have finally outwitted her opponent. It was everything she could do to not dance a little jig. “You will have to trust me. You have no other choice.”
    Tension emanated from him. She couldn’t see his expression, but she knew he didn’t like this one bit—and that made her feel all the more powerful, something she’d rarely experienced in her life.
    She braced herself, anticipating his worst.
    Instead, he surprised by saying, “Well done, Miss Cameron. You’ve won the point.”
    “I’ve won the battle,” she countered.
    He stepped forward. She held her ground, uncertain whether she should run or not…until she saw he was smiling, his lips twisted in rueful respect. “Aye, perhaps the battle.”
    Charlotte was tempted to ask him to repeat those words. As it was, she couldn’t help but happily smile right back to him. She’d done it. She’d won and victory was so sweet.
    “You can trust me,” she reiterated.
    His smile flattened. “I pray it is so.”
    “I’m not that sort of person,” she informed him.
    “Are you saying I am?”
    There was an edge of self-mockery in his tone. It pricked her conscience. She shouldn’t feel any sympathy for him. “No, I’m saying I wouldn’t blackmail you,” she said, even though she would if he made it necessary.
    His eyes, silvery in the moonlight, studied her a moment, his expression sober. “Thank you,” he said at last. “But may I ask one favor of you?”
    “What is it?”
    “Would you help me get these boots off? The wet leather is about ready to drive me to