Free The Dukes' Christmas Abductions by Doris O'Connor, Raven McAllan Page A

nearby armchair, with his robe loose around his shoulders.
    She
blinked and wiped her eyes. “Have you been there long?”
    “Not
too long. Come.” He stood and held his hand to towards her. “The water is
cooling.”
    Vicky
nodded. “I’ve done enough for now.” She pushed her seat back and took his hand
to let him draw her onto her feet and rest against his chest. The silk of his
robe whispered a caress over her shoulders as he shifted to hold her close.
    “Kit,
My Lord?”
    He
looked at her in enquiry as he stroked her hair in soothing rhythmic movements.
“My Heart?”
    “I
do love you,” Vicky strove to reassure him, and was rewarded by the loving
smile that spread across his face. “I can see that you love me and I
understand, and rejoice in the knowledge that, deep down you’re mine. Only you
and—” A large clap of thunder rent the air.
    Vicky
screamed. Behind Kit a door she hadn’t noticed before stood open with a bright
white light shining through it and created a pathway toward her. It gleamed and
beckoned to her. Somewhere she heard a voice, hers? His? She had no idea
    “Go
or stay, only you can decide.”
    Go
or stay where? How ? Vicky took a step away from Kit. His face was
expressionless, a blank canvas where so recently animation showed. His eyes
were dark and shadowed. Unfathomable. Then she saw the agony there.
    Go
or stay… go or stay… go or …
    Another
deeper clap of thunder shook the window panes.
    Go…stay…
      “Victoria.”
    “Vicky.”
    “Mama…”
      Mama?

Chapter Eight
     
    Faversham House, December 2015
     
    Clara
gasped behind him, and seemingly having thought better of her pretense of
hiding, appeared next to him. Shifting nervously from foot to foot, she
fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, which, now that she was standing, fell to
mid-thigh. With her arms clasped around her middle, trying to hold the gapping
ends together she looked uncomfortable, as confirmed by her next words.
    “Don’t
say it, James. I’m not explaining why I’m half dressed, and wipe that smirk off
your face. If you want to be helpful, run to my rooms and find me something
decent to wear.”
    She
shrieked when Daniel pulled her into his side. He needed the contact right now,
because he knew that life as he knew it would change forever the minute he
broke the seal on that envelope.
    “I
wouldn’t dream of it, my lady. Besides, there is nothing wrong with being in a
state of undress in the bed chamber of your affianced.”
    Clara
gave a strangled cough, and Daniel found himself on the receiving end of the
full imposing glare only the butler of a great house could give while
maintaining a perfectly polite smile on his face. He had been the recipient of
a similar glare from James’s predecessor far too many times to count, when he’d
come home after one of his youthful escapades.
    Before
he could say anything, Clara pulled away from him. He instantly missed her soft
curves pressed into his side, and had to resist the urge to yank her back into
his arms. The way her whole frame was quivering in seeming outrage, she’d
probably kick him in the ballocks if he tried that.
    “Stop
this godforsaken Regency crap already. This is just us, and I know full well,
you never approved of me taking over as curator, even though I’m damn good at
my job. I’m not affianced to anyone, let alone Daniel, I—”
    She
stopped talking when James interrupted her by holding up his hand. The older
man shook his head, and glanced toward Daniel as though he was looking for
confirmation.
    “You
might not have been affianced, but you’ve been caught in a compromising
situation with the Duke of Hockwell, and as is befitting his station, he will
of course marry you to save your reputation.” Again that sharp look at Daniel,
which made him feel about five and meant he nodded his agreement. Strangely
enough the thought of marriage didn’t fill him with his usual dread. Quite the
opposite. To be married to Clara, to