Page 12 of Tamed By her Duke

It was like he was signing on a land manager, or a solicitor, albeit one that he was promising to keep in his service for the rest of his days. One didn’tloveone’s solicitor.

Her voice was low but steady, her eyes on the vicar, as she said, “I will.”

It would be fine, he assured himself. He’d make matters clear to her.

“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?” the vicar asked.

The Duke of Graham stepped forward grandly, looking smugly satisfied that they’d gotten to the portion of events that involved him. There was an awkward bit with the hands—Caleb again felt a pang of passionate longing for the simplicity of Scottishceremonies—and then Grace’s fingers were in his, long and slim and cool.

They were a distracting presence as Caleb said, “I, Caleb Gulliver, take thee, Grace Miller, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold…”

It was the simple intimacy of the gesture that put him off, he told himself as he mindlessly echoed the vicar’s prompts. That was why he didn’t like this hand holding bit. It was the very thing he was trying to discourage, after all.

There was a bit more droning after that; Grace spoke her vows, the same as his this time, and didn’t look at him once through the whole thing. He slid the ring onto her finger. It was too big by several sizes and hung loosely about her knuckle. She had to close her hand to stop it from falling off as the vicar pronounced them man and wife in the eyes of God. It got in the way of the pen as she signed the parish register to provide signatory proof of the validity of their union.

And then—bloody finally, he thought—the whole thing was over. He dropped Grace’s hand.

“Come along,” he ordered her as the gathered guests ceased their polite smattering of applause and began to get to their feet. “We’ve a long journey ahead of us; no time to waste.”

She’d followed him, almost as if by rote, when he’d first started speaking. She stuttered to a stop as she took in the remainder of his words.

“But—we’ve the wedding breakfast,” she said, sounding puzzled. “My mother, she’s arranged for a wedding breakfast.”

Graham hadn’t insisted on a wedding breakfast, so Caleb was not going to be attending any such foolishness. If the other man thought otherwise? Well, that was his problem, now wasn’t it?

He shrugged. “Everyone else can go,” he said shortly. “As I said, we’ve a long ride. We haven’t the time.”

The confused furrow between her blue, blue eyes deepened. “Your house is in Mayfair,” she said carefully, like she was putting something together and didn’t like the look of it one bit.

Ah, well, he’d best let her have the whole of it, then.

“Nay,” he said. “I’d not live in London if ye paid me a king’s ransom. No, we’re going to Montgomery Estate.”

Her eyes grew wide, her soft, plush mouth opened slightly.

“We’re going toScotland?” she asked, sounding horrified.

It wasn’t Scotland, but for a city-bred lass like her, it was probably near enough to the border that it amounted to nearly the same thing. He didn’t waste energy correcting her.

“We’re going north,” he said. “To my estate. And I’d just as much spend two days on travel, not three, so if ye’ll come along now.”He drew himself up to his full height as he spoke. It was time she understood that he was not open to arguments, protests, or negotiations. The sooner she accepted that, the better. Then they could get through this ordeal.

Thenshe could come back to London, if she felt like it. Not with their children, naturally; he’d not have any heir of his raised by soft southerners. But his new duchess could go wherever she pleased, once she’d done her duty by him.

For now, though, she would go wherehepleased. And where he pleased was on the road. Right now.

Grace gave a quick glance over to a trio of women—the same trio, he realized absently, that he’d seen her with at the ball that night—then nodded, squaring her shoulders for the second time that morning.

“Very well,” she said. “Let’s go, then.”

She kept her head held high as she swept out of the church and allowed him to hand her up into the carriage. He climbed in after her, swiftly closing the door and rapping on the ceiling to let the driver know they were ready.

Her haughty look remained in place as the carriage rumbled over the cobbled streets. If he’d noticed hernotlooking at him before, now he found that her gaze felt heavy. And that made him irritable.

So, though he knew himself to be no prize, he lounged back in the seat, letting himself take up as much room as possible—which, given his size, was a great deal of space, indeed. He let his legs spread wide and smirked, the implication unmistakably lewd, as he let the full force of his burr warm his voice.

“If ye’re hungry for a look, lass, all ye need to do is ask.”

CHAPTER 4

---