Page 76 of Surrender Your Grace
“If you do, I’ll never forgive you,” she snapped.
He shrugged. “So you’ll forgive me if I don’t?”
Maggie groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “This is a nightmare. Please, someone shake me and wake me up.”
“You’re already wide awake,” Duncan replied. “Now, be a good lass and finish breakfast so we can begin our day.”
She started to rise, but Duncan caught her wrist and firmly settled her back in her seat. “No more storming off in a temper.”
“What is that, rule #157?” she muttered.
“If you say so. I haven’t been keeping count,” he said, signaling the footman for more coffee.
“Andrew, you cannot possibly be serious about this. You’re handing me over to a—” Maggie paused, struggling for a suitably vile insult.
“Fine figure of a man?” Duncan supplied helpfully.
“I was thinking more like Sir Reverence,” she bit out.
Startled, Duncan blinked while Andrew cleared his throat pointedly. “That will do, Maggie.”
The earl stood too, all composure. “Consider that another round earned.” With that promise issued, he took Maggie’s arm and half led/half dragged her from the dining room.
As faint protests drifted through the walls and down the hall, Cici looked up at Andrew. “Shouldn’t you intervene?”
“Her tongue is completely out of control,” Andrew replied, guiding her to the foyer. “You heard what she called him.”
“‘Sir Reverence’? Is that a peer? I’ve never heard of him.”
“It’s cant—a slang term—for human excrement,” he explained stiltedly.
Cici gaped. “She called him… a turd?”
Andrew winced but gave a reluctant nod.
She sputtered at first then dissolved into laughter, leaning against his shoulder.
“Careful my sister’s cheek doesn’t rub off on you, sweeting,” he warned, sliding an arm around her waist. “You won’t like the consequences.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” she said between giggles. “But you must admit it’s funny.”
As they ascended the stairs, Maggie’s voice rang out—a shouted insult that called Duncan’s legitimacy into question.
Cici sobered instantly. “I have a feeling she’s going to spend a good deal of her marriage over her husband’s knee.”
“Most likely,” Andrew said with quiet conviction, “but I trust Duncan. I wouldn’t have signed the papers if I didn’t.”
“Does he love her?” she asked, concerned her friend would endure the difficulties she had.
“I know he does,” Andrew replied. “And he’ll make sure she knows it—eventually.”
She exhaled, visibly reassured. “I have a question.”
“Ask me anything.”
“What’s a birch rod?” she asked, half curious, half wary.
Andrew gave her a slow, meaningful look. “Let’s just hope Maggie has the sense to hold her tongue—so she never has to find out.”
