Page 52 of In Need of a Duke
Charlotte cursed under her breath,fixed the remaining hive, then stuck the juniper bark into a pail of rainwater before proceeding up the hill after Ian.
He didn’t listen, of course.
And now the poor blighter had been stung from head to toe. And if she were honest, she was a smidge sorry about it. She had been certain he was flirting with her, which was altogether confusing and…
Well, Charlotte was forced to admit she liked flirting with her husband. And admitting she liked anything in conjunction with Ian left a rather odd feeling tumbling around in her stomach.
When she reached the top of the hill, she gasped.
Kate stood before Ian on the ground, her hands akimbo on her waist, and a giant wolfhound attacking his face.
“I’ve brought my giants,” Kate announced smugly. Then, noticing Charlotte, she smiled and waved. “You’re alive!”
“Your…”
Kate nearly glowed in her navy dress with her black curls swept up neatly into a bonnet.
“I heard you were injured, and I needed to see for myself you were well.”
Nearly eight months had passed since she had seen her dear friend who left for Scotland to become a governess. She had left Katherine Bancroft, but in that time, she was now Katherine MacInnes.
A tall man unfolded from the carriage and pierced Charlotte with an intense blue stare. The corner of his mouth tipped up into a small grin as he appraised his wife standing before Ian. The man was rugged, with wide shoulders and a strong jaw. His russet hair was combed back perfectly, giving him the appearance that he lived in the fringe between polite society and the Scottish Highlands.
“Call him off now,” he said in a thick Scottish burr.
Kate acted as if she didn’t hear.
“Kate.”
She rolled her eyes and called for the dog who immediately jumped off Ian and sat at her heels as Charlotte walked over and drew Kate in for a long embrace.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, trying to stem the tears. It was silly, really. She had written to Kate plenty of times during the past several months. “Oh, let me take a look at you.” She drew back and surveyed Kate who appeared happy and in love, judging by how she smiled at her husband.
“How was the trip?”
“Oh, don’t you dare,” Kate said. She grabbed Charlotte’s hand and tugged her close. “I received the very worst sort of letter, and I had to see for myself that you are recovering well.”
“I am fine.”
Ian groaned, pushing up onto his knees. His face was red and swollen, one eye shut. “You nearly died,” he said with a fat lip.
Her heart tipped open a bit at the pathetic sight.
“There’s no reason for a fuss. I’m fine.”
It was hard to ignore the lisp clinging to his words thanks to his swollen lip.
“In that case,” Kate said with a large smile, “may I introduce you to my husband, Gabriel MacInnes. Gabriel, dear, this is the Duke and Duchess of Dandridge.”
“Yer Grace,” he said, stretching out a hand toward Ian who struggled to stand.
Thankfully, her husband was gracious and accepted the help.
“Ian was just stung in the apiary when you arrived. Let’s go inside, and I’ll see you both settled and will find some vinegar for those stings.”
Kate and Gabriel followed Ian and Charlotte into Stonehurst as their luggage was carried inside and unloaded.
“We don’t mean to impose,” Kate said in the foyer, eyeing the large vase full of daffodils which Ian not-so-secretly picked for Charlotte earlier that week. “We will only stay the night and be on our way to Scotland.”
