Without further words he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. As he lowered them both to the sheets, and began to remove her attire, his heart sang with hope. This time he would take his time savoring the fact she was his to protect and love as God saw fit.




EPILOGUE




Monreith House, Scotland three years later

THE FIRE in the grate of the drawing room in Monreith House burned bright as it neared midnight, making the room stifling hot, yet the ice in his gut would not melt. It had been over twenty hours since Flora began to give birth.

He had given up pacing the room hours ago, and now he simply sat staring out the window praying, even the whisky was forgotten.

Angus and Stuart had begged him to leave with them to the local tavern while Flora gave birth, but he could not leave her now. He wasn’t there for Connie and look how that ended. He had this foolish hope that if he stayed everything would be all right.

Earlier when he’d visited her in her bedchamber, Flora too had tried to get him to leave.

“Go with Angus. I will be perfectly fine. Doctor Mallard and the midwife are here, and so are Mary and Tessa. They won’t let anything happen to me.”

“I’m not leaving.”

Mary began pushing Dougray out of Flora’s birthing chamber. “You’ll only get in the way. I promise to come and get you when your son or daughter arrives.”

Tessa sighed and tried to lighten the gravity of the situation. “Men. They make such a fuss.”

Flora smiled then grimaced as a contraction gripped her. Finally she said to her friends, “Dougray has to push his fears aside and be strong for those who need him—myself included.” She spoke quietly to him. “I need you to be strong. I can’t have you falling to pieces now. So please, my love, go. I don’t want to have to worry about you too.”

“I am not falling to pieces, but Christ I feel very entitled to worry about my wife,” he growled. “I do love you.”

Flora laughed and Tessa said, “Society expects men to be impervious to pain, or emotion. Yet, they are only human. I’ve seen your brother on his knees beside my bed begging God to keep me, and the baby, safe. He’s cried in my arms wishing he could birth our babes himself.”

“Right at this moment I wish Dougray could,” Flora hissed through the pain of another contraction. “So, trust me when I say it’s time to leave. Go and be with Angus and Stuart. Drink whisky and think up names for our child.”

So he had done as he was told, but every hour he waited his nausea rose. The uselessness he felt at this moment unmanned him. He hated the lack of control over his destiny and the idea of leaving her safety to fate scared him witless. Fate had never been anything but a bastard to him.

“I don’t know how you two lived through your wives giving birth more than once.”

Stuart cleared his throat and sank into the chair opposite Dougray. “The birth is but a moment in time.” Stuart looked at Connor. The young man was sitting next to his father, his face also showing the strain of the wait. Connor loved Flora as if she were his mother. “Look at the joy Connor has brought to your life. Children are our destiny, our future, and they carry our hopes and dreams. Women instinctively know this. Why else would they go through the pain and danger more than once?”

“Aye, they are far the braver and stronger of the sexes,” Angus added on another gulp of whisky.

Dougray smiled at Connor. “I thank your mother every day in my prayers for giving you to me. She would be so proud of the man you’ve become.”

He beamed at his father and reached out and took his hand. “Flora is the strongest woman I know, father. She will be fine. She loves us too much to leave us.”

“From you mouth to God’s ears,” he replied. “I’d just started to believe that I was safe from the possibility of losing her in childbirth when she fell with child. Both of us had given up. After two years she had accepted she was barren and some of her happiness died. I just don’t want God to punish me because my first thought when she told me she was with child, was one of joy. It made her so happy. How could I deny her this? I selfishly rejoiced in the idea of a child too. To have a child with her… To give her what she wanted most is truly a gift from God after all this time. I keep thinking he will punish me for wanting this when it puts her at risk.”

Just then they heard footsteps coming down the corridor and the four men rose to their feet. You could cut the tension in the air with a highland sword. The door opened and a tired Mary stood there with a huge grin on her face. “Flora wants to know if you’ll come and meet”-

Mary didn’t even get to finish her sentence before Dougray raced from the room his heart thundering in his ears. He took the stairs two at a time. Please let her be all right. He slowed when he got to the door of Flora’s bedchamber. It was quiet inside.

On one last silent prayer he lifted the latch and entered the room. Flora lay propped up on the pillows, her eyes closed but a huge smile was on her lips. She looked pale and exhaustion marred her beautiful face. He began to walk quietly to her bedside but she heard him because her eyelids flickered open.

“Aren’t they beautiful,” and she pointed behind him. He slowly turned and saw Tessa with a sleeping bundle in her arms, and beside her the midwife with another bundle. He did a double take.

“We have twins, my darling. A boy and a girl. No wonder I was the size of a barn. I had two of your babes inside me. The next time, I’m only having one, this was more painful and exhausting than I expected.”

He swung to look at her with his mouth open. “Two babes. I have two more children.” His eyes filled with tears of joy and gratitude. “And you are well?”

Doctor Mallard came forward. “Well done, Your Grace. Your wife is as healthy as one of your thoroughbred racehorses and she did a marvelous job. Being twins, the babes weren’t as big as I was expecting. The birthing went well.”

“I resent being compared to a horse,” his wife scolded. “But I did a marvelous job if I say so myself.”

Then Tessa approached and placed a squirming bundle in his arms. “Meet your bonny son.”

This was the first time he’d held a newborn. Connor had been over one-year-old when he finally found him near York. A local blacksmith, whose wife could not have children, had raised Connor. Dougray helped the husband and wife find another orphan to raise because they had been so upset to lose Connor, and he wanted to thank them for looking after his son so well.

Dougray stared at his newborn son with awe and pride. A son. He had an heir! Never had he let himself dream of this day. He could not believe how tiny the babe was. He tenderly took his son’s little hand in his and the babe gripped his thumb, his tiny fingers barely able to wrap around it. The boy opened his eyes and looked at him. He had Flora’s eyes. A bolt of pure love shot him in the heart.

He looked at his exhausted wife. “I should have learned by now that you are always right, my love. This joy I feel, this love… I am so happy I can barely think. This is worth the fear and angst.”

“Good, so you won’t be such a worry wart when I get with child again. Because seeing these two, I want a dozen more. Just give me another year to recover,” she joked.

“I don’t know about that. But I love you so much I’d do anything to make you happy.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Being with you every day makes me happy.”

He sat down on the bed beside her as the midwife placed his daughter in Flora’s eager arms.

“I hope you didn’t waste your time while I was working hard to bring these two into the world. Tell me the names you have selected.”

Just then there was a knock at the door and Connor’s head poked round the door. As he saw his father and Flora with the babes the concern on his face vanished.

“Come and meet your brother and sister,” Dougray called.

When Connor reached his side he handed the young man his newborn son.

“You’re part of this family,” Flora said. “What do you think we should name them? Your father seems to be tongue tied.”

Connor held the wee baby as if he might crush it. “He’s so tiny.” He looked at Flora. “I can truly suggest his name?” She nodded. Connor thought on it for a while. “He has your fair hair, Flora, but I think he’s going to grow up to be big and strong like me. I think he should be called Finlay.”

Flora smiled. “That is a very apt name for him, it means white warrior.”

Meanwhile Dougray had scooped his daughter into his arms and she settled happily against his chest. “Then we shall name my daughter, Fiona, my white princess.”

Mary, Angus, and Stuart joined them all and the room reverberated with the sounds of happiness.

It wasn’t until Dougray noticed Flora could barely keep her eyes open that he organized the wet nurse and midwife to take the babes and he shooed everyone out of the room.

He clambered onto the bed beside her and gently pulled her into his arms. “Sleep, my beauty. You’ve earned it. I’m so proud of you. You were so brave and determined.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Her eyes fluttered close as sleep beckoned but he heard her soft words. “Thank you for being brave enough to love me. You have given me the dream we talked about all those years ago. I have you by my side, the love of my life, and now I have a baby. My babies. Our babies! Even if I cannot have any more children I am more than content.”

He snuggled down and felt his eyes flutter closed too. He was tired but happy. So happy he thought his heart would burst. But before sleep and dreams of his family consumed him, he thanked God for putting a woman like Flora in this world. A woman who proved that with faith, and a lot of courage, love will truly conquer all.


THE END




ABOUT BRON


USA Today bestselling author, Bronwen Evans grew up loving books. She writes both historical and contemporary sexy romances for the modern woman who likes intelligent, spirited heroines, and compassionate alpha heroes. Evans is a three-time winner of the RomCon Readers’ Crown and has been nominated for a RT Reviewers’ Choice Award. She lives in Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand with her dogs Brandy and Duke.

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DUKE IN SEARCH OF A DUCHESS



SEPTEMBER


JENNIFER ASHLEY






PREFACE


The meticulous Duke of Ashford is dismayed when his children inform him they’ve asked the young widow next door to find Ashford a new wife. Ashford can’t think of a more appalling assistant than Helena Courtland, gossipy busybody he steadfastly avoids. But Helena sweeps into his home and his life before he can stop her, turning Ash’s precisely ordered world into a chaotic whirlwind.




CHAPTER 1




PRECISION. Nothing wrong with it.

Ash allowed his walking stick a single swing as he left St. James’s Palace at exactly seven o’clock in the evening and strode up St. James’s Street in the cool September dusk. He bypassed the temples to backroom politics and ruinous games—White’s, Brooke’s, Boodle’s, et cetera—and continued to Piccadilly, crossing the thoroughfare and along to the green space of Berkeley Square.

He walked not only for the exercise but because he knew precisely how long it would take him to reach his front door. No would-be pickpocket or robber accosted him along the way, because none would dream of waylaying Augustine Ferrand, the Duke of Ashford. Even the underworld of London had heard of Ash, and stayed away.

At half past seven on the dot, he entered his domain, and his valet, Edwards, took his hat, coat, and stick.

A meal waited upstairs in the dining room. Ash consumed it in silence, as usual, reading his evening correspondence and his stack of newspapers. The footmen served fish, soup, meat, and greens with flawless efficiency. The butler poured a red wine for the beginning of the meal and a sweet white for its end. Ash would take brandy later, but only after another order of business.

At twenty-five minutes past eight, Ash pushed back his chair, left his papers and letters for Edwards to carry to the library, and climbed the stairs to the nursery.

A chink opened in Ash’s armor when he entered—after tapping politely—to find his oldest son, Lewis, Marquess of Wilsdon, ten years old, standing in the middle of the room.