Meg smiled and stretched at the thought of more. She had always wanted lots of children, and Jonathan was more than happy to oblige.

Her stomach grumbled and she sat up in bed—on the off chance it might mean she was about to cast up her accounts. Again. But no. It was real hunger.

At that moment, the door opened on the most beautiful sight. Her handsome husband, with a tray of food.

“Ah, she’s awake,” he said and his comment was followed by squeals of delight as Vicca and Lizzie piled into the room and onto the bed.

“My darlings,” she said, giving each of them a kiss, even as Jonathan implored them to be gentle. He sat the tray on the bed and sat down beside her. Where he belonged.

“You finally woke up,” Lizzie said with a sigh.

“I was tired.”

“Why were you tired?” Vicca asked. “Didn’t you and Papa go to bed early?”

Indeed. They had.

“Perhaps she didn’t sleep well,” Jonathan suggested with a grin.

Meg surveyed her tray, which held eggs, toast points, hot chocolate, and a slice of cake. There was also a small bundle of greenery on the side. She reached for a triangle of toast and gave her husband a smile. “Thank you for the flowers,” she said, nodding to the roses.

“Thank you for last night,” he said, picking up the bundle and showing it to her. Where on earth had he found mistletoe this time of year? She laughed as he held it over her head and kissed her on the nose. Didn’t he know he didn’t need that anymore? He could kiss her anytime he wanted.

“What happened last night?” Lizzie asked.

They exchanged a glance.

“Ah, your mama read me a story.”

It was adorable, how he flushed.

“I did indeed. It was a very nice story.”

Jonathan frowned. “Nice? It was a damned sight more than nice.”

“Yes, dear,” she said patting him on the hand, because it had been.

Vicca put out a lip. “I want to hear the story.”

“Me too.” Lizzie pouted.

And, of course, Jonathan laughed. “You’ll have to wait for that,” he said.

“How long?” the twins chorused.

“Oh years, one hopes,” Jonathan said on a chuckle. “Years and years and years.”

She and Jonathan both fell into peals of laughter, but Vicca and Lizzie weren’t amused in the least. But they didn’t mind so much when their father kissed their mother until she was distracted, and they were able to steal her cake.



ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of award-winning hot and humorous romance. Her heroes range from valiant SEALS to sweaty cowboys to hot Highlanders and more. Check out her latest awards for Susana and the Scot including a 2017 RITA nomination and the

2017 National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award Winner.

Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and tiara giveaways.


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ALSO BY SABRINA YORK


HISTORICAL ROMANCE

Noble Passions Series

Dark Fancy, Book 1

Dark Duke, Book 2

Brigand, Book 3

Defiant, Book 4

Folly, Book 5

Untamed Highlanders Series

Hannah and the Highlander, Book 1

Susana and the Scot, Book 2

Lana and the Laird, Book 3

The Highlander is All That, Book 4

What a Highlander’s Got to Do, Book 5

Say Yes to the Scot Anthology

The Dundragon Time Travel Trilogy

Laird of her Heart, Book 1

Her Hot Highlander, Book 2 (Coming Soon)

His Highland Lass, Book 3 (Coming Soon)

Waterloo Heroes

Tarnished Honor, Book 1

Call of the Wild Wind, Book 2

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Check out Sabrina’s SEALs, Cowboys and Steamy Romantic Romps on her bookshelf: Sabrinayork.com/books




DUELING WITH THE DUKE



JANUARY


EILEEN DREYER






PREFACE


When Adam Marrick, Duke of Rothray, shows up on Georgie Grace’s doorstep in rural Dorset, she thinks it is to acquaint himself with his cousin James’s widow and child. Instead the duke brings the news that Georgie’s four-year-old daughter Lilly Charlotte, whom James’s family disowned, has inherited a Scottish duchy. Unfortunately, the news has also brought danger to her door.




CHAPTER 1




SHE HAD a face that was completely forgettable. At least that was the way Jamie had described her. A girl you might overlook if you weren’t careful, which Jamie had said would be a shame. After four years, Adam was finally going to be able to judge for himself.

Just as the thought crossed Adam’s mind, the penguin-shaped little butler who had preceded him across the tidy entry hall threw open a set of doors as if invading Windsor and called out, “His Noble!!...er, no. His Gracious!….no, that’s not right either, is it?” His voice weakened with each progressive attempt, ending in a bare whisper. “His high….?”

Which was when Adam fully appreciated how young this butler was, not even to his majority, Adam suspected. The boy was suddenly red-faced and ducking his head. “Ma’am, excuse me. How do you introduce a duke?”

Adam leaned around the young man to discover a small, tidy young woman in a forest green round gown seated at a Sheraton desk, looking as if she was doing sums in an account book. “What, Tom?” she asked without looking up.

“A duke, ma’am. How do I introduce one?”

Muttering under her breath, she scratched something out and checked another page. She still didn’t look up. “You introduce them as His Grace the Duke of Whatever, Tom.”

The boy bowed. “Thank you, ma’am.” Clearing his throat, he straightened so fast it looked like he might crack. Adam fought back a smile. “His Grace, the Duke of Rothray!” the boy all but wailed, his voice breaking right in the middle, which provoked yet another blush.

The noise finally brought the young woman’s head up with a snap. She caught sight of Adam leaning on his cane just beyond her butler, and she gaped. “Good heavens.”

Adam smiled and bowed. “Lady Georgiana, I presume?”

She jumped to her feet and smoothed her skirt, which unfortunately left a smear of ink down the front. She never noticed. She was busy pulling off her spectacles and hiding them behind her skirt, as if it would make them disappear. Adam was finding it harder to maintain his ducal poise. She was blinking at him like a bunny.

“Mrs. Grace, ” she corrected, finally bobbing a curtsy. “Your Grace. Won’t you come in?”

He didn’t want to say the obvious, that he already was in. “Thank you.”

“Er….” she brushed at her chestnut hair, which seemed to be in want of some pins. “Tea? Yes. Tea. Tom, pop off and let Mrs. Cranston know, won’t you?”

The boy bounced a quick bow and left at a clattering run.

“A bit young for a butler, isn’t he?” Adam couldn’t help but ask once the boy had disappeared down the corridor.

“He is. Please accept my apologies for the, er, introduction.” She gave an ineffectual wave after the boy. “The actual butler is up in London with my brother right now, and I thought, well, Tom so wants to be a butler, that I might give him a chance for a bit while things were quiet. We have a program to teach young people from the workhouse, and, well, I never expected the poor boy would have to introduce a duke.”

Adam gave her his best smile. “A laudable act.”

She nodded a time or two, still just standing there, as if she’d never had a duke in her parlor before. Well, Adam thought, she might not have. Still. Her father was a marquess.

He might have to rethink his plan if this visit didn’t improve.

It was almost as if she’d heard him. “Oh!” she said, waving toward the sunflower-colored settee. “I’ve left you standing far too long. Please. Have a seat.”

It was all he could do to keep a straight face. He limped across the small salon, quickly taking it in as he passed. Small, square and cozy, it contained two settees and a few scattered chairs grouped around a fireplace. Considering its dominant color, the room was undoubtedly called either the Yellow Salon or the Lemon Square. At least it was warm, with a bright fire crackling in an Adams fireplace to push out the bitter January cold.

It was a pretty room, situated on the east side of the tidy Queen Anne manor to pick up the warm morning light. He couldn’t, however, call it comfortable. The settee he eased down onto was stiff with the kind of spindly legs that made him worry he would presently be seated on the floor. Mrs. Grace—he couldn’t help thinking of her as Georgie--settled herself on a matching yellow brocade chair.

Jamie had been correct. If Adam had simply seen Jamie’s wife sitting at a desk, he would have walked right by. It was when she moved that she began to make an impression. She had a compelling grace, especially for a small woman. He would have expected her to, well, bounce like a small bird on a fence. She glided as if books rested on her head.

Of course, he thought almost smiling. A marquess’s daughter. She had undoubtedly balanced a goodly number of books on her head.

“How can I help you, Your Grace?” she asked,setting the glasses down on a table and arranging her skirts. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

Adam was becoming even more enchanted. She sat in a shaft of sunlight that wove yellows and reds into what had appeared to be dun brown hair. It also did not escape his attention that she had large, sparkling green eyes that seemed indescribably soft.