Twelve Kisses to Midnight: A Novella (The Oxenburg Princes)
Her grace leaned close to the footman who stood at attention by the door. “This is a good beginning.”
He stared straight ahead, although a small smile curved his mouth.
Marcus ignored them. “Kenna, these last few days reminded me of all the reasons I used to love you.”
Used to. Her heart sank.
“I was too prideful, and too immature to fight for you then.” He took her hand between his. “But I’m older now, and far, far more intelligent.”
The duchess cackled. “Men need to age, like good wine. I know this.”
Marcus sent her a hard look. “Your grace, if you dinna mind?”
“What? Oh. Of course. Continue.” She waved her hand as if conferring a great honor on him.
Marcus turned back to Kenna. “I came to tell you one thing and one thing only; I dinna need two days. I need only one second to tell you how much I love you and that I will never, ever let you go again.”
“You . . . love me.”
“I never stopped loving you, lass. I was just too proud and too foolish to admit it. You called me pigheaded earlier and you were nae wrong.” His hands tightened over hers. “I’m still pigheaded, but I’m smart enough to know it, and auld enough to keep it from ruining us both. Will you have me, Kenna? Will you give me—us—one more chance?”
She sniffed as tears threatened. “I can’t promise it will be easy.”
“I know; we’re strong people, the two of us. There will be many arguments.” His expression softened as he lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, one by one. “But just as much lovemaking, passionate and fulfilling.”
“We will have to talk through our problems, work with each other, trust one another—”
“Good God!” the duchess said. “Are you trying to talk him into it, or out of it?”
Marcus pressed Kenna’s hand to his cheek, his eyes dark and serious. “Arguments, difficult times, interference from your father or the world in general—none of it will matter. If I have a question, I’ll come to you. If I need an opinion, I’ll come to you. If I need a woman’s touch or a friend to listen, I will come to you. Because you are my soul, my heartbeat, my breath. And withoot you, there is nae reason to live.”
The tears now rolled freely down Kenna’s cheeks.
Behind her, Tata Natasha told the footman, “Face the coach.”
There was a rustle as he did so.
“Rothesay,” she called, “you may kiss the chit if you wish. The servants will not be watching.”
Marcus tugged Kenna closer, smiling into her eyes. “Thank you, your grace.”
“It is my pleasure. Now, kiss this woman and put her out of her misery. Lord knows she’s waited long enough. And I’m too old to stay out in the cold much longer—”
Marcus swept Kenna into his arms and kissed her deeply and passionately, as if they were indeed alone. And Kenna, unable to hold back her love any longer, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
“That’s a good kiss,” her grace said approvingly, many long moments later. “Footman, fetch vodka and glasses. We’ve a toast to make.”
Kenna laughed against Marcus’s mouth, and he pulled away to smile at her, love in his eyes. “We’ve an elopement to plan.”
“Oh no,” Kenna said. “There will be no elopement. I’ve dreamed about walking down the aisle to you for far too long.”
“Fine. A wedding, then. But a small one.”
“A large one.” She traced his bottom lip with one finger. “And I want flowers. Lots of them.”
He captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, sighing as he did so. “A large wedding with flowers it will be. And then we’ll go to my home and—”
“After our honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon?”
“To Italy. For a month, at least. And then we will go to your home.”
He chuckled softly. “If we must have all of this, then I will insist that the wedding be soon.”
“But of course, my love.” She rested her forehead to his and grinned widely. “You may have whatever you want.”
He laughed and knew that with her, even when he lost, he won. As long as he had her by his side, the world was his for the taking. With a grin, he swept her into his arms and, with her arms snugly about his neck, carried her to the waiting coach.
Keep reading for a peek at the third book in the sizzling Oxenburg Princes series!
Mad for the Plaid
Available now from Pocket Books!
Prologue
To: His Royal Highness
Prince Nikolai Romanovin of Oxenburg
Holyroodhouse
Edinburgh
Sir,
As you will recall, two weeks ago you escorted your grandmother, the Grand Duchess Natasha Nikolaevna, to Castle Leod, where she is visiting my grandmother, the Dowager Countess Cromartie. I’m sorry we did not get to meet, but that is not surprising, as I was informed that you stayed less than ten minutes.
Soon after you left, your grandmother discovered her black leather travel case was not with her trunks. She assures me it is quite important and that she must have it with all possible haste, and thus requests that you send it at your earliest convenience.
Yours sincerely,
Lady Ailsa Mackenzie
Castle Leod
September 12, 1821
* * *
To: Lady Ailsa Mackenzie
Castle Leod
Lady Ailsa,
Pray inform my grandmother that the “case” to which she is referring is actually a very large and heavy trunk and it would take well over two weeks to ship it, by which time her visit will be over. She can do without it.
HRH Nikolai
Holyroodhouse
Edinburgh
September 19, 1821
* * *
To: His Royal Highness
Prince Nikolai Romanovin of Oxenburg
Holyroodhouse
Edinburgh
Sir,
Once again, I am writing on behalf of your grandmother, the Grand Duchess Natasha Nikolaevna. Her Grace requests (again) that you send her black leather case which contains her lotions as soon as possible (again), for she has great need of it (still). As she has decided to stay another month and perhaps longer, there is now plenty of time to have it delivered. I look forward to seeing it soon.
Yours sincerely,
Lady Ailsa Mackenzie
Castle Leod
September 21, 1821
* * *
To: Lady Ailsa Mackenzie
Castle Leod
Lady Ailsa,
I was not aware Her Grace was staying another month and (hopefully) longer. I cannot tell you how happy I am to learn this. Expect that blasted case in the next week or so.
HRH Nikolai
Holyroodhouse
Edinburgh
September 27, 1821
* * *
To: His Royal Highness
Prince Nikolai Romanovin of Oxenburg
Holyroodhouse
Edinburgh
Sir,
I regret to inform you that Her Grace’s dressing case still has not arrived and your grandmother the Grand Duchess Nikolaevna strongly requests that you send it immediately. She wishes me to point out that it has been one week and four days since your letter was posted. (As an aside, I did point out that your use of “next week or so” was obviously a generalization and the case would most likely show up before this letter arrives on your desk, but she will have none of it.)
What information should I convey to Her Grace regarding her case?
Yours sincerely,
Lady Ailsa Mackenzie
Castle Leod
October 8, 1821
* * *
To: Lady Ailsa Mackenzie
Castle Leod
Lady Ailsa,
When my men fetched the trunk last week from Her Grace’s bedchamber to ship it to Castle Leod, we discovered something dripping out of one corner. Upon op
ening the trunk, my men and I were met with a smell I cannot describe, even though it still lingers throughout the house like a deadly mist.
The trunk is not a “dressing case” of lotions, but is filled with my grandmother’s potions. It is amusing what one letter can do to a word, is it not? Sadly, some of her potion bottles were broken when the trunk was last moved. I can only imagine her “eye of newt” (or whatever it is she uses) caused that deadly odor and hope that none of us are overcome by it, or—as is more likely—turned into some sort of goat or toad.
Before I can send the trunk, it must be cleaned, aired, and left to dry. As soon as that has been done, I will have it repacked and sent on its way by private courier.
Meanwhile, pray tell my grandmother that the “case” should be there forthwith. (Note: You cannot measure “forthwith.” I trust this will end this unnecessary correspondence.)
HRH N
Holyroodhouse
Edinburgh
October 14, 1821
Chapter 1
Castle Leod
The Small Study
October 21, 1821
Lady Ailsa Mackenzie rested her elbows on the glossy surface of her mahogany desk and pressed her fingers to her temples. “What do you mean, she’s ‘gone missing’?”
Ailsa’s grandmother, Lady Edana MacGregor Mackenzie, the Dowager Countess Cromartie, fluttered her lace handkerchief gracefully and repeated, “The duchess is missing. She is not in the house.” Dressed in black, a color Lady Edana had assumed on the death of her husband the late earl more than ten years earlier, she made an impressive figure. Tall and willowy, with carefully coiffed golden-dyed hair that echoed the true color that had faded years ago, Edana hadn’t allowed age to rob her of the famed MacGregor beauty. “Ailsa, I am deeply concerned. Poor Natasha does not know the dangers of our Highland countryside.”
Lady Ailsa wished her grandmother would expend less effort on her hair and more on her ability to communicate what seemed to be vital information. Of course, clarity was not Lady Edana’s strong suit. Though it was confusing to visitors, the older woman disliked being called “grandmother” or any form thereof, and would only answer to her given name. “Why do you think Her Grace is missing and nae merely off on a visit?”
“It’s ‘not,’ dear—not ‘nae.’ ” Edana sighed heavily. “I do wish your father had sent you to a proper boarding school, the way he did your sisters.”
“My father had five daughters, one verrah expensive son, and my cousin Gregor to see after. Papa could nae afford boarding school for all of us, especially after purchasing a set of colors for Duclan. Those are not cheap.”
“I suppose so. But how does he expect you to find a suitable match when you are lacking in graces and locked away here in the highlands?”
Ailsa’s lips twitched. “My home is here, at Castle Leod, and I’m content. There’s nae more to be said.”
Lady Edana’s face folded with disappointment. “Well, I think he should have done more for you.”
Poor Papa. In addition to paying for their educations and then providing dowries for his many daughters, as well as purchasing a set of colors for his horse-mad son, Papa also paid the way for his nephew Gregor, who’d been left in his car, and his own mother. On the best of days, Edana was an expensive guest. And Gregor was not much better.
Ailsa glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Are you sure Her Grace is nae just sleeping? I’ve ne’er seen her before noon any day since she arrived.”
“Yes, I’m positive. We were to meet for breakfast almost an hour ago.” Edana dabbed her kerchief at her dry eyes. “I am so worried!”
“But you waited an hour to say something?”
“Well, I had to eat, of course, for I was famished. Besides, I thought the housekeeper would find Natasha somewhere”—Edana wafted her handkerchief—“sunning herself, or something.”
“Sunning herself? In this weather?” Ailsa nodded to the window, which framed the snow-covered lawn.
“That was a poor choice of words. It’s obvious Her Grace doesn’t tend to herself at all, but allows Nature to have her way.” Edana wrinkled her nose. “It’s sad, really, for she could be a lovely woman.”
“Yes, well, besides your dislike of Her Grace’s resistance to the use of artifice, pray explain why you are concerned.”
“I wasn’t concerned at first, but when Mrs. Attnee came back from her search and said Natasha couldn’t be found anywhere, then I became worried. We were to have breakfast at ten and then ride to town to visit the seamstress, for last night we both realized we needed new shawls.”
“I take it that means the two of you were speaking again,” Ailsa said politely.
“La, child, of course we were speaking!” Edana frowned, though she instantly ceased, for fear of deepening the lines between her eyes. “I admit we’ve had a few disagreements during her visit, but that is to be expected—it’s been ages since we were last together. And I must admit that she’s changed dreadfully; it was sad seeing her climb down from that carriage. She must have aged forty years in the time we were apart.”
As it had been almost forty years since they’d last seen one another, Ailsa didn’t find this difficult to believe. “How did you ascertain that Her Grace was missing and nae merely busy somewhere else? Perhaps she went for a drive?”
“I sent the butler to make inquiries. MacGill reported that all of the coaches and horses are accounted for.” Edana sighed impatiently. “Ailsa, she is missing. We must send out a search party.”
“In what direction? And looking for what? A woman walking in the snow? If she’s traveling by foot, the weather will turn her back quickly enough.”
“Of course she’s not walking! She’s a duchess, for the love of heaven. But she—” Lady Edana caught Ailsa’s surprised gaze and quickly looked away. “I suppose she could be walking, but I can’t imagine it. As you say, the weather is unappealing.”
Ailsa leaned back in her chair. “There’s something you’re nae telling me.”
As Lady Edana adjusted her shawl, Ailsa detected the faintest hit of a flush under her grandmother’s face paint. “Nonsense. There’s nothing more to tell. Nothing at all.”
“If there’s nae more to tell, then there’s nae more to do, either.” Ailsa pulled the stack of waiting correspondence over. “The Grand Duchess Nikolaevna is neither a button that has been misplaced nor a puppy that has wandered off. Wherever she is, she got there under her own power and she is where she wants to be.”
“Ailsa, please! I beg you! Natasha must be found. She’s a grand duchess, and you can’t go losing a grand duchess. Think of the scandal! Her family will be beside themselves.”
“That, I doubt. I’ve been in contact with her grandson over that ridiculous black case Her Grace kept mentioning, and from his tone, he’s none too anxious to have her back. Having had her as a guest, I can understand his reluctance.”
“Couldn’t we set the dogs on her trail or something?”
“If she took a walk, there would be footprints in the snow. I assumed MacGill already looked, when he sent someone to the stable to count the horses and carriages.”
Edana sighed. “So he said.”
“Then there’s naught to do. She will return when she’s of a mind to. Meanwhile, I’ve much to do. Father left me in charge of the estate while he’s in London for the next four months, and since Mr. MacCutcheon broke his leg hunting, I’ve more to do now than I’ve time in the day.”
“MacCutcheon is a wretched estate manager. I don’t know how many times I’ve told Dougal to fire the man, and now look at how he has left you.”
“I hardly think that breaking one’s leg counts as dereliction of duty.” Ailsa picked up a letter opener. “If you will excuse me, I have at least ten letters than must be written today, a list of repairs to make, and—”
“Fine! I’ll tell you what’s happened, but do not blame me if something ill has occurred to poor Natasha while you’ve been lollygagging about
with estate nonsense!”
“ ‘Estate nonsense’ is what puts a roof over our head and food oopon our table,” Ailsa said tartly. “So tell me: what happened to Her Grace?”
“This is a dire situation.” Lady Edana knotted her handkerchief. “Natasha is so impetuous. I told her how it would end, but she would not listen.”
“Edana, please, can you just tell me what you know?”
“I was doing just that. But oh, it’s such a long story! Do you remember the first night Her Grace was here, and how she flirted so shamelessly with Lord Lyon, who did not look at all comfortable with her attention?”
Ailsa swallowed a sigh. “I vaguely remember that, aye.”
“It’s ‘yes,’ dear—not ‘aye.’ Natasha was shameless! And my dear Daffyd—I mean, Lord Hamilton—noticed her affections were not returned. It was quite pathetic and just got worse as the weeks wore on, and then, of course, poor Natasha grew quite ill-tempered about the whole thing.”
“I noticed that. We all noticed that.”
“Yes, well, eventually, Hamilton took pity upon her and at my direction, plied her with attention. I thought to ease her spirits, but had I known then what I know now, I would never have been so charitable.”
“Hamilton pitied Her Grace? I’ve seen them together quite a bit these last few weeks, and he never looked in the least as if he pitied her. In fact, they seem quite happy; he is forever laughing at what she says.”
“She is laughable. All dressed in black and— Well, I don’t mean to criticize, but she looks a bit like an old crow.”
Ailsa politely refrained from pointing out that Edana was similarly dressed, having decided to maintain her widow’s weeds after an admirer told her that black made her golden beauty seem ethereal. “Edana, you must admit, despite being difficult, Her Grace is an amusing woman.”
“She can be, I suppose. If one likes that sort of humor.”
“Apparently Lord Hamilton does. He sat by her at dinner last night, dinnae he?” Ailsa squinted at the ceiling, trying to remember all of the places she’d seen Lord Hamilton with Her Grace. “And at the picnic, and at the musicale, and at the—”
“Yes, yes.” Edana’s lips thinned. “He went a bit beyond my request, but that’s because he knew it would give me some relief from her moods. He is a kind man, and while I wish I could return his affections, I simply cannot, and so I’ve told him again and again and—”