The Duke s Perfect Wife by Jennifer Ashley

Author:Jennifer Ashley
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: ePub Bud (www.epubbud.com)
Published: 2013-01-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

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The boat had drifted. Eleanor emerged from the cabin to find that they were floating in the middle of the wide canal.

“Hart,” she called in alarm.

Hart came out, devastatingly handsome in his shirt and kilt, his coat still somewhere below.

A rope stretched through the water between the bow and the bank. When Hart tugged at it, it came loose.

Eleanor put her hands on her hips. “I suppose the great Duke of Kilmorgan couldn’t remember to tie up the boat?”

Hart didn’t look the least bit ashamed. “My mind was on other things.”

Arrogant, sinful, smiling once more. The lonely, terrified man who’d said to her inside the cabin, I’ll never bear it if you go away again, had vanished. Hart Mackenzie had gotten his own way once more.

A lone rider came along the towpath, the man huddled in a greatcoat against the wind and rain. Hart cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “You there! Grab the rope!”

The man looked up, started, and slid off his horse. “Mackenzie? What the blazes are you doing in the middle of the canal?”

“Balls,” Hart said. “It’s Fleming.”

Eleanor peered through the rain and waved. “Please do pull us in, dear Mr. Fleming.”

“Don’t humor him,” Hart growled.

“We need his help, unless you want to float sideways all the way to Hungerford lock. The lockkeeper would laugh at us.”

Fleming moved to the rope and pulled it from the water, then started to reel them in, hand over hand. Hart lifted an oar that had been lashed to the cabin and used it to guide the canal boat back to the bank. The boat bumped gently, the canal water still. Hart tied the oar back in place as Fleming fastened the line to a tree stump.

Fleming had his hands out, helping Eleanor to damp land before Hart could reach her. Fleming looked from her to Hart, his dark brows lowering. “What the devil is this, Mackenzie? If you’ve despoiled her, I’ll shoot you like the mangy dog I know you to be.”

Hart stepped off the boat behind Eleanor and slid his arm around Eleanor’s waist. “Congratulate me, Fleming. Eleanor has just agreed to be my wife.”

Eleanor’s mouth popped open. Not exactly what she’d said. She’d agreed to stay when he’d given her that heartbreaking look and begged her to. In what capacity, they hadn’t yet discussed.

Fleming didn’t believe it either. His hand went to his pocket, drawing out the silver flask he always seemed to have on hand.

Eleanor knew that David realized quite well what they’d been doing on the boat. Eleanor and Hart were out here alone, the boat drifting. Eleanor had dressed with Hart’s help, but her collar was not all the way buttoned, her skirts still crinkled from lying on the floor. Hart was entirely in dishabille. When the wind opened Hart’s shirt, the tiny love bites Eleanor had given him were plain to be seen.

Hart did not bother to pull his shirt closed. “What are you doing in Berkshire, Fleming? You’re supposed to be minding the store in London.

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