Duchess of Mine by Red L. Jameson Read Free Book Online

in a chignon at the nape of her neck, and Rachel would never
hold her wavy dark hair back like that. Still, the hair was very
similar—wavy dark brown tresses mixed with distinguished gray
silver. This woman was much paler than Rachel and held just a few
more wrinkles. But her eyes danced just like Rachel’s as Fleur
returned to walking and drew closer.
    The woman smiled. “My, aren’t ye the bonniest
sight I’ve ever seen.”
    That was almost identical to what Rachel had
said when they’d met the first time at a Cornell faculty mixer.
“My, aren’t you the prettiest nerd I’ve ever seen.” Booze and over
educated people were never a good mix, Fleur had thought, but then
she’d met Rachel, and all she wanted to do was hug her and stay.
And now in this time, an overwhelming need to cling to the woman
before her urged Fleur on.
    She embraced Duncan’s mother and whispered,
“No, you are.”
    The woman laughed, again, almost identical to
Rachel’s chuckle. But she knew this woman was not her friend. Fleur
could feel the difference, this woman was a bit tougher, a bit
harder around the edges, but every bit as maternal and
nurturing.
    Fleur released Duncan’s mother, but they
still clung to each other’s arms. The woman searched Fleur’s eyes,
then her face, smiling with moisture beginning to pool in her
eyes.
    “Ma, this is Lady Fleur Anpao. Lady Anpao
this is my mother, Helen Cameron.”
    Fleur wondered why Duncan had a different
last name, but couldn’t think of a way to ask such a personal
question.
    Helen released her hold of Fleur and placed
tiny fingertips against her lips for a moment. “A lady.”
    Fleur tried to shake her head, but Duncan
whispered in her ear, “Don’t. She’s always wanted to meet a fine
lady like ye.”
    The compliment was enough to humble Fleur
down to her bones. She peeked over her shoulder as Duncan
straightened, his face devoid of any emotion, save one. He looked
just a bit surprised. At the way she’d reacted when meeting his
mother? She was shocked by it too, but she felt such a connection
to Helen, almost as instantaneous and strong as when she’d met
Rachel.
    She extended a hand and Helen reached for it.
While holding hands, they both curtsied and giggled.
    “What brings the lady to my humble home?”
    Although Helen had used the third person,
Fleur understood that she was asking her, not Duncan. As Helen
released her, Fleur said, “I—I wanted to talk to you about
Virginia.”
    “Where my younger boys are.”
    Fleur looked up at Duncan again who gave a
short nod. She nodded too then.
    “Ye’re an American lady, eh? Oh, how grand is
this, Duncan, my lad?”
    “Aye, Ma. ‘Tis grand. May we visit
inside?”
    “Oh, my manners.” Helen curtsied again, while
Fleur reflected on Helen’s beautiful accent and how it had sounded
as though Helen had said, “Och, me mannors.”
    Duncan opened the big black door and placed
his warm fingertips against the small of Fleur’s back, giving her
enough pressure to indicate she was to step through the door while
he held it. But she almost couldn’t walk. Her thighs felt wave
after wave of heat, luscious and carnal, crash through her at that
slight, probably innocent touch. She recovered fast and smiled at
him as she passed. But from her periphery, she saw his eyes turn a
tad glassy. Maybe it wasn’t such an innocent touch?
    The house was floor to ceiling whitewashed
wood and thoroughly clean, smelling slightly of herbs, which Fleur
saw there were bunches hanging from the white beams at the top of
the house. A small, pale blue, lumpy couch sat in front of a huge
fireplace to the right of the abode and rocking chairs of varying
sizes were placed around the couch. To the other side of the
residence stood a long wooden table, also whitewashed with many
chairs alongside it. Seven in all, and they sat so still, so vacant
that Fleur palpably felt the impact of Duncan’s missing brothers,
as if a piece of her heart had been slivered