Page 13 of Boxing With My Duke
“Yer secret’s safe with me,” Douglas said, clapping Carlton on the shoulder. “I’ll swap you favors,” he added. “I’ll keep yer secret if ye name yer ring after me. I like yer club and fancy myself being a loyal attendant whenever I’m in Bath. I’d even consider renting one of those apartments of yours. To have the ring named after me would keep up my image, and a ring named after me might provide enough press to keep people talking.”
“The ring in my club? You want it called…The Bull Ring?” It would certainly create a buzz among the ton, as well as the newspapers and scandal sheets. Carlton hadn’t named it anything as of yet. He certainly had no plans to name it after himself. It was just a sparring ring.
Douglas nodded vigorously. “I like that. Aye. Do we have a deal?”
Carlton scrubbed his hands through his hair as he ran through a mental list of what he’d had to go through over the past four days since meeting Lady Catherine Campbell: he’d had to chase after her brother who’d absconded with his ward, he’d battled highwaymen and then had been forced to leave them with a note tacked to a tree for the Magistrate. A note! He hadn’t minded rescuing the pup. But worst of all, he’d spent the past four days in the confines of a carriage, seated across from the most vexing woman he’d ever met, trying to suppress every urge that thundered through his body with every smile of her pouty lips, every glance from those sapphire blue eyes, and every touch of those luscious curves. And now, he’d have to name his sparring ring after Blake “The Bull” Baldwin, Duke of Douglas. Double damn!
Carlton blew out a breath. “You drive a hard bargain, but you have a deal,” he said, reaching out and shaking hands. Before he could say anything else, Catherine appeared by his side, looking lovely and fresh-faced in a pretty red gown that made her eyes look almost purple under the glow of the gas lamps. She must have borrowed the dress from Mrs. Bramble. “I thought you were going to rest, darling?”
“I-I wanted to bid you good night, Your Grace,” she said in a soft voice. Her cheeks pinkened as she glanced at Douglas and then back at him.
“My dear, allow me to introduce you to the Duke of Douglas, an old friend and a member of the Carlton Club.”
“Ah! This is the bonnie lass I’ve heard so much about!” Douglas reached for Catherine’s hand and placed a soft kiss on it. “Congratulations, Yer Grace.”
Catherine’s eyes widened for a moment, and she shot a confused look at Carlton, but she recovered herself and gave an elegant curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”
Carlton felt another flare of jealousy as he watched his friend flirt outrageously with Catherine. And Catherine didn’t seem to mind at all. She was all sweet smiles and giggles. She’d never had that reaction to him, he thought morosely.
“Well, my friend, I must be leaving, but I’ll stop by yer office next week and we can go over the details of our arrangement.” Douglas slapped him on the back once more and gallantly kissed Catherine’s hand again, then strolled out of the inn like a cat that just ate the canary.
Catherine spun to face him, her eyes showing fear. “The Brambles are telling people we are married. Can’t you do something about it?”
“Er—yes. But let us not discuss this in public,” he muttered. “I’ll meet you back in the room.”
Her shoulders sagged. She looked defeated but nodded and gracefully made her way to the stairs, looking as regal and elegant as a queen.
Double damn! He’d had every intention of bribing Bramble to keep his mouth shut, which would not have been difficult given the innkeeper and his wife did not know who Catherine was, but how was he going to deal with Douglas? Yes, the man had integrity, but what would happen when time passed and there was no celebration of the supposed nuptials?
Eventually, word might get out, and Catherine’s reputation would be ruined. She’d already risked a great deal by traveling with him without a chaperone. Carlton didn’t think he could keep a lid on things indefinitely.
Holy Hell! What am I going to do now?
Chapter 6
Carlton made his way back to the room—after requesting the innkeeper and his wife to keep the wedding a secret. He was under no illusion they would stay silent, but he was certain they’d keep quiet until he and Catherine checked out. They wouldn’t risk angering a duke. That should protect her reputation. If it didn’t, he’d marry her. For some strange reason, the notion of being married to Catherine wasn’t as ludicrous as it would have been four days ago.
Entering the room, he realized she was fast asleep in the bed. Those long chestnut locks were spread out on the pillow. Those pouty pink lips were slightly open and curved in a slight smile as she slept. Holy Hell! She is beautiful! So breathtakingly lovely she made him yearn to take her in his arms and kiss her awake. He shook his head at such thoughts. She’s an innocent, for God’s sake. Her reputation had already been put at risk. He would not drag it through the mud.
Turning away, he made a pallet on the floor next to the sleeping pup. Damn, it was as hot as Hades in the room. He always slept naked with a window open, but he couldn’t open the window, or Catherine would likely catch a chill. Carlton didn’t expect to get any sleep, in any case, and would most likely be up before her. He removed his clothing down to his smalls and lay on his back, willing his mind to stop churning.
Encountering Douglas had made everything more complicated. Imagine Douglas asking him to name the boxing ring after him. Yes, he was the best boxer in the club, but it was just the kind of thing Douglas would request. The utter arrogance of the man. But Carlton would concede to keep Catherine’s reputation safe and he unwed.
Welcome to Scotland, indeed…
Welcome to Scotland?
Carlton sat up with a jolt.
Douglas had said those exact words to him as they shook hands. But that couldn’t be… The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Double damn! It was true. This. Is. Scotland. Triple damn! This is a disaster. And it’s all my fault. Thanks to ancient Scottish common law, he and Catherine were married. I’ve got to tell her, but how? Dazed by the revelation, he stood and walked to the bed, unsure of what to do. She’s sleeping so peacefully. No. I won’t wake her and tell her now. It will ruin her sleep. I’ll tell her in the morning.
He lay back down and stared up at the ceiling. Unable to concentrate, he stood and began pacing. He needed to come up with a solution to this fiasco. A soft moan reached his ears. Poor pup. “It’s all right, boy,” he whispered, squatting on his haunches to check on Riggs. That’s odd. The dog was sound asleep. The moan sounded again—this time it was more of a cry—and he realized it was coming from Catherine, not the dog. Thrashing followed a third moan, and he leaped up and ran to the bed. Too late, he realized he was only wearing his smalls. Tears were streaming down Catherine’s cheeks.
“Don’t leave me in here, please,” she cried over and over.
Is she talking about the carriage hiding place? “Catherine, wake up. Wake up, honey. It’s me, Carlton,” he said, sitting next to her on the bed. He shook her gently to wake her. When that failed, he pulled her into his arms and traced her cheekbones and her chin with his fingertip. “Wake up, sweetness.”
Catherine uttered another faint moan as her hands moved to the back of his head and she tugged his face down to hers. His lips to hers.
