Page 31 of The Scottish Duke Tames the Bluestocking
Hugh was silent for a long moment, his eyes searching her face as though trying to read the secrets of her soul. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and took her hand in his, his calloused palm warm and steady against her trembling fingers.
Harriet stared down at their joined hands, her breath catching in her throat at the unexpected intimacy of the gesture. She had not thought Hugh the type for such tender displays, and had assumed he would maintain a polite distance even as they played the part of a devoted couple.
But here he was, offering her comfort and support in a moment of vulnerability, and she found herself strangely moved by the simple act of kindness.
They sat like that for a long while, the silence stretching between them like a living thing. At last, Hugh cleared his throat, his thumb stroking absently over the back of her hand.
“Did I ever tell ye about the time Abigail ran off in the park when she was just a wee thing?” he asked, his voice low and rumbling in the quiet alcove.
Harriet shook her head, a flicker of curiosity kindling in her heart despite her inner turmoil.
Hugh's lips quirked in a wry smile, his eyes distant with memory. “She was nay more than five years old, a tiny slip of a lass with more energy than sense. We were out for a stroll on a fine summer's day, and I turned me back for nay more than a moment to admire a particularly fetchin' lass passing by.”
Harriet felt a startled laugh bubble up in her throat at the unexpected confession, and Hugh shot her a mischievous grin.
“What can I say? I was a young buck, easily distracted by a pretty face. But when I turned back around, Abigail was nowhere to be seen. I near had a heart attack, thinking she'd been snatched by some nefarious villain.”
He shook his head, his expression turning rueful. “I tore through that park like a madman, shouting her name until I was hoarse. And where do you think I found the little imp?”
Harriet leaned forward, drawn in despite herself. “Where?”
Hugh's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Up a tree, bold as brass, grinnin' down at me like a cat with a plate full of cream. She'd decided she wanted a better view of the ducks in the pond, ye see, and had shimmied up the trunk like a little monkey.”
Harriet gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Oh, Hugh! The poor matrons passing by must have been scandalized!”
He chuckled, his shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth. “Aye, they were all aflutter, clucking like a bunch of disapprovin' hens. But I dinnae give a fig for their delicate sensibilities. I marched right up to that tree and climbed up after her, determined to coax her down before she broke her fool neck.”
Harriet shook her head, a genuine smile tugging at her lips. “And did you succeed?”
Hugh’s expression softened, a faraway look entering his eyes. “Eventually. It took a bit of cajolin' and a promise of extra dessert that night, but I managed to convince her that the view was just as good from the ground. She came down willingly enough after that, though not without a bit of grumbling about bossy big brothers.”
Harriet laughed outright at that, the sound bright and genuine in the hushed alcove. “She sounds like quite the handful, your Abigail.”
Hugh nodded, his smile turning wistful. “Aye, that she is. A proper menace, always gettin' into scrapes and givin' me gray hairs before my time. But she's also the best thing in my life, the one pure and good thing I will protect with all my heart.”
He turned to face Harriet fully, his expression serious once more. “I'd do anythin' for her, Harriet. Anythin' to keep her safe and happy and whole. She's all I have left in this world, and I'll be damned if I let any harm come to her.”
Harriet's heart clenched at the raw emotion in his voice, the fierce protectiveness that radiated from every line of his body. At that moment, she saw a different side of Hugh Wilkinson, a glimpse behind the mask of the gruff, unyielding Scot he presented to the world.
Here was a man who loved deeply and completely, who would move heaven and earth for those he held dear. And though she knew it was dangerous, knew she should guard her heart against such weakness, Harriet could not help but be moved by the depth of his devotion.
They lapsed into a companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts as the muffled strains of the orchestra filtered through the walls. At last, Hugh spoke again, his voice gentle and coaxing.
“Me lady... Harriet...I know this whole situation is nae ideal. I know ye have yer doubts and reservations about marryin' me, about tyin' yerself to a man ye scarcely know. And I want ye to know that I understand, that I daenae blame ye for yer hesitation.”
He squeezed her hand, his thumb resuming its soothing caress over her knuckles. “But I also want ye to know that ye have nay reason to be so anxious, so afraid of what the future might hold. If, when the time comes, ye decide that ye cannae go through with this, that marryin' me is nae what ye truly want... I will find a way to release ye from the obligation, to weather the scandal on me own.”
He flashed her a smile. “And I know that yer brother is adamant on this union - I will make it clear to him that ye have been the perfect lady and that the fault lies only with me.”
Harriet's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat at the quiet sincerity in his words. “Hugh, I... I couldn't ask you to do that. To sacrifice your own reputation, your own future, for the sake of my selfish desires.”
“Ah, my reputation.”
Hugh laughed and shook his head. “When I was a wee lad, we moved here from the rollin' hills of Scotland - it was a shock to me system. I never wanted to move, I was more than happy with me life back home. So was me maither and I think me faither too... but there was nothin' we could do. He inherited the dukedom and with it... a responsibility to the duchy.”
Harriet frowned, uncertain of what it was that he wanted to tell her with this story.
Hugh flashed her an understanding smile before continuing. “Me faither chose family and when he passed... so did I. A part of me wanted to throw the titles into the wind and go back home. We were never really accepted here - many a noble made it quite clear, in fact, that we were unwanted if anythin’. We were foreigners and it was clear that we would never belong.”
