A LADY FOR A DUKE

"I will not be made to do anything I don't want to do!" Cedric Blackwood yelled, as he paced the room in an agitated manner, before stopping in front of his Aunt, who sat calmly on the couch, her countenance the very opposite of his. "This emotional blackmail will not work on me,"

"No one is blackmailing you emotionally," Diana Mortimer told her nephew, but he didn't seem to hear her.

"That's exactly what this is," continued Cedric, "Just another way for my father to piss me off. Even in his grave, he finds a way to torture me!"

"Torture? It is your birthright, Cedric!" said Diana, raising her voice for the first time since they started the conversation, "It is your duty. You were born to be the Duke of Springbrook, and -"

"No!" Cedric interrupted, turning away from her, "It was what my brother, Vincent was born to be, at least according to our father. It was his duty. Just because he's no longer here, doesn't mean I have to be in charge of his responsibility, and why should I? Our father refused to acknowledge me as his son. He abandoned me, Aunt Diana... He abandoned your sister, and the only reason he started to reach out to me was because he lost Vincent, his trophy son, whom he had named his heir instead of me. He only wanted me to be Duke because he didn't have any other son and he was worried that the title would pass on to another family."

Slowly he turned back to face her, the pain and anger he was feeling made his eyes darker than their usual brown color, "You were there. You saw how hurt mother was...You know what his actions and his negligence turned her into, then why are you taking his side now?"

Diana stood up, so she was now standing in front of him. Calmly, she said, "I will never be on anyone's side but yours, Cedric, but you are your father's first son, and the fact that he and your mother divorced doesn't change that. If he had done what he was supposed to do, then you would have been made heir a long time ago. Now, I know that he might not have named you heir for the right reasons, but It doesn't mean that he was wrong. You and I know that no one is more fit to be Duke than you. You deserve the inheritance....,"

"I don't need it," Cedric cut in.

"I know that," Diana continued, "But it doesn't make it less true," she held his face in her palm so he wouldn't look away, "Take what is yours, son, and be the man... The Duke... Your father never was,"

Cedric was silent for a while, and although he still didn't completely agree with his Aunt, he had to admit that she was kinda right, "I will think about it, Aunt Diana," he said finally.

His Aunt smiled in relief, and Cedric wondered if he truly was ready for the responsibility of being the Duke of Springbrook.... If he decided to accept the inheritance. At first, he'd been furious when his father named his younger brother, Vincent heir over him, but then he'd been relieved. He could do whatever he wanted. Live however he wanted, and not worry about the responsibility of becoming the Duke of Springbrook one day, But now...Vincent was dead, and so was his father and so once again, the responsibility was his.

Was he up to it? Cedric had no idea, but first, he had to visit Haerton Castle... The castle that would soon be his home.... Or at least one of them.

___________

Anna Remington knew that what she was doing was wrong. She knew that she was trespassing, and she definitely was not supposed to be staring at the man coming boldly out of the lake he'd been swimming in only moments before, as if he didn't much care if there was anyone around to see him or not.

Of course, given the fact that the lake was on the Haerton estate's grounds and therefore private property, he probably wouldn't expect there to be someone lurking in the undergrowth at the lake's edge watching him. Then again, this was private property and, even though Haerton had been vacant for the past few months following the old owner's death, it was clear that he was trespassing.

Not that it made her invasion of his privacy any less egregious, and not that she was technically any less a trespasser than he was, but still. She lived next door to the estate and had been walking the grounds for years, had played in the woods nearby as a child, had loved the overgrown, rambling nature of the estate ever since she could remember, and, even though it wasn't actually her property, she viewed it as such.

She'd certainly never expected to come across someone swimming in the lake when she'd set out blackberry picking this morning, still less swimming naked. She should really do the right thing and move on. Visit the groundskeeper and tell him that there was a stranger in the lake. She really shouldn't be standing here peering through the trees like some pervert in an anorak.

Yet she didn't move.

Something held her rooted to the spot. Because the water was cascading over his naked body as he stepped from the lake, the late morning summer sun gilding his already golden skin, making an art form of every chiseled muscle. He was tall, with broad shoulders and lean hips. Long, powerfully muscled legs. His chest and stomach looked as if they'd been carved from marble as an example of the perfect masculine form, all hard planes and perfect hollows. His hair was black, slick as a seal's, and as he walked slowly out of the water he lifted his hands and pushed it back from his forehead, biceps flexing with the movement.

Oh, wow... Anna's mouth went dry, an inexplicable heat creeping through her, making her cheeks burn. This was very wrong. It wasn't the kind of thing she did at all. Maybe once, back when she'd been a teenager and much more prone to the vagaries of curiosity and her own wild passions, she wouldn't have thought twice about it, but certainly not now. She was twenty-five, for God's sake, and she'd put those days behind her.

Yet somehow her feet wouldn't move, and she found she was clutching on to her basket full of blackberries, her fingers itching with the unfamiliar need to touch him, to trace the lines of all those intriguing muscles just to make sure he was real, because surely someone that beautiful couldn't be. She'd certainly never seen a man like this one, still less met anyone who looked the way he did, not in the cafe where she worked in the village, or indeed anywhere in the village, full stop.

She watched as he bent over the small pile of clothes lying on the gravelly beach. He picked up a dark blue T-shirt then, as he straightened, Anna's heart beat even faster as he began to towel himself roughly off.

She should definitely not be looking at him, she reminded herself again. What she should be doing was getting back to the cottage she lived in with her father, because she didn't like to leave him for too long. He'd had a stroke nine years ago that had left him extremely physically limited and very much dependent on her. Which he hated. But there was nothing either of them could do about that since there was no one else to look after him. She was his sole caregiver and it was a duty she took extremely seriously.

So she needed to stop staring and move on.

"You know, it's very rude to stare," the man said suddenly, casually.

Anna froze. He couldn't be talking to her, surely? She was hidden by the bushes and there was no way he could have spotted her. He hadn't even looked in her direction.

Perhaps he was talking to someone else. Someone she hadn't seen. Or maybe he was talking on his phone. But no, that was stupid. He'd just come out of the lake and, given his current level of nakedness, it was very obvious he wasn't carrying a phone.

"It was your hair, by the way," he went on, unhurriedly bending once again to the small pile of clothes and picking up a pair of plain black boxer shorts. "If you were wondering what gave you away. It's very bright. I would suggest covering it with a scarf or hat next time you want to hide in the bushes and spy on someone."

Oh, dear. He was talking to her. A tide of intense embarrassment washed over her, heating her entire body in a way she hadn't felt for years. It made her feel as if she were a kid again, helpless shame filling her as her father spoke to her in that cold, quiet voice. The voice he only used when she'd done something wrong.

You have done something wrong. You intruded on this man's privacy.

A quick, bright anger at herself flickered inside her, and she caught her breath at the unexpected heat of it. But no. She wasn't going to get angry. That wouldn't help. Her emotions were dangerous things and she needed to keep her distance from them. What she had to do now was own up to her indiscretion, give him an apology, then promise that it would never happen again.

Anna took a silent breath, forcing down the hot tangle of unwanted emotion that sat in her gut, then stepped out from behind the bush.

The man straightened, still naked, T-shirt in one hand, his underwear in the other. He didn't seem at all embarrassed or self-conscious. Then again, he had nothing to be self-conscious or embarrassed about. He was quite simply the most magnificent thing Anna had ever seen in her entire life. His eyes were dark brown and the instant his gaze met hers she felt an almost physical impact, like a short, sharp electric shock. All the air left her lungs and her mind went utterly blank.

Then he smiled and she forgot where she was. She forgot who she was. Because that smile was warm and wicked and sensual all at the same time, and it made her feel hot and oddly feverish, though she had no idea why. She had no idea why a simple smile could do all those things to her.

He's dangerous.

The thought came out of nowhere, instinctive, though it didn't make any sense. Because he wasn't being threatening and she wasn't getting any strange vibes off him. He was simply standing there, smiling at her.

"Would you like to keep on looking?" he asked her, amusement glittered in his deep brown eyes. "Or shall I dress?"

Anna struggled to get her brain working, her thought processes sluggish, as if they were mired in melted toffee. "I apologize," she said in a scratchy voice. "I heard the sounds of splashing and came to see what was happening." Then, because, after all, he shouldn't be here, she added, "You are aware that this is private property, right?"

The amusement in the man's eyes seemed to deepen. "Oh, yes, I'm aware. That is the whole point of trespassing, isn't it?"

So...this was deliberate? That didn't make any sense. Why would he deliberately break the law? Wasn't he worried that she would report him? But he didn't look worried. He didn't look worried about anything at all, which didn't seem fair. Especially when she felt as if she'd been struck by lightning. She drew herself up to her not inconsiderable height, aware in that same moment that he was very much taller than she was, which didn't help her irritation. It didn't help either that he made not the slightest effort to cover himself or even dress.

"Well," she said coolly, "I suggest that you stop trespassing, get dressed, and leave the property. The groundskeeper here isn't very welcoming and he might decide to call the police."

"Noted," the man said, dry as dust. "Are you the owner perhaps?"

"No. I'm the neighbor. I have permission." Which was true. Her father and the previous owner of Haerton-the late Duke of Springbrook-used to be friends before the Duke had become a recluse, and they'd had an understanding about Anna's childhood rambles. It had suited her father to have her out of the house, because he found her a disruption.

"I see." The man tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with an oddly wicked light. "So have you finished looking?"

Anna's blush returned, though she ignored it as fixedly as she'd ignored it the first time. If he could be perfectly calm about this, then so could she.

"Yes, I believe so." She threw him a disapproving look. "There's not much to look at after all." She expected him to be annoyed or even a little chagrined. He was not.

Instead, he laughed, and the sound hit her like a shock, wrapping around her, deep and dark as melted chocolate. And all she could think was that she'd never heard anyone laugh like that. In fact, it had been a long time since she'd heard anyone laugh at all.

"Far be it from me to disagree," he said, "but the blush in your cheeks would seem to indicate otherwise."

Oh, yes, he's very dangerous.

That laugh of his was still resounding through her entire body, like she was a tuning fork he'd just struck, and she couldn't understand why. She couldn't understand her response to him at all. She only knew that some instinct inside her was urging her to get away from him and as quickly as possible.

However, Anna had given up listening to her instincts, because they were always wrong. And besides, running away would be to acknowledge that this man had got to her in some way, and she could never allow that.

"The blush in my cheeks has more to do with being suddenly accosted by a naked stranger than anything else," she said. "You could put on your shorts, you know."

He raised one straight dark brow. "You could also turn around."

Anna ignored the burning in her cheeks. "It's a bit late for that now, isn't it?"

"Indeed." The glitter of amusement in his eyes changed, shifting into something else, something more intense. "In that case you won't mind if I take my time about it." He tilted his head again and, though his gaze didn't move from her face, she felt as if he'd scanned every inch of her body. "Feel free to resume blackberry picking. Or you could stay and watch me dress. Either isn't a problem for me."

She opened her mouth to tell him that she certainly wouldn't be staying, but he didn't wait for her to respond, instead turning and going over to where a pair of black running shorts and expensive-looking running shoes sat. Then he began to dress in an unhurried fashion. His movements had an athletic grace to them that held her oddly mesmerized and she realized after a couple of moments that, far from resuming her blackberry picking as she'd fully intended, she was in fact standing there doing exactly the opposite.

This was ridiculous.

"I'm going now," she announced, both to herself and to him.

He didn't respond, bending to tie the laces of his running shoes, black hair gleaming in the sun. Yet her feet wouldn't move. It was as if her body had a mind of its own and what it wanted was to stay near him, which made no sense whatsoever. She'd had a couple of crushes on boys back in high school, but not since. She didn't have either the time or the inclination for such things, not when her primary focus was looking after her father and earning enough money to cover their expenses. That was far more important than mooning over some man, so why she was still here, fascinated by this particular man, she had no idea.

He rose again, his T-shirt still in one hand. He made no move to put it on and when he turned to face her, his incredible body still mostly on show, he didn't smile.

And all of a sudden Anna was certain that the danger she'd sensed from him before was about to make itself known and bizarrely, instead of fear, a sensation that felt a lot like excitement curled through her.

You know this is wrong. Walk away.

But the air between them was thickening with the strangest kind of tension. Hot and electric, like the atmosphere just before a summer storm. She needed to leave, get away from him and his disturbing presence. Get away from the rush of what should not be excitement that crowded in her throat and from the fluttering in her stomach that felt like the wings of a thousand butterflies all beating at once. Get away from this physical response that she knew was wrong and bad for her, yet could not ignore, no matter how hard she tried. But she didn't move. She stayed exactly where she was.

He started towards her like a great panther stalking its prey, moving with purpose, approaching her without any hesitation, coming so close that she could see drops of water glistening on his skin where he hadn't finished drying himself. She could smell, too, the fresh scent of the lake on him, undercut with something warmer, spicier and deeply masculine.

Her breath caught. Did men always smell this good or was it just him? He was so tall she had to tilt her head back to look at him, which she couldn't recall ever having to do with anyone before.

"Look at you." His deep voice was soft and warm with a familiarity that held her rooted to the spot. "You have leaves in your hair." He reached up and she was powerless to stop him as he casually extracted something from the tangle down her back. "You are very beautiful," He added, as he extracted another leaf. Then without any hesitation he slid the fingers of one hand into her hair and closed them into a fist, holding her firmly but very gently, the slight pressure making her tilt her head back ever further.

Anna was absolutely transfixed, her heartbeat so loud she couldn't hear anything else. Couldn't see anything else but the darkening of his eyes. She'd never been touched like that before. Never had a man stand so close she could feel his heat, smell his warm, spicy scent. Never had strong fingers in her hair, carefully securing her.

Hunger rose inside her, forbidden and hot and desperate, though for what she had absolutely no idea, and it scared her.

Cedric watched her. The glint in her eyes had gone molten, like liquid gold in the sunlight, and her cheeks were flushed. Her mouth looked full, as if begging to be kissed, and he could see the fast beat of her pulse at the base of her throat.