Chapter One
Cornwall, England
August 1817
"T hey are known as the Singing Caves, Miss Alwyn." Ruarke MacArran, the daunting Duke of Arran, surprised Heather Alwyn by coming up beside her as she stood alone on the windy cliff heights overlooking the rocky Cornwall seashore and its honeycomb of caves near his impressive home, MacArran Grange. "You must never go in them."
Heather shook her head and turned to him, only now realizing she had company. The hour was growing late, the afternoon shadows beginning to lengthen over the jagged rockface. The sun would still be up for hours. But the waves were heightening in intensity. Even now, she could hear their strident whoosh to shore and the soft roar as they crashed within the distant caves.
"Forgive me, Your Grace." The sound of those waves battering the hollowed-out rocks, and the siren song emanating from those hollows, had left her a little spellbound. "I did not hear you approach. I was watching the girl."
She thought she heard him sharply inhale. "What girl?"
"Oh, she is gone now. She came out of those very caves and ran down the beach." Heather put a hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun, but the young woman, hardly more than a girl, was no longer in sight.
"Dear heaven," she heard him mutter.
"Your Grace?" She was almost afraid to meet his gaze, for there was something about his dark eyes that had the power to devour her soul. It was ridiculous to feel this way about someone—a duke, no less—she had met only two weeks ago. That he even knew her name was a surprise, for he had never spoken to her until just now. But he had been watching her since this morning, and she was a little undone knowing she had his attention.
What did this fierce man want with her?
He was undeniably handsome, tall, and splendidly broad in the shoulders. His hair was as dark as his eyes, and he wore dark clothes to match. There was a brutish magnificence about his face that reminded her of the jagged cliffs upon which she stood.
Still, she did not like his ability to make her heart flutter.
Nor did she understand why he had suddenly taken notice of her.
Well, perhaps he made it a point to know everyone who came and went from MacArran Grange. Not that he would have reason to pay her more than a passing glance when the house was filled with guests, several of whom were accomplished young ladies making their Society debuts. She was merely serving as companion to his aunt, Lady Audley. Hence, she was no one of importance.
"I can hear the caves singing," she said, leaning closer to the edge as she watched the tide roll in. "Is this what gives them their song? The wave swells moving in and out, creating that distinct hum?"
"Yes, Miss Alwyn."
She made the mistake of looking up at him again, and immediately felt the shock of his gaze sweeping over her. There was something quite seductive in the shape of his eyes, a slight droop at the corners, as though he had just gotten out of bed or was about to lure her into it. She quickly turned away, irritated this man had the power to affect her so deeply. Why was she feeling any attraction to him?
She could not look at him without tingling, but all women responded this way whenever he was in their presence.
There was no prettiness about him, just raw maleness.
"Why did you say I must never go in them, Your Grace?" If that girl, who did not look more than sixteen or seventeen, could scamper in and out of those hollows, then what was the point of forbidding her? She met his gaze directly, a gesture he must have found amusing, if his wry smile was any indication.
His aunt had brought her here, for Heather was the old woman's companion, and her duty was to tend to her during the duke's house party. This party was to last the month, and many of his friends and their eligible daughters had been invited as well.
The whispers were that the duke was on the hunt for a wife.
Well, good luck to him.
Not that he would need it.
Even she swooned at the sight of him, and she did not really like him. Well, she liked him a little too much, but was afraid of him. His expression was always stern and forbidding, and he held himself apart from everyone. Perhaps dukes had to do this, build a protective wall to repel all those who would seek to use them.
The young ladies at this duke's house party did not seem to mind his dour nature, for they fluttered around him like sparkling butterflies hoping to gain his favor.
"Why should I not explore the caves, Your Grace?" Heather prompted him when he did not immediately respond.
"It is too dangerous." Awareness ran through her when he unexpectedly circled an arm around her waist to draw her back from the edge. "Especially for you."
She burned where their bodies touched, her turmoil prolonged while he held her for several moments longer than was warranted.
Until now, Heather thought she had been invisible to him. "Dangerous for me? Why?"
"Because you are drawn to them and the song they sing."
"That is true," she said with a nod, "but isn't everyone?"
"No. Most people have a healthy fear and avoid them. Nor would most people hear their song even if they were standing where you are to watch the tide come in." He drew her further back from the edge when she attempted to take another step forward. "This is not the first time I've noticed you here. Can you not see, Miss Alwyn? The Singing Caves have too strong a pull on you. Keep away from them. I have no desire to find your lifeless body on those rocks when the tide rolls out."
"Are you saying this to frighten me? Is this how you amuse yourself in your idle hours? By scaring young ladies?"
"I never jest about those caves." His voice was deep and resonant, reminiscent of the rumble of thunder on an approaching storm.
"Am I forbidden to walk along the beach, too?" She brushed back several strands of her hair that had escaped their braid and now whipped in her face because of the gusting wind. She did not mind, for the breeze was warm as it struck her cheeks. There was a dampness to it, too. The air was never dry around here because they were so close to the water. "Or is there harm in my taking a simple walk? I would like to understand your rules so I do not give further offense."
His nicely formed lips twitched upward at the corners. "You have a mouth on you, don't you?"
She winced. "I don't mean to."
"Yes, you do." He now allowed a full smile as he held out his hand. "Come back to the house with me, Miss Alwyn."
She stared at the masculine hand.
"Come." He reached over and took hers, interlacing their fingers in a surprisingly intimate fashion as he turned toward his grand manor. "Lass, do you know what Alwyn means among the faerie folk?"
"No." She looked up at him, wondering why he was holding her hand or even talking to her.
"In Celtic it means friend of elves. Blessed friend of elves. This is what you looked like standing by the cliff with the wind whipping at your gown—a delicate sprite about to fly away."
Her laughter caught on the breeze and echoed around them. "I was in no danger of it. All I meant to do was walk down to the beach. What is so wrong with that? Sorry, that last remark sounded petulant even to my own ears."
"I can see you are not happy with my warning, Miss Alwyn. Do you believe I issued it merely to be petty and tyrannical?"
She did not deny it.
This was her only time off, and she did not wish to spend it indoors, even though MacArran Grange was a beautiful house. The cliffs and beaches in this part of Cornwall were also beautiful, and somehow familiar, although she could not recall ever being here before. She wanted to explore as much of the area as she could before the house party ended and she had to return to dismal London with the equally dismal Lady Audley.
He sensed her reluctance. "You have no wish to go back inside?"
"No, Your Grace. Please understand, Wednesday afternoons are the only time I have to myself. I would rather spend the hours exploring, especially on such a perfect day."
He glanced toward the sky.
Heather sighed, wishing he could appreciate the beauty of this gloaming hour and the magical hues to be seen as the sun began to set. Delicate lavenders and pinks mixed in with fiery oranges that stole one's breath away.
The sky was almost cloudless today, save for a few wispy tendrils of white floating by on the August breeze. Goshawks and gulls flew over the azure waters of MacArran Cove in search of fish swimming beneath its crystal surface.
He fixed his gaze on the distant waves, appearing to study their rise and fall as the wind swept them to shore. "My other guests will be taking tea on the terrace by now."
"Other? Do you consider me a guest? I am no more than your aunt's companion."
He shrugged his broad shoulders, his gaze still on the cove. "You are a cut above a mere companion, I would say. Anyone who can tolerate my aunt as long as you have done has earned my respect."
"Oh dear." Heather was unable to hold back a light laugh. "Is she considered that much of an ogre?"
"You know she is. I'm told you have been with her almost a year now. It is about six months longer than anyone else has lasted. I marvel at your fortitude."
She blushed at the compliment, but did not pass comment.
It was not fortitude so much as desperation. His aunt was an unpleasant woman, but Heather's position as her companion was a precious salvation, and she dared not say or do anything to put it at risk.
"What do you think of my house, Miss Alwyn?" He now gestured toward the magnificent structure built of gray stone that Heather expected would stand for another thousand years.
"It is splendid," she said, following his gaze. "The roses and ivy along the walls soften it. The shutters are the deep blue of the sea and connect this house to its surroundings. I understand it has recently been restored to its former grandeur. Did you have a hand in that renovation, other than merely supplying the massive funds required?"
"Yes." He smiled again, a smile capable of melting her heart if she ever trusted him enough to be caught off her guard.
"It feels like it has your touch, a mix of power and perfection." She could not help smiling back at him. "Will you tell me more? The interior is decorated with impeccable taste. I have been in some beautiful homes, but none to match yours. The exterior is elegant, too. Every bit of its construction shows exquisite thought and attention to detail."
His expression quickly changed, and he now frowned at her. "I do not need your flattery."
"I was merely stating it as fact, Your Grace. You asked my opinion and I gave it. I would have been much less effusive if I did not like it." This man was as changeable as the wind, yet she seemed to be warming to him. She did not understand why. He still looked quite forbidding and was obviously irritated with her.
He grunted. "Follow me. We'll stay out here."
"We? Where are you taking me?"
His dark eyes swallowed her up again. "Do you not trust me, Miss Alwyn?"
She met his gaze, unwilling to lie or flatter him, for she was never one to speak falsely. "No, Your Grace. I do not trust you in the least."