The Scottish Duke

The Scottish Duke Of Valor and Honor, Book 1 ByJessica A. Clements © Copyright 2023 by Jessica A. Clements Text by Jessica A. Clements Cover by Kim Killion Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc. P.O. Box 23 Moreno Valley, CA 92556 [email protected] Produced in the United States of America First Edition May 2023 Kindle Edition Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited. All Rights Reserved. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. License Notes: This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. 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Without your support, there is no ‘us’, so we sincerely hope you adore these stories and find some new favorite authors along the way. Happy Reading! CEO, Dragonblade Publishing Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Publisher’s Note Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Epilogue About the Author Prologue Edinburgh, Scotland “Your Grace!” came a shout from the door of his bachelor’s quarters in Edinburgh. Ioan glanced around him and noticed the bulges under the sheet of his bed. He chuckled to himself and momentarily forgot about the urgent voice from behind the door. It hadn’t alerted him in the slightest that the person on the other side had called him “Your Grace.” His father was the duke. His father was “Your Grace.” Why was the idiot waking him at this godforsaken hour? “Your Grace!” the person shouted again. Ioan tried to get out of his bed without waking the other occupants—and failed. Damn, whatever the blasted fool wants better be important, he thought as he padded across the wood floor to the door. He opened the door, but he did not expect to see a footman from Rathdrum Hall. The look of sheer grief on the man’s face struck him first. “What’s wrong?” “Your father and brothers are dead, Your Grace. You are needed at the Hall posthaste,” the footman replied. Dead? All of them—dead? That couldn’t be. Too stunned to even let it show on his face, all Ioan could do was shake his head. Surely, this was some joke. “Are you sure they are dead?” “Yes, Your Grace.” The footman shifted back and forth on his feet. Ioan nodded. “I need some time to get into my riding attire, and then we will be on our way.” Chapter One Rathdrum Hall, Scotland Three months later Ioan Drummond, the thirteenth Duke of Rathdrum, was beside himself. In school, he had excelled in mathematics and the sciences, but when it came to household accounts—well, he felt overwhelmed by the immensity of the estate’s ledgers. He was never meant to take over the dukedom. That honor would have been placed on his eldest brother, Noah, who had been trained in the stewardship of the accounts. Ioan, on the other hand, was meant for the army, a gentleman soldier with a commission bought and paid for by his father. He wanted to have the choice to fight for his country—and a great honor it would have been!—but that honor had been bestowed on a distant cousin of his from Shropshire. Ioan sat at his desk, drumming his fingers against the wood, letting his mind drift back to the day that his whole world changed. Damn and blast it all! He had to stop letting his mind go back to that moment. He didn’t want to work on the accounts. He wanted to find whoever had killed his family. He shifted in his chair—he needed to replace the padding—and realized he needed a break. No, what he really needed was a man of affairs to take on these duties. Then he could do what he wanted—no—needed to do. He turned to the wall and eyed the bellpull. As he was reaching for it, he heard the doorknob to his study jiggle. How did his butler know he was going to call for him? “Your Grace?” Jeffers, the Rathdrum Hall butler, called from the doorway. “Do we have the confirmed cause of death for my father and brothers? I don’t remember if I asked for it—” “We do, Your Grace, and you never asked to view it. Would you like me to retrieve it from my rooms?” Jeffers eyed him keenly. Ioan glanced up at the man. His salt-and-pepper hair was trimmed short, his eyes a startling aquamarine, and his stately presence reminded Ioan of—no, it couldn’t be.