Page 40 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses
He lifted the glass to his lips, certain his decision to dive into a brandy bottle following Georgie’s departure would solve no problems, although it was taking the sting out of the evening’s closure. In the distance, thunder rumbled, and the acrid scent of an approaching storm churned and sizzled. He smelled burning pine and, somehow,her. Which was impossible as he sat on Markham Manor’s stone steps in a puddle of slush that had chilled until he could no longer feel his buttocks.
He wanted to be nothing but part of the night, silent from the roar in his mind, the ache in his heart. He wanted neither dukedom nor love, messy entanglements, childhood affection traps, eyes the color of lapis, the tug of slim fingers through his hair, lips that felt familiar but should not, or the weight of despair over a pledge he should have made years ago and hadn’t the courage to.
He’d mucked up everything.
He’d known Georgie had an attachment to him when they were children, though he’d considered it infatuation. Charming, until he started to return the sentiment.
And now…she didn’t want a husband, feared taking a lover.
Did he want to be simply an experience even if he persuaded her? Her teacher in lovemaking but nothing more, which did make his cock twitch to envision, he wasn’t denying.
He shuddered, the glass quaking in his hands. One more minute of this excruciating bliss, then he’d return to the house before he expired from the cold. Check on his father, whisper words of encouragement and promise, lay his hand on an unresponsive brow, and question why he didn’t feel more for the man when the man had never endeavored to feel more for him.
Dex smiled without joy, brandy a lingering burn. Maybe he’d threaten to marry the next suitable, no matter how repellant she or her family. Put Georgie to the test. A dare like none he’d placed before her. A true wager.
Her heart for his soul.
What would she do if he asked another woman to marry him while knowing he wantedher?
What would she do?
Nothing was a strong possibility.
He huddled into his coat, not his best, it had gone with Georgie, but good enough to keep out the worst of the foul weather.
He didn’t want her gratitude or her compliance. He didn’t want her to come to him because she’d decided she might like to be a duchess, a title he gave two figs about himself. Or because she was curious about what he could show her about the physical side of life, which from her stunned expression after he’d kissed her, was likely a lot.
He wanted her to come to him because shetrustedhim in the way she once had. Like a close friend she also happened to be frantically in love with.
The truth was, he wanted her to bet on him even if she believed she shouldn’t.
CHAPTER7
The package arrived on Christmas Eve.
A simple white box wrapped with twine, no note accompanying it. With butterflies erupting in her belly, Georgie took the parcel to her chamber and laid it on the bed, staring at it in pained silence before wrapping the end of the string around her thumb and giving it a hesitant tug. Inside was a hooded cape the color of the lapis stone she’d nearly worn to dullness from her fretting caresses. Trimmed in fox fur and gold cord, the cape was more lavish than any she’d ever owned. More lavish than she needed. An intimate gift meant to send Dex’s jarring avowal like a dart straight into the fleshy center of her heart.
Make a list of how I should touch you, and I’ll eagerly strike each off…
Georgie pursed her lips and nudged the package closer. In the folds of tissue surrounding the cloak, she’d seen a flash of color. She lifted the beetle fossil from the box, brought it to her breast, and closed her eyes in anguish. Amusement. Fondness.
Blast him, the mischievous cad.
And a thief, she concluded, laughing until her stomach hurt. Because the fossil wasn’t being returned to a German museum. Along with her lapis stone, she’d never relinquish it.
Dexter Munro, what am I going to do with you?
“You’re going to find him a duchess, that’s what,” she answered, blinking the hearthfire into view. A mere hour from now, Edward Mullen, Viscount Lindley, and his family were arriving for a dinner party to introduce his daughter, Letitia, to the heir to the Duke of Markham. Lovely, lively, wholly appropriate Letitia. Handsome, clever, wholly available Dex.
They would make a gorgeous couple, have gorgeous children.
Live a gorgeous life.
The only wrinkle in the plan being he’d told her he wantedher. Georgie. His childhood friend. The scrap of a girl who’d tripped along behind him on a thousand artless adventures, hanging on his every word, recording his every move until she knew him better than she knew herself. In the end, she’d married out of necessity, like Dex was set to do. She’d survived her heart being smashed to bits. In any case, he couldn’t possibly feel for her what she’d once felt for him; he would survive her gentle rebuff. The love she’d felt then could only belong to an impressionable girl, someone able to give entirely without knowledge about how vile relationships could be. Under the guise of matrimony, how much one had to lose.
How one could be hurt, damaged, changed.
You’re bitter,Georgiana comprehended with a pulse of astonishment that had her slumping to the bed.You’re letting that horse’s arse win.She flopped to her back, arms outstretched, the fossil still clutched tightly in her fist. The ceiling had a tiny spider crack she traced with her eyes to the dark corner of the room. Her fury was fierce and precipitous, cleansing as well as harrowing. Three years after his demise, Arthur still had his fingers circling her wrist and was squeezing as she dropped to her knees. She flexed her hand, almost able to feel the pressure.