Page 41 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses
Dex’s passionate response, lips sliding along her neck, warm breath stealing into her ear, returned to her on a wave of regret and yearning. He’d told her while they organized his fossils:experience in every aspect of life lies in the details, and I love details.
Georgiana palmed her quivering stomach and swallowed deeply. What if, when she fantasized about lovemaking, images of Dex seized her mind instead of images of Arthur? Not the man of her dreams but therealman.
The resolution was easy.
Dex was a passionate man, and he, for his own reasons, wanted her.
She was passionate, she hoped, and she wanted him.
She could give him what he wanted, one night to satisfyboththeir needs. One night to wash away Arthur and her unhappy marriage for good. One night to show Dex she was a dream he’d created in his mind to ease the loneliness of being back in Derbyshire, the heartache of watching his father die. She was merely a woman he’d once known well, no more, no less. They could come together with no business arrangement attached, no contracts, no ticking clock, no weight of a hundred tenants on their shoulders. Simple want and desire allowed out of a cage, if those things were ever simple.
Passion for passion’s sake.
Then he would be free to marry without worry he’d left anyone behind, and she would be free to never marry again.
* * *
For a potentially life-changing event, this dinner party wasn’t any better than the last.
The lady was lovely. Excellent teeth and nice hair. Lavinia, Dex silently asked and sent a frowning glance into his wineglass. Lydia? Not that he could address her this casually even if they were appraising each other like horses at auction. He wouldn’t be surprised if Viscount Lindley asked to see his molars. Dex threaded his fingers through his hair and gave the strands an exasperated tug.Lord, he was surviving on little sleep and too many damn questions he couldn’t answer. Dex thought of his father rapidly failing in his massive tester bed at Markham Manor and realized the solution to his Twelfth Night promise did not reside in Georgie’s leased dining room.
Unless you counted Georgie, and Dex didn’t think he could.
She seemed anxious for this match to take.
The veranda door opened, and he stumbled back into the shadows, a rough smack against chilled stone.
“Dexter Reed Munro, you’d better come out right now!” Georgie said in an angry hiss.
Dex finished his wine, placing the glass on the ledge at his side. When Georgie stalked past him, he slipped his arm around her waist and tugged her into the darkened alcove. “Don’t scream,” he said in her ear, his body moving in to protect her from the fierce wind. “It’s me.”
Her breath caught, her arms clenching. “I’m going to murder you.” She tipped her head, gazing at him from a circle of fox fur and gold trim. “A disappearing marquess is not reassuring, Dex. She’ll think you don’t want her.”
“I don’t.”
Her curse was one he was surprised she knew.
“You’re wearing the cape,” he mumbled like a man waking from a dream. His world dissolved into shades of blue and silver, a winter wonderland. “This was the real Christmas present, a little early. The stone was an impulsive gesture.”
Her mouth kicked, just the one side, so delightful a response his knees weakened.
“I don’t want her,” he echoed on a rushed breath, knowing he might as well be honest since Georgie was already mad about the entire evening. “I’m sorry. I know I must let my father know by Twelfth Night, and I’m running out of time, but Lydia wasn’t the one for me.”
“Letitia.” With a sigh, she let her head fall against the stone, her eyes drifting closed. Her breath fogged the air, tepid gusts melting over his skin. “I told them you received a note about your father and had to rush home. Apologies were made, ones befitting a duke.”
“It seems I’m not ready for polite society. Better with a pickax and a pile of rocks, as you said. Beneath the titles, there lies a humble geologist, though no one wants to believe it.”
“I don’t think I can help you with this,” she whispered and lowered her gaze. “Your search for a duchess.”
“Because I’m making it difficult?”
She paused for so long his ears started to sting from the cold. He had to get them inside before they froze to death.
“I would call it a conflict of interest,” she finally murmured.
Blowing out a dumbfounded breath, Dex grabbed Georgie’s hand and tugged her behind him through the slush, back into the house and into the first vacant room, which happened to be a cramped linen closet. Pushing her inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, darkness swallowing them. “We’re not leaving this cupboard until you explain your comment.”
“You said you wanted me.” He heard her swallow, throat clicking. She exhaled softly, licked her lips if he wasn’t mistaken. “The other day, by the carriage.”