Page 51 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses
“Stop,” he pleaded, catching her around the waist and bringing her up on her toes. Cradling her face, he slanted his head and took the kiss to a magical place only those who fit together seamlessly could reach. Her gloved hand met his cheek, slid into his hair, tangling as a moan slipped from her throat. Going on instinct, they offered themselves without words, without thought.
“I love you, Dexter Reed Munro,” she whispered against his lips. “I always have.”
Dex dropped his brow to hers, his chest as tight as if a metal band had been fastened around it. He drew in the scent of the church, of lavender and nutmeg, of Georgie. “I’m the sorry one. I made the mistake of leaving England without you before.” He moved back enough to see her eyes. “You’re going to say yes, right? Make the Duchess Society the genuine article? Make a life with me? Have my children? Grow old with me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, a tear streaking down her cheek. “I am.”
He brushed it aside with his thumb. “No more of this. Don’t you know? You’re the most suitable suitable. And I would have waited for you. I would have gone to the ends of the Earth before I gave up on us. I just would have, I’m stubborn that way. My heart was dented, it’s true, but it would’ve mended enough for me to fight for you had you not hung out of a hackney racing dangerously down Great Russell Street and brought me quickly to heel.” Dex was not a religious man but taking in the space where they stood—the paschal candle, the baptismal pool, the wall-mounted founts, the glistening wood, and aged velvet, the feeling of permanence and glory—he decided this was the ideal place to start their life together.
Stepping back, he wiggled the velvet box from his waistcoat pocket. It squealed when he opened it, a sound drowned out by Georgie’s gasp. The ring, an emerald surrounded by a circle of diamonds, had been in the Munro family for centuries. He’d never expected to love anyone enough to ask them to wear it. “If Anthony were alive, I would have gone to him first. As it is, it’s only us now.” He blew out a nervous breath, shuffled from one glossy Hessian to the other. “Will you be my duchess, my best friend, my geological assistant, my partner?”
Throwing herself into his arms, Georgiana said yes to all.
Just like that, the Ice Countess melted.
And a new duchess was born.
EPILOGUE
Hartshire Castle, County Galway, Ireland
May 1821
Georgiana lifted her face to the briny afternoon breeze, deciding she never wanted to leave Ireland. She loved Hartshire more than she would have believed possible. Almost as much as she loved Derbyshire. They’d arrived one month after Dex’s father died and were hesitant to leave. Walking the farmland each morning, gathering eggs and vegetables and wildflowers, racing horses over golden fields, making love in every location on the estate they could dream of, had brought a tiding swell of joy to her heart and a cleansing calmness to her soul.
In the distance, she observed the blue-black shimmer and shift of the Kilcolgan River. Merlin, Hartshire’s resident cat, looped through her legs, then left to terrorize a hen who strutted by. Georgiana placed her book of poetry by her side and settled back on the blanket, sunlight dancing over her eyelids and warming her skin. Just one dreamy moment to sleep.
The air caught the teasing scent of sandalwood and leather before her husband slid in beside her. Dex wound his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Another nap, darling? I’ve got to quit keeping you up at night. Or you’ve got to quit keepingmeup at night. I know one of those is the solution.”
She turned to face him, her gaze finding his and holding. Today, his eyes were a shade lighter than the lush soil she’d planted carrots and peas in this morning. She wanted to stay long enough to see her paltry crops flourish. See everything flourish. “About that…”
Her tone must have frightened him. He stiffened, his cheeks leaking color. “Dear God, Georgie, are you unwell?”
Propping her head on her bent arm, she smiled. “I’m well, but we may want to stay another seven months or so. Until the baby arrives. Which will give you time for your survey of the Cliffs of Moher and me time to watch my garden prosperandfinish assembling the Duchess Society’s Irish delegation. And nap, oh yes, nap. Make love in all the places we haven’t found yet. That, too. I’m imagining a midnight picnic on the riverbank this summer, wrapped around each other while moonlight streams over us. Sounds poetic, to match my love of Keats, doesn’t it?”
Dex tipped her chin high with a trembling hand. He blinked, his lips parting, closing, parting again. “How long have you known?” he finally asked in a throaty whisper. “Are you sure? When, I mean…what…”
“I’ve suspected for two weeks.” She plucked a stalk of grass and trailed it across his jaw. “Fairly sure, yes. It’s why I’m sleepy all the time.”
“Well, I’m woozy. Give me a moment.” Dex flopped to his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. His chest rose and fell in a halting rhythm. “You’ve known and…we raced horses this morning, dammit!”
She laughed and all but climbed atop him, kissing his nose, his cheek. “And I won,” she murmured, sinking her teeth into his earlobe.
“No more, Georgie. Please, I beg of you. Lord, I’m having trouble catching my breath as it is.” Though he caught her by the back of the neck and hauled her into a kiss, which left them both breathless. Goosebumps erupted on her skin as the sensitive area between her thighs began to pulse. Dex’s touch was like lightning, a vivid flash to her senses.
Releasing his lips, she scooted down his body, crossed her arms on his chest, and stacked her chin on them. “If it’s a boy, I’d like to name him Anthony.”
Dex’s lids lowered, dusting his sun-bronzed skin. When he opened them, the irises were a blazing apple-green filled with wonder and joy. He touched her stomach once, gently, as if she and the baby were made of glass. “If it’s a girl?”
“You get to choose.” She shrugged. “Only fair.”
“A daughter.Me, with a daughter I have to name. Or a son.” He gripped her shoulders and rolled her over, staring into her face. His heartbeat pulsed against her breast, his warm breath striking her cheek. His eyes were glassy, busy contemplating the future. “Definitely dizzy. I won’t be able to make it back to the house, not for months. Bring the pony cart for me.” But he smiled, a gradual, wondrous, jubilant tilt of his lips. “I’m delighted. And terrified. Mostly terrified. But also thrilled.”
Georgiana grinned, drawing her hand along his back and into his hair. He loved it when she tugged on the strands and lightly scratched his scalp. Maybe, with encouragement, she could get him to make love to her, right here, right now. They were outside, but the sunset wasn’t far off, and they’d found darkness to be a marvelous cloak. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ll be a wonderful father. Trust me. You’re the gentlest man I’ve ever known, Dex.”
“Easy for you to say. If I love the babe as much as I love you, I’ll worry every day, every hour, every second.”
“Sounds like being a parent.”