A December with a Duke

by Collette Cameron

  In fact, Everleigh had even begun to appreciate the comradery of the dukes, though the ten scoundrels teased and harassed one another incessantly.

  The storm that had threatened the other day had passed them by, but as she eyed the low-hanging, petulant clouds today, she felt certain their luck was about to change. There’d be snow by nightfall, or she wasn’t blonde and that wasn’t a doe peering hesitantly from yonder tree-line.

  When she could cuddle beneath a warm throw before the fire and read a novel whilst savoring a strong cup of tea, she enjoyed the snow. There’d been so much commotion at Ridgewood every day, finding a quiet niche to read in hadn’t been possible.

  The only respite she found from the constant tumult was in her bedchamber. A padded window seat ran the full length of the turreted window and also provided an exceptional view of the countryside. Even so, she hadn’t spent much time there, except to sew Sarah’s presents.

  Everleigh hadn’t thought she was terribly lonely before, especially with Rayne’s company, but there was something to be said for the gaiety of gatherings with friends.

  She quirked her mouth at her musings.

  Was this the same woman who dreaded assemblies of any sort just a few days ago?

  It was the company.

  Thea had been true to her word. Except for Caroline that first day, the men and women were nothing like the sots and degenerates Arnold had regularly entertained.

  Sarah, her eyes bright and face ruddy from the cold, skipped along the gravel path. Maya, appearing more bedraggled than ever, trailed along the ground as Sarah hopped on one foot, then the other.

  “Evlee?”

  “Yes, darling?”

  “Read to me before I sleeps t’night?”

  Everleigh slid Mrs. Schmidt a glance.

  Worry puckered the sweet woman’s face. She also fretted that Sarah was growing too attached.

  “I shall have to check with your Papa, but I think I might be able to. It also depends on what the Duchess of Sutcliffe has planned for this evening. Why don’t you go inside now and have your hot chocolate?”

  That had become a tradition as well.

  Sarah bobbed a little curtsy and clasped Nurse’s hand. “You come too?”

  Everleigh shook her head and gathered her cloak a bit closer. “Not today. I have some things I need to attend to.”

  After the mortifying incident with the Christmas pudding, Everleigh had almost ordered the carriage brought ’round to take her home straightaway. She wouldn’t have believed a room could grow so completely silent so speedily, but there wasn’t a doubt everyone had heard the child’s last wish.

  Theadosia had hugged Sarah while claiming the spoon and redirected everyone’s attention. “Let’s all adjourn to the drawing room for a cup of mulled wine, shall we? I have another surprise for you.”

  That was when she announced the treasure hunt for tomorrow, and, also, since they’d missed exchanging gifts on December 6th, St. Nicholas’s Day, those that wanted to do so, would now exchange gifts on Christmas Day.

  “Mrs. Chatterton.” Griffin waved at her from the pathway leading to the stables. “Might I have a word?”

  He’d no sooner asked than snowflakes began drifting down.

  “Snow!” Sarah squealed and stuck her tongue out, trying to catch the fat, fluffy flakes.

  “Goodness, child,” Mrs. Schmidt fussed. “Let’s get you inside before you catch your death.”

  It wouldn’t have hurt to allow Sarah a few moments in the snow, but Everleigh refused to interfere. Sarah was Mrs. Schmidt’s charge, and, as Griffin had said, she wasn’t a biddable child. Nurse had a difficult enough time reining the child in without others throwing a wrench into her efforts.

  The truth was, the cold probably aggravated Mrs. Schmidt’s arthritic bones.

  Should Everleigh suggest to Griffin a younger, more energetic woman, a governess perhaps, might be in order? It wasn’t her place, of course, but Mrs. Schmidt wasn’t quite up to snuff, and though she obviously held Sarah in great affection, she was also a bit lax in areas.

  Perhaps later, when the house party neared its end, Everleigh might voice her thoughts. For now, she’d keep her own council.

  She made her way to Griffin, wearing a shocking red, green, and yellow knitted scarf about his neck. It was quite the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. She tried not to stare, but her gaze kept wandering back to the atrocity.

  He chuckled, that wonderful resonance deep in his chest she’d grown to enjoy, much to her befuddlement, and pulled the ends tighter. “Widow Beezely insisted I accept it as a thank you for purchasing a spaniel puppy from her.”

  Everleigh clapped her hands and practically bounced on her toes. “For Sarah?”

  “Yes. I have her in the stables, and the good lads there have agreed to watch the imp until Christmas for me.”

  “Oh, oh, a she?” Would Sarah be terribly disappointed?

  “Yes. The males were spoken for, and when I saw this little darling . . .” He grasped her elbow to help her over an uneven spot on the pathway. “Well, you’ll see why I had to have her for Sarah.”

  Inside the stables, she paused for a moment. Smells of hay, horse liniment, manure, and grains filled the warm building. Horses knickered softly every now and again, and a tortious-shell cat padded down the pathway toward them between the stalls. It gave a plaintive meow and another cat answered from the loft above them.

  “Claire is down there.”

  He pointed to a stall at the far end.

  “Claire rather than Clarence? Very clever, I must say.”

  For a man having a child’s care thrust upon him, he’d taken to the task of fatherhood with an aptitude many men lacked. He even permitted Sarah to call him Papa, and she couldn’t think of another man she knew who would’ve permitted that.

  He grinned, a trifle self-consciously, and lifted a shoulder. “It’s the best I could come up with.”

  “I like it, and I think Sarah will too.”

  He slid the bolt and pushed the door open. In the corner, sitting on a blanket, was a tiny forlorn, black and tan King Charles Spaniel pup with curly ears. She stood and wagged her tail before toddling over to them.

  “Oh, stars above, she’s precious.” Everleigh sank to her knees, and the puppy clambered into her lap. “I always wanted a puppy as a little girl, but Mama said we couldn’t afford one.”

  Maybe she should get a dog. She’d enjoy the company, especially when Rayne married.

  Griffin knelt on one knee beside her, and ran his hand down Claire’s back. “With those ears, she reminded me of Sarah.”

  Everleigh giggled as Claire nibbled her nose and licked her cheeks.

  “She’s absolutely perfect. Well done, you. Sarah will be ecstatic.” She kissed the pup’s head. “Don’t forget the green ribbon.”

  Rubbing her face into the puppy’s soft fur, she gave him a sideways look.

  He touched her cheek then leaned over and skimmed his mouth across hers.

  Heaven.

  Instinct prompted her to open her lips, and he slid his tongue into her mouth. Not invasive or violating, but in tenderness and gentle exploration.

  Nothing else mattered: not the puppy in her arms, the fresh straw she knelt upon, the swirling snow outside, or that she was afraid of men and had vowed never to be vulnerable again.

  She simply savored the experience and Griffin. His taste. His essence of soap and starch and something faintly spicy. His hard-muscled thighs pressing into hers, and his lips at once firm but soft, teaching her how to kiss.

  After several blissful moments, Claire must’ve decided she didn’t like being ignored, for she nipped his chin.

  “Ouch.” He lifted his mouth from Everleigh’s. “She’s punctured me, I do believe.”

  Everleigh tisked as she held the little darling to her neck. “I think you’ll live.”

  “Everleigh.”

  Griffin cupped the back of her neck, his gaze so penetrating, her he
art slowed.

  “What is it?”

  “Marry me. I have no doubt you’d make Sarah a wonderful mother, and I’ve never encountered a woman as extraordinary as you.”

  Marry him?

  Was he queer in the attic?

  Barely over a week ago, she’d sworn never to wed again. She had far too much to lose by doing so, not the least of which was her independence. He would assume all control of her wealth. All control of every aspect of her life, even her body.

  She opened her mouth to tell him just that, but he held up his hand.

  “Please hear me out. Please.”

  Reluctant, battling renewed apprehension, she gave a shallow nod.

  “Thank you.” He pressed his mouth to her knuckles.

  “I know we’ve only known each other for a short time, but there’s a connection between us. You sense it too, I know you do. I realize you aren’t ready yet. But I want you to know that I feel something for you. I don’t understand exactly what it is, but I also don’t want to dismiss it as nothing. It is something powerful and rare. Don’t answer now. Just think about it. Can you do that much?”

  Gaze lowered, she ran her fingers through Claire’s fur.

  What could it hurt?

  Everleigh wasn’t making a commitment or promising to accept his addresses. She wasn’t even agreeing to let him court her. The silence grew lengthy. At last she raised her head.

  “I shall, under one condition, and you have to promise to accept my decision afterward.”

  He ran a finger along her jawbone. “All right. What is your condition?”

  “You will come to my room tonight and make love to me. I honestly don’t know if I shall be able to go through with the act, but I want to know if it’s even possible for me to enjoy sexual congress.”

  She rolled a shoulder as she brushed a fingertip across an eyebrow, both actions to lesson the tension that had her feeling she’d snap like a dry twig if she as much as sneezed.

  “If I cannot, then we both know it would be foolish to pursue any sort of a relationship. You wouldn’t want a wife who couldn’t bear your touch. If I don’t find the act as horrific as my singular experience was, then perhaps we can contemplate what a future together might look like.”

  An uncomfortable minute passed as his dark gaze searched her face. He ran his thumb and forefinger down the bridge of his nose.

  “I confess, I’m conflicted, Everleigh. I feel it would be dishonorable to bed you outside the bonds of marriage. You could get with child.”

  She could.

  A grin kicked his mouth up on one side. “Though don’t think for an instant that I don’t find you desirable. I’ve had a constant cock-stand since that first night you walked into the drawing room.”

  “Cock-stand?”

  She dropped her gaze to his lap where the evidence of his arousal bulged.

  “Oh. I see.” Turning her mouth downward, she scrunched her forehead. “I . . .” Gads, but this was awkward. “I thought there were ways to prevent conception.”

  “There are, but you wouldn’t have a complete sexual experience. I would have to withdraw before completion.” He set the puppy aside. “Do you understand what that means?”

  Good Lord. Here they were kneeling in a horse stall, chatting about sex when at any moment a stable hand might come upon them. She might be known as the Ice-Queen but she’d not have her reputation in tatters.

  “I believe I do, and I also believe it is time to return to the house.”

  She stood and cautiously looked around.

  Thank God. They were still alone.

  Griffin stood as well.

  “What time should I come to your room?”

  Everleigh paced back and forth, each time she passed the fireplace glancing at the bronze and ormolu clock atop the carved cherry wood mantel.

  Half past eleven. And Griffin still hadn’t arrived.

  A cozy fire snapped and crackled cheerily in the hearth, and candles flickered on the bedside tables and in the wall sconces in readiness for their assignation.

  She’d told him to come at eleven o’clock. She pleaded a headache and retired by nine in order to have a leisurely bath and bring her rioting nerves under control.

  Now, pacing to and fro in her chamber, snow billowing from the sky as it had for the past twelve hours, she bit her lower lip.

  Had she misread him?

  Miscalculated?

  Been too forward?

  He’d said he desired her and had agreed to come to her chamber, so where was he?

  A deep sigh escaped her, and after a final glance at the clock, she wandered to the window seat. A pristine, virginal blanket of snow at least a foot deep covered the grounds. At dinner, there’d been talk of sleigh rides tomorrow.

  Drawing her knees to her chest, she rested her cheek on them.

  What had she been thinking, making such an immoral suggestion? She’d probably shocked Griffin so badly he’d decided he didn’t want a woman of her ilk for his wife after all. What man would want someone with that kind of character flaw around a child?

  A tear crept down her cheek.

  Goose. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

  How she would face him tomorrow, she couldn’t imagine, and, in this snow, going home was dangerous. Likely impossible. She’d just have to hold her chin up and pretend she hadn’t been a brazen nincompoop.

  After a final glance outside, she padded barefoot across the room and extinguished the candles in the sconces. She blew out the tapers on one of the nightstands too, then removed her robe.

  Shivering despite the fire, she fluffed a pillow.

  The knock was so faint, she wasn’t sure she’d heard it.

  She paused, head cocked toward the door.

  There it was again, the merest scraping.

  She flew across the room, her hair billowing around her shoulders. Holding her breath, she cracked the door open.

  Hair damp, and attired in only a shirt and pantaloons, Griffin stood there.

  “Quickly, open up. I should hate to have to explain to Mrs. Schmidt what I’m doing fresh from my bath outside your chamber.”

  Everleigh swung the door wide, and once he’d entered, glanced up and down the passageway, then closed it and turned the key in the lock.

  “I didn’t think you were coming.”

  “The chaps decided to ruminate about old times over multiple bottles of Sutcliffe’s brandy. It was no small feat nursing my single glass without them catching on. I finally escaped, using a need to look in on Sarah as an excuse.”

  He gave her a sly wink. “I’m finding having a child has more advantages than I realized.”

  Now nerves overwhelmed her. She didn’t know what to say or do.

  Her uncertainty must’ve shown.

  “Come here, darling.”

  Griffin opened his arms wide, and she rushed into his embrace.

  He alone made her feel safe.

  “We don’t have to do this. I’d much rather my ring was on your finger before we do.” He kissed the top of her head.

  She wasn’t sure she could ever let any man put a ring on her hand again.

  “I need this, Griffin.”

  She wrapped her arms around his solid waist and clung to him, trying to make him understand why it was so important.

  “Frederick Chatterton despoiled me, and Arnold could never complete the act. Trust me, he tried many, many times, and took out his frustration with his fists and, at times, a cane. I’ve never known a man’s gentle touch, never experienced passion. I don’t know if I can.”

  She tilted her head back and noticed his smooth-shaven jaw. He’d taken the time to shave too.

  “But I think if I am capable, it must be with you. For you do something to me, Griffin. You make me hungry in a way I don’t understand.”

  His eyes had gone flinty and his face granite hard.

  “If those two sods weren’t already dead, I’d kill them,” he said.


  “Let’s not let them ruin this. I only mentioned them to help you understand why I am the way I am. I trust you, but if I cannot do this, if I displease you in some way, then I have to believe I am flawed. That I really am frigid, and I was never meant to know physical gratification.”

  He cupped her face, his expression so tender that tears welled in her eyes.

  “You are not flawed, Everleigh. And you are most certainly not frigid. I am humbled at the trust you’ve put in me.”

  With that, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the turned down bed. After laying her upon the sheets, he pulled his shirt over his head. His muscles rippled with the motion.

  Unlike Frederick and Arnold, he possessed a virile man’s form. Broad, sculpted shoulders framed an impressive chest covered with black, curly hair. More muscled ridges grooved his abdomen before tapering to a narrow waist and hips. He didn’t remove his pantaloons before lying beside her.

  At first, all he did was feather his fingers over her exposed skin. A gentle trailing across her collarbone, a wispy skimming along the inside of her arm. He took his time, speaking soft words of reassurance all the while.

  She relaxed and grew accustomed to his touch, each whisper of skin to skin a heady aphrodisiac.

  When he grazed his mouth across hers, she was ready for him. Eager to taste him again.

  His onslaught against her senses never ceased, but neither did he rush her.

  “We have all night, sweetheart.”

  She wanted him. Now.

  He drew the bodice of her nightgown downward until he exposed her breasts.

  “So beautiful,” he breathed before kissing the taut tip of each.

  She gasped and clasped his back, arching into him.

  “Griffin.”

  He chuckled as he nuzzled her neck and pulled her nightgown over her thighs.

  “Most assuredly you are not frigid, darling.”

  Another gasp turned to a groan as he expertly explored her most sensitive areas. She wriggled against his fingers, moaning.

  He left her for a moment, and she opened her eyes in time to see him shuck his pantaloons. His manhood strained upward from a nest of thick, ebony curls.

  She clutched the sheets, wanting to wrap her fingers around his length.