How the Dukes Stole Christmas

by Tessa Dare

  “I needed a break. I’ll be relieved when this is over. Pretending to be someone you’re not is exhausting.”

  “Henry said the same thing earlier,” the maid said with a shake of her head. “I told him it was only one night and to stop complaining.”

  “Thank you. For everything, including letting Henry pose as my husband tonight.”

  Bridget waved her cloth. “Of course. I’m more than happy to help you. Plus, I promised him a reward if he was a good boy—which always becomes my reward, if you get my meaning.”

  Ugh. Rose put her hands over her ears. “Stop. He’s like my brother.”

  Bridget chuckled. “By the way, the cookies were his idea.”

  The cookies. Rose had almost forgotten about them in the wake of Duke’s proposition. “I have never been so relieved in my life. They were positively perfect. However did he manage it?”

  “Henry sent a footman over to the Lowe’s kitchen to sweet-talk someone into making a batch of your Duke’s shortbread. Turned out Mrs. Riley was still there, seeing as how her daughter’s labor turned out to be false. We never baked your tray and used hers instead.”

  How clever. She would need to thank Henry for such quick thinking. “He is not my Duke.”

  “My dear, if I had a man staring at me like that big one was staring at you . . .” Bridget fanned herself. “Lord above, I’d claim him before you could blink.”

  Rose hadn’t the faintest idea how to respond. She couldn’t claim him—could she?

  “By the way, Mrs. Riley said his recipe made absolutely no sense. She said it sounded more like a curse than a cookie. So she made her own version the way she usually does.”

  “Thank goodness.” If the cookies had been terrible, Lord only knew what would have happened. “I must remember to thank her after the holiday. Where is everyone else?”

  “I let the others go. I’m just waiting on Henry. I told him he could walk me home.” She waggled her brows as if Rose did not already have an idea of what the two would get up to this evening.

  “Is there anything left to do?”

  “The glasses are washed and dried, just need to be packed in the trunk. Henry and the other boys will come get them first thing in the morning.” She pointed to a small room off to the side, a larder they had commandeered for storage. Not many parts of the lower level had been clean enough to use tonight.

  “I will finish here.” It was the least she could do. Yes, the staff was being paid, but this would have been their night off. “You and Henry go on ahead. I will switch off the lights and lock up.”

  “Oh, he won’t like leaving you alone,” Bridget said. “You should have someone here with you.”

  “I’ll stay with her.”

  Rose’s head whipped around at the deep voice and found Duke, large and strikingly handsome in his black evening wear, standing at the bottom of the kitchen stairs. How much had he heard? Her heart began pounding. “Mr. Havermeyer. I thought you’d left.” Hoped anyway.

  Instead of answering her, he looked at Bridget. “If you will excuse us.”

  “Of course, sir.” Bridget quickly curtsied to them both, eyes twinkling at Rose, and hurried up the servants’ stairs.

  Then they were alone.

  Rose’s skin tingled, his nearness causing her to perspire. She had to move away from him, focus on something else. “I have a few things left to do tonight.” Lifting her skirts, she went toward the larder and the waiting glasses. “We may speak tomorrow.”

  Once in the safety of the small room, she pressed a hand to her stomach, exhaling. Goodness, the man was potent. Because you will enjoy yourself, I promise. His words, combined with his presence, were enough to send her swooning.

  Rose, get a hold of yourself. He is your employer. He thinks you are married.

  If she repeated this enough, perhaps she could avoid making a serious mistake, one that could very well get her fired.

  Determined, she set to work. With any luck, Duke had returned upstairs and departed. Glasses awaited on the counter, the open trunk on the floor. She picked up a piece of crystal, wrapped it in brown paper, and tucked it into the trunk.

  She reached for another glass when his voice startled her. “Why are you doing this? Where is your staff?”

  “I dismissed them for the evening. I offered to pack the glasses.”

  He said nothing and she felt his curiosity like a thick cloud in the room. A lady of the house would never come below and help the servants. If he asked her for a good reason, she wasn’t certain what she would say. How many more lies would she need to tell this evening?

  Just when she thought he wouldn’t speak, he asked, “Why pack them?”

  Yes, this was odd, too. In most households the glasses would be stored on a shelf, not packed away in a trunk. “We store these in the attic until we need them.”

  He drew closer, his towering frame taking up all the space in the larder. “I’ll help you.”

  “That is unnecessary.”

  “Regardless, I’m still planning to do it.”

  “You hardly fit in here,” she blurted, her body bumping against the open door to avoid touching him.

  He stepped in and swung the door closed to make more room. “There. Now the door isn’t in our way. Is that better?”

  No, it absolutely was not. Now she was confined with an unattainable man who smelled divine and made her body shiver. “Get to it, then,” she urged, handing him a glass. The sooner they finished, the sooner she could escape.

  He took his time wrapping the glass in the paper before placing it in the trunk. “Have you given any thought to what I said earlier?”

  “No,” she lied.

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You are a terrible liar.”

  Not so terrible, apparently. I was able to fool you tonight. “I’m married. What you are suggesting is impossible.”

  “Not when your husband has given his consent.”

  She jerked in surprise and the glass wobbled in her hand. She clutched at it, fighting to keep a grip on the heavy crystal before it tumbled to the floor and shattered. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me. He does not mind. Told me himself. A bit unconventional, yes, but I understand it, considering his association with the maid.”

  She finished another glass, questions swirling in her mind. How had Duke come to learn of Henry and Bridget’s relationship? Yet he’d referred to Henry as Rose’s husband, so he hadn’t discovered the entire truth. What had Henry said, exactly? Lord, this deception was aging her faster than an opium habit.

  “So you think I’ll just agree,” she said, placing a glass in the trunk to avoid his intense stare, “because my husband has given you the go-ahead?”

  Black dress shoes came into view. When she straightened, he was close, his long frame mere inches away. Her mouth turned dry as her gaze traveled north. Every bit of him was appealing, even the way his rumpled brown hair brushed the scar above his eyebrow. He was not perfect, but her body didn’t care. The warm feeling in the pit of her stomach swept lower, deeper.

  The edges of his mouth curled, and he placed three fingers under her chin. “No, I think you will agree because of what I see in your eyes right now. The flush on your beautiful skin. The hitch in your breath when I move closer.”

  How had he read her so easily? The man’s a journalist at heart, that’s how. Yet she was a writer, soon to be a reporter. Why could she not tell his thoughts as easily? Then she’d have a better chance at resisting him.

  As it was, she was having a hard time remembering why kissing him was a terrible idea.

  “I am not one of those women . . .”

  He swept an errant strand of hair behind her ear with his fingertips and her words of protest trailed off.

  “I know—and that’s not why I am here. This is not a game or passing fancy to me. Quite the opposite. You’re remarkable, Rose. Unlike any woman I’ve ever met.” He gave a dry chuckle. “In fact, if this were a century o
r two ago, I might challenge your husband for you.”

  Her chest tightened, but she strove to keep the mood light. “Pistols at dawn?”

  “Always been partial to swords myself,” he said with a grin, then sobered. “I know you work for me, but I vow on the future of my company that I will treat you fairly, no matter how long this lasts between us.”

  “An affair,” she said, just to be clear. “You wish to have an affair. With me.”

  “Yes, I do. I want to take you to my bed and pleasure you until we both drop from exhaustion. Is that direct enough?”

  Good Lord, I should say so. If he were any more direct, she’d likely swoon.

  While he’d left no doubt as to his intentions, this was new to her. She wasn’t a coquette or practiced flirt. Not completely inexperienced, but not experienced, either. What should she do?

  She advised her readers never to lie, because untruths always had a way of unraveling and causing damage to others. He’ll hate you if he ever learns of what you have done.

  Of course, she’d been lying all night. Why stop now? She should make the most of a situation like this while she still had the chance. This was a fleeting opportunity, not a lifelong commitment. Besides, a man like Duke Havermeyer did not come along every day. She ought to know, as she’d been secretly admiring him for the better part of a year.

  Furthermore, when had she ever taken her own advice?

  “Please say yes,” he whispered, his large hand coming to rest on her hip. The heat of his palm burned through her clothing, branding her skin, and her nipples beaded painfully behind her corset.

  There was so much want and longing bubbling up inside her that rational thought receded. A wild reckless abandon overcame her instead. How long had she fantasized about a situation such as this, where she could actually touch him? Kiss him? She wanted to know what it would be like . . . No, she needed to know what it would be like. If she refused, something told her she would regret it forever.

  All those afternoons spent watching and wanting him—and now he was right here.

  In front of her.

  Offering a slice of everything she’d craved, a banquet of exquisite maleness wrapped in an elegant evening suit.

  He thinks you are an experienced married woman.

  Well, what would one more deception hurt?

  Sliding forward, she gripped his lapels, crushing the expensive fabric in her grasp. “Yes,” she breathed before dragging his mouth down atop hers.

  * * *

  A dark satisfaction flooded Duke’s veins as his mouth met hers. He had no chance to relish his victory, however, because she was kissing him, yielding to him, and his brain could only handle so much, apparently. All he could think about was her mouth, her taste, the slide of her lips over his, the soft press of her breasts against his chest. Lust flared in his groin, blood filling his cock in steady pulses to match the beat of his heart.

  He cupped her jaw and parted her lips with his tongue, thrusting inside when she gave him access. She was warm and slick, the taste of her more exquisite than any sweet or spirit he’d ever imbibed. She kissed confidently, eagerly, unafraid of showing her desire, and the bold response hardened him further. Would she be this passionate in bed?

  Christ, he could hardly wait to find out.

  He swept a hand along her neck and shoulder, then down her bodice to cup a breast. Her back arched, pressing her into his palm, and he tightened his fingers in a feeble attempt at offering relief through her clothing. She gasped, breaking off from his mouth as her body moved closer, seeking, and he grew dizzy, drowning in his need for this woman. He had to touch her, right this minute.

  With his hands on her waist, he lifted her up onto the small counter, rattling a few crystal glasses, and then quickly stepped between her legs. Had he ever felt so frenzied, so desperate? He wanted all of her, every bit of her, immediately.

  She reached for him, her fingers sliding through his hair to pull him to her mouth once more. He kissed her hard, his hand shoving into the bodice of her dress, searching until he reached the taut bud of her nipple, which he pinched between two fingers. She groaned into his mouth, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

  He kissed her throat, then the underside of her jaw. He nibbled, teased, and tormented the silken skin on his way to the swell of her breasts. There he spent a considerable amount of time worshipping the skin exposed by her dress, all the while wishing she were completely unclothed.

  “Let me pleasure you here,” he whispered, and shifted her skirts. “Right now. Then we’ll find a bed, so I may see each exquisite inch of you.”

  She helped by moving the layers of silk and cotton out of the way. When he found the part in her drawers, the heat there nearly caused his eyes to roll back in his head. Her folds were slick and he traced each with a fingertip, learning her, then dipped to her entrance, where even more moisture had gathered. He brought his finger to his mouth, the heady taste exploding on his tongue, and a jolt went straight through him. Jesus, she was perfect.

  “Duke.”

  The sound of his name in her breathy plea caused his cock to twitch. He opened his eyes to find her watching him, her blue irises gone dark with hunger. No hesitation, no shyness—just lust and longing. Still, he had to be certain.

  “Should I stop?”

  “Not yet. Kiss me.”

  “I plan to,” he murmured and dropped to his knees. “Just not on the mouth.”

  He opened her thighs to make room for him. With his hands under her buttocks, he brought her forward until she rested at the edge of the counter, the perfect meal for his starving mouth. When he draped her legs over his shoulders, she braced herself on the counter, a question in her gaze.

  “I need to taste you,” he said, parting her folds with his thumbs. The scent of her arousal filled his head, and he swiped his tongue through the glistening moisture coating her flesh. She jerked and he steadied her. Perhaps her husband refused to pleasure her this way. Duke would go slowly, savor her. Let the pleasure build until she was delirious with it.

  Her clitoris, swollen and ripe, begged for attention, and he began with gentle circles, using the tip of his tongue. When her hips tilted for more, he increased the pressure and incorporated his lips, teeth, and the flat of his tongue to drive her wild.

  “Oh good heavens,” she mumbled, one hand threading through his hair.

  He slid a finger inside her, filling her, the velvet walls gripping him as he continued to work the tiny button atop her folds. After a few moments, she was rocking onto his hand with abandon, thighs shaking, and he knew she was close. He added another finger, stretching her, and she began moaning deep in her throat.

  He sucked hard to push her over the edge. With a harsh cry, she came against his mouth, body trembling, internal muscles milking his fingers. He loved the way she reacted to him, so honest and brave. A woman who knew what she wanted and did not apologize for it. He ignored the need pounding along his shaft and instead concentrated on prolonging her orgasm.

  When she stopped shaking, he eased up, kissing and licking her gently, unable to pull himself away just yet. His cock was so hard, desperate for friction, but he continued to pump his hand, her channel even slicker after her climax. “I could do this all night,” he murmured. When she grew sensitive he gave one final flick of his tongue and stood.

  He kissed her deeply, letting her taste her own arousal. She met him eagerly, her breath still coming in short pants. Small fingers began to work at his trouser fastenings—and he lifted his head. “Wait. We need not go further now. There are many nights ahead of—”

  “No, now,” she said, and parted the fabric.

  He didn’t understand the rush. This was madness—even though he was dying to sink inside her. Her climax had fueled his fervor, but he didn’t want to do this here. “Rose—”

  She put her hand over the heavy length of his cloth-covered cock, her touch tentative, almost shy, and he gasped. Oh fuck. Any complaint he’d been about
to utter completely disappeared. He broke out in a sweat, his skin burning. He tore off his dinner jacket and tossed the fine wool to the ground. Next, he loosened his bow tie and opened his collar, the gold collar stud dropping somewhere on the floor.

  The edges of her mouth curled. She was clearly pleased at his reaction. “Shall I stop?”

  “Dear God, please don’t. Press hard.”

  She turned out to be an apt pupil. The rough drag of her palm on his erection over his clothing caused his breath to stutter. He put a hand on the cabinet above to steady himself, struggling for control, trying not to devolve into an animal by ripping her clothes off and shoving inside her. “Rose,” he ground out from behind clenched teeth as she worked him. “I am so close.”

  She parted his undergarment and her fingers wrapped around his bare shaft. God, yes. He moved his hand between her legs once more, needing to hear her whimpers, needing her right there with him.

  Then she brought the head of his cock to where his fingers teased. “Please, Duke.”

  He froze. “Are you sure?” They were in a pantry, for God’s sake, where any member of her staff could discover them. Her husband might not mind, but society tolerated affairs only if they were discreet.

  “Yes.” She nodded, her hair tumbling out of its pins. “Tonight. It has to be tonight.”

  He barely heard anything after the word yes, the idea of sliding into her sheath nearly enough to drive him insane. Lining up at her entrance, he pressed the crown inside. His eyelids slammed shut, sensation overwhelming him. Christ, she was tight. Hot. Exquisite.

  It was absolute heaven.

  “Please, more.” Her arms wrapped around his neck and brought him down to her mouth. He kissed her, their lips clashing in desperation.

  Canting his hips, he pressed in until he was fully seated. Her grip was snug, pure bliss surrounding him, and he could feel the threads of his control unraveling. One long thrust had them both moaning, her nails digging into his shoulders, and he started to move in earnest, drinking in her sighs and gasps. He held on to her hips, positioning her where she seemed to prefer, and let instinct take over. Within minutes, an electric charge built up at the base of his spine, in his balls, the imminent release he could not stop.