All I Want for Christmas Is a Duke

by Vivienne Lorret

  “What if I said I need look no further?”

  Sophie’s breath caught. Surely he jested. They’d had two passing conversations, hardly enough to pick a bride from.

  “I see that was the last thing you expected me to say. Do you belong to another?”

  Sophie couldn’t help the blush that painted her cheeks. She was suddenly too hot in this packed room. Thank goodness the dance would end shortly.

  “I do not. And I hope you pick your bride with more care than a few dances. She’ll have an important seat next to you.”

  He slowed his steps, and she thought he would end their dance right in the middle of the room, where everyone watched everything the duke did. He realized his mistake quick enough and continued into the next steps.

  “I would prefer to spend the evening with those I know.”

  And what could she say to that? She pinched her mouth shut.

  “I see your game. You’ll torment me with the knowledge I desire most right now.”

  She was saved from having to answer, for she was back in her original partner’s hands and the dance ended. She wasted no time in letting him walk them off the dance floor, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the duke.

  DESPITE BEING THE host of the ball, Adrian would not cater to every one of the eligible young women that seemed to be here in the hundreds. Yes, his father was likely rolling over in his grave in a fit of laughter at Adrian’s predicament. Find a bride in a night, all without knowing who she was.

  Wanting time to enjoy grandchildren before he was gone, Adrian’s father had always wanted Adrian to start a family young. It was too late for that, so what was the rush into marriage about now? Aside from needing the remaining funds of his estate released to him, why couldn’t he take a few weeks, at the very least?

  It shouldn’t strike him as odd that he was most interested in the lady with the least interest in the duchess seat. That might be part of the attraction he felt toward her. He was often spurred on by what was denied him. Right then and there Adrian decided he wasn’t willing to let her escape just yet. He came up short of his quarry, stopped by an altogether too eager mother.

  “Your Grace,” she said in a voice that was shrill enough to cut glass. “I wish to present my daughter.”

  Adrian barely refrained from rubbing his ringing ears. The daughter in question stepped forward with a curtsy that had likely been perfected from years of practice; she was no spring chicken, not that age alone would sway his decision in a bride.

  Adrian raised his hand to stop the mother from saying more. He did not want to know the daughter’s or family’s name. He did not want to know anyone aside from the woman who’d gotten away.

  “If you will excuse me, I have neglected to be somewhere.” At the pinched expression on the mother’s face, he said, “I offer my sincerest apologies. Please save your daughter’s next dance for me.”

  Words he might live to regret.

  Adrian bowed and took his closing promise as an easy escape, bypassing everyone else who thought to stop him. He did not see the black feather top of the mysterious woman who’d slipped through his fingers. His height gave him an advantage in seeing over the heads of most of the guests. Oddly enough, he did not spy his anonymous lady anywhere in the ballroom. How in the world had she escaped so quickly? She’d been determined to avoid him by leaving the moment the dance had concluded, that much was obvious.

  Heading for the doors that led to the back gardens, where the flowers had long ago died in the cold that had settled in at the beginning of fall, he slipped outside, hoping for some peace and quiet. Three dances, and he’d had enough of the ball.

  How was he going to make it through the rest of the night?

  Shutting the doors behind him, he walked toward the stone balustrade wall and stared out over the maze of hedges carved out by stone paths that covered a good two acres of his land.

  The cold didn’t bother him, and being out here was a better option than being hunted down by a mob of enthusiastic mothers and fathers that wanted their daughters to marry a duke. He needed just a moment to his own thoughts.

  His breath fogged in the air with each exhalation as his resolve to find a suitable bride strengthened.

  The rustle of material being folded came from behind him. He hated to lose his solitude so soon, but he would not be caught in a compromising position. Spinning around, his reproachful words stalled on his tongue.

  His mystery lady had not escaped him after all.

  “And, so, fate would have us meet again,” he said.

  The expression on her face was a mixture of astonishment and . . . exasperation? Was his company so terrible?

  “I came out to cool off from the dance. It’s been ages since . . .” She caught herself from saying more, biting into the soft pink flesh of her lower lip.

  He wanted to capture that part of her with his mouth. Suck on that delicate flesh to see how it tasted.

  It was her. There was something about her that drew him in, made him want something that he had been denied.

  “If you haven’t been to a dance in ages, why come to this one if not in search of a husband?” he boldly asked.

  What he also wanted to know was why she seemed intent on avoiding the host of the party.

  Adrian moved away from the stone balustrade and stepped in her direction, taking in every detail the closer he got. Her hair was dark and as rich a brown as the top of an acorn. Her dress was a multitude of thin layers of sapphire gauze, giving the impression that she floated when she walked. Her generous breasts were held by the ruching gathered there and over one shoulder in Grecian style. Gold bands of rope wrapped around her rib cage, her waist, her hips, making her look like a goddess come to life. The dress was daring and one that could not have been worn by the majority of guests that had come tonight.

  Her dark eyes were inquisitive and sharp, even in the gloom of evening. Her mask was gold and crowned with two Pegasuses holding a shield, which fanned out into a tall array of jet-­black feathers. She stood stoic, but he noted a slight shiver that had her hands trembling.

  She pressed up against the wall, as though she could disappear into it. That made him grin; he’d caught her, and she had nowhere to escape to without causing a scene to those waiting inside the doors.

  Her breasts heaved, whether from excitement or from fear, he couldn’t say, though he doubted it was the latter. Her eyes darted every which way without ever making contact with his gaze.

  “I think I have you exactly where I want you.”

  They were safely tucked behind the wall. No one could see them here, not even peering through a window, so Adrian stripped out of his tailcoat.

  “What are you doing?” She came forward, ready to stop him, he was sure.

  “I cannot call myself a gentleman if I allow you to tremble in my company for another second.”

  When he had the coat off, he approached the lady. She didn’t seem inclined to assist, so he pulled her away from the wall and settled his jacket around her. She had slender shoulders and a willowy frame, so the coat draped around her like a blanket.

  “I cannot take your coat, you will catch a chill. I think it best if we made our way indoors before we are missed.”

  “I am quite accustomed to the cold and find the weather invigorating. And I suspect neither of us wishes to join the party.”

  “Thank you for your coat,” she said in a small voice, huddling deeper into the material. “How, as the host of the party, can you ignore your guests?”

  “My guests?” he chuckled. “This ball was my father’s harebrained scheme, so the guests are his. I’m enjoying your company far more than I will enjoy the lot in there.”

  “But we have only exchanged snippets of conversation. Hardly enough to form any sort of bond.”

  “I believe we will mak
e great allies tonight, my lady.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. You see, I don’t wish to marry any of the women in there, and you seem intent on avoiding me at every turn.”

  “I fail to understand how that makes us allies.”

  “I believe we can assist each other.”

  She was quiet a moment before she asked, “How so?”

  “You do not wish to marry me, and I never expected to be in a position quite like the one I find myself in. We could make a very agreeable match.”

  “How precisely would we do that, when you don’t even know who I am?”

  “So you admit to knowing me?”

  She turned away, not responding. Adrian wracked his mind over who she was, and why she was familiar.

  “Our standards on the perfect marital partner may vary,” she finally said. “What traits are you even looking for in a wife?”

  “She should be passably pretty.”

  Except the woman standing before him was far too beautiful to only be considered pretty. His companion made a derisive sound in her throat.

  “You do not approve that there should be some physical attraction?”

  “I don’t believe that a comely face should be your biggest worry in finding a bride.”

  “Fine, then I will say that I want someone who has at least experienced life.”

  “Are you suggesting that I’m a spinster?” She wasn’t insulted by the insinuation, for she was smiling.

  “Simply more mature and flavored than the swarms of eighteen-­year-­old would-­be brides in attendance tonight.”

  Her disposition brightened, and she took a step toward him. She perused him carefully from head to toe—­assessing him. The way she studied him had him shifting on his feet to hide his growing . . . affection.

  That was not the kind of reaction he expected, having only just met her.

  “So you wish to find a bride who is more . . . mature.”

  He nodded. There was something about her smile, about the way she spoke. He knew her, but for the life of him, he could not think from where.

  “Where did we meet before?” he asked. He needed to know.

  “If I reveal that, it will spoil the mystery of our moment.”

  Her quick response had him returning her smile.

  “I’m not so sure,” he responded. Admittedly the woman before him intrigued him, but he doubted that would change should he discover her true identity. “Might I escort you on an evening walk?” He held out his arm, and to his surprise, she hesitated for only half a second before opening up his coat enough to slip her arm through his.

  Chapter Three

  SOPHIE TOLD HERSELF for the tenth time that it was impossible for him to guess precisely who she was. She couldn’t say why she didn’t want to reveal that tidbit of information, just that she didn’t want to ruin the flirtatious exchange between her and the duke.

  Not just the duke but Adrian, she thought wistfully; she’d always called him by his Chris­tian name when they were children. Doing so now would be the height of impropriety, not to mention that it would reveal just how well she knew him.

  While she had very little interaction with men suitable for marriage, her stepmother having kept her away from any possible suitors, Sophie did not engage in flirtation as a general rule. Flirtation led to innuendo, which could very well lead to acting recklessly, which always led to all other sorts of trouble.

  Trouble she was not willing to gamble on, except . . .

  She had taken the duke’s proffered arm. And she had let him lead her farther down the path of the delectable—­and she was sure sinful—­unknown.

  This was her first ball, so why couldn’t she be reckless this once?

  “I would pay a great sum to know what has snagged your thoughts.”

  “Only that you might be whisking me away to seduce and sully my good reputation, Your Grace. It would be a simple end to your night, after all, to have to declare the spinster on your arms your fiancée and have your task completed.”

  She pinched her mouth shut to keep from saying more, though he chuckled low and deep, a sound totally agreeable and not to mention swoon-­worthy to her fast-­beating heart. While she was on occasion outspoken, she typically thought her words out before speaking bluntly.

  “And what if I were doing just that?”

  “Are you?” She pulled them both to a stop before they could fully descend the stairs and enter into the maze of hedges that she could find her way through with her eyes closed. How many times had they played hide-­and-­seek in this very maze? Or hidden deep in the center when their governesses had called them back for their lessons?

  This place brought back memories of a much better time in her life, a time when her father was still alive, before he’d ever met her stepmother, before her whole world had shattered and been left empty.

  She tipped her head back and inhaled the cool, crisp night air. It smelled of winter, like the Christmas season of her childhood, with all the coniferous trees and tall hedges still showing their green.

  “I love this place,” she said, her voice breathless, and full of emotion she was having difficulty tamping down.

  “Don’t worry.” He patted her hand and pulled her farther down the path, and what she couldn’t help but think might be her certain ruin. “I won’t do anything without your consent,” he said.

  “Not the kind of reassuring words I should like to hear, Your Grace.”

  “I would apologize for my forwardness, but I am convinced we already know each other.” He leaned in close to her ear, his breath hot against her nape. “Perhaps quite well.”

  She couldn’t stop the thrill that raced through her whole body and made her sway into his side. He was there to steady her, his body firm and strong as his hand pressed low on her back to keep her moving forward.

  “What kind of woman do you take me for?”

  “A sensible one, even though you’ve let me steal you away from the ball.”

  “Some would call it the ball of the century.”

  He laughed at that, though it lacked a certain quality of humor. “Because the duke will find his wife before midnight? Like some bloody fairy-­tale prince. This ball was not how I expected to find my duchess.”

  “Then why go about it in such a grand fashion?”

  “A prying question, my lady.”

  “I seem to have struck at a sore spot.” She stopped walking again. This time she slipped her arm out from under his and turned to face him. “If you want my help, you’ll have to reveal more of the truths you are hiding.”

  “You cannot guess?”

  She looked up at him quizzically, though it was difficult to make out his features in the dark of the maze. They could no longer see the lights from the house—­it was them, the hedges, and the stars above that dotted in and out on a cloudy night. A breeze whistled around them, lifting some of her curls and dragging them over her shoulder.

  The duke caught one and held it between his finger and thumb. She could guess very well what his intentions were.

  “Why do ­people prefer to pursue what they cannot have?” she asked.

  “Because that is always what is most desirable.”

  “I cannot marry.” It was almost the truth.

  “You are promised to another?” Surprise laced his question.

  She saw no way of answering untruthfully. “That is not what I meant.”

  “Then I see no reason not to go after what I want most in this moment.”

  He tugged the curl he still held, twirling it around his finger, pulling her closer. While it might appear he drew her in, she knew she went of her own free will.

  “There are a hundred reasons I should pull away,” she whispered the closer his lips got to hers.

  “And a thousand reasons t
o at least see if the spark between us still exists after one solitary kiss.”

  “One kiss cannot tell you that.”

  He reached beneath the folds of his coat and fished for something in the pocket. While his hands sought one thing, his knuckles grazed the undersides of her breasts in a not-­so-­innocent touch. The stays she wore were paper thin and suited for the Grecian style of her dress. Did he feel the tremor that ran through her body with that one forbidden touch? Had he heard the hiss of her inhalation? A sound that indicated she was not unaffected by his forwardness.

  “My argument makes perfect sense?” he said, pulling free something small and raising it above their heads.

  She looked up, trying to make it out in the dark, but all she saw was a twig with leaves. “What is that?”

  “Mistletoe.”

  She couldn’t help herself, she laughed. “Do you carry mistletoe wherever you go?”

  “Only should the occasion require it.”

  He hooked his arm around her back, beneath that coat, pulling their bodies close enough that they touched breast to chest. Her nipples pebbled and poked into him, the sensation not exactly unpleasant. And though she had an insatiable and inexplicable need to rub herself harder against him, she held herself completely still.

  “Have you been kissed before, my lady?”

  “And if I have?” she asked, her head tilting back, her body arching tighter into his. Their noses brushed, back and forth, back and forth. She was entranced, snared, caught in the trap he’d woven around her with his wickedness.

  “Have you ever felt the burn of passion sear you from the inside out and all from a mere press of your lips upon another’s?”

  She was not able to respond, for his lips brushed over hers and suddenly nothing else mattered. No answer, no quip, nothing but the gentle rub of his mouth across hers was what she wanted.

  His lips were surprisingly soft, yet demanding, as they parted hers. Her breath rushed out of her, which he caught and gave back to her before her next inhalation. Their mouths carefully melted together, learning every contour. This was nothing like the innocent kiss he’d given her when they were twelve; then it had only been a press of lips and as innocent as it had been quick and gentle.