All I Want for Christmas Is a Duke

by Vivienne Lorret

  This . . .

  This was sinful. Much more, better even, than she could ever have imagined a mere kiss could be. While she could not claim this as her first kiss, it was by the only man she’d ever cared for aside from her father. When Adrian pulled away, she followed, not wanting their stolen moment to end just yet, wanting to pretend she could actually be his bride.

  His choice for the night.

  The repercussions of such a joining would be monumental and historic in the house of Kinsley. Kinsley women did what they were told, when they were told. And she’d had it drilled into her from the time of her father’s death until only last night that she would never marry. That she would be her stepmother’s companion for the rest of her days.

  None of that mattered anymore.

  The firm caress of his thumb brushing over her lips had her eyes opening. It was over far too soon for her liking.

  “I could swear I’ve felt these lips upon me once before.”

  It was then that she realized the foolishness of everything she’d not only let happen but had been an active participant in tonight. She pulled out of his hold, his coat falling to the stone path at their feet. She was too heated from his touch to feel the cold.

  “It was unwise of me to have walked with you,” she stammered out in an anxious voice. It would be the height of idiocy to stay now that she’d come to her senses. She turned to leave.

  He caught her hand and spun her around so fast that she slammed into his formidable body. The air whooshed out of her lungs the moment his mouth seized hers in a kiss that was much, much more than the one he’d teased her with moments ago. There was no dancing or testing the waters as he dove right in, his tongue sliding past her lips to twist around her tongue. Their breaths fed off each other’s as they tasted and teased, as they devoured and claimed.

  What she did know was that this was a kiss to end all kisses.

  This would be the end of her.

  This was the end of her.

  No one would fill the place this man had carved out in her life. Not only had he been a friend and her teacher where her ladies studies had lacked but now he was her . . . her what? She couldn’t think. She only wanted more of his kisses. To be locked in his arms forever and forget everything else except the two of them.

  The palm of one of his hands rested low on her back, his fingers kneading tight circles that made her body warm and lax; she had surrendered into his hold, given herself over to a man she couldn’t really claim to know anymore. His other hand curled into her hair, holding her head at an angle he most desired for their kiss. She did not struggle, she did not move. Afraid to show him just how desperate she was to be his, she clenched her fists around his shirtsleeves and held on for dear life as he tilted her head back, arching her over his arm to kiss her deeper.

  She hated that she had to walk away from him after this. Hated that she couldn’t be the one to steal his attention and his affections and become his bride.

  It was the fact that she wasn’t supposed to be here tonight that had her stiffening in his hold. Her eyes opened, and she gave a cursory glance to their surroundings to ensure they were still alone. He released her slowly, his tongue caressing her lips, instead of tasting deeply of her mouth before their lips pressed together again like they had the first time. His lips parted from hers, she felt the loss of intimacy and excitement between them being squashed out of existence, like a fire under a bucket of water.

  Why did reality have to come crashing to the fore?

  Sophie found her footing, only now realizing he held her completely off her feet. She cleared her throat delicately, at a loss for words. Everything she wanted to say seemed inadequate and trite.

  The duke was breathing heavily as he stared back at her. She felt like a doe caught in the sight of a predator. If she attempted to run again, she knew he would catch her without any effort. She closed her eyes, put her shoulders back, and tried to compose herself, which was hard to do when her heart was racing, her breathing was erratic, and her body practically trembled to be held by his again.

  He seemed to compose himself quicker than she did. Picking up his coat, he dusted it off and put it back on. He straightened the lapels to ensure he looked the part of duke and not a scoundrel who’d just thoroughly seduced one of his guests.

  “I recall you enjoying that kiss as much as I, so if I am a scoundrel, that makes you my minx.”

  Sophie slapped her hand over her mouth. “I hadn’t meant to say that aloud.”

  “I did not think so.” He held out his hand, which she eyed wearily. “I won’t bite.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” And to prove her point, she did not take his hand. Really, she didn’t want to end up kissing him again, because that was exactly what she wanted to do. Oh, good Lord, how had she gotten herself into this predicament?

  ADRIAN COULD HARDLY believe he’d lost all control of the situation with his mystery woman. He’d meant to give her nothing more than a chaste kiss. But there was a fire burning under his skin that had been ignited the moment he’d taken her into his arms.

  And he wanted more.

  None of what had happened negated the fact that he found something familiar in her. He just couldn’t place where he knew her from.

  He’d been tempted to remove her mask during their kiss, but he’d been just as lost as she’d been from the moment he had hauled her into his arms, afraid that their moment would be lost had she actually gotten away from him. While he knew they could not remain out here for much longer, he was reluctant to see her out of his company.

  “I promise to be a perfect gentleman from here on out.”

  “Then you take half the fun out of the danger you present to me.”

  He grinned, and before she could hesitate, he took her hand and tucked her arm against his side. She was shivering again, but he could not offer his coat if they were to return to the ball. Instead, he placed his arm around her shoulders and held her tight, rubbing his hands along her arm to bring some heat to it. She did not complain, so he continued to do it.

  “While it’s warmer than it’s been in nearly a month, I underestimated that this gown could contend with the winter season.”

  “The most beautiful dress I have seen tonight. And I’m more than happy to keep you warm. Soon you will pray for the cold again.”

  She gave him a sidelong look, curiosity clear in her expression. “And why should I do that?”

  “Because I plan on dancing with you for what remains of the evening.”

  She halted, as though her feet had suddenly stuck to the ground.

  “You cannot monopolize my time.” A thread of worry filtered through her voice.

  And then it dawned on him. She did not wish to be discovered.

  “I must confess to something,” she continued. “Or really, I should explain that I rarely attend these types of social functions. I’m afraid I know only a handful of ­people here tonight. Most I do not recognize or could not make out beneath their costumes and masks.”

  “So you are vying for my duchess’s seat.”

  “That, I can promise you, is not my intention. I could not miss an opportunity to see this house once more—­”

  So she’d been here at least once before.

  “You make marriage to me sound like an unfavorable task.”

  She inhaled sharply, horrified to have suggested such a thing, he was sure. He was not above using that to his advantage.

  “You mistake my meaning,” she said.

  They were walking up the stairs, and regrettably, he knew he had to release her. Adrian was not willing to put any one of his guests—­especially someone whose company he enjoyed—­under the scrutiny of the ton and the dozens of gossips in attendance hoping to be the first to announce his nuptials.

  “I jest in poor taste. Forgive me.”

&n
bsp; “There is nothing to forgive.” She looked at him for a silent moment. “I must get back, my cousin will be looking for me.”

  “I haven’t forgotten that you owe me a dance,” he called after her as she reentered the ballroom.

  It would be noticed if they entered together, so he gave her some time before slipping in behind her. Why should he care what anyone thought if he was enjoying his evening and had found the only company he intended to wile away the evening with?

  His uncle Albert stood by the entrance, one eyebrow raised above the silver mask he wore. Censure from his uncle was a rare thing.

  “It is a bit cool this evening to be spent outdoors,” his uncle mused aloud.

  Adrian made no remark; it was his business what he did at his own ball. And he would not pretend he hadn’t met someone who interested him above all others.

  “Do you know who she is?” Adrian nodded in the direction of his mysterious lady. She held the hands of another young woman, leaning in close to whisper something in her ear. This had to be the cousin she mentioned.

  “I do not know her. But that is Miss Isabelle Kinsley she speaks with.”

  “Kinsley?” He wanted to laugh at his own stupidity and inability to recognize who the woman was. “You don’t say.”

  “Yes, that is precisely what I said. I can only assume that is Lady Sophie she converses with. She has the look of her mother about her. It’s my understanding she rarely leaves the old cottage her father owned.”

  Sophie and he had been the best of friends as children. They’d lost touch when he’d been sent to Eton. At first they’d written, but as time had passed, they’d lost contact with each other.

  Adrian slapped his uncle on the back of the shoulder before walking toward his not-­so-­ mysterious lady friend. The women broke apart and curtsied at his approach.

  “You must be the infamous cousin, used as an escape from my poor company.”

  Miss Kinsley turned her head to the side inquisitively. “Your Grace?”

  In a bold move he knew would be noted and whispered about, he took Miss Kinsley’s hands familiarly in his own. “I heard of your engagement. Let me be the first to congratulate you tonight.”

  When she tugged her hand free of his, he held on tighter and smiled brightly. Miss Kinsley leaned in closer to him. “You are making a scene, Your Grace.”

  “Should old friends not greet each other fondly?”

  The young woman blushed, embarrassed. “Of course. I assume introductions are unnecessary for my companion?”

  He turned to Sophie. She was stark white beneath her mask, as though she might faint from being put in the center of attention. “We’ve already had the pleasure of reacquainting ourselves.”

  He held out his hand. “I do believe they are starting up a waltz, my lady. Would you be so kind as to dance with me?”

  She looked around the room, to the crowd of eyes focused on them. “You know I cannot refuse.”

  “Just the words I wanted to hear.”

  He took her hand and led her toward the other dancers in the middle of the room.

  “Do you enjoy the waltz?” he asked.

  “This is probably not a good time to admit this, but I learned the steps before my coming out. Being more . . . mature, it’s been a few years since I have had the opportunity to enjoy this particular dance.”

  “I will not let you falter.”

  “And that is not what I’m afraid of,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “Was I meant to hear what you said this time?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes, you were. While you are barely the boy I recognize, you have not grown less obstinate over the years.”

  “I will take that as a compliment. You should know I’m generally a man who gets what he wants.”

  “Except your pick of a bride.”

  “That was a low hit, but I perhaps deserved that.”

  He placed his free hand over the middle of her back. “Do you remember the basic steps?”

  Her brown eyes snapped with something close to annoyance.

  Chapter Four

  DID SHE REMEMBER the steps to this dance?

  Of course she did.

  Sophie had this inexplicable need to step on his toes to prove a point. But what point would that be? There were too many eyes on them as it was. So she would not get any satisfaction in making a fool of herself. No, she must make her next move carefully, because this would be her last dance of the evening. There was no other way for the night to play out now that everyone stared at her, wondering about her identity.

  For the first time tonight, she hated that she’d run into Adrian at all . . . well, not really. What she hated was the fact that her stepmother could come forward at any moment and ruin the night and her memories forever.

  “I would have approached our public meeting differently had you given me your name.”

  “And what purpose would that have served, Your Grace? Nothing will come of this dance.”

  “I disagree.”

  “I was not lying when I said I could not marry.”

  “Are you dying?”

  That caught her off guard. “Pardon?”

  “The only reason I can think for you to be unattainable is that you are sick and will die any day now. Let me rephrase that question, are you knocking on death’s door? Because you certainly do not look ill.”

  She couldn’t hold back the smile. “What an absurd question. And the wrong assumption.”

  “It is a valid one when we have a common interest.”

  “And what interest would that be?”

  “To begin,”—­he leaned in closer—­“another kiss. I think we would both like to disappear into the darkness of the maze and explore just what another kiss feels like.”

  She looked away. Many of the guests had stopped dancing to watch the path they cut across the ballroom floor. Her body stiffened; she wanted nothing more than to fall back into the shadows and be another nameless girl to whom no one gave a second glance.

  “I hardly think the direction of our conversation appropriate,” she said.

  “Then tell me why you cannot marry.”

  “You’ll think my reason silly.”

  “No reason is silly if you would force me to find another potential duchess.”

  “So you would throw me over for another if I insisted we could not be a match?”

  “I was hoping to incite jealousy or envy, something to give me reason to win your affections this night.”

  She sighed.

  What girl didn’t want a man to utter those kinds of words to her at her first ball? She moved into him, wishing to be close, to give their lips reason to touch.

  She caught herself and turned her head away.

  It would only be a matter of time before everyone figured out who she was if she stayed in the duke’s arms for more than one dance. She could already hear the soft din of whispers starting up around them.

  Who is she? Where does she hail from? Who did she arrive with?

  Her heart beat at a tempo so fast she felt light-­headed.

  “You seem nervous.” The duke took his eyes off her to look around the room. “Are you hiding from someone? Have we given away too much by dancing together?”

  She gave him a sad smile. “I’m not supposed to be here, so when this dance ends, you must let me leave.”

  “I cannot.”

  “You must,” she said on a frustrated breath.

  “I can see you are distressed and that my dancing skills cannot even keep your attention, for your feet have faltered twice.”

  She stepped on his foot. Intentionally this time. “What was that about my dancing skills?”

  “I was teasing you.”

  The duke grinned and placed his hand more firmly over her back as h
e turned them around the room. “I’m glad to have your full attention again. You do us both a disser­vice when you look like you would rather be anywhere but here dancing with the duke of the ball.”

  “I would rather be where no one could see us,” she mumbled.

  “We could go back out to the maze.”

  “You are still frustrating when you are determined to have your way.”

  “Ah, so you do recall our time together as children.”

  “It is rather hard to forget. You were always finding trouble for us.”

  “It was all the good kinds of trouble we found ourselves in. The mischief of twelve-­year-­olds.”

  “My father’s reaction was to marry and give me the mother he thought I needed to temper my firm will.”

  That had happened shortly after Adrian had left for school. Her life had never been carefree and wild again and had become one of strict rules and regimented lessons.

  “By the tone of your voice, I take it you dislike your stepmother.”

  This was a conversation she did not wish to have with Adrian. Their dance, thankfully, was coming to a close. When it ended, she pulled her hand away from his and curtsied. “Thank you for the dance, Your Grace.”

  Other attendees drew closer, likely hoping to foist their own daughters upon the duke for the next musical set. Before he could reach for her or ask her to stay, she stepped back into the crowd and turned away. Of course luck would have it that she plowed right into her stepsister, Esther.

  They both tumbled clumsily to the ground in a heap of blue and yellow chiffon. Sophie knocked her hip hard into the floor but managed to get her feet under herself before her stepsister did. Sophie reached for Esther’s hand, not saying a word, as she knew her voice would give her identity away.

  “You should be more careful of where you’re going,” Esther said, fixing her crooked mask.

  Sophie didn’t stop to apologize; she slipped through the crowd like a mouse trying to find its freedom after being spotted where it should not be. She found her cousin by the punch table.