Lord Misrule (The Matchmaking Earl Book 1)

by Donna Cummings

  “I have no idea what I should do,” she muttered, finally turning to meet her friend’s bemused gaze. “Which decision will prove to be the mistake? Which choice will be the one filled with lifelong regrets?”

  “I believe you have made your choice,” Madeleine said, her eyes dancing merrily. “You are just unwilling to admit it.”

  Juliana pretended to frown, but it did nothing to halt Madeleine’s amusement.

  “We shall start with something easy then.” Madeleine grabbed the invitations sitting atop Juliana’s desk. “Tell me what we should do with these.”

  Chapter Five

  Nicholas stepped down from his carriage, gazing up at the massive country house before him. It had started as a castle, many centuries before, complete with an impressive stone tower. A variety of new structures had been added by succeeding generations, none of them in agreement on how best to display their wealth.

  Nicholas had been elated when Lady Courtenay responded to his billet doux with an invitation to a small holiday gathering at Bellington Park. He had accepted immediately, though he would confess to also being slightly disappointed, since he did not wish to share even a moment of her attention with other guests. At the same time, he understood her caution, since she was not experienced with dalliances as he was.

  Yet, for some reason, he felt nearly as green and untried as when he’d first attempted to steal a kiss as a young lad. What was it about Lady Courtenay that made him respond in such an unusual fashion? If he were not careful, she might have him forgetting his rules, the ones that made an affair not only possible, but more pleasurable, for both parties.

  The massive oak door opened, and Nicholas entered. The great hall was expansive, filled with paintings and statuary, definitely designed to impress. He followed the butler, their heels clicking against the black and white marble floor.

  “I shall show you to your room,” the butler intoned at the base of the staircase. “Her ladyship has asked me to inform you that dinner will be in two hours’ time. You are welcome to tour the house, and the grounds, if you like.”

  Nicholas beat back his disappointment. He had hoped to see her immediately. He was not normally this impatient, but he had been at a fever pitch ever since having her in his arms during their brief dance. He had spent every night since with thoughts of arousing her passion, and bringing that blissful expression to her face, hearing his name on her lips as she came apart.

  He ascended the stairs, barely acknowledging the grandeur on display, lost as he was in his thoughts of Lady Courtenay. He would have to find a way to see her when the other guests were not present. Perhaps once everyone else had retired for the evening, he could have her to himself, privately.

  Nicholas nearly missed the next step.

  He grinned. If the anticipation did not cause his demise, his distraction certainly would.

  The butler halted in front of a door, opening it and then entering the bedchamber, frowning as he ensured everything was set to rights. He finally bowed his head and said, “Lady Courtenay will see you in the red parlor. If you need assistance—”

  Nicholas held up one hand. “I shall find it. Thank you.”

  Once the butler left, Nicholas exhaled a heavy sigh. Now all he had to do was keep from going mad until he could finally see Lady Courtenay once more.

  ~ * ~

  A lifetime later, Nicholas entered the red parlor. It had been aptly named. The walls were a rich crimson, a hue normally used to showcase gilt-framed paintings, but in this case it seemed a reflection of the desire simmering inside of him. He spent several minutes taking in the furniture and the decorations, but with little appreciation of their value or beauty.

  He could think of nothing but Lady Courtenay.

  The door opened with a soft click. He spun around, pinning a smile to his face, curious as to which other guests had arrived.

  To his complete delight, Lady Courtenay entered the room alone. It appeared his wish to have her to himself had been granted, at least for a moment.

  She advanced his direction, her movements slow and elegant, and more seductive than she probably intended. His eyes feasted on every detail: the sheer dress swishing about her legs, the long kid gloves emphasizing her shapely arms, the dark hair swept into a graceful topknot.

  A tendril had escaped. Or perhaps it had been deliberately left undone. It trailed down to her nearly bare shoulder, inviting his perusal.

  He didn’t even consider refusing such a request.

  “I am so pleased you could be here,” she said, her smile a welcoming one. “I trust you had a pleasant journey.”

  His heart nearly pounded out of his chest, but he remained outwardly calm, thankful for years of practice. “It was a most pleasant journey, and not of long duration.” He returned the smile. “Or maybe it only seemed that way since I was eager to see you once more.”

  Nicholas lifted her gloved hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. Her breath quickened, slightly, and he decided to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist instead. Her eyelids fluttered closed for the briefest of moments.

  He was tempted to wrest the glove off her hand entirely, just to see her reaction when his mouth was on her delectable skin.

  She recovered quickly, though she could not disguise the delicate pink tinge on her cheeks. “I hope you will not mind, but I have planned a surprise for this evening.”

  “How could I mind?” He smiled. “Shall we await the other guests?”

  Her lips tilted up in a most beguiling fashion. “That is the surprise. There are no other guests.”

  He blinked, unable to answer for a moment. This woman stunned him speechless on a regular basis, something no one else had ever managed. How had he missed something so obvious?

  “Your invitation said—”

  “That I was having a small gathering.” She bit her lip nervously. “And I believe this qualifies as ‘small’.”

  “Indeed. It is the perfect size.” He winked. “As well as a relief, since I had only planned entertainments for two.”

  She laughed, her eyes giving him a warning look, but before she could say anything further, the butler entered, announcing that dinner was awaiting them.

  Nicholas extended his arm. “Lady Courtenay.”

  “Lord Blaise.”

  She placed her hand on his forearm, and he tucked it into his side, needing her as close as possible. They strolled the short distance to the dining room, chatting casually, as if they both weren’t breathless from the charged atmosphere between them.

  “I am grateful you reconsidered your reconsideration,” he said.

  “As am I.” She glanced up at him. “But I cannot imagine you expected I would refuse, after the missive you sent.”

  “It was more of a hopeful plea.” He grinned. “I was not entirely sure what might result.”

  She laughed, squeezing his arm at the same time. “You cannot convince me you had not calculated precisely what my response would be.”

  “Calculated?” He winced, playfully placing a hand to his heart. “You judge me too harshly.”

  “Nonsense. I judge you accurately. And we both know it.”

  They had reached the dining room, and when the butler made to assist her into her chair, she bestowed a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Marston, but we shall manage the rest by ourselves.”

  “Very good, your ladyship.” He bowed and left the room.

  To Nicholas’s relief, the dishes were set near each other, not at both ends of the impossibly long dining table.

  “Now I shall not be forced to bellow seductive words to you from across the room.”

  “With footmen standing impassively nearby, pretending they cannot hear you wooing me at the top of your lungs.”

  “Yet one more reason I applaud your decision to reduce the guest list.” He pulled her chair out with a slight flourish. “Lady Courtenay.”

  She turned, her expression earnest. “I wonder if you would call me by my name. Lady C
ourtenay reminds me of—”

  “A most unwelcome guest,” he said smoothly. “At least we do not need to add the word dowager to your title.”

  “Indeed. Just hearing myself described as a widow is daunting enough.”

  She sat down, smiling with what appeared to be genuine happiness. Nicholas pressed a light kiss to the shell of her ear. Her swift intake of breath made his body react in the most riotous manner, so his voice was understandably roughened when he asked, “What name shall I call you?”

  “Juliana,” she whispered. She turned her head slightly, so that his lips were touching her cheek. He was unable to resist that innocent lure, though he managed to halt at one kiss. How, he wasn’t entirely certain, for her skin was silky, and redolent of rosewater.

  He backed away, before he forgot himself, and headed towards his own chair. “Nicholas. Please call me Nicholas.”

  “It would be my pleasure, Nicholas.”

  He bit back a grin. “I may have to forego dinner entirely if you insist on combining my name with the word pleasure.”

  She tugged at her gloves, removing them, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I shall do my best to ensure you do not starve while in my home.”

  “Your home is quite a bit grander than I expected for a small gathering. You are certain there are no other guests, perhaps hidden in one of the outlying wings? Or that impressive tower?”

  She laughed appreciatively, and it aroused him as much as everything else about her. “It is not possible. I have spent several years here, with nothing to do with my time but explore every corner of the place. I know all the likely hiding spots.”

  “And we have the entire house to ourselves?”

  She nodded. “Save for a few necessary servants, but they are the ultimate in discretion. It does mean we shall have to fend for ourselves.”

  “Fortunately I have some skills which will prove useful.” Nicholas reached for the decanter, and poured a glass of claret for her. “Have you any holiday activities planned?”

  “Of course! As it is the first Christmas I have wanted to celebrate.”

  “And the first lover to celebrate with?”

  Her cheeks pinkened slightly. “Yes, of course. Though I must confess—”

  “I adore confessions.”

  She gave him a mock glare, which made him laugh again. She was such a delight. He liked how she did not attempt to be coy about what they were doing. He most definitely enjoyed her banter, and easygoing manner, and looked forward to the next twelve days with her. It was the first time in longer than he could remember that he actually relished any moment of a Christmas season.

  “I must confess,” she continued, “I feel some trepidation at being the latest in what is a long string of lovers for you.”

  He raised his eyebrows as if shocked.

  “If one gives credence to all the rumors,” she added with a laugh.

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t. After all, it’s quite possible that I am the source of the rumors, inflating my consequence so lovely young widows will request my company.”

  That made her blush. “But that is my point. While I may be a widow, you have already discerned I do not have anywhere near the vast experience you have acquired—”

  Nicholas could see her nerves trying to get the best of her, and hastened to reassure her. “I must confess to feeling some trepidation as well.” He clasped her fluttering hand lightly in his, brushing a kiss across her bare knuckles. “I shall be your first lover. It is an entirely new experience for me. I would hate to prove a disappointment to you.”

  “That is not possible,” she breathed. “I am certain you could never disappoint.”

  If only that were true.

  For a moment he let himself believe it was possible to give her a fortnight of pleasure without causing her tender heart a lifetime of harm.

  But had he learned nothing from the past? He was the scourge of innocents. His well-intentioned efforts to safeguard Juliana might not be enough.

  He nearly stood, making a hasty excuse about needing to return to London. But wouldn’t that prove just as harmful? She had bravely taken a risk, asking him to be her first lover, after a horrendous marriage that left her doubting her desirability. He could not add to that by rejecting her, all so he could ease his own fears.

  Surely he could give them both immeasurable delight while steering clear of the emotions that had caused the complications in his past.

  Nicholas lifted his wineglass in a salute. “To pleasurable expectations.”

  She clinked her glass against his. “And to wildly exceeding them.”

  He laughed once more, at how easily she eased his fears, when he had meant to do the same for her. He set his glass aside and picked up his fork, ready to sample the elegant fare set before him. “So tell me about these holiday activities you have planned.”

  She hesitated, as if gauging whether he would be amenable to activities outside of the bedchamber. “I thought we could seek out a yule log on the morrow.”

  “What a splendid idea.” And it was, surprisingly, but he had begun to suspect every moment with Juliana would prove to be the same way. “I have not done that for years. I have to confess—”

  When she opened her mouth, he playfully raised his eyebrow, as if warning her not to utter the phrase.

  She grinned. “I adore confessions.”

  He pretended to give her his fiercest glare, which set off a glorious round of giggles.

  “I begin to believe you also adore tormenting me,” he said.

  “Perhaps. Now tell me, what were you about to confess?”

  He gazed at her, feeling happy and at peace and content. He was incredibly aroused, too. That was not about to dissipate anytime soon. But the other sensations were a lovely, unexpected addition to his enjoyment of this affair.

  “I was about to confess I have not enjoyed Christmas festivities for a long time, but you are changing my mind about that. It is a most pleasant surprise.”

  “I am glad to hear that,” she said, her voice ringing with sincerity. “Yet I am saddened that you did not enjoy Christmas. Can you tell me why?”

  “It is a tiresome tale.” He waved his hand as if it were of little import. “It should put you to sleep in no time.” He gave her a wicked grin. “I prefer to do that in a much more enjoyable fashion.”

  As he had hoped, his deflection proved successful.

  “What of this evening?” she asked. “Have you planned anything?”

  She had kept her voice even, yet was not experienced enough to keep the unabashed interest from her eyes. He was more than amenable to taking her to his bed, that very moment. He had been fighting off the urge since she had entered the parlor earlier.

  But what better time to relish the almost unbearable anticipation, giving Juliana an opportunity to experience that for the first time as well?

  They did have twelve days, after all.

  “I thought I would spend some time drafting a detailed plan for the upcoming…entertainment.”

  Juliana’s breath hitched. “It cannot be done on the spur of the moment?”

  “It can. But there is no need to rush such things.”

  Nicholas took her hand once more, glad she had removed her glove at the commencement of dinner. Smoothing his palm slowly over her skin was twice as enjoyable since her eyes widened at the intimate contact.

  “If one is in a hurry,” he murmured, “one might miss important details. Such as this.”

  He raised her hand as though he planned to kiss it, but instead he nibbled on her fingertips, one by one, watching her the entire time.

  She gazed at him wide-eyed, her breathing ragged, her other hand resting over her heart as if to steady it. “It would be criminal to overlook something so delightfully…important.”

  It took every ounce of will not to sweep the table clear and place her atop it. But he was enjoying this slow seduction as much as she was. He knew it would heighten that moment when they were f
inally joined in bed, and he was willing to tease her unmercifully to bring her the most pleasure possible, then, and now.

  “And this.” Nicholas turned her hand over and lightly nipped the vein that pulsed at her wrist. “It would be a shame to omit this.”

  Her gasp of pleasure made him look up, and her expression could only be described as awestruck. It frightened him a bit, yet it also made him feel a surge of power, as if he could perform any impossible feat just then.

  Juliana moistened her lips, unwittingly drawing his attention to them, innocently asking for a kiss. He could not refuse. Once more he was grateful for how close he was seated to her. He merely needed to lean forward, tip her chin up, and place his mouth against hers.

  She sighed at the contact, and her eyes drifted closed. Her mouth was soft and sweet, even more tempting than he had imagined. He told himself to go slowly, even though his body urged him to deepen the kiss, and soon.

  He fought off the urge, nibbling at her bottom lip instead. She did the same to him, and it made him smile.

  She drew back, her expression worried. “Was that not—”

  “Perfectly delightful? It was.”

  Nicholas placed his hand at her nape, drawing her closer. At the same time, Juliana grasped the lapel of his coat, clearly signaling she had no intentions of letting him get too far away.

  He could not even entertain such an idea. Not when he felt her passion rising after one kiss. This time he did not attempt to hold back. Juliana responded just as passionately. Nicholas held her face with both hands, delving into the sweetness she offered.

  Twelve days of her kisses would never be enough. He could imagine needing them every single day—

  The unexpected thought jolted him out of the spell he had fallen under. He retreated slowly, tracing a gentle finger over Juliana’s kiss-swollen lips, giving her a chance to return to normal.

  It might take him a long while to do the same, however. One short dinner with the entrancing Juliana had already provided a new experience for him, one he had spent his born days avoiding. He was not likely to last through many more if he did not regain his scattered wits, and quickly.