A Rake in Winter

by Jillian Eaton

  She frowned. “I was not aware that was my responsibility. Rest assured, I believe you have more than your fair share of arrogance without my assistance.”

  With a half laugh, half groan Kendalwood briefly rested his temple against hers before he lifted his head and grinned down at her. “Is it any wonder I have been missing you?”

  “You – you have been missing me?”

  “Like a man crazed.”

  Once again, the only intelligible word Merry could manage to form was, “Oh.”

  “As I was saying,” Kendalwood continued in a deliciously husky tone, “the men in my family have a rather...odd tradition. No one knows how it first came to be, only that in nearly three hundred years it has never failed. Do you believe in soul mates, Merry?”

  She blinked. Of all the things she’d been prepared for Kendalwood to say, it certainly was not that! “Soul mates?” she repeated hesitantly.

  “The idea that one person on earth is destined for another and through fate or sheer coincidence they will one day meet and fall irreversibly in love. My family believes in soul mates, you see. The very first time my father laid eyes on my mother he knew she was meant to be his. The same thing happened to my grandfather. My great-grandfather. My great-great-grandfather. And,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers, “the same thing has happened to me.”

  As Merry felt a wave of elated dizziness descend upon her, she pressed her hands against Kendalwood’s chest to steady herself. “What – what are you saying?”

  “I am saying that from the first moment you spilled wine on my cravat I knew there was something different about you, but I did not realize what it was until the night in the barn.” Tenderly brushing a loose curl behind her ear he said, “I have always known what love was not, but it wasn’t until I looked into your eyes that I learned what love could be.”

  “Oh my.” As she felt her entire world spin on its axis, Merry struggled to find her footing. “I – this seems to be happening awfully fast.”

  “For my family, this is actually quite slow,” he said wryly.

  It wasn’t what Merry had been expecting. It was more. So much more she felt as if she were dreaming, except she never wanted to fall asleep. Not if it meant spending another moment away from Kendalwood. Yes, the man was an arrogant rake. But he was her arrogant rake. And yes, their love may have been sudden. But did that make it any less genuine?

  Staring into the gold-flecked eyes of the one man who had completely captured her heart, Merry knew the answer.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  “Now?” With a grin so enormous it encompassed his entire face, Kendalwood plucked Merry off the floor and swung her around in a circle. “Now I ask your father for your hand, and then we marry. Unless you would enjoy the pomp and circumstance, I thought a quiet wedding right after Christmas would suffice. I already have the special license.”

  “You do?” Would the man never cease to surprise her? “When did you get that?”

  Kendalwood set her down but continued to hold her close, nestling her against his chest as his arms went around her slender back and settled on the slight curve of her hips. “Where do you think I have been this past week? In London,” he said when she gave an uncertain shake of her head. “I have been in London.”

  All this time she’d thought he had completely forgotten about her and here he had been in London...procuring a special license so they could marry before the snow melted.

  It was incredible.

  Incredible and exhilarating and shocking all at once.

  Who would have ever guessed that she, shy Merry Clearwater, would catch the eye of one of London’s most prestigious dukes? Were she not experiencing the fairy tale first hand, Merry would have found it all very unbelievable. But she was, and now there was only one final thing to do...

  “Before you ask my father, there is one thing you need to do first,” she said with mock severity.

  Kendalwood’s brow pinched. “And what is that?”

  “Kiss me,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck.

  With a husky laugh he lowered his head and murmured against her lips, “I thought you would never ask, little hen. I thought you would never ask.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jillian Eaton grew up in Maine and now resides in Pennsylvania. When she isn't writing, Jillian is doing her best to keep up with her three very mischievous dogs. She loves horses, coffee, getting email from readers, ducks, and staying up late finishing a good book.

  She isn't very fond of doing laundry.

  www.jillianeaton.com

  Read on for a sneak peek at

  EVIE (Romance With a Rogue, Book 2)

  Evie does not believe in love...but she does believe in the time honored tradition of marrying above one’s station. Determined to escape her over-controlling mother and create a future for herself, she becomes engaged to the first suitable man who will have her. The Earl of Reinhold may be as boring as lint, but he is wealthy and titled. By high society’s standards – and Evie’s – that is all that matters. Or is it?

  Aiden Donovan is neither wealthy nor titled. But from the first moment he and Evie accidentally bump into one another on a crowded street she finds herself utterly captivated by his dark charm. Rough and common, Aiden is the complete opposite of Evie’s fiancé. She shouldn’t be attracted to him...and she certainly shouldn’t be sneaking out to kiss him in the moonlight.

  As the day to her wedding draws closer, Evie is faced with an impossible decision. Will she listen to her head? Or for the first time in her life will she follow her heart?

  Available wherever e-books are sold.

  PROLOGUE

  Genevieve knew she was beautiful. She knew it in the same way she knew it was raining outside and whenever Uncle Rigby came for dinner he would be half foxed and far too handsy for his own good. Her beauty was a fact, not an opinion. A fact she had been living with for her entire life.

  When Evie was young and naïve and too foolish to know any better she’d thought her beauty was a gift. Every morning she had bounded out of bed and run to the looking glass hanging in the corner of her room, eager to see the changes in her developing body.

  Day after day she had marveled over her long, thick auburn hair and the catlike slant of her startling green eyes. Her skin was roses and cream without a hint of any damning freckles. Her build slender and willowy with just a hint of curve at her breasts and hips.

  Before her sixteenth birthday she was already heralded as a great beauty. Men old enough to be her father wrote her sonnets while others pledged their undying love. By the end of her first London season she already had seven offers for her hand, three of which she would have happily accepted.

  Were it not for her mother.

  They say every fairytale has a wicked queen, and this story is no exception. But rest assured Evie is not your average damsel in distress...just as the man she’s destined to fall in love with is no knight in shining armor.

  Our story begins on a sun-drenched morning in the middle of a busy cobblestone street when two people who never should have met suddenly find themselves face to face...and their entire lives, although they don’t know it yet, are about to be changed...

  Forever.

  CHAPTER ONE

  On the importance of appearance...

  “Pretty is as a pretty does. But real beauty is the only thing that lasts forever.” – Genevieve Longacre, the future Countess of Reinhold

  “The deeper the pint glass the lovelier the lass.” – Aiden Donovan, disreputable rake and scoundrel extraordinaire

  “I do not see why we have to waste a perfectly nice day wandering from store to store.”

  Adjusting the tilt of her hat so her face was adequately shaded – everyone knew sunlight caused freckles and freckles brought nothing but misery – Evie cast her friend an incredulous glance from beneath the feather-lined brim. While it was true that Merry had not been her first choice when she had
been looking for someone to go shopping with, she had never expected the blue-eyed brunette to put up such a fuss. Especially not when she was recently married! And to the Duke of Kendalwood, no less, one of the wealthiest men in all of England. If there was anyone who should be enjoying a bit of shopping it was the new Duchess of Kendalwood, and yet looking at her one would think she’d just bitten into a lemon.

  “We are not wandering,” Evie corrected with an authoritative wave of her hand. “We are walking with purpose.”

  “For walking with purpose we are not getting very far,” Merry grumbled. Coming up short in front of a brick building with an array of dresses and silk parasols on display in the front window, she eyed the wooden sign hanging above their heads with suspicion. “Haven’t we been here already?”

  “Yes, but only once.” Taking Merry’s hand, Evie pulled her into the bustling shop. The cheerful jingle of bells followed them inside. “The first time is always only for looking.”

  Visibly exasperated, Merry nevertheless allowed Evie to tow her along in her wake as though she were an errant child instead of a duchess. “And what is the second time for?”

  “Buying,” Evie said, her voice marked with satisfaction as she stopped short in front of an antique sewing table and held up a delicate pair of kid gloves trimmed with ivory lace. “Aren’t they the most beautiful thing you have ever seen? I simply must have them.”

  “That is what you say about everything.”

  “Only because it is true.” And it was. For as long as Evie could remember she’d had a penchant for buying things. It did not matter what it was. A pair of gloves. An oriental fan. A fuzzy yellow kitten with a pink ribbon wrapped round its neck. If it caught her eye and sparked her interest she had to have it, no matter the cost. “Isn’t there anything in here you like? They have garters in the back. Imported directly from Paris. You won’t find any finer.”

  “Garters?” Merry looked startled. “What would I need new garters for?”

  “Your holiday, silly. When are you leaving for Scotland?”

  “At the end of next week. But what does that have to do–”

  “We shall definitely have to make a trip to Madame Susanna’s before then,” Evie decided. Tucked away on a quiet, unassuming lane on the far side of Grosvenor Square, Madame Susanna’s shop was renowned for its decadent creations that served little purpose outside of the bedroom. It was the ton’s worst kept secret and one of Evie’s favorite places to browse although she had little reason to spend her money there. At least not yet.

  Soon, she promised herself as her gaze swept over a fanciful felt hat with peacock feathers pinned to the side. Soon I will have a rich husband to buy me all the silk chemises and see-through drawers I desire.

  She even had a husband picked out. It was no secret that the Earl of Reinhold had been courting her for nearly a year. They had gone on various outings together, including carriage rides through Hyde Park, multiple trips to the theater, and one very memorable – albeit regrettably short lived – evening at Vauxhall Gardens.

  While she and Reinhold did not love one another – he was a bit too tame for her tastes and she suspected she was a tad too wild for his – there was a certain fondness between them in addition to a mutual understanding that their match would be a good one. Evie’s grandfather had been a duke, and even though her family had fallen on hard times as of late they were still considered amidst London’s elite even though heaven knew they were clinging on by their fingernails. It was a well-kept secret that the Longacre’s were not long for financial ruin and no one – not even Evie’s closest friends – knew how precarious her footing had become on the social ladder.

  It was ironic, really. Ever since her season debut Evie had been forced to turn down suitors left and right. Suitors who, in hindsight, would have made far wealthier husbands than the Earl of Reinhold. But her mother had been insistent on finding the best possible match for her daughter and no one – not Lord Featherbone or the Earl of Perrin or even the Marquess of Warrington – had been good enough. As the daughter of a duke who had married beneath her station, Theresa Longacre was determined her own daughter would not suffer the same fate. No matter that dukes were in alarmingly short supply.

  Unfortunately in her pickiness she had not taken her husband’s mounting gambling debts into consideration. Now the Longacre’s were doing all they could to keep their heads above water and their only salvation – Evie’s only salvation – was a lowly earl whom Theresa would not have even permitted through the door two years ago.

  Thus the irony.

  “Come on.” Setting the gloves aside as an unpleasant taste swelled in the back of her throat, Evie looped her arm through Merry’s and quickly dragged her out of the shop. Why bother looking at pretty things when she could not afford them? Best to wait until she and Reinhold were officially engaged...and she could put her frivolous purchases in his name instead of her father’s.

  “Where are we going now?” Merry wanted to know as they squeezed between two women who were attempting to open a pair of matching parasols.

  “You’re right,” Evie said. “It is too nice of a day to spend indoors. We should go to the park or feed the ducks in Bloomsbury Gardens.” A brilliant wash of sunlight blinded them both as they stepped out the door. Merry stopped, but Evie kept going...straight into the arms of a dashing stranger.