“Merely to observe, I assure you.”
“Sir, you need to recapture your youth. You’ve told me to remember my place, but it appears you need to forget your place once in a while.”
“Indeed? I can assure you I never forget my place. And I find it’s much wiser to enjoy watching all of you get wet and uncomfortable.”
“Your Grace, we’re going to make snowballs and have a snowball fight.” Charlotte shouted from her position where she formed the small white balls, stacking them into a pile.
“And will Miss Chambers be joining you?”
“Of course. I always engage in the snowball fights.” Merry slogged through the snow to where Clare also produced snowballs and knelt to help her. “In fact, I am the snowball queen.”
“Aren’t you cold, Miss Chambers?” Penrose spoke from his safe spot, a smirk on his handsome face.
Merry studied him−all stiff and proper. Dry as a bone, and watching them from his comfortable perch at the front door. A tiny niggle of awareness settled in her middle. The cold brought out the color in his cheeks, his eyes snapping with his usual arrogance. Once again she remembered the kiss in the darkness of the library. How soft and warm his mouth had been, how hard his body felt against hers.
Now he appeared lofty, above her, a reminder of how far apart they stood. Before she could even form the words for what she planned to do, she picked up a good-sized snowball, and pulling her arm back, let it fly.
The snowball whacked the duke square in the face.
“Miss Merry!” Two astonished young voices screeched.
Chapter 8
The cold, wet mess slid slowly down Penrose’s forehead, over his nose, to his tightened lips, then dripped off his chin onto his coat. He dragged his hand down his face and headed toward his nemesis.
Eyes wide, but with a huge grin, Merry rose to her feet, and turned to run. His long legs ate up the distance to her. Her skirts dragged in the snow, hampering her escape. Penrose wrapped his arm around her middle from behind. “No one has hit me in the face with a snowball in over twenty years,” he growled in her ear.
Merry tugged free of his grip and promptly fell face-first into the snow when he released her. She jerked her head up, spitting out clumps of slush, still laughing. “I’m sorry.” Wiping her face, she turned, and landed on her bottom. Tilting her head she regarded him. “No. I’m not sorry.”
“That does it. This time, Miss Chambers, you have gone too far.” Penrose wheeled and strode in the direction of the house, but made a quick detour to the pile of snowballs alongside Lady Charlotte. The young girl stared at him open-mouthed. He dropped to his knees alongside her.
“Madam, this is war,” he shouted at Merry. He picked up a well-shaped ball of snow and hurled it in her direction. And hit her square on the shoulder.
“Clare, some help, please,” Merry shouted in the direction where the girl stood in stunned silence.
Clare hurried to her side, and within minutes snowballs flew back and forth between the two pairs, the sound of shrieks and laughter filling the afternoon air.
Three days after the snowball fight, which Penrose took a lot of teasing about from both his mother and Brandon, the skies dumped another foot of snow.
The dowager duchess, Penrose, Merry, Lord Brandon, and Miss Jennings gathered for dinner, the dining room warm and glowing from candles and the fireplace. Footmen scurried back and forth, serving curried rabbit and pouring wine until retreating to stand quietly against the wall.
As Penrose spooned fragrant clear soup into his mouth, he regarded Merry, who looked particularly delightful tonight in a pale aquamarine silk gown. The flames from the fireplace behind her cast a shadowy mystique over her face. Then she would turn her head to comment to another diner, and the radiance of her creamy skin and full lips tempted his senses. No matter how hard he tried, she was never far from his thoughts. Nor was his desire for her.
He smiled, remembering the audacity of her dragging him into a snowball fight. It was even worth the indignity he’d put up with since that eventful incident. For the first time in more years than he could remember he hadn’t felt like the duke. Just a man, playing in the snow with two young girls and a beautiful, mischievous woman.
That could be my family.
He shook his head. No. He liked his life just the way it was. No wife to bring complications into it. Especially one who scoffed at marriage being a business arrangement. Let Brandon produce the necessary heir. His gut tightened. As long as his brother didn’t set his sights on Merry.
“Penrose, with all this snow keeping us indoors, I’m feeling a bit restless. It’s a lovely, clear evening. Perhaps you could have the sleigh brought ‘round, and the horses hitched? I’m sure Miss Chambers and Miss Jennings would enjoy a ride in the night air. I know I would.”
“Mother, I haven’t thought of that sleigh in years. I wonder if it’s still serviceable?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Penrose signaled for the footman to have the stable master locate the large sleigh and prepare it for a ride.
“I’m afraid I must decline, Your Grace. My delicate constitution doesn’t allow for rides in the night air.” Miss Jennings raised her chin.
“As you wish,” he nodded in her direction.
“Indeed. A true lady must guard against taxing her system.” She looked down her nose at Merry, then turned to smile at Penrose, and missed the way Merry glanced up at the ceiling.
He coughed to cover his laugh.
His mother and Merry stood in the entrance hall, bundled up against the cold, when Penrose jogged down the stairs. “Excellent. Are we ready?”
“My dear, I was about to mention to Miss Chambers that it appears something must not have agreed with me at dinner, and I must bow out of our little ride.” His mother touched her stomach briefly and smiled sadly.
“Oh, I will stay with you.” Merry immediately looked concerned.
She flicked her hand in dismissal. “Nonsense, you must both go and enjoy yourselves. I don’t want to spoil the fun. Just an old lady’s troubles.”
“Are you sure?” Penrose regarded the rosy cheeked, very healthy looking dowager with skepticism.
“Absolutely, my dears. I will have Cook send up a tonic. Go off and have fun. It’s a lovely night for a ride.” She glanced out the small window above the hall mirror. “Look at all those stars. My goodness, there must be millions of them.”
“It really isn’t proper for me to ride alone with His Grace,” Merry said.
“Don’t be silly. Who could possibility object to you both enjoying a ride on our own land? Things in the country are a bit more relaxed than in Town.”
Still looking askance at the dowager, Merry allowed Penrose to take her elbow and escort her out of the house.
The shiny red sides of the conveyance gleamed in the moonlight. His heart lightened just looking at it. So many happy memories rose as he grew closer and helped Merry in. As excited as a boy, he hurried to the other side and climbed into the seat. Reaching behind him, he pulled out a large fur blanket, and tucked it securely over the two of them. “Ready?”
Merry nodded, and he picked up the reins, the jangle of the bells music to his ears. “It has been a very long time since I took a sleigh ride.” He cast Merry a grin.
“It seems to me there are many things you haven’t done in some time. And all of them fun.”
“That’s right. The duties of my title have been foremost in my life for so long, I’ve forgotten how to enjoy myself.” He glanced at her. “But you apparently have no trouble remembering.”
She shook her head and pulled the fur up to her chin. “We must always keep part of the child within us alive.”
“Such philosophy. One of your father’s quotes?”
Merry smiled. “No. My very own.”
They flew past barren trees, ice glistening on branches that stretched upward, reaching for the multitude of stars overhead. The sound of the sle
igh bells echoed in their ears, soon followed by Merry’s laughter.
“This is wonderful. How could you not do this every time it snows?”
“Now with you here, you must remind me.” He tugged on the reins, directing the sleigh to the left. “I want to show you something.”
After about ten minutes he pulled up and brought the conveyance to a halt. The horses snorted and stomped, their warm breath visible in the cold night air. In front of them sat a frozen pond, tucked away amidst a circle of bare trees.
“My brother and I used to skate here all winter when we were youths.”
“How lovely!” Merry leaned forward, taking in the ice sparkling in the moonlight. She turned to him. “We must come back here and skate.”
“Oh, no thank you.”
“Why ever not?” She shook her head. “Perhaps because you haven’t done that either in years?” Her lips tilted in a smirk.
“You are correct, and the last thing I want to do is break my neck.”
He laid his arm along the back of the sleigh and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. The moonlight on her face brought attention to her comely features. “Aren’t you afraid of anything, Miss Chambers?” He lowered his voice.
She swallowed, the delicate muscles in her neck working, causing blood to race to his groin.
“Yes. There are some things I’m fearful of.”
“Such as?”
Merry licked her lips, conveying images of what he’d like her to do with that sensuous mouth. He shifted and drew her closer. “I’ll wager there is nothing that scares you.”
“Not so, Your Grace.” The words slid from her mouth on a whispered breath.
“Penrose. We dispensed with Your Grace a while ago.” He bent toward her, leaning his forehead on hers, his hand cupping her cheek. “Do I scare you?”
She shook her head in response.
Had she discerned his thoughts at the moment, she would be petrified. Despite claiming he didn’t scare her, she was certainly not unaffected by his closeness. Her pulse raced, evident by the throbbing in her neck that appeared almost painful. She drove him mad with her scent, her obvious arousal. He had to taste her, feel those soft lips under his. Gripping the back of her head, he gently rested his mouth on hers.
Penrose must’ve certainly heard her heart thundering in her chest. Was she afraid of him? Yes. Afraid of how he made her feel. And wish for things beyond her grasp that one only found in fairy tales.
As his warm lips covered hers, the light of a thousand candles burst behind her closed eyelids. She whimpered, and he pulled her closer. Everything inside her body throbbed. Her nipples ached where they pressed against her layers of clothing. The woman’s place between her legs throbbed, then moistened. What was happening to her? She’d never felt this before, and although it frightened her, her traitorous body longed for more.
Penrose drew back and held her face gently, brushing his thumb over her heated cheek. “I want you, Merry. Very much. And that should scare you.” Once more his head descended and he reclaimed her lips, crushing her against him. He slipped his tongue in, sweeping over the inside of her mouth, stroking, seeking all the sensitive parts. She tentatively used her tongue to meet his, spurring a groan to rumble from his chest.
He released her mouth and brushed kisses over the sensitive skin behind her ear. Shivers ran down her body.
“Are you cold?”
Quite the opposite. She wanted to remove every layer of clothing. And heaven help her, she wanted Penrose to do the same so she could rub her sensitive skin against his. Nothing in all the books and learning she’d had, prepared her for these feelings. “No, not cold. Quite the opposite, in fact. I am much overheated.”
Penrose chuckled and pulled back to stare into her eyes. “You never do or say what is expected.”
“’Tis a gift, Your Grace,” she whispered.
“We’d better get back.” He slid over and reclaimed the reins, and coldness replaced the warmth his body had provided. When she clasped her arms around herself, he pulled her to him, tucking her snugly into his side.
The ride home was swift, seeming to take much less time than their venture out. Her emotions were tumultuous, questions swimming around her mind. What would happen when they arrived home? Could they continue this back and forth dance without coming to an obvious conclusion? And what would happen afterward? Did she want to take the chance?
Penrose hopped from the sleigh and tossed the reins at the stable master. Taking Merry by her elbow, he escorted her to the house.
“I think a bit of brandy would warm us both up. Care to join me in the library, Miss Chambers?” Penrose shrugged out of his coat and peeled off his gloves. The footman helped relieve Merry of her cloak and pelisse she’d worn to keep warm. The house stood silent, a testament to its residents having retired for the night.
Although still confused by the kiss, and not sure where this would all lead, the thought of ending the night now dampened her spirits. “Yes, I think I could use a small drink.”
They entered the library, and Merry rubbed her hands together and headed toward the blazing fireplace. Her heart thumped, and with the silence in the room, felt certain Penrose could hear it, and would know how he affected her. She should leave, save herself from what she wanted so badly.
“Miss Chambers.” The duke’s deep voice rumbled behind her as he held out a crystal glass of sherry. Her heart pounded double time as her senses came alive at his scent. She stared at his strong hand, mesmerized. What would those hands feel like against her naked flesh? She closed her eyes, but the image stayed with her.
“Thank you.” She turned and cleared the squeak from her throat.
He gently touched her cheek, tenderness in his eyes.
Once they sat in front of the fire, a warm rush of memories from the other night raced through her. Only this time she wore clothes. She blushed. Why were her thoughts so wanton?
She slanted a look at Penrose, his long legs stretched in front of him. Generations of aristocracy had been bred into those features. Broad forehead, high cheekbones, and a straight nose above full lips. He studied the fire, taking unhurried swallows of brandy. Every time her gaze wandered to his mouth, a spark of awareness clenched her stomach.
He’d said he wanted her. For what? Certainly she would never suffice as his duchess. Did he intend to seduce her, and then like so many aristocrats, send her on her way, or offer her carte blanche? She best be on her guard where the Duke of Penrose was concerned. Perhaps Miss Jennings had been correct, and all he would seek her for would be a quick tumble.
Frustration mounted as she dwelled on how foolish she’d been already to allow his kisses. With his attractive looks, title, and money, the man before her could have any woman in England.
She dragged the remnants of her pride around her like a comforting wrap. Once Kitty’s Christmas Eve ball was over, she would leave. Perhaps if Penrose decided to take a bride, it would be the governess. He seemed to hold the woman in high regard, and the girls had adjusted well to her tutelage. Although no beauty in the classic sense, Merry didn’t imagine a man with Penrose’s sexual appetites would find it hard to bed Miss Jennings. And produce the heir and spare.
Penrose didn’t seem too interested in the usual way men of the ton pursued a wife. Kitty had confided that he hadn’t attended ton activities in years. As a duke, it was his responsibility to provide the heir, not leave it to his brother, as he intended. Surely he would eventually come to that decision. And Miss Jennings agreed with his assertion that marriage was no more than a business arrangement.
Penrose drained his glass, and then set it down, pulling her from her musings. He studied her for moment, a hungry look in his eyes. Then he rose and pulled her up with both hands, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I can no longer fight this.” Without further warning, he took possession of her mouth, gently at first, and then with power and persuasion. All her senses screamed, warning her to flee.
He rele
ased her lips, his warm breath causing her skin to tingle as he placed short, feathery kisses behind her ear, down her neck to her jaw. She tilted her head to give him greater access.
“Day and night, thoughts of you in my bed consume me,” he murmured as he continued his assault on her senses. “I never lose control. Never.” He drew back and looked in her eyes. “Until now.”
Merry licked her dry lips and Penrose groaned. “I want to make love to you, breaking one of my strictest rules about bedding women under my employ.”
“I am not in your employ, but your mother’s,” she breathed.
He cupped her chin, and brushed his thumb over her lips, his eyes darkened with desire. “What are you saying?”
Indeed. What was she saying? Was she prepared to be bedded and discarded? Could her heart take the blow? She needed to flee from this room, this man. Run as far away as she could from him and the power he held over her. Her newly formed plan to leave after Christmas must stay foremost in her mind.
Then she made the mistake of gazing into those passion-filled eyes, and inhaled deeply, opting for honesty. “I’m not sure. I’ve never felt this way before, and I don’t know what to make of it.”
He took both of her cold hands into his warm ones. “Are you aware of what I’m asking of you?”
She nodded. It was too easy to get lost in the way he looked at her. Her inner voice urged her to leave. Quickly.
His mouth took hers hungrily and she surrendered. Whatever this man wanted from her would be his. She could no longer fight it, either. The passion he elicited was more powerful than all the brandy she could consume.
He ran his hands over her back, massaging, kneading her flesh. He pulled away, and leaned his chin on the top of her head, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Tell me no now, and I will let you go. Or yes, if you wish this as much as I do.” He tilted her chin up.
She hesitated only a moment. “Yes.”
He swept her into his arms and strode to the door. Merry buried her face into his chest, inhaling deeply the scent that was only Penrose. Leather, brandy, and Bay Rum.
Merry Christmas, My Love Page 28
