by Burke, Darcy
Having been dismissed, Nora stared at his dark head and scowled. She spun on her heel and stalked back to the drawing room where the Satterfields were expectantly waiting. Their faces fell in unison when they saw her.
“What’s wrong?” Lady Satterfield asked, rising from the settee.
“He refuses to go. He spouted some nonsense about my condition and mud.” Nora folded her arms over her chest. “Now what do we do?”
Lord Satterfield, who’d stood with the countess, exhaled. “I’ll talk to him. You both get ready, and we’ll meet you in the entry hall.” He gave them both a look of pure determination before leaving.
“Do you really think he’ll succeed where I failed?” Nora asked, dropping her arms to her sides.
Lady Satterfield patted her arm. “I hope so dear. Otherwise, we’ve gone to a lot of trouble for nothing, and many people will be greatly disappointed.”
Nora prayed that wouldn’t happen.
* * *
Titus frowned at the door after Nora had left. He was a beast. He wouldn’t have hesitated to take Nora for a ride, but it was imperative they stay at home today. He would move heaven and earth to give his wife her heart’s desire, which was precisely why he wouldn’t take her out in the barouche.
He winced as he recalled the disappointment in her gaze followed by shock and then anger. He hadn’t meant to patronize her and hoped she’d forgive him. Of course she would. Later today, she’d be too happy to remain upset.
Or so he hoped.
His stepfather walked into his office, his face dark and his mouth turned down. “Why won’t you take Nora for a ride? It’s absolutely beautiful, and she’s been cooped up inside for days.”
Titus stood up. “I just don’t want to go out today. I’ll take her out tomorrow.”
Satterfield, a typically affable fellow, gave him a hard look. “And what if the rain returns? There’s absolutely no reason you can’t go today.”
There was every reason, but he wasn’t going to explain himself to his stepfather. “This is my house, and I’ll decide what reasons are valid.” Titus inwardly flinched—that didn’t sound good or rational even to his ears.
“Would it help to know that your wife has planned a special outing for today and by not going, you’ll be crushing her?”
Hell. A special outing? What was he supposed to do now? He’d planned something special for today, and they could not leave.
Titus walked around his desk as he pushed out a breath. “I didn’t realize. Still, we can’t go today. Can’t we just do this tomorrow?”
“Certainly. If you’d like to sleep alone for the foreseeable future. You’re still a newlywed. You don’t understand a woman’s anger. It is a force unto itself.”
Titus wiped his hand over his brow. “I’m not trying to make her angry.” Damn it all, this was not going as planned.
“We never try, son. Nevertheless, that’s precisely what you’re doing.”
There had to be some sort of middle ground, but Titus couldn’t think of it. “I’m sorry, but we just can’t go today.”
Satterfield glared at him a moment, and Titus wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him that put out. “Then we’ll go without you. You really are the Forbidden Duke, aren’t you? You forbid yourself even the simplest pleasures. Enjoy your solitude.” He turned and strode from the office.
Titus gaped after him. He did like his solitude, but since he’d fallen in love with Nora, he far preferred her company. And actually the company of others he cared for. Including his stepfather.
He followed Satterfield all the way to the entry hall and stopped short. The butler began to help the earl into his great coat while Titus’s stepmother and Nora pulled on their gloves. “You’re going anyway?” Titus asked.
The bitter taste of defeat rushed over his tongue. He’d planned today’s surprise for Nora so meticulously. The rain had tried to ruin things, but after several delays, it was finally going to happen—Nora’s fondest Christmas wish.
Only she wouldn’t be here to receive it.
Realizing this had moved past his ability to control, Titus surrendered. “How long will this excursion take?” Perhaps if they hurried, they would still arrive home in time.
Nora gave him a cool stare. “All day. Don’t let us disturb you.”
“I’ll go,” he said somewhat listlessly.
His stepmother pursed her lips at him. “We don’t want to force you.”
He didn’t say anything, just waited for a footman to fetch his greatcoat and hat.
A few minutes later he joined them outside where the barouche was already waiting. He blinked toward the bright sky. It was an especially fine day. Perfect for a surprise.
Ah well, it would still be a surprise, just not the way he’d conceived it.
He climbed into the barouche and sat beside his wife who refused to look his way.
This was not how he’d envisioned this day at all.
* * *
Nora slid a curious glance toward her husband. He looked incredibly disappointed. He really didn’t want to go out today. And here she was forcing this on him. How much fun were they going to have now?
She opened her mouth to tell him what they had planned when the sound of a coach drew her attention. The barouche slowed as the coach came toward them.
The other vehicle eased to a stop beside them in the drive. Nora’s heart stuttered. She recognized that coach.
The door flew open, and her beloved sister, Joanna, popped her head out as the footman rushed to put down the stairs.
“Nora!” Jo cried, her hazel eyes sparkling in the sunlight.
The tears Nora had kept at bay earlier welled in her eyes she stood up in the barouche. “Jo, you’re here.” She could hardly believe it.
The footman opened the door to the barouche and helped Nora down. As soon as her feet hit the earth, she rushed forward and wrapped her sister in a tight hug. Tears tracked down her cheeks, which were pulled taut with the smile that came from her very soul.
When they finally parted, Nora could see that Jo was crying too. “I was certain we wouldn’t be together.” Nora wiped her eyes.
“I was too, until your husband invited me to come.” Jo looked over Nora’s shoulder at Titus.
Nora turned her head and saw Titus watching them with a wide grin. “This is why you didn’t want to leave.” How she loved this man.
He nodded.
Lady Satterfield dashed her fingertips over her eyes. “Well, this is just the loveliest surprise.”
Yes, it was. Or was it? They still had one to go. Nora hugged her sister again and whispered, “Come in the barouche with us, I have a surprise for Titus as well.”
Jo’s eyes glinted with mischief. “You two are inspiring.” She sighed, and Nora detected a bit of envy. Belatedly, she looked toward the coach.
“Your husband isn’t with you?” Nora asked.
Jo shook her head. “No, he didn’t wish to leave the vicarage.” She didn’t sound disappointed in the slightest. There would be time to talk about that. Hopefully she’d be staying for a nice long visit.
“Come,” Nora said, turning.
The footman helped them both into the barouche and soon they were on their way again.
With the addition of Jo, Nora was pushed up against her husband, but there was nowhere she’d rather be. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I understand why you were being awful before.”
He chuckled softly. “I hated every moment of it.”
She beamed up at him. “I love you so very much.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And I adore you.”
She hoped he still did in a few minutes.
They left the drive and made their way toward the village before veering onto a track that led to one of Titus’s tenant’s houses. She tensed and held her breath as she watched for his reaction.
Dozens of people were clustered about, and their voices rose with cheer as the barouche approached.
&nbs
p; “What is this?” Titus breathed.
“We’re going on a Yule log hunt,” Nora said, hoping he would be as happy as he’d made her.
His gaze was fixed on all of the tenants gathered together. His steward stood in the front, grinning. “My father used to have those,” Titus said.
Nora clutched his arm and gave him a loving squeeze. “I know. Everyone was thrilled to have another. It was long overdue, they said.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He snapped it shut and nodded. A moment later he turned toward her, the shine of unshed tears in his lush green eyes. “Thank you.”
“Happy Christmas, my love.”
He kissed her again. “Happy Christmas.”
The Magic of Mistletoe
The middle part of this story is the prologue of The Duke of Kisses. Haven’t read it yet? Grab your copy today! To read how the characters in this story met and fell in love, don’t miss The Duke of Daring, The Duke of Deception, and The Duke of Desire!
December 1817
Suffolk, England
Ivy, Duchess of Clare, collapsed onto the bed, her face flushed and tears leaking from her eyes. She wiped her mouth and let out a soft groan.
“Here,” Lucy, Ivy’s friend, the Countess of Dartford, said as she set a cool cloth on Ivy’s brow. “Aquilla’s fetching a glass of water.”
Aquilla, the Countess of Sutton, joined Lucy, a tumbler of water clasped in her hand.
Ivy blinked up at her two closest friends and managed a weak smile. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m just sorry I’m sick. This is supposed to be a festive, happy time.”
One of Lucy’s dark brows arched high on her forehead. “Are you sure it’s not? When was the last time you had your courses?”
Ivy’s jaw dropped for a moment. She hadn’t even considered... “I don’t know. Leah isn’t even six months old yet. I haven’t bled since she was born.”
Lucy and Aquilla exchanged a pointed look.
“Have either of you?” Ivy asked, feeling slightly panicked. She wasn’t sure she was ready to have another child—if, in fact, that was what was happening.
Both women, who’d had their first children in April, nodded. “Just last month for me,” Aquilla said.
Lucy snorted. “Apparently I was ‘lucky.’ My courses returned by August.”
“You’ve always been the lucky one,” Aquilla said cheerfully, causing them all to giggle.
Ivy’s stomach tilted again, but she didn’t think she had anything left to vacate. “Help me sit up so I can drink that water.”
Lucy scrambled to prop her up and Aquilla handed her the glass. The cool liquid slid down Ivy’s throat and settled into her belly without any fuss, thank goodness. Her hand strayed to that spot, where only recently she’d carried Leah.
Ivy sent a glance toward the cradle at the foot of the bed where her daughter lay sleeping. Miraculously, Ivy’s sudden illness hadn’t awakened the baby, but then the majority of her retching had occurred downstairs in the drawing room into a nearly century-old Wedgwood vase, which one of the maids was now carefully cleaning.
“Better?” Aquilla asked with a hopeful tilt to her mouth.
“Yes, thank you.” Ivy settled back against the pillows as her husband, West, ducked into the chamber.
“All right?” he asked, concern darkening his brow.
“Good enough,” Ivy responded.
“We’ll see you downstairs when you’re recovered,” Lucy said, inclining her head toward Aquilla and then the door.
With a nod, Aquilla followed her out.
Sebastian Westgate, Duke of Clare, the notorious Duke of Desire sat on the edge of the bed next to Ivy and fingered a coppery curl back at her temple. “The vase came clean, you’ll be happy to know.”
“Oh, good.” Ivy had been horrified, but it had been the nearest thing and she hadn’t hesitated when Lucy had scooped it up and handed it to Ivy as she began to convulse with the need to empty her stomach. “I’m sorry to ruin the tree decorating.”
Even though the children were all still babies, they’d decided to erect a tree, making a celebration of it by inviting their dearest friends who’d arrived just yesterday.
“You’ve ruined nothing, my love.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better. Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you?”
Ivy chewed the inside of her cheek, uncertain if she should reveal her suspicions—rather her friends’ suspicions. She wasn’t entirely sure she believed it. She hadn’t been ill like that when she’d been carrying Leah. Ultimately, she decided to make light of it and see what he said. “Lucy suggested I might be with child again. But it’s far too soon.”
West’s reaction started with a flash of surprise followed by a hint of doubt and then unadulterated joy as a smile spread his lips. “I should be thrilled if that were the case.” He sobered, adopting a concentrated expression and a formal tone. “Let me see.”
He lifted his hand to her breast and cupped her through the layers of clothing. His touch was firm but gentle and when his thumb flicked over the tip, Ivy sucked in a deep breath, her earlier sickness completely forgotten in a flare of lust.
It seemed they both came to the same conclusion at the same time.
“I’m with child,” Ivy said.
“You’re with child,” West said.
They both laughed, and it was a moment before Ivy asked, “How do you know?”
“Your breasts have a very distinctive feel when you’re carrying. It shouldn’t surprise you to hear that I know precisely what that feels like.”
No, it didn’t, given how fond he was of touching her there at every opportunity. Indeed, his hand still lingered against her, reminding her of the need pulsing between her legs.
“And how did you know?” he asked mildly, his thumb making another pass across her breast.
“As you know, I was particularly...insatiable. Indeed, if you don’t lift my skirts right this instant, I’ll be forced to throw you onto the bed and have my way with you.”
His brows darted up his forehead for a scant moment before settling low over his darkly seductive eyes. “I can’t decide which I prefer.” The words were a purr, rustling over her as provocatively as the incessant stroke of his thumb.
In the end, they opted for a combination of both, as Ivy lifted her skirts and climbed atop her husband, careful to be quiet lest they wake the baby, for one never woke a sleeping baby.
* * *
“The tree is beautiful,” Aquilla said as she stood back from the massive evergreen and surveyed their decorating progress. Fruit and sweets hung from the branches along with a collection of glass baubles. The candles would go on last, but Aquilla had to admit she wondered if the entire thing might catch on fire. She supposed it could if they weren’t careful. They’d just be careful.
“Not as pretty as you,” Ned, her husband, said softly as he came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. He drew her back against him and sprinkled feather-light kisses against her neck.
A delightful shiver raced down Aquilla’s spine. “You’re biased.”
“I’m not. Everyone agrees the Countess of Sutton is one of the loveliest women in all of England. But they’re wrong. You’re the loveliest.”
Aquilla smiled, and a soft sigh escaped her lips as Ned’s tongue teased the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Peregrine will be up from his nap soon.”
“Then perhaps we should take advantage of our free time...” His teeth caught her earlobe, arousing another shiver.
Aquilla turned in his arms, murmuring, “Perhaps,” as she stood on her toes to press her mouth to his.
They were, unfortunately, interrupted by the arrival of Lucy and her husband Andrew, the Earl of Dartford. Lucy held their son Alexander who was just eight days older than her and Ned’s son, Peregrine.
“Uh oh, we’re interrupting,” Lucy said.
Andrew laughed. “It’s a drawing room, not
a bedchamber. They know where to go if they want privacy.”
Ned let out a frustrated snort but grinned nonetheless. Aquilla fixated on her godson and held her arms out. “Come see Auntie Aquilla!”
Lucy delivered her son to Aquilla who snuggled the boy close and dropped a kiss on his dark head. He lifted his rich, earth brown eyes to hers and smiled as he recognized her. “Gah!” he said in greeting.
Aquilla wrinkled her nose at him. “Gah yourself. I can’t get over how big he and Peregrine are already,” she said to Lucy. “Just think, next year they’ll be running around and pulling things off the tree.”
“Perhaps we ought to forego a tree,” Ned said. They’d already offered to host next year’s festivities. Since they’d spent last year together at Darent Hall—Andrew and Lucy’s house—and this year here at Stour’s Edge, it seemed they had a tradition and next it would be their turn.
Aquilla playfully smacked her husband’s bicep. “Nonsense. We are having a tree.”
“Don’t bother arguing with them once they’ve made up their mind,” Andrew said. “On second thought, don’t bother arguing with them ever.”
Ned nodded in agreement while Aquilla looked down at Alex and said, “Your father is a smart man.”
West and Ivy came in at that moment, their daughter Leah snuggled in her father’s arms. Her hazel eyes lit when they saw Alex. Upon seeing her, he squirmed in Aquilla’s arms. “Do you want to play with your friend?” she asked.
Ivy fetched a blanket and laid it on the floor. West sat Leah down and Aquilla set Alex in front of her. Lucy set down a pair of silver rattles, which Alex and Leah were soon waving about. Their nonsense words and laughs filled the room with the sound of the rattling silver.
A moment later Ivy glanced about before asking, “Does anyone know where Fanny is?”