Regency Christmas (Holiday Collection)

by Jillian Eaton

  And then the wolves began to howl.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You there. Have you seen my wife?”

  Anne stopped dusting the mantle. She turned to find the duke standing just inside the drawing room, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers and a deep line creasing his brow.

  “She hasn’t returned yet?” Her gaze darted to the window, but it was so dark the only thing she could see was her own reflection. “Oh no. I didn’t realize she had been gone this long.”

  “Gone?” the duke snapped, dark brows pinching above the bridge of his nose. “What the devil do you mean she’s gone? Gone where?”

  “The woods.” As worry for the duchess drained the color from her cheeks, the feather duster went clattering to the floor. “She’s gone into the woods to look for a Yule log. But she left hours ago. I did not realize – oh!” she gasped when the duke crossed the room and grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “What direction?” he demanded, his expression fiercer than she’d ever seen it. “What direction did she go? Answer me, damn you!”

  “The field behind the stables. I – I think she went to the field!”

  With a vicious curse the duke let her go, and Anne ran after him into the foyer.

  “Do you think she’s in d-danger?” she asked, her voice trembling with fear at the thought of something perilous having happened to her dear friend.

  “I don’t know.” Forgoing a jacket or even a cloak, he pulled on his riding boots and then disappeared into his study. Less than a minute later he emerged, and her eyes widened when she saw what he was carrying.

  “Is that a–”

  “Pistol. Stay right here in case she returns. Do not move from that spot. Do you understand?”

  Anne nodded jerkily. “Yes,” she whispered. “I understand.”

  A gust of freezing wind and snow swept into the foyer when he opened the front door. “If I am not back in half an hour sent out the footmen.”

  “Which one?”

  “All of them,” he said grimly.

  Buttercup whirled and snorted as the howls grew ever closer. Clinging to her mount’s neck with all the strength her frozen fingers could muster, Caroline fought desperately to keep a cool and level head.

  “Easy girl. It – it will be all right.” But even to her own ears her words sounded hollow.

  Oh, why hadn’t she listened to Anne? A walk around the gardens would have been a thousand times better than cowering in the darkness waiting to be devoured by wolves! But she had been so determined to have the perfect Christmas that she’d ignored the dangers of going into the woods by herself, and now she was paying the ultimate price for her stupidity.

  Had anyone even noticed she was gone? Anne, perhaps, but certainly not her husband.

  Eric is probably glad I am going to be eaten, she thought bitterly.

  There was a loud rustle behind them and Buttercup spooked, spinning to the left as Caroline, not expecting the sudden movement, flew off to the right.

  She landed on her backside, her fall cushioned by the snow. Clumsily trying to find her footing, she managed to stand just in time to watch the terrified draft mare gallop away across the field.

  “Blast and damn,” she cried, pounding her fist into the palm of her hand. Another eerie howl had every hair on the back of her neck rising straight up, and with a frightened gasp she tried to run for the woods, but the snow was too deep.

  Helpless to do anything but try to defend herself, she picked up a long stick and swung it like a sword as she spun in a circle, desperately searching the inky darkness for any hint of the vicious beasts that prowled and stalked.

  Her heart was pounding so loudly she feared it was going to burst from her chest and no matter how hard she sucked cold, icy air into her lungs she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. A flicker of movement caught the corner of her eye and a shrill scream burst from the depths of her throat, but it was nothing more than a skeletal branch blowing in the breeze.

  Or so she hoped.

  “Please don’t eat me,” she pleaded desperately. “I – I don’t think I would taste very good.”

  But if the wolves heard her – or cared – they gave no sign.

  Just as she was about to give up all hope, a single gunshot rang through the night followed by the thunderous pounding of hooves.

  “Buttercup?” she called out, squinting into the shadows.

  But it wasn’t the draft mare who came cantering to her rescue.

  It was her husband.

  “Grab my hand,” he ordered tersely, and with little other choice but to obey his command Caroline latched onto his arm as he rode past. She was swept effortlessly into the saddle and then they were galloping back to the manor, leaving the wolves far behind as Eric’s stallion cut easily through the deep snow, his long legs doing what Buttercup’s shorter limbs could not.

  “B-Buttercup?” Caroline asked, forcing the horse’s name out between chattering teeth. “Is –is she all right?”

  “She’s back at the stables.” His jaw clenched, Eric did not look at her or speak again until they’d reached the front door. He swung his powerful thigh over the side of the saddle and dismounted first, but before Caroline could do the same he had her in his arms and was carrying her up the steps and into the foyer. Anne was there to greet them and her face lit up with relief when she saw Caroline was alive and well.

  “You’re back! Oh, thank goodness. I was so–”

  “Go. Away,” Eric snarled.

  “Yes Your Grace,” the maid squeaked before she turned on her heel and scurried off, a small animal seeking shelter from the storm that was about to be unleashed.

  Caroline squirmed in her husband’s arms. “You can put me down now,” she said, her voice muffled against his hard chest. “I am perfectly capable of walking.”

  “No,” he bit out as her carried her through the foyer and down the hall to the library. “In fact, I may never put you down again!” To prove his point he sat down in one of the large leather chairs facing the fireplace, but he still did not loosen his grip.

  Muttering something undecipherable under his breath, he sat her on his lap while he untied her cloak and pulled off her scarf and mittens. For her part Caroline held perfectly still, not wanting to give him a reason to become even angrier with her than he already was.

  He did not speak to her again until he’d stripped away all of her wet outer garments and wrapped a blanket around her shivering body. Sitting her on the floor directly in front of the fire, he sat behind her, his thighs pressing against her hips as he drew her back against his chest in an embrace that, if she didn’t know any better, she would have thought of as protective.

  “You could have been killed,” he said flatly.

  She shivered. “I know.”

  “A few more minutes and those wolves would have ripped you to pieces.”

  “I know.”

  “You risked not only your life, but your horse’s as well.”

  “I know.” She twisted in his arms and glared up at him through her lashes. “It was stupid of me to ride off by myself. Stupid and foolish and I will never do it again. Although I don’t see why you would care if I was killed or not,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What did you say?” he asked sharply.

  She sat up a little straighter. “I said I don’t see why you would care if I was killed or not!”

  Firelight danced across the muscle ticking in his jaw. “Of course I would bloody well care!”

  “That’s right, you still need an heir, don’t you? Next time I will make certain not to risk my life until after I’ve given you a son.” Ignoring her aching muscles, she jumped to her feet, and Eric did the same.

  Had someone told Caroline when she first married the duke that she would one day square off with him as if she were a boxer stepping into the ring, she would have laughed at the absurdity of it. Her, standing up to him? Yet here she was, chin angled, hands curled into fists, gray e
yes sharp with temper.

  “Admit it,” she hissed. “I am nothing more than a glorified broodmare. That’s the only reason you rescued me. Out of some sense of – of obligation! You would have done better to have left me in the field.”

  “Left you to be eaten by wolves?” he said incredulously.

  “At least they wouldn’t have toyed with me first!”

  “No, they would have devoured you in two bites. One if they were particularly hungry.” He raked a hand through his hair, pulling the ends taut. Then the hard lines of his countenance abruptly softened. “Caroline–”

  “Don’t,” she warned, pointing her finger at him. “This is not going to end with my heels up by my head!”

  Roguish interest stirred in his gaze. “We haven’t tried that position before.”

  “And we are not going to!” She stomped her foot. “Stop looking at me like that!”

  “Like what?” he challenged huskily as he stepped forward, crowding her back against a side table. A vase filled with red holly berries wobbled and nearly fell over when Caroline bumped the table with her hip. She crossed her arms over her chest; a pitiful defense against his scorching stare but it was the only one she had.

  “I know exactly what you are doing and I am not going to fall for it. Not this time.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said quietly. “Because I am falling for you.”

  “I meant what I said in my bedchamber and I – what?” she said blankly when his words finally registered through the angry fog she’d wrapped herself in. “You’re what?”

  His blue eyes never leaving hers, he reached out and took her small hands into his larger ones. “I am falling for you,” he repeated, gently squeezing her fingers. “I am sorry it has taken me this long to realize it. I know I have not been a good husband, but if you give me the chance I can do better. I will do better.”

  Caroline felt a flicker of hope blossoming amidst the broken shards of her heart…but then she remembered everything he had done, and everything he had said, and she grabbed the hope and yanked it out before it could take root.

  “I don’t believe you.” Snatching her hands away, she side-stepped around the table and began to edge towards the door. “You’re just saying those things so I will be intimate with you again.”

  “No I’m not. Well, yes I am,” he admitted, cupping the back of his neck, “but if you would just hear me out–”

  “I am not interested in anything you have to say.”

  He scowled at her. “I am trying to bare my heart to you. The least you could is listen.”

  “The least I could do? What makes you think I owe you anything?” she said incredulously.

  “You’re right. You do not owe me–”

  “You have made my life miserable since the moment you placed this ring upon my finger!” Firelight reflected off the plain gold band when she lifted her hand. “Did you honestly think a few words are enough to fix everything? I meant what I said before. You are a cold, callous, cruel man. And it was my fault for believing you could ever be anything else.”

  Before she could change her mind, she yanked the ring off and threw it at the fire with all of her might. Cursing, Eric leapt forward and tried to catch it before it fell into the flames, but she didn’t bother to wait and see if he had. For all she was concerned, it could burn right along with the rest of their marriage.

  She was done.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Christmas morning dawned cold and bright. Having spent a restless night tossing and turning, Caroline considered pulling the blankets up over her head and sleeping the day away. But it was Christmas, and even if the last thing in the world she felt like doing was celebrating, she couldn’t ignore the holiday. Not when it was the only bright spot in an otherwise dismal month.

  “Anne,” she called out, muffling a yawn as she sat up. “I’d like to get ready now.” Her pale eyebrows knitted together when there was no response. “Anne?” she said uncertainly. “Are you there?”

  Perhaps the maid was down the hall. But when she hurriedly tiptoed across the freezing floorboards and opened her door, she didn’t see hide nor hair of Anne. In fact, she didn’t see anyone.

  “That’s peculiar,” she muttered, casting a quick glance left and then right. The main hallway, usually a bustle of activity in the morning, was completely empty. Ducking back into her bedchamber, she quickly pulled on a pair of thick wool socks and knotted her dressing robe closed at the waist. Leaving her hair trailing down her back in a tangle of blonde curls, she went downstairs to discover the first floor was just as devoid of servants as the second had been.

  “Hello?” Confused, she turned in a slow circle. Where was everyone? “Is anyone here? Anne? Mr. Newgate? Cook?”

  “I gave them all the day off.”

  Caroline nearly jumped out of her socks when Eric suddenly appeared behind her. “Oh,” she gasped, slapping a hand over her racing heart as she whirled to face him. “You scared me!”

  “Sorry,” he said, although he didn’t look very apologetic. “That was not my intention.”

  Casually dressed in a white linen shirt and a pair of gray trousers with his hair damp and curling from a recent bath, he looked as handsome as she’d ever seen him. Not that she was looking. Because she wasn’t. Not at all.

  Well, maybe a little bit.

  “What – what is going on?” she demanded, forcibly tearing her gaze away from the V of golden skin at the base of his neck. “Where is everyone?”

  “Follow me,” he said mysteriously, before he turned and started walking briskly in the direction of the library.

  “Wait! I do not understand – stubborn man,” she broke off under her breath when it became clear he had no intention of stopping. Picking up the hem of her nightgown she hurried after him, feet slipping and sliding on the polished floor.

  Slightly out of breath, she managed to catch up to him just as he reached the library. “What are we doing here?” she asked. “And why is the door closed? It is never closed. Are Anne and Mr. Newgate in there?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “To answer your second question no, your maid and my butler are not in there. As for your first, I thought this would be a fitting place to have it. After all, aside from your bedchamber this is where we’ve spent most of our time together. Granted the majority of it has been spent arguing, but I hope after today that will begin to change.”

  She shook her head. “A fitting place to have what?”

  “Christmas, of course.” He pushed open the door and then stepped to the side, allowing her an unfettered view of the library. What she saw took her breath away. There, taking up most of the fireplace, was the largest Yuletide log she had ever seen. And tied around the middle was a bright red bow.

  “I don’t…I don’t understand.” Eyebrows pulling together in bewilderment, she looked back at Eric over her shoulder. “Where – where did this come from?”

  “The forest.”

  “I know that. I meant what is it doing here?”

  He walked past her into the library and then turned so they were standing face to face. “I cut it down and brought it here for you,” he said simply as he reached out and gently tucked a loose curl behind her ear. For a moment the back of his hand lingered on the soft curve of her cheek and it took all the self-restraint she possessed not to close her eyes and lean into his touch.

  It’s an act, she told herself fiercely. It’s all an act. Do not let him play you for a fool. Not again.

  “If you did this as some sort of trick to try and seduce me–”

  “I did this,” he interrupted, “because you were right.”

  She blinked. “I – I was?”

  “Yes.”

  “About what?”

  His grin was charmingly sheepish. “Everything, mostly. But especially what you said last night about a few words not changing anything. I meant what I said, Caroline. I am falling in love with you. Or maybe I already have.” He shrugged. “I�
�ve never been in love before, so I’m not really sure.”

  “Your Grace–”

  “Eric,” he said. “If we are going to become engaged, I think you should call me Eric.”

  “Engaged?” she echoed, truly at a loss. “But we’re already married!”

  “No we’re not. You married the Duke of Readington.”

  “You are the Duke of Readington.” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion as she took a step back. “Are you foxed? Is that why you’re acting so oddly?”

  “I am not foxed and I am not the Duke of Readington.” His gaze hardened. “The Duke of Readington is a cold-hearted bastard who wouldn’t know what love was if it ran him over in the street. He doesn’t deserve his wife, and she bloody well doesn’t deserve him. His wife is kind, and intelligent, and beautiful, while he is–”

  “A dolt?” she suggested.

  “Yes,” he agreed without hesitation. “He’s a right proper dolt.”

  “And who is Eric?” she asked softly as a tendril of warmth began to unfurl inside of her chest, spreading up through her lungs and surrounding the ice that had hardened around her heart.

  “Eric is a man who wants a second chance. He knows he’s not entitled to it, but he prays to God you’ll give it to him nevertheless. I love you, Caroline,” he said huskily. “I am sorry it took me this long to realize it. And I am sorry, so bloody sorry, that I’ve treated you as though you meant nothing to me.”

  “Eric–”

  “You were never nothing, Caroline.” His blue eyes steady on hers, he closed the distance between them. “You were always everything. And that terrified me because I didn’t want to end up like my father, in love with a woman incapable of loving him back. But what I understand now, that I didn’t before, is whatever my parents had, it was never love.” He took her hands. Squeezed them tight. “This is love.”

  “What – what about having a marriage of convenience?” She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him so desperately that she ached. But for better or for worse, she was no longer the naïve girl who had blindly believed in fairy tales and happily-ever-afters. She was stronger. Braver. And she would never again settle for anything less than what she deserved.