The Bedding Proposal

by Tracy Anne Warren

  She took it but didn’t open the lid. “I have something for you as well. Wait here.”

  Skirts billowing around her ankles, she hurried from the room into her bedchamber next door. She returned quickly, a rectangular-shaped object in hand. It was wrapped in white paper, a red grosgrain ribbon tied around it in a bow.

  “It’s not a great deal, but I hope you like it nonetheless,” she told him, her words faintly breathless. “Promise you will not open it until Christmas.”

  He met her eyes. “I promise.”

  “Well, I—suppose I ought to wish you good night and a safe journey,” she said, her hands linked tightly before her.

  “Yes. Happy Christmas, Thalia, since I won’t be able to say it to you on the day.”

  “Merry Christmas, Leo. And a very happy New Year as well.”

  A lump settled in his throat. “Will you miss me at all?” he said harshly.

  Surprise lit her eyes. “Yes, of course. Every day.”

  Seconds ticked past, the very air heavy with the emotion arcing between them.

  Suddenly she was in his arms and he was kissing her, pouring everything he had into the embrace. He clutched her to him and lifted her off her feet, ravishing her lips with fervid, almost desperate kisses.

  She wasn’t far behind, sinking her fingers into his hair, demanding every bit as much as he took. Opening her mouth, she slid her tongue against his with a wet, sinuous glide that made him shudder.

  Rocking her against his straining shaft, he hitched her higher into his arms, his hands splayed against her rounded bottom. His hold secure, he carried her to the bedroom.

  She bounced lightly against the mattress as he laid her down on her back. Tossing her skirts to her waist, he stepped between her legs, then yanked off his coat before moving quickly to unfasten his falls.

  Without any further preamble he was inside her, lodged hard and hot and deep. She clasped him like a velvet glove, one that seemed to have been fashioned expressly for him.

  She arched and took more, took everything.

  And he gave it back, thrusting inside her until both of them were wild, until she climaxed with a pleasure so intense her fingernails bit into his skin in a way he was sure would leave marks.

  Then he claimed his own satisfaction.

  He lay over her in the aftermath, waiting for his racing heart to slow. He brushed damp tendrils of hair away from her face and kissed her slowly, softly.

  “I suppose I should go,” he said after a while.

  “Hmm, I suppose you should. You need to sleep, remember?”

  “Do I?” He kissed her again, more passionately this time. “I can sleep later.”

  She curved a leg higher around his waist and kissed him. “So can I.”

  * * *

  Thalia awakened in the dark of the night to the sensation of Leo’s lips moving against hers. Looping her arms around his neck to kiss him back, she realized that he was fully dressed and leaning over her instead of lying beside her in the bed.

  “Sorry to wake you, but I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye,” he said.

  His features were dimly lit, the room illuminated only by the low-burning embers in the fireplace. Still, she caught a glint of the green in his eyes, memorizing it to think about later.

  “What time is it?”

  “About four.”

  Her heart gave a painful squeeze; she tightened her hold. “Then you must go. Be safe.”

  He kissed her again. “See you in three weeks.”

  “Yes. In three weeks. Don’t forget your present.”

  “I won’t. Thalia, I—”

  “What?”

  He paused, then shook his head. “Nothing. Go back to sleep and dream happy dreams.”

  She would dream, but she didn’t think they would be happy ones, not with him away. So rather than answer, she kissed him, putting all her passion, all her sorrow at their parting into the embrace.

  With a few words, she could stop him from leaving. She could keep him here with her.

  But he needed to go and she needed to let him, if only to prove to herself that she still could.

  Their kiss ended and then he was gone, the soft reverberation of the door closing behind him all that remained of his departure.

  Rolling over, she burrowed under the sheets that still bore his scent and closed her eyes against the moisture gathering there.

  Chapter 27

  All around Leo drifted the fragrant scents of pine boughs, holly and traces of woodsmoke from a Yule log so big that it would burn steadily throughout the next twelve days.

  Yesterday, he and his brothers, Edward, Cade, Jack, Drake and Lawrence, and their brother-in-law, Adam, had overseen its installation in Braebourne’s main fireplace. The hearth was so large a full-grown man could stand nearly upright inside it.

  Later, as per tradition, a piece of tinder carefully saved from last year’s Yule log had been brought out and used to light the new one, officially inaugurating the Christmas holiday. Their mother, Ava, Dowager Duchess of Clybourne, had done the honors as matriarch of the family. It was a special occasion that everyone always enjoyed.

  Today was Christmas; the house was filled to bursting with noise and laughter, the entire family gathered in the large drawing room to eat and play games and open presents. The children, many of whom were his own nieces and nephews, had been allowed out of the nursery so they could participate in the festivities. At the moment, several of the older ones were involved in a raucous game of hoodman-blind that had spilled out into the main hall.

  The toddlers had been settled together on soft blankets in the middle of the drawing room floor to play with toys under the watchful gazes of their parents and respective nurses.

  There were a couple of infants as well, including his newest nephew, August—Drake and Sebastianne’s first child—and Jack and Grace’s newest daughter, Rosalind, their fourth child.

  They teased Jack on occasion about producing only daughters. But Jack just smiled, saying he liked being surrounded by girls, since women were his favorite of the two sexes.

  And Leo could see that Jack was happy and well contented, his wild bachelor days long behind him. After nearly eight years of marriage, he and Grace were still clearly in love.

  Glancing across the room, Leo saw them laughing quietly where they sat together on the sofa talking with Cade and Meg and Adam and Mallory, who was heavily pregnant with their second child.

  Cade had his arm around Meg; Mallory was resting her head against Adam’s shoulder while he absently stroked her rounded stomach; and Jack and Grace were holding hands.

  Drake and Sebastianne and Edward and Claire were just as spoony, though Ned, as the duke, did try to maintain a bit more decorum, at least in company. But Leo had seen them together often enough to know the depth of their devotion, the steadfast strength of their love.

  He’d always been happy for them but in a bit of an eye-rolling kind of way. Today he felt something else.

  Today he felt envious.

  He wondered what Thalia was doing.

  Was she lonely without him?

  Or was she making merry with the friend she’d mentioned?

  Had she gone to the other woman’s house for syllabub and carols? Were they even now celebrating, perhaps with a whole host of revelers gathered to enjoy the day?

  Was he on her mind or had she forgotten him except in passing now that he was away?

  He frowned.

  I ought to have brought her with me and damned the consequences.

  His hand curled into a fist on his thigh.

  She could be here at his side right now if she were like the others. No one would dare to say a word if she was his wife.

  His breath caught on a quiet gasp, thoughts revolving like a maelstrom, mad though they might be.

  Or are they?

  “Here, I thought you could do with a bit of Christmas cheer.”

  He looked up and stared blankly at his younger
sister, Esme, and the cup in her hand. “What?”

  “I brought you a cup of wassail. I thought it might help cure whatever it is that is ailing you.”

  She sank down onto the cushions beside him and looked at him out of a pair of dark blue eyes that were much too knowing for a girl of eighteen.

  “What makes you think something is wrong?” he asked, accepting the drink.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you’re sitting over here in the corner all by yourself. That and the big bearish scowl on your face. It kind of gives you away.”

  He scowled harder. “It’s nothing.”

  “Obviously, it is something.”

  “It’s nothing I can tell you.”

  “Oh.” Her face fell a bit. “Well, that puts me in my place, does it not?”

  She started to her feet again, but he stopped her with a hand.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to be a bear, as you put it—leave it to you to pick an animal reference.”

  “Of course. Animals are the wisest of all creatures. They provide an example for every facet of life.”

  “There are quite a few humans who might disagree, but we’ll leave that debate for another time.”

  She nodded. “Well then?”

  “Well then what?”

  “Why are you discomposed, today of all days? It’s Christmas. You ought to be smiling and happy.”

  He showed her his teeth.

  Esme laughed, but sobered quickly again. “Are you certain you cannot tell me?”

  On a sigh, he leaned back against the cushions. Esme was the last person with whom he should discuss Thalia; mistresses were not something a girl her age should know anything about. And a divorced mistress . . .

  Jack or Cade would be better choices by far—any of his other siblings really. Yet oddly enough, Esme was the least judgmental person in the family and also the best listener. She was the most compassionate as well, ready to bind a bird’s injured wing or listen to the worries of a scullery maid who’d been scolded by Cook for not peeling enough potatoes.

  He drank some wassail, enjoying the flavor of the warm brandy, hard cider, oranges, cinnamon and cloves. “There is someone who isn’t here today. Someone I miss.”

  “A lady?”

  “Yes. And do not bother asking her name.”

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  A brief silence fell.

  He drank more wassail.

  “Did you not invite her?” Esme asked. “Or is it that she could not come?”

  “A bit of both actually. It’s . . . complicated.”

  “Why?”

  “Why is it complicated? Because it is,” he added at her nod.

  “Maybe it doesn’t need to be. Do you love her, this woman you miss?”

  His frown returned. “I don’t know.”

  “Does she love you?”

  His chest tightened, a slightly queasy sensation in his stomach. He set his cup aside. “I don’t know that either.”

  “Then maybe you should find out. Once you do, all the complications may not seem so complex.”

  “Then again, they still may.”

  “You are just having a fit of the blue devils today. Come on,” she said, reaching for his hand, “come join me for a game of cards. I’m determined to beat Jack and I need a crack hand for a partner.”

  “Impossible. You know Jack’s unbeatable.”

  “No one wins all the time, not even him. And nothing is impossible, not if you want it badly enough.”

  “So speaks the naive schoolroom miss.”

  “Not so naive,” she said with a serene smile. “I just prefer to be optimistic, that’s all.”

  “I won’t ask what you mean by that first remark for fear of finding myself unduly shocked.”

  “I doubt there’s anything that could shock you.”

  “You might be surprised. You haven’t met our neighbor, have you?”

  “No. Is he shocking? In what way?”

  “Forget I mentioned him.” He allowed her to pull him to his feet. “Let’s go get slaughtered at the card table by Jack.”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  * * *

  “Another round?” Jack asked nearly two hours later, a gleeful grin on his face as he scraped a huge pile of winnings toward himself across the table.

  “No.” Leo groaned and tossed down his cards.

  “Me either. I’ve been fleeced enough for one day.” Lawrence threw his discards after his twin’s.

  Edward and Claire did the same, exchanging looks of commiseration.

  Leo saw Sebastianne’s eighteen-year-old brother, Julien, follow their lead. He’d been so excited to be included in the adult play, but looked a bit stunned now by his losses.

  “Well, don’t look at me. I was out ages ago,” Mallory said.

  She was settled sideways on the nearby sofa with pillows plumped at her back and her feet propped up, a plate of sweet biscuits balanced on her very pregnant stomach so she wouldn’t have to reach.

  During the game, Adam had gotten up between hands to check on her, even though she was less than six feet away. He looked ready to do the same now, but she waved for him to stay in his chair with a soft smile she reserved just for him.

  At her feet, on the same sofa, sat Drake. With the table so full of players, he’d been happy to sit out. He was lost in silent reverie, the game clearly the last thing on his mind.

  “Told you it would be pure butchery,” Leo said, shooting a meaningful look across the table at Esme.

  “Of course it was,” Grace said from where she stood behind Jack’s chair. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his temple. “That’s what you all get for playing cards with a sharp.”

  “If I really were a sharp”—Jack stroked a hand over his wife’s forearm—“I would have played for more than pennies.”

  “You used to play for very high stakes, remember, darling?” Grace said.

  He smiled and looked up into her eyes. “The highest. It’s what brought us together, after all.”

  “Well, thank heavens you’ve reformed,” Esme said. “Otherwise my entire quarter’s allowance would be gone.”

  “Half my fortune would be written on vowels if we’d been playing for real stakes,” Cade said as he gazed down at what was left of his obviously dismal hand.

  He sighed and rubbed an absent fist over the old war wound in his thigh. It still caused him to limp even now after nearly a decade.

  Meg reached over from where she sat next to Cade. He smiled and raised her hand to his lips.

  “I’d have to consider a mortgage on the estate again,” Adam remarked with a rueful shake of his dark head. “Although you seemed to hold your own rather well, Sebastianne.”

  He nodded toward her small pile of coins.

  She gave a Gallic shrug, a half smile on her pretty face. “This is not my first card game. And it doesn’t hurt to have a brilliant mathematician for a husband, one who has taught me how to keep track of what’s been played. Rather like his brother Jack, I imagine.”

  Jack’s grin widened.

  “Is that not right, mon amour?” Sebastianne said, looking toward the sofa. “Drake?”

  Drake didn’t look up, a faraway look in his eyes.

  “Drake?” Sebastianne said again, pitching her voice so that it was low and soft, yet astonishingly clear.

  Suddenly, Drake turned his head and blinked, looking right at her. “Yes? Did you win, sweetheart?”

  “No, I did not,” Sebastianne said.

  “That’s good. Let me know if you need more money.” Drake frowned, the distant look coming back into his eyes. Suddenly he used the pencil in his hand to scratch something down on the small pad of paper balanced on his knee.

  Rather than feel slighted, Sebastianne laughed along with the rest of them.

  “What’s our favorite mad genius working on this time?” Meg said in a low voice.

  “A new theorem of so
me sort. And an invention that deals with steam-driven engines.” Sebastianne smiled. “If it weren’t Christmas, I would never have gotten him out of his laboratory. You know how he is when he’s creating.”

  Everyone nodded; they all knew Drake.

  “So, no one else wants to play?” Jack asked, rubbing his palms together.

  “No!” they all said in unison.

  Jack just laughed.

  “Pardon me, my loves, but I am afraid I must interrupt your game playing,” said Ava as she strolled serenely into their midst. “It is well past time we opened our presents, then went in for our dinner.”

  Leo smiled at his mother, her gentle voice and kind remonstrations reminding him of other occasions, other Christmases. She was just as beautiful as she’d been when he was a boy, her green eyes just as clear, her hair the same soft brown with only a few more threads of silver.

  “Your timing is impeccable, as always, Mama,” he told her. “We were just finished.”

  He and the others stood—everyone except Drake and Mallory. They both stayed on the sofa, Mallory because she didn’t feel like getting up yet and Drake because he hadn’t heard a word anyone—not even his mother— had said.

  Smiling with patience and love, Sebastianne went to shake him out of his reverie.

  * * *

  Leo saved Thalia’s gift to him for last, tucking it next to his hip while he opened the stack of other presents he’d received.

  The room was an explosion of paper and boxes and ribbon—and noise. It seemed like everyone in the family was talking at once, exclaiming over their presents, showing them off and calling out their thanks.

  He’d retreated again to the quiet corner he’d been in earlier, enjoying the small bubble of solitude. Odd really, since he was usually in the center of any action. But today he needed a little space.

  Silently, he opened each present until Thalia’s small gift was all that remained. He ran his fingers over the paper, taking his time as he pulled the ribbon free.

  It was a book.

  A copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice to be exact.

  He opened the cover and read what Thalia had written in her elegant, flowing hand.

  For Leo,

  Because I know you enjoy using your brain a great deal more than you care to let on.