All I Want for Christmas Is a Duke

by Vivienne Lorret

  “From the children,” Mary said.

  Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “The children?” She adored the children, but she highly doubted they’d been able to procure this expensive gown and these priceless jewels themselves.

  Mary shrugged. “That’s what they said.”

  “Yes, well, what else did they say? Mrs. Curtis mentioned a ball, but that is all I know about tonight.”

  “You’re to meet the children outside the ballroom on the third floor at ten o’clock.”

  Elizabeth raised both brows. “The ballroom? Here?”

  “Yes,” Mary replied. “And that’s all I know.”

  “Very well.” Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece across the room to ensure it was nearly time, Elizabeth picked up her skirts and made her way out of the room, down the staircase to the third floor, and to the double doors in front of the grand ballroom. Ten o’clock was past her daughters’ bedtime. Whatever could they be up to?

  She took a deep breath and pressed her hand to her middle. “I suppose I should go in,” she whispered to herself. Taking one more deep breath for good measure, she placed both gloved hands on the door handles and pushed them wide.

  She stepped inside the room and caught her breath. The ballroom was magnificent. It was decorated as a summer garden, just as it had been years ago on the night when Nathan had proposed, complete with the twinkling candles near the ceiling and a cornucopia of summer flowers that must have emptied several different conservatories. Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes.

  The girls stood near the entrance, dressed in lovely matching gold gowns.

  “Do you like it, Mother? Oh, by the way, I’m Evie.”

  Gena giggled.

  “It’s absolutely breathtaking, my darlings,” Elizabeth answered, turning in a wide circle to see the entire space. It was re-­created almost precisely as she remembered it.

  She turned toward the door and stopped as Nathan came strolling in, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing formal black evening attire, and a sapphire winked in his cravat. The jewel matched his eyes. He, too, turned in a circle to take in the decorations. His face was inscrutable as he directed his attention back to his daughters. “How did you two make this happen?”

  “Grandmama might have helped a bit,” Gena admitted with a sly smile.

  “A bit?” Nathan arched a brow.

  “Well, quite a lot, actually,” Evie replied.

  “I thought she had a head cold,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yes, well, ah, we will just leave you to it,” Gena said, backing away slowly, a mischievous grin on her face.

  The girls ran off, giggling, and Elizabeth turned to Nathan. “You know what this is, don’t you?”

  His brow furrowed.

  “They’ve re-­created the night we became betrothed,” she said.

  “Ah, it seemed quite familiar,” he replied, glancing about again before returning the full force of his blue gaze to Elizabeth. “And . . . you look beautiful. More beautiful than you did all those years ago.” His eyes caressed her from head to toe.

  “You can’t mean it,” she replied with a slight smile.

  He stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed the back of it, causing gooseflesh to pop up along her arm. “I absolutely do,” he breathed.

  She slowly pulled her hand away but didn’t move her eyes from his. It was as if she was caught in a spell. A spell or a memory. She shook her head. “If I remember correctly, you brought me a glass of champagne.”

  As if on cue, a footman walked past with a silver tray in his hands. Two glasses of champagne rested upon it.

  “So I did,” Nathan said with a laugh. He pulled the glasses from the tray, and the footman quickly disappeared. “And if I remember correctly, you said you didn’t drink.”

  “I do now.”

  “My lady.” He bowed to her and handed her the glass.

  Elizabeth took the glass and sipped it eagerly. Was this fun or excruciating? She didn’t know yet.

  “And then you put a lily in my hair,” she replied.

  He turned to examine the broad selection of flowers that were arranged on the trellis nearest them. He dashed over and plucked a lily, returning quickly.

  “My lady,” he said with another bow.

  She swallowed. He had slid it behind her ear himself all those years ago.

  He must have read her mind. “May I?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He cupped his hand at her ear and slid the flower behind it, and Elizabeth’s breathing hitched. His hand quickly fell away. Elizabeth took another grateful sip of champagne.

  “And then what?” he said softly, watching her.

  She plucked at the emeralds around her throat. “You don’t remember?”

  “I remember,” he replied, taking her empty glass and setting it with his on a nearby table. It didn’t go unnoticed by her that he didn’t call for another glass of champagne. The old Nathan would never have stopped at one glass, of anything. Instead, he turned back to her, and his voice was husky and sensual. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

  Her words were a mere whisper. “You asked me to dance.”

  As if on cue, a soft waltz began to play. Elizabeth inclined her head toward the lovely music and realized that Evie was playing the pianoforte across the room. Gena was sitting on the bench beside her sister, smiling from ear to ear.

  Nathan bowed to her. “Will you do me the honor?”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” She breathed the same words she’d said to him that night.

  He took her into his arms then, and led her to the floor. Elizabeth closed her eyes. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up. She didn’t want to be pinched or nudged from her cocoon of wonder and delight. She spun around and around, enjoying the music, the smell of the flowers, the feeling of having drunk a glass of champagne so quickly. But most of all, the feel of her husband’s broad shoulder beneath her fingertips and her hand clasped in his.

  Moments later, when she forced herself to open her eyes, Nathan was studying her face. “What were you thinking about?” he asked.

  “I was thinking about the question you asked me all those years ago on a night very like this.”

  He pulled her against his chest, and she caught her breath. His lips brushed her ear. “Tonight I want to ask you a different question entirely,” he whispered.

  “What?” she asked breathlessly.

  His lips remained near her ear. “Why did you leave all those years ago?”

  The song ended just then, and Elizabeth was thankful for the reprieve. How could she answer that question while dancing in his arms? It was too much. Her hands fell away from him and she took a tentative step back.

  Another waltz soon began to play, but they remained still, looking at each other, watching each other.

  “I’d like an answer,” he said. They both kept their voices low so the children couldn’t overhear.

  She shook her head and turned away. “Does it matter? We were young, stupid. I don’t even remember what that last argument was about.” He couldn’t see her face. She closed her eyes, tortured. It was decided. This was excruciating.

  “I do.”

  She opened her eyes again and turned back to him. “Then you tell me. Why did I leave?”

  “I told you you had to choose. Your mother was ruining our lives together. She kept telling you how to behave. I told you to open your eyes. To see her manipulation for what it was.”

  “I didn’t choose you?”

  He shook his head. “No. And what I can’t understand, especially given the fact that you’ve obviously separated yourself from your mother now, is why?”

  An ache formed in Elizabeth’s chest. She could barely breathe. “I don’t know. All I remember is that I packed, and left, and well . . . you never ca
me after me.”

  He took a step forward and clasped his fingers over her upper arms. He searched her face. “I never knew you wanted me to.”

  She shook her head to clear the tears from her eyes. She looked down at his chest so he wouldn’t see her anguish. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? We were both so very young, foolish, stubborn.”

  He nodded. “Agreed.”

  “And that was all so long ago.”

  “Not so long ago. I remember the Midsummer Eve ball like it was yesterday.” He traced the outline of her ear with his fingertip. She still couldn’t look at him. “And I meant it when I said that you’re even more beautiful now than you were then.”

  “Oh, stop. I’m practically an old lady now.”

  “Hardly. I . . .” He bent his head to her ear. “When I first saw you on Christmas Eve, you took my breath away.”

  She couldn’t help her answering smile. “I’ll admit I’d nearly forgotten how handsome you are.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yes. Truly.” She couldn’t stop her smile. “Begging for compliments, Your Grace?”

  “When they fall from the lips of such a beautiful woman.” He pulled her into his arms and looked down at her. “Now I want to ask you something I never could have asked at the last such ball.”

  Her heart quivered in her chest. “What’s that?”

  His words were a sensual whisper. “May I escort you to your bedchamber?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  NATHAN ESCORTED HER to her bedchamber. To the door, at least. Escorted her and left her. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if Elizabeth had wanted more—­a kiss goodnight or . . . more. When he’d asked her the question in the ballroom, he’d fully intended to take her to bed and make love to her, to show her with his hands and body and mouth how much he felt for her. How much he wanted things to be different between them. How much he wanted to . . . try. But by the time they’d reached her door, it seemed as if the spell from the ballroom had been broken, and he felt like a complete ass, asking his wife if he could come into her bedchamber.

  Damn it. He’d be a complete ass if he just assumed that she wanted him, but now he was kicking himself for not having at least attempted to kiss her when they’d been standing at the door. She with that gorgeous smile and sparking emeralds around her throat—­he’d never been jealous of rocks before—­smelling like plumeria and gazing up at him nearly like she had a dozen years ago, with that trusting, admiring look in her eye.

  The children had gone to bed in the other wing. He and Elizabeth wouldn’t be disturbed. He knew it. Yet, somehow, he just hadn’t been able to bring himself to kiss her. What if she rejected him? Again.

  With the help of his valet, he changed out of his clothing and wrapped his sapphire velvet dressing gown around himself. He spent a good ten minutes pacing in front of the windows of his bedchamber, scrubbing his hand through his hair, before he finally decided. He had to try. Once more. Tony had insisted that Elizabeth loved him. Perhaps Tony knew what he was talking about.

  Nathan waited until he was sure Elizabeth had had time to change out of her ball gown with the help of her maid before he knocked quietly on the door that connected their bedchambers. There was some shuffling on the other side before Elizabeth opened the door, wrapping her pink dressing gown around her waist. A brace of candles glowed on a table near the bed behind her. She looked so young and pretty, her blond hair down around her shoulders, her face fresh-­scrubbed, her cheeks rosy. His eyes scanned the room. Thankfully, the maid was gone.

  “Nathan,” she breathed.

  He smiled. “Who else would it be?”

  “It’s been a very long time since anyone knocked on my bedchamber door,” she said with a small, quiet laugh.

  He liked the sound of that. “May I come in?”

  She nodded hesitantly and moved aside to allow him to enter the room.

  It smelled like her, an alluring scent that made Nathan want to close his eyes and breathe it forever.

  He strode toward the center of the room, a dozen thoughts racing through his mind. Should he apologize? Should he ask her to kiss him? Should he ask her if she loved Tony? Ask her if she wanted to give their marriage another try? Ask her if she wanted him to get the hell out?

  He turned to say one of those things. She was standing not a foot away from him, gazing up at him tentatively. She looked so beautiful, so beautiful and vulnerable and—­oh, hell. He pulled her roughly into his arms and opened his mouth across hers.

  ELIZABETH WANTED TO sob. Nathan was kissing her. Actually kissing her. She hadn’t thought he would. Hadn’t thought he wanted to after leaving her earlier. She’d nearly sobbed then, too, but for an entirely different reason. He was so handsome and he smelled so good, like a combination of pine needles and soap and . . . her husband. She wanted him, wanted him more than she’d ever wanted him before. She didn’t care about what happened tomorrow. She only knew that she needed this man to take her to bed tonight. Her arms moved up to wrap around his neck, and she whispered in his ear, “I want you, Nathan. Make love to me, please.”

  Nathan bent to sweep her into his arms. His mouth never left hers. He carried her to the bed and laid her there, following her down and ripping his dressing gown from his shoulders at the same time. He was naked save for some linen trousers. Elizabeth’s hands and eyes roved over his chest. Her fingertips touching him were unholy torture. He tugged at the belt around her waist, and her dressing gown opened to reveal a rather prim-­looking night rail. “I didn’t know you would be visiting,” she whispered against his mouth by way of explanation.

  “I don’t give a bloody damn what you’re wearing as long as you agree to take it off. Now,” he demanded in a half growl that sent a wave of pure lust rocketing through Elizabeth’s body.

  “Yes, Your Grace.” She smiled against his mouth. They were ravenous for each other, not stopping their mad kisses as Elizabeth moved up to her knees and pulled the dressing gown off her shoulders and the night rail over her head. As soon as she was naked, he pushed her back to the bed and paused only to remove his trousers and toss them to the floor. Then he was on top of her, his muscled body pressing against her softness and her long legs wrapping around his outer thighs.

  “I need you, Elizabeth. Now,” he groaned against her mouth.

  “It’s been so long. So long. I haven’t been with a man since you. And I—­”

  That was all he needed to hear. His chest clenched at the thought that his exquisite wife was untouched by any man but him, even after all these years. He’d make it up to her; every mistake he’d ever made, he’d make it up to her tonight by making her come again and again and again.

  “I’d never hurt you,” he said, his tongue gliding against her ear, making Elizabeth’s whole body buck.

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “I can’t wait. I have to have you.” His rough, hot hands slid to her hips, and he positioned her, gliding his cock against her wet cleft, closing his eyes and groaning. “God, Elizabeth. You feel so good. So damn good.”

  She reached down and pressed him home. He slid inside, and they both moaned. Then he pressed the backs of her hands into the mattress, setting their rhythm, owning her, pressing against her again and again, angling his hips so that he touched her in a spot that made her cry out. It had always been good between them, but it had never been this good. She was mindless with lust as he pressed the little nub between her thighs with his body over and over.

  She wanted to touch him, rub her fingers through his hair, hold his mouth to hers, but he wouldn’t let go of her wrists. His breathing was heavy. “If you touch me, I’ll come,” he groaned into her ear.

  “I want you to come,” she whispered back, straining against his strong hands.

  “You first.” He pulled out of her and Elizabeth wanted to cry, but when he drew her wrists down to press
into the sheets near her hips while his mouth moved between her legs, Elizabeth forgot why she’d ever wanted to be free.

  “Oh, God, yes,” she cried when his hot, wet tongue found the nub of pleasure between her legs. He circled her, nipping, biting, licking in deep, hot strokes until Elizabeth gave a keening cry and fell over the precipice in the most intensely sensuous feeling of her entire life.

  As soon as she came, Nathan groaned, let go of her wrists, and moved back up. In one swift maneuver, he slid inside her and pumped into her again and again while she wrapped her silky legs around his hips, her tongue tangling in his mouth and her hands clutching the back of his head. Nathan pumped into her until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He was mindless, thoughtless. Sweat beaded against his forehead, and his balls throbbed. He opened his mouth in a growl and clenched his teeth in an orgasm that shot through his entire being, and his wife’s name flew from his lips as he groaned and released himself into her sweet warmth.

  Chapter Nineteen

  IT WAS STILL dark outside when Elizabeth rolled over and covered her smiling mouth with her fingers. The nearly burned-­out candles still twinkled in the brace next to the bed. Her body still twinged in places she had forgotten existed. Oh, God, what that man did to her. Did they really argue about things like religion and drinking all those years ago? It seemed silly now. Nathan clearly didn’t drink to excess any longer, and she’d long ago given up the religious fanaticism her mother had tried so desperately to instill in her.

  Nathan reached out and wrapped a lock of her hair over his finger. “You’re beautiful, Elizabeth.”

  She startled. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

  He pulled her hand between his thighs, where his erection proudly jutted against the sheets. “I’m awake.”

  “I see that.”

  He rose up and kissed her shoulder. “I could make love to you all day.” He moved to wrap his arm around her waist, but she pushed up to her elbows and moved away.

  “That sounds . . . dangerous,” she said with a shaky laugh.