The Mistletoe Duke

by Sabrina York

  It was quiet and dark and cool. Exactly what she needed.

  Despite the business of the morning and the melee of the musicale, she’d been beset with one single thought.

  That kiss from Jonathan.

  It had dominated her mind since last night, but she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  Jonathan wasn’t the kind of man to run around kissing girls all higgledy-piggledy. In fact, since Tessa, she doubted he’d even looked at another woman. Who would? Tessa had been a diamond of the first water.

  But he had kissed her.

  It had been the single most thrilling moment of her life.

  And the most confusing.

  She made her way through the darkened room to the window seat, where she loved to sit and read and, occasionally, look out at the drifts of snow covering the garden. She wondered what the garden might look like in spring, but she knew she would probably never find out. She certainly would never come to the Sutton house again. At least, not after Jonathan married.

  The thought depressed her.

  “That is a fierce frown.”

  His voice, in a dark rumble from the king’s chair by the fire, surprised her.

  “Jonathan!” She huffed a laugh. “I was just thinking of you.”

  Oh dear. Thank heavens he couldn’t see her flush in the shadows.

  “Were you?” He stood and made his way over, then sat beside her, which was hardly wise. The window seat was not all that generous. As it was, his thigh touched hers; the propinquity scorched her and she edged away, but he, oblivious followed. “I was just thinking of you, too.”

  His voice was playful and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “What were you thinking about?” Her performance, probably. “Did you like the aria?”

  “I loved the aria. It’s my favorite, you know.”

  “I didn’t know.” How could she? They’d never discussed the opera.

  “Well, it is. And I adored the song you and the girls sang.”

  “They are very talented.”

  “Like their father, no doubt.” His smile was crooked.

  “They sang it for Tessa.”

  When she spoke her friend’s name, the mood shifted. It went from playful to sober. “I’m sure she appreciated it. But no. Those were not the things I was thinking of.”

  He took her hand. His was warm. His gaze made her tremble.

  “What-what were you thinking about?”

  “How lovely you are.”

  Her breath caught. She brushed back her hair. Swallowed. “I… Thank you.”

  “All my friends are besotted, you know.”

  “Are they?” She had to smile at that. “They’ve been following me like hungry pups.”

  “I imagine they have been. You’ve…really won them over. No doubt a proposal is yours, if you so wish it.”

  She quirked her head. “From which one?” Not that it mattered. None of them made her heart patter in the slightest.

  He laughed. “All of them, I imagine.”

  “Oh. Lovely.”

  He leaned closer. Her pulse kicked up. “You don’t sound pleased.”

  “Is it so wrong that I don’t want to marry any of them?” she asked.

  “I shouldn’t think so,” he shrugged. “You will always have a home here, if you wish.”

  Ah. “How kind.”

  “Not in the least.” He moved closer. “Do you want to know what else I was thinking of?”

  She met his gaze, held it. She thought she knew what he was going to say, and it made her breathless. “Yes.” A peep.

  “I was thinking about that kiss last night. Do you remember it?”

  She couldn’t hold back a laugh. Did she remember it? “Honestly, Jonathan. How terrible do you think my memory is?”

  “So you do remember?”

  “Of course I do. It was…”

  “What?” He came closer still. His breath caressed her cheek.

  “It was wonderful,” she whispered. It was all she could manage.

  “I thought it was wonderful too. I’d like to do it again.” Somewhere, in his words, was an inherent question, which was ridiculous. In response, she put her hand to his cheek. His day beard scratched her palm and she loved it. So she stroked.

  “Ah,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning in to her touch. “Meg. My Meg.”

  The words stunned her—my Meg—but she had no time to react, because he touched his lips to hers, ever-so-tenderly. She allowed him to kiss her like that for a long time, but when he deepened the kiss, her conscience smote her, and not for the first time.

  Gently, slowly, she pulled away. “We shouldn’t.”

  His brow furrowed. “Why ever not?”

  “Someone might see.”

  “I don’t care.”

  She frowned at him. “You should. You’re supposed to be here looking for a wife—”

  His gaze glinted. “I am.”

  “A young wife.”

  His frown blossomed into a glower. “You’re younger than me.”

  “But your mother has invited the cream of the crop, just for you.”

  His snort echoed.

  “The cream of the crop? Glorianna Pickering won’t speak, Louisa Mountbatten won’t stop, and Cicely Peck…”

  Something in his tone made her wild with curiosity. “What about Cicely Peck?”

  “She showed up in my chambers last night.”

  Meg’s chin dropped. “She didn’t.”

  “She did. Fortunately, I wasn’t there. But Rodgers was. He’s now locking my doors.”

  “Excellent idea.”

  “Rodgers is the best valet in Christendom.”

  “Methinks he deserves a bonus.”

  Jonathan grinned. “Methinks I agree. But aside from all that, someone else has caught my eye. Dare I say, my heart?”

  She stared at him, her mind in a whirl. There were so many thoughts, she didn’t know where to start. Oh, she was delighted that none of the others interested him, certainly. And she was thrilled beyond bearing that he seemed to be courting her. But something had haunted her for years, and haunted her still.

  When he took her hesitation for assent, and moved to kiss her again, she stopped him, but it cost her.

  She had to look away. “Tessa was my best friend.” It was terrible to feel guilty for wanting to take her place. It was heart-rending in fact.

  “And George was mine.” He turned her to face him. Offered a smile. “I like to think of them in heaven together.”

  She had to smile at that.

  “I think they would approve of us. Being together. They would approve of our marriage.”

  The words shocked her. Our marriage. Something she’d never dreamed could come to be.

  He continued, unabated. “Tessa would want you to be a mother to our girls. She wouldn’t want it to be anyone else. Don’t you agree?”

  She couldn’t say no. Lying was a sin. “I do love the girls. With all my heart.”

  “I know you do.” He took her hands in his, both of them. Enclosed them in the blanket of his warmth. “Do you think you could come to love me too? Some day? I would be honored if you said yes.”

  “Love you? Some day?” She knew she was acting like a parrot, but she couldn’t help it. The nonsense he was spouting boggled her brain.

  “Is it such a ludicrous idea? I am a duke after all.” His hopeful expression collapsed. It pained her to see.

  “Oh, Jonathan,” she sighed. “I don’t care that you’re a duke. I never have.”

  “But—”

  She silenced him with a finger to his lips. “Hush, darling. And listen to me.”

  He stilled. A smile blossomed on his oh-so-handsome face. “Did you just call me darling?”

  “Hush. Darling, I have loved you for years. Since the day you rescued me from that tree. Do you remember?”

  “Of course I remember. You were all scraggles and limbs.”

  She frowned at him. “No need
to be rude. The point is, I do love you. I always have. I just never thought you would be drawn to someone like me.”

  “Someone like you?” He reared back and, to her horror, gave her the old up and down. What did he see, when he looked at her like that? Surely not a face that wasn’t as perfect as Tessa’s? A body that was most certainly plumper? Hair that wasn’t that lovely shade of blonde?

  “Tessa was beautiful.”

  He nodded. “She was. And you are beautiful too.”

  It was difficult to hold back her snort. “Not as beautiful as she.”

  He gave a small laugh. “I wish you could see yourself as I see you.”

  “And how is that?” Was it foolish to ask?

  “Perfect. A perfect woman. A perfect wife. A perfect duchess… You’re the one I want, Meg, and, if you are willing, you are the one I shall have.”

  And then, perhaps to end the argument, such as it was, he kissed her soundly. And it was glorious. He kissed her and kissed her—and, to be honest, she kissed him—for quite some time. They would probably have continued on forever, except a terrible thought occurred, and Meg had to pull away.

  Jonathan studied her expression and his lips took a downturn. “What is it?”

  “Oh, Jonathan, dear. What about your mother? She had such hopes that you would land a society bride.”

  “You are a society bride,” he growled.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “My mother has no say in this.”

  “But—”

  “To hell with my mother!”

  “Well really.” An affronted snort came from the door.

  They both turned to see the dowager standing there with Susana, Lizzie, and Vicca.

  Susana sniffed. “This is becoming a habit,” she said, although she said it with something of a smile.

  “What are they doing?” Vicca asked, poking her head around her grandmother.

  “I do believe your father is compromising my companion,” the dowager clipped.

  Oh dear. Meg leaped to her feet. “It’s not what it seems—”

  “Yes,” Jonathan said, standing as well and wrapping his arm around Meg’s waist. “It’s exactly what it looks like. Meg has just accepted my proposal.”

  Susana crossed her arms. “Well, it took the two of you long enough.”

  “Indeed,” his mother said. And, to Meg’s delight, the dowager came to her with open arms and gave her a lovely hug.

  “What does that mean?” Lizzie said with a skeptical look at the lot of them.

  Jonathan went down on one knee and pulled his daughters close, so he could look them in the eye. “Meg is to be my wife and, if you’re willing, your mother.”

  They both turned to Meg then, and though she was unaccountably nervous, she smiled. “Would you like that?”

  The twins exchanged a look and then shrugged. “Of course we like it,” Vicca said.

  Lizzie nodded. “We told you days ago you should marry Meg.”

  “Weren’t you paying attention?”

  Jonathan sighed. “Apparently I wasn’t. I needed to work it out for myself.”

  “Well, I am delighted,” the dowager said. “We’ll make an announcement at the ball this evening.”

  Susana chuckled. “And ruin Christmas for Cicely Peck.”

  The dowager smirked. “An added bonus, but it will do.” She sighed heartily and turned to survey the new family to be. Man, wife, and daughters. Hopefully sons soon enough, judging from the look in Jonathan’s eye. “It makes me supremely happy when my plans play out,” she murmured.

  Jonathan smiled. “It was a brilliant plan, throwing a party to find a husband for Meg.”

  “Oh?” his mother said cheekily. “Was that my plan?”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  She shrugged.

  His eyes narrowed. “You told me the point of this party was to find a husband for Meg.”

  Meg blinked. “You told me the point of this party was to find a bride for Jonathan.”

  “Did I?” Was it possible for a woman to flutter her lashes that fervidly and not create a breeze?

  “So what was your plan?” Meg had to ask.

  But the dowager merely looked at them and smiled. “Let’s just say my plan played out, shall we? And I am so very happy for both of you. Now, let’s get going. We have a betrothal ball to attend.” And with that, she shooed Susana, Lizzie, and Vicca from the room, the last two doing a little jig.

  “Your mother is a handful,” Meg said, as Jonathan turned her back into his arms.

  “Yes,” he said. “But this time, I couldn’t be more pleased.”

  “You know, neither could I.”

  And it was true.

  “Now, shall we go prepare for our ball?”

  She smiled at him. Her heart in her eyes. “Yes. Let’s.”

  “But, Meg.” He fixed her with a fierce gaze. “You’re not dancing with anyone but me.”

  Epilogue

  Spring in Sutton was lovely. Meg had known it would be so.

  She woke up early on the four-month anniversary of her wedding to find her husband gone and four roses on his pillow. Her heart swelled with love and she sighed. It had been a wonderful four months.

  After the house party, the family had decamped to London while the banns were read and had enjoyed winter in the city, including the most amazing Frost Fair held right on the frozen-over River Thames. The girls had loved the menageries, skating on the ice, the horse drawn boat, and, of course, the gingerbread and warm apple cider. They’d also visited the museums and shops, and she and Jonathan had gone to the opera.

  It had, indeed been tedious, except during the arias, but Jonathan’s box had been recessed, so there might have been kissing.

  And oh, with the season still in swing, there had been parties. Susana and Christian had led her into the fray, introducing her to all their friends.

  Everyone, it seemed, had been delighted to welcome the new Duchess of Devon into the fold. With the possible exception of Cicely Peck, which was no great loss.

  They’d even attended another wedding. Of all people, Hisdick and Louisa Mountbatten.

  Once the thaw came, Jonathan and Meg discussed returning to Sutton, but hadn’t made any real plans until Meg had started feeling ill in the mornings.

  Meg hadn’t realized what that meant, but the dowager had.

  She’d packed them all up immediately and trundled them to Sutton, claiming Devon was too far to travel for a woman in her condition.

  They’d been here ever since, just the family, enjoying the advent of spring and watching Meg’s belly grow.

  The dowager had been pleased with her progress, exclaiming more than once that she was sure it was twins. And she would know, having carried a pair herself. How she knew these were boys, Meg had no clue, but she was happy to play along.

  Though in truth, she didn’t care it if was a boy or a girl or one of each.

  Just not two of each, please.

  Lizzie and Vicca were delighted, of course, to know a sibling, or two, were on order. If the babies were twins, they announced, there would be one for each of them, whereas, if there was only one baby, they’d have to share and they didn’t care to share. To which Jonathan had responded there would always be more, so there was no need to squabble.

  Meg smiled and stretched at the thought of more. She had always wanted lots of children, and Jonathan was more than happy to oblige.

  Her stomach grumbled and she sat up in bed—on the off chance it might mean she was about to cast up her accounts. Again. But no. It was real hunger.

  At that moment, the door opened on the most beautiful sight. Her handsome husband, with a tray of food.

  “Ah, she’s awake,” he said and his comment was followed by squeals of delight as Vicca and Lizzie piled into the room and onto the bed.

  “My darlings,” she said, giving each of them a kiss, even as Jonathan implored them to be gentle. He sat the tray on the bed and sat down beside her.
Where he belonged.

  “You finally woke up,” Lizzie said with a sigh.

  “I was tired.”

  “Why were you tired?” Vicca asked. “Didn’t you and Papa go to bed early?”

  Indeed. They had.

  “Perhaps she didn’t sleep well,” Jonathan suggested with a grin.

  Meg surveyed her tray, which held eggs, toast points, hot chocolate, and a slice of cake. There was also a small bundle of greenery on the side. She reached for a triangle of toast and gave her husband a smile. “Thank you for the flowers,” she said, nodding to the roses.

  “Thank you for last night,” he said, picking up the bundle and showing it to her. Where on earth had he found mistletoe this time of year? She laughed as he held it over her head and kissed her on the nose. Didn’t he know he didn’t need that anymore? He could kiss her anytime he wanted.

  “What happened last night?” Lizzie asked.

  She and Jonathan exchanged a glance.

  “Ah, your mama read me a story.” It was adorable, how he flushed.

  “I did indeed. It was a very nice story.”

  Jonathan frowned. “Nice? It was a damned sight more than nice.”

  “Yes, dear,” she said patting him on the hand, because it had been.

  Vicca put out a lip. “I want to hear the story.”

  “Me too.” Lizzie pouted.

  And, of course, Jonathan laughed. “You’ll have to wait for that,” he said.

  “How long?” the twins chorused.

  “Oh years, one hopes,” Jonathan said on a chuckle. “Years and years and years.”

  Meg and Jonathan both fell into peals of laughter, but Vicca and Lizzie weren’t amused in the least. But they didn’t mind so much when their father kissed their mother until she was distracted. Because then, they were able to steal her cake.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous romances. She loves writing in all genres and sub-genres so her books range from sweet & snarky to scorching hot. And occasionally snarky and hot at the same time. Whatevs. You get the point. Thar be snark in them thar books! Consider yourself warned.