It’s not not true.
Rhoda’s eyes are massive. Her lips drop open as her hands splay on the table, waiting for me to continue.
I close my eyes, shaking my head. “I don’t know. He said he wanted to see me again. I don’t really know what that means.”
“I think it means he wants to see you again,” Rhoda answers slowly, enunciating every word. She laughs, shaking her head. “Trust you to ensnare a reclusive Duke. You’ll end up better off than any of us without even trying. Just like college.”
I frown. “What do you mean, just like college?”
“Um, have you forgotten the gaggle of men that followed you everywhere? How they hung on every word? How they came to your performances? I’m pretty sure you single-handedly caused a resurgence in the popularity of classical music.”
I wave a hand, shaking my head. “I had friends.”
“Mm,” Rhoda answers, shaking her head. She nods to my phone. “Don’t leave the man hanging. I guarantee you he’s staring at his phone right now, waiting for you to answer.”
I take a deep breath and type out the first thing that comes to mind.
Ada: I could play for you again, if you think it would help your mental health.
I hope he can hear the grin in my text. I press send, putting my phone face down on the table. I look at Rhoda. I need to change the subject, if only to regain control over my racing heart. “How about you? Tell me about your engagement. When’s the wedding?”
“Next June.” She gives me a tight smile. “My family is happy with the marriage. The Duke of Harbor is a nice man. He has a property near Westhill Castle which he says is beautiful in the summertime. That’s where the wedding will be.”
I smile. “I’m glad for you, Rhoda. You deserve to be happy.”
My friend reaches over to me, placing her hand on mine. “I’m doing this because it’s expected of me, and it’s the best option for my family. But you”—she pauses, glancing at my phone—“you could have something more.”
“It’s just a couple of text messages,” I say, shaking my head, even though her words feed a deep well of excitement in my gut.
What if it were more? What if things with the Duke were real?
My phone buzzes, and Rhoda gives me a meaningful glance. It’s more than a couple of text messages, the look says.
Heath: Tonight. I can show you the last piano my parents built.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to contain the emotion bubbling up inside me. Maybe Rhoda’s right. Maybe there’s something between the Duke and me that could be more.
I could have it all—and save Maggie from a loveless marriage while I’m at it.
13
Ada
A few hours later, Richard, our house manager, knocks on the sitting room door. When he introduces the Duke of Blythe, all heads lift in surprise.
My heart takes off, carrying my breath away with it. Kiera lets out a squeal, clapping her hand over her mouth. Maggie stares at me, asking a thousand questions with her eyes.
But it’s my mother who shoots me the heaviest glare. It’s gone in an instant, when she stands up to greet the Duke.
“Your Grace,” she says, expertly hiding the surprise in her voice. “How lovely of you to visit.”
As if this isn’t completely out of the ordinary. As if he visits all the time.
The Duke bows to my mother and father, then moves to shake my father’s hand. His eyes find mine, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. My head is spinning so hard I don’t even hear the pleasantries exchanged.
The Duke is here. In my living room. Talking to my family.
When he told me he wanted to meet me tonight, I thought—actually, I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t think he’d walk in and start talking to my father about the weather. Maybe I expected him to stop the car outside and honk the horn, or something.
But he wouldn’t do that. He’s a Duke. My family is noble. There are conventions to adhere to.
My mother straightens up. “Your Grace…” She glances at me, frowning ever so slightly. “To what do we owe the honor?”
“Ah,” the Duke replies, his soft lips curving. I want to kiss them again. I want to taste his tongue against mine and curl my fingers into his shirt. He glances at me. “I thought Lady Belcourt would have told you. I offered to show her the last piano my parents built before they”—he clears his throat—“before they passed. She had expressed interest in seeing it at the Christmas ball last weekend.”
“Oh.” My mother’s eyebrows jump.
A flush rips up my neck and bursts into flame over my cheeks. I hate that I’m blushing right now. I’m a young woman in my mid-twenties. I shouldn’t be blushing because a man wants to spend time with me.
But he’s not just a man, and I’m not just a young woman. There are conventions in our society, and this visit is…unusual. Or at least, it’s unexpected.
My father nods. “Well, we won’t keep you. Do you need us to send a car, Ada?”
I shake my head. “That won’t be necessary, Father.”
The Duke extends his arm, and I slide my hand into the crook of his elbows. As soon as I touch him, a rush of heat spins through my insides. He’s close enough to smell. To feel the heat of his body. To remember what it felt like to be naked together.
When we get to the front door, Heath helps me put a jacket on, smiling as I stuff a woolen hat over my ears. Richard, now wearing white gloves and a crisp jacket he hadn’t been wearing before, bows to us and opens the front door. The Duke’s hand materializes on my lower back as he leads me to the car, and another thrill rushes down through my thighs.
I like the way he touches me. Gentlemanly. Chastely. Appropriately—but as a constant reminder of what those hands felt like when they sank into my thighs and pulled me close. A sleek silver vehicle gleams in our driveway. Every part of it is shiny and clean, and I wonder how he managed to keep it that way while driving through the snowy, slushy streets.
Heath opens the car door for me, his eyes flicking down to my lips. At some point he slipped leather gloves over his hands, and I watch the way the fabric stretches when he curls his fingers over the top of the door. Every detail makes my body wind tighter. Every hint of his delicious male scent. Every blink of his thick, dark lashes. Every gaze that drifts over my face, my body—it all sends me into a tailspin.
When the Duke closes my door and walks around the front of the vehicle, his steps are steady and measured. He holds his chest high as his arms hang loosely by his sides. He walks as if he owns the world. Like he knows people would show him deference and give him whatever he wanted.
How could they not? The man exudes power.
When Heath slips into the car, he flashes a smile at me and I go soft around the middle. Every smile feels like a secret that he only shares with me. Letting my lips curl gently, I fiddle with the edge of my hat.
“Ready?”
“I can’t believe I’ll be going to the Blythe Estate,” I say, letting my smile stretch wider. “I feel like I’ve been blessed by some higher power.”
“No higher power.” Heath chuckles. “Just me.” Putting the car in gear, he starts to drive. The seat warms beneath me, and soon I’m unbuttoning my jacket and pulling my hat off my head. In the closeness of the vehicle, I feel the Duke’s presence everywhere. It’s like his energy expands to fill any space he’s in. He’s magnetic.
I can sense every movement of his body over the pedals, the gear shift, the steering wheel. When did driving a car become sexy? He’s relaxed and in control, and it reminds me of the way he made love to me. Like it comes naturally to him.
When we turn off down a country road and come up to a set of tall gates, I shift in my seat, peering through the windshield.
“Looking for truckloads of women being delivered?” Heath doesn’t hide the grin in his voice.
I throw him a glance. “Please.”
He rewards me another panty-melting smile. Is it the hea
ted seat that’s making me so hot? Or is it just him?
Dusk is falling all around us, throwing warm colors across the sky. In front of us, a huge mansion is silhouetted against the sunset. My heart thumps.
As far as I know, no guest has been here in months. Years, maybe. The Duke hasn’t attended any official events apart from the Christmas ball, and hasn’t received anyone from society here since his parents passed away. The estate has basically been cut off from all outside eyes. Curiosity burns in my stomach.
I’m worse than Kiera.
We park in a large garage, where an attendant appears at my door. Dressed in a crisp uniform, he opens the door for me and bows, helping me out of the car.
Heath tosses him the keys, glances at me, and jerks his head toward the door. “This way.”
Once inside the house, another member of staff appears, helping me out of my jacket. Everything happens quickly. Efficiently. The staff seems well-trained and well-practiced. It’s not until the man taking my jacket gives me a curious glance that I realize this situation is unusual.
“Come,” Heath says, extending his hand.
When my palm slips over his, a delicious current of heat skips across my skin. I fall into step beside him, feeling like this is the most natural place to be. Like I belong here, at his side.
Blythe Estate has been shrouded in mystery for the past four years, and I guess I expected it to be dark and dingy and mysterious.
It’s not.
The hallways are wide and bright. Rooms we pass are well-kept and clean, as if the entire mansion is lived-in and loved. We pass pictures of the late Duke and Duchess of Blythe as well as Heath and his brother as children. The whole place feels warm and welcoming, with staff greeting us at every corner. Heath knows all their names.
There are touchscreens at the entrance to every room, and when we pass through a large foyer, I notice the lights brightening and dimming beside us. The whole place must have been rewired as a smart home, with sensors and pre-programmed settings made exactly to the Duke’s preference.
He’s not some brooding, mysterious Duke who retreated from civilization. He’s just been living life on his terms.
Noticing my stares, Heath grins at me. “Not what you expected?”
“I thought this place would be haunted.”
He gives me a sad smile, squeezing my palm. “I used to think it was.”
Beneath the surface, Heath is a complicated patchwork of pain and love. I see glimpses of it when he drops his serious expression. Right now, his eyes linger on a large portrait of his family.
Giving his head a slight shake, he jerks his chin to a door at the end of the hall. “You’ll love this piano,” he says, pushing the tall, wide door open.
I gasp.
A huge room opens up before us, the walls and floor paneled in rich oak that makes my footsteps resonate. The acoustics in this space are insane. It looks like it was purpose-built for the huge grand piano that sits illuminated in the center of the room.
I drop Heath’s hand, taking a few quick steps forward before pausing, afraid to touch the instrument. I turn to look at him, completely in awe.
I catch another glimpse of the man beneath the brooding exterior. His green eyes shine in the light of the room, watching me. His face is open. Hopeful.
I could fall in love with him when he looks at me like this. I might already have.
“My mother commissioned it from one of the master piano craftsmen they employed,” Heath explains, taking long, measured steps toward me. He puts his hand on my back, leading me toward the instrument. “She used to sit in here and play for hours. I have it tuned every year, even though no one ever plays it.”
“Heath…” My voice trails off, eyes glued to the piano. It’s incredible. The cover has been opened and I peer inside, looking at the hundreds of strings stretched tight across the wide body. It gleams black and sleek, waiting to be played. I can tell without touching it that it’s been made with love. Walking to the keys, I let my fingers drift over them, testing a chord out.
Rich, warm sound rings out. Chills rush down my spine. The keys have a wonderful weight to them, and the sound they produce makes my whole body thrum. I’ve never played anything like it.
Giving Heath a questioning glance, I see his eyes shining. He nods to the bench. We don’t need to speak. I know he wants me to play.
This time he stands by the piano, watching my face. I don’t feel nervous or embarrassed. I know playing this instrument is an honor that I don’t deserve, but I’ll do my best to try.
So, I play.
Music has a special ability to reach into my soul and dig out the purest of emotions. Playing an instrument like this one—in the Blythe Estate, under the watchful eyes of the Duke himself—heightens every sensation. I’m wound as tight as the strings of the piano, tugged by every note. My whole body becomes an extension of the music, and before I know it tears spill over my cheeks.
When the piece of music finishes, I stop playing and wipe my face. Gulping, I lift my eyes to the Duke’s.
He stares at me like I just cracked his heart open. Lips parted, hand on his chest, eyes shining. I watch his chest heave as the air thickens between us.
His throat bobs as he swallows, and he runs a hand through his thick black hair. “My mother used to play that piece all the time,” he says, emotion choking his words. “How did you…”
“I didn’t,” I whisper. “I’m sorry if I—”
“No,” he answers. “It was perfect.”
It only takes him two steps to reach me, and one swift movement to lift me off the bench. Pulling me into his chest, the Duke crushes his lips to mine. He kisses me hungrily, as if he needs me to live. Wrapped in his arms, he holds me close.
When we come up for air, I search his face. “Why did you wait for me to text you?”
It feels so good to be here, but I don’t understand him. I don’t understand what he wants from me. When we’re together, it feels real—but the minute we’re apart, it’s like it never happened.
Heath’s face tenses. He inhales, shaking his head, then rests his forehead against mine. “I wanted to leave the ball in your court. I didn’t know if you’d want to see me again.”
“You were scared.” I grin, nudging him.
Heath huffs out a laugh, shrugging. “Can you blame me? Look at you.” His hands sweep down my back, cupping my ass and pulling me into him.
I’m not sure it’s true. There’s something in his face that tells me he’s holding back. Not telling me the whole truth. Is it just because I’m part of society and he isn’t? He doesn’t want to enter my world now that he’s left it behind?
“I’d sit and listen to you play forever,” he says, his lips brushing against mine.
I smile. “I have a concert in two and a half weeks.”
“I’ll be there.”
I tilt my head to find his lips again. My fingers cling onto his shirt. I melt into him as my body heats up, every bit of me remembering what it felt like to be tangled in his arms. To feel his skin against mine. His tongue between my legs.
But before anything can happen, there’s a knock on the doorframe. Someone clears their throat, clearly uncomfortable. The Duke and I separate, turning to the noise.
One of the members of staff is standing at the door, eyes averted. “Your Grace,” he says quietly, raising his eyes. Unspoken conversation happens, and Heath strides toward him. He leans his head near the other man’s, listening to a few whispers.
I hear fragments. His Majesty the King. Evidence. Investigation.
What’s that about?
Heath nods, then turns to me. His face is shuttered, once again wearing a mask of stone. “I’m sorry, Lady Belcourt. I have to attend to some urgent matters.” He extends his hand toward me, and when I reach him he presses his lips to my fingers. “Mr. Seville will drive you home. I apologize.”
With that, he gives me a quick bow and hurries down the hallway.
I
stare after him, frowning, until the man clears his throat again and gestures for us to leave.
I don’t see any sign of the Duke as I’m led back through the house and into the garages, and finally driven home.
Alone, empty, and vaguely embarrassed.
14
Ada
I don’t hear from Heath after I leave his estate. Not. One. Word. A day passes, then two, then three. Pretty soon it’s been ten days since I saw him, and I still haven’t heard anything.
If he’s waiting for me to text him again, he’ll wait a long time. I’m not going to be the one to keep chasing him when he ignores me. If the ball is in my court, as he said, well I’m choosing not to play it. I have to have some kind of pride. I can’t just go to his house, get kicked out, then come back begging for more.
I fill my days practicing for my last concert of the year, then spend time with my sisters.
On Saturday morning before Count Gregory’s Christmas dinner party, I laze in Maggie’s bedroom as she sorts through her walk-in closet. As I lie back on the sofa near the window, I try to wade through the mess in my mind. Between the Duke and our—ahem—encounter at the ball, the invitation to his place, and his sudden disappearance from my life, and not to mention the mess with Maggie’s engagement to an old creep, I’m not feeling the holiday spirit.
“I wish I didn’t have to wear this stupid moon boot,” she sighs, her voice muffled by the clothes in her closet. “It doesn’t exactly go with any of these dresses.”
“You’ll look perfect,” I reply. I watch as my sister comes back out holding two options. I nod to the black dress in her left hand. “Try that one.”
When she disappears in the closet again to slip it on, I gather my courage. I need to talk to her about this betrothal, because I’m not sure it’s the right decision. Sure, she needs to marry well. Count Gregory knows the deans at all the nearby colleges—and has contacts all throughout North America—but there must be some other way. Scholarships, maybe? Loans?
Yours for Christmas: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected) Page 7