When Maggie reappears, looking gorgeous and respectable and every bit a royal, I smile. “Beautiful.”
Her face falls. “You don’t like it.”
“It’s not that.”
“You’ve been grumpy ever since you came back from your date with the Duke. Aren’t you ever going to tell me what happened? It was a week and a half ago.”
“Nothing happened,” I lie. “He showed me his piano.”
“Is that a euphemism?”
I toss a cushion at her head. “You’re supposed to be the respectable one, Maggie.” I grin. “And no. Not a euphemism. It was the piano his mother had commissioned before…” I grimace. “Before she died.”
“Oh,” Maggie says. “And he hasn’t called you since?”
“Nope.” I pop the p as I say it. “Not even a message to apologize for basically kicking me out. Maybe I read the situation wrong,” I answer. “Maybe he really did just want to show off his piano.” I cut a glare in her direction. “Still not a euphemism.”
Maggie laughs, adjusting the dress as she stares in a mirror. She checks the back of it, trying to shift it so her moon boot doesn’t stick out from underneath the hem.
I take a deep breath. “That’s not what’s on my mind, though.”
“Oh?”
“It’s about Count Gregory.”
Maggie meets my gaze in the mirror, stilling her hands. “What about him?”
“I’m not sure you should go through with this.”
“I’m not sure I have a choice.”
“Of course you have a choice,” I answer. “No matter what Mother says. You always have a choice. He just…” I suck a breath in through my teeth. “He gave me the creeps at the ball.”
“He’s harmless.”
“Are you sure about that?” I chew my lip. “He was staring at me—it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.”
Maggie drops her gaze, letting out a long breath. “Ada, I know you’re worried. Maybe you don’t understand the world we live in, but—”
“I understand perfectly. But I also understand that it’s the twenty-first century, and no matter how badly we want Kiera to reach her full potential, there are other ways of going about it. You’re signing your life away.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Maggie snaps. She takes a sharp breath, releasing it slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
My heart breaks. My gentle, responsible sister is as worried about this as I am, but she’s resigned herself to her fate. When her eyes lift up to meet mine, I see the truth in her face. She knows exactly what Count Gregory is like. She knows that she’s signing up to, at best, tolerate a harem of mistresses. At worst, he’ll demand her full attention. Mind and body.
Gross.
My sister is walking into this loveless marriage with her eyes wide open.
“Maybe we can figure something else out,” I say softly.
“Like what? The Duke of Blythe? Last I checked he hasn’t called you back.”
Ouch. I wince.
Maggie turns toward me, dropping her shoulders. She comes to sit on the couch next to me, leaning her head on the back of the sofa. “I’m sorry,” she says in a low voice. “That was mean of me.”
“It’s true,” I admit. “I have no idea what’s going on with the Duke. For all I know, I’ll never see or speak to him again. Maybe one Christmas ball per decade is enough of an outing for him.”
Maggie snorts. She turns to face me, reaching out to put her hand on top of mine. “Don’t worry about me, Ada. I’ve thought about nothing else except my options for the past six weeks. I know what I’m getting into, and… I don’t know. Maybe a part of me thinks the stability will be good. I won’t have to worry about our parents losing our home or Kiera not being able to study. Maybe the Count and I can learn to love each other.”
I give her a tight smile, but discomfort churns in my gut. I’m not sure the Count is capable of love. I only met him at the Christmas ball, but every instinct in me tells me she should run.
I shift on the sofa and groan, touching my chest. “My boobs are sore as hell.”
“Period?”
“No,” I say. “Not yet. I just feel…blah.”
Maggie grimaces. “The Duke messed you up, Ada,” Maggie says softly. “You haven’t been the same since you met him.”
I can’t quite bring myself to meet my sister’s eyes. She’s right. Ever since I met the Duke, my life has been a series of highs and lows. Highs when I see him, and lows when he ignores me afterward. This past week has been particularly difficult. After being marched off his property and not hearing a word, my pride is more than a little wounded.
Am I really that naive? I really thought I was special?
Maggie squeezes my arm. “You’ll feel better soon. Choose a comfy dress for tonight. You want to look through my stuff?”
“You’re four inches shorter and twenty pounds lighter, and you’re a ballerina.” I grin. “Looking through your closet will probably make me feel worse. But thanks for the offer.”
My sister reaches for me, wrapping me in a hug. “Thank you for worrying about me,” she says, her voice muffled in my shoulder. “But believe me, I know what I’m doing.”
She squeezes me tight, crushing my chest a little too hard. “Ow,” I complain, pulling away.
My sister laughs, standing up again and letting out a long sigh. “I’ll go with this black dress. At least it mostly conceals the moon boot.”
With a tight smile, I nod. “Good choice.”
When we arrive at Count Gregory’s mansion, Maggie gives my hand a squeeze. I nod to her, not quite able to wipe away my frown. We’re greeted by staff and led inside, where our names are announced before being led to a huge living room. A dozen or so guests turn to look, and Count Gregory detaches himself from a conversation to greet us.
He says hello to my mother and father, then bows to my sister and kisses her fingers. I brace myself for my own greeting. The Count’s gaze slithers up my body and comes to rest on my eyes. His lips twitch as he dips his chin.
“Lovely to see you again, Lady Belcourt.” He bows, dropping his lips to my fingers.
I give him the slightest curtsy, swallowing hostility. Maggie elbows me, and I manage to widen my smile. “We’re very pleased to be here,” I answer. “Merry Christmas.”
The door behind us opens, and a footman announces another name. “The Duke of Blythe,” he says, bowing and stepping aside.
My heart thunders as my stomach clenches. The Duke…is here?
When Heath steps into the doorway, I feel like I’m going to faint. Wearing a well-tailored suit and an irresistible scowl, the Duke’s eyes find mine. Then, his gaze flits to the Count’s hand, which somehow is resting on my mid-back. He must have seen me waver when the Duke walked in.
I take half a step away from the Count, trying to catch my breath. “Your Grace,” I say, curtsying to the Duke.
He barely acknowledges me with a slight bow of his head, turning instead to the Count.
That stings. Not even a word of hello. My pride is taking a beating. I definitely read the situation wrong. The Duke wants nothing to do with me.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Heath says to Count Gregory.
“I’m surprised to see you accepted,” the Count replies through gritted teeth. The tension between the two men thickens, and my eyes jump from one to the other. Do they have a history?
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I do love Christmas,” the Duke replies, flicking his eyes back to me. His gaze sends heat sweeping over my body, and suddenly the room feels too warm. My dress is too tight. I need water, or food, or fresh air.
Maggie grabs my arm and yanks me away from the men, tilting her head to mine. “You have to tell me what’s going on.”
“I would if I knew,” I hiss back, feeling the Duke’s gaze on my skin. I force myself not to look back at him.
I’m not that desperate.
&nbs
p; First he ignores me after the Christmas ball until I send him a message. Then he basically kicks me out of his house right after I get there. Now he barely says a word of hello?
How am I supposed to decipher that tangled web of messages? Does he like me or not? Is this some kind of game to him?
I gulp, accepting a glass of water from a passing waiter, ignoring the flutes of champagne on the tray. I have no desire to get well-acquainted with the Count’s porcelain.
Two old duchesses walk up to my sister and me, crooning over us and asking Maggie about her broken ankle. I make sure the ladies are between me and the Duke, if only to shield myself from his gaze.
Or his glare, I should say. He’s staring at me like he wants to murder me. What did I do wrong?
My cheeks burn. Even the tips of my ears feel hot. I ignore his stare, choosing instead to listen to the gossip from the two old ladies in front of me.
I can’t get away from the Duke, though, because that’s all they seem to want to talk about. “He hasn’t attended any social gathering in four years, and now it’s two within a month,” one woman says, glancing over his shoulder. “And to come here of all places!”
I frown. “Why would coming here be particularly surprising?”
Lady Gertrude, the older of the two, snorts as she puts her hand to her pearl necklace. “There’s no love lost between Count Gregory and the Duke.”
“Why not?”
Maggie puts a sharp elbow between my ribs and throws me a loaded look, but I can’t help it. I stare at the two ladies, waiting for an explanation.
“Well, with all the business with his brother and that experimental drug treatment…” Lady Gertrude trails off, turning to greet another guest. She makes a big show of turning her back to my sister and me, and I know I’m not going to get any more answers from her.
Looking at my sister, I frown. “What happened between the Duke’s brother and Count Gregory? What’s she talking about?”
Maggie shrugs. “I never heard anything. Probably just idle gossip.”
I glance across the room to see storm clouds brewing over Count Gregory’s head. He looks absolutely murderous. A chill skitters down my spine, and I shake my head. “Doesn’t look like idle gossip.”
Someone clears their throat behind me, and I turn to see the Duke standing there. My stomach clenches. That scent of his, so intoxicating, wraps around me like a warm fog. His eyes are dark and unreadable. When my gaze drifts over his broad shoulders, I remember what it felt like to be sheltered within his arms.
“Ada,” he says softly. My sister stiffens at his familiar tone. “I’m sorry for the other evening. Mr. Seville told me you made it home safely.”
“I did.” My tone is frosty, but my body burns.
“Please understand that I had urgent business at the castle. I’m sorry for my rudeness.”
At the castle?
I want to be mad at him. I hate these games we seem to be playing. I hate not knowing where we stand and what he wants. I’d like to turn my back on him and tell him to leave me alone, but my whole body is begging me to take a step closer and crush my lips to his.
My body and mind and heart are at war. I’ve known the man for two weeks, and I’m already knotted up in complicated feelings for him.
He lets out a long breath. “When I heard you were coming to the Count’s holiday dinner, I knew I had to attend,” he says, his voice a low growl.
My eyes flick to his. I don’t understand the look on his face. Pain. Frustration. Anger. Did I make him angry? What could I have done wrong? He kicked me out of his house and didn’t speak to me for ten days.
“You didn’t have to do anything,” I reply. “I know you had your own affairs to attend to. I don’t need an explanation from you.”
The skin around his eyes tightens as his lips drop open. He sucks in a breath, then gives me a curt nod. “I understand.”
A bell rings, and it’s time for dinner.
15
Ada
The Duke is seated at the far end of the long dining table. The Count, unfortunately, sits down just opposite my sister and me. I catch the old man’s gaze flicking to me one too many times, and I shift uncomfortably. Why is he staring so much? It’s creepy.
Maggie looks like the perfect little lady she is. Poised and polite. Perfectly mannered and totally at ease. Is everything in her body not screaming at her to get out of here? How can she resign herself to this life?
Laughter booms at the opposite end of the long table, with Lady Gertrude hanging off the Duke of Blythe’s arm. He flashes her a smile, and I watch the old lady melt. Jealousy rips through my core just as the Duke catches me staring.
I flush, dropping my eyes to my plate.
I’m jealous of an old woman? What’s wrong with me?
“You two make a lovely sight,” the Count says, looking at my sister and me. That same dirty feeling ekes into my veins, making me feel unwashed and uncomfortable.
Maggie answers something appropriate and polite, and I just push my chair back. “Excuse me.”
Half-hearing the protests of my mother, I rush out of the dining room and try to find a bathroom. I open and close three doors before finding one that leads to a large, lush washroom, closing the door and leaning against the vanity.
Why is the Duke here? Why do my eyes always seem to be drawn to him? Why do I care if he’s entertaining half the table, and not me?
I should never have slept with him. It’s made a mess of my head, and I don’t know how to make it right again.
The bathroom door opens. I yelp and open my eyes wide when the Duke steps inside, closing the door behind him.
“Ada,” he says, and I melt at the sound of my name on his lips. His arm sweeps around my waist, catching me as I waver on my feet.
“What are you doing here?” I stammer.
“I was worried about you.”
I scoff. “Why haven’t you spoken to me, then? It’s been nearly two weeks.”
Heath’s brows draw together, and his lips drop open. “There are things going on that I can’t talk about. It’s complicated.”
“And that prevents you from speaking to me?”
He chews his lip, ducking his chin. “Yes.”
I scoff, trying to push away from him. His arm loosens around my waist, but I don’t quite have the courage to take a step back. I like his closeness a bit too much.
Lifting my eyes to his, I try to look for some sort of clue. “What’s going on between us?”
The Duke’s lips drop open and snap shut again. His hand slides from my lower back up my spine.
I step closer to him, pressing my chest against his. My breasts really are very sore. I ignore the pain, tilting my head as Heath sweeps his hand over my cheek.
“You look gorgeous tonight,” he rasps.
I close my eyes, shaking my head. “Why are you saying that to me? Why talk to me at all? Aren’t you just going to leave here and ignore me again?”
“The last thing I want to do is ignore you,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine.
My knees knock. He’s so close, and his body feels so good pressed up against mine. But we’re in a bathroom in Count Gregory’s mansion, and the Duke has been pretty much ignoring me for two weeks. Shouldn’t I have a little pride? If he wants to be with me, don’t I deserve more than stolen kisses at parties?
But then the Duke shifts his head and brushes his lips against mine. He parts them, sweeping his tongue across the seam of my mouth. I moan softly, already drunk on his kiss.
It feels too good in his arms. He feels too safe and warm and alive, and I’m too weak to resist.
Even when the Duke deepens the kiss, pressing me up against the vanity, I don’t pull away. I know I should stop. I should have some pride. I should demand he take me out on a date or—at the very least—talk to me outside of a public event.
But his body is all hard planes and male strength. His lips are warm and wanting. Even when he grabs
the fabric of my gown and rolls it up to my thighs, I can’t quite bring myself to stop him. His fingers slide up my thighs as his kiss becomes more insistent.
“I came here to see you,” the Duke whispers against my lips. “I don’t want to be here, in this house, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“So why not call me?” I stare into his eyes. What does he mean, he doesn’t want to be in this house? What happened between him and Count Gregory?
I try to look mad. I should be mad. I should be angry that he slept with me and hasn’t spoken to me outside one quick visit to his house. I should be furious. I should have some scrap of pride and take myself away from here. My body betrays me, though. My feet step wider to allow his hand to slip between my thighs. When he feels the heat of my core, he groans.
“I wasn’t lying when I said you were magnificent, Ada,” he growls, nipping at my bottom lip. “I want to see you every day. I want to wake up next to you and fuck you senseless every single morning.” His hand tugs at my panties, pulling the damp fabric to the side. When he feels my wetness, he groans again. His fingers slide through my arousal, and I can’t lie. I can’t pretend to be cold with him when my body is an inferno. I can’t pretend to push him away when all I want is more.
His fingers slip inside me as he whispers in my ear. His words make my anger evaporate. Dirty girl. You’re so hot for me. Come on my fingers. You’re mine.
I shouldn’t want this, but I can’t deny it. I should push him away and tell him I deserve more, but I just crumple in his hands and give him the orgasm he asks for. I come on his fingers, clinging onto his shoulders and panting his name.
When it’s done, the Duke’s eyes are shining. He lets my dress fall back down and lays a soft kiss on my lips, groaning. The bulge in his pants presses against my thigh, but he makes no move to unbuckle his trousers.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Ada.”
“Could have fooled me,” I quip, but my voice is weak. Every time I’ve seen him, he’s made me feel like the most special woman in the world.
But when I say goodbye to him when this dinner is over, will he even try to talk to me again?
Yours for Christmas: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected) Page 8