Page 14 of His Wicked Little Christmas
Dex smiled without joy, brandy a lingering burn. Maybe he’d threaten to marry the next suitable, no matter how repellant she or her family. Put Georgie to the test. A dare like none he’d placed before her. A true wager.
Her heart for his soul.
What would she do if he asked another woman to marry him while knowing he wantedher?
What would she do?
Nothing was a strong possibility.
He huddled into his coat, not his best, it had gone with Georgie, but good enough to keep out the worst of the foul weather.
He didn’t want her gratitude or her compliance. He didn’t want her to come to him because she’d decided she might like to be a duchess, a title he gave two figs about himself. Or because she was curious about what he could show her about the physical side of life, which from her stunned expression after he’d kissed her, was likely a lot.
He wanted her to come to him because shetrustedhim in the way she once had. Like a close friend she also happened to be frantically in love with.
The truth was, he wanted her to bet on him even if she believed she shouldn’t.
Chapter Seven
The package arrived on Christmas Eve.
A simple white box wrapped with twine, no note accompanying it. With butterflies erupting in her belly, Georgie took the parcel to her chamber and laid it on the bed, staring at it in pained silence before wrapping the end of the string around her thumb and giving it a hesitant tug. Inside was a hooded cape the color of the lapis stone she’d nearly worn to dullness from her fretting caresses. Trimmed in fox fur and gold cord, the cape was more lavish than any she’d ever owned. More lavish than she needed. An intimate gift meant to send Dex’s jarring avowal like a dart straight into the fleshy center of her heart.
Make a list of how I should touch you, and I’ll eagerly strike each off…
Georgie pursed her lips and nudged the package closer. In the folds of tissue surrounding the cloak, she’d seen a flash of color. She lifted the beetle fossil from the box, brought it to her breast, and closed her eyes in anguish. Amusement. Fondness.
Blast him, the mischievous cad.
And a thief, she concluded, laughing until her stomach hurt. Because the fossil wasn’t being returned to a German museum. Along with her lapis stone, she’d never relinquish it.
Dexter Munro, what am I going to do with you?
“You’re going to find him a duchess, that’s what,” she answered, blinking the hearthfire into view. A mere hour from now, Edward Mullen, Viscount Lindley, and his family were arriving for a dinner party to introduce his daughter, Letitia, to the heir to the Duke of Markham. Lovely, lively, wholly appropriate Letitia. Handsome, clever, wholly available Dex.
They would make a gorgeous couple, have gorgeous children.
Live a gorgeous life.
The only wrinkle in the plan being he’d told her he wantedher. Georgie. His childhood friend. The scrap of a girl who’d tripped along behind him on a thousand artless adventures, hanging on his every word, recording his every move until she knew him better than she knew herself. In the end, she’d married out of necessity, like Dex was set to do. She’d survived her heart being smashed to bits. In any case, he couldn’t possibly feel for her what she’d once felt for him; he would survive her gentle rebuff. The love she’d felt then could only belong to an impressionable girl, someone able to give entirely without knowledge about how vile relationships could be. Under the guise of matrimony, how much one had to lose.
How one could be hurt, damaged, changed.
You’re bitter,Georgiana comprehended with a pulse of astonishment that had her slumping to the bed.You’re letting that horse’s arse win.She flopped to her back, arms outstretched, the fossil still clutched tightly in her fist. The ceiling had a tiny spider crack she traced with her eyes to the dark corner of the room. Her fury was fierce and precipitous, cleansing as well as harrowing. Three years after his demise, Arthur still had his fingers circling her wrist and was squeezing as she dropped to her knees. She flexed her hand, almost able to feel the pressure.
Dex’s passionate response, lips sliding along her neck, warm breath stealing into her ear, returned to her on a wave of regret and yearning. He’d told her while they organized his fossils:experience in every aspect of life lies in the details, and I love details.
Georgiana palmed her quivering stomach and swallowed deeply. What if, when she fantasized about lovemaking, images of Dex seized her mind instead of images of Arthur? Not the man of her dreams but therealman.
The resolution was easy.
Dex was a passionate man, and he, for his own reasons, wanted her.
She was passionate, she hoped, and she wanted him.
She could give him what he wanted, one night to satisfyboththeir needs. One night to wash away Arthur and her unhappy marriage for good. One night to show Dex she was a dream he’d created in his mind to ease the loneliness of being back in Derbyshire, the heartache of watching his father die. She was merely a woman he’d once known well, no more, no less. They could come together with no business arrangement attached, no contracts, no ticking clock, no weight of a hundred tenants on their shoulders. Simple want and desire allowed out of a cage, if those things were ever simple.
Passion for passion’s sake.
