Page 50 of The Earl Takes All
“You could not have given me anything better.”
Then he hauled her up against him and took her mouth.
Hehadn’t kissed her since just before she gave birth, and he knew he could not have chosen a worse moment to do so—with an audience. But he’d been dreading the holidays, known they were another moment that would hammer home the absence of his brother. And he was truly touched by her gift of his friends.
He welcomed the excuse to show his appreciation by plastering his lips to hers. He suffered through the agony of holding her every night, chastely, his arm around her diminishing waist. Each day, the evidence that she’d given birth dwindled. And he found himself wanting her all the more, fighting to keep his desires in check.
The fight was raging now—again with an audience.
Breaking from the kiss, he strode toward their visitors. “This is a marvelous surprise.” He gave the duchess a hug, a kiss on the cheek. Shook Ashe’s hand, clapped his back, did the same with Locke before asking him, “What about your father?”
“He’s never liked Christmas,” Locke said. “You know that. I doubt he’ll even notice I’m not there.”
“Well, I’m glad to have you here. Allow me to introduce you to Lady Alberta.”
Minerva hadn’t bothered to wait for him to lead them over. She was already at Julia’s side, cooing over the child whom Julia now cradled lovingly in her arms. He’d never before realized how much a mother could love a child, had never considered what he and the others had missed out on by not having their mothers about as they grew into men.
“She’s gorgeous,” Minerva said.
“We think so,” Julia admitted. “And Albert is a wonderful father, rocking her in the middle of the night when she awakens.”
He could feel the gazes of both Ashe and Locke bearing down on him, knew what they were thinking, that they were judging him. He hardly blamed them. Once they’d given adequate attention to Julia and the babe, he suggested they retire to the library for a quick brandy before dinner.
The library door had barely closed behind them when Ashe said, “You haven’t told her yet.”
Not a question, a statement. Edward strode to the sideboard, poured brandy into three snifters, turned to hand them each one. “She wanted a perfect Christmas. I didn’t think her knowing she was a widow would accomplish that. I’ll tell her after.”
“This seems an incredibly unwise course.”
Not the first one he’d ever traveled. Ignoring the censure and a need to respond, he raised his glass. “To Lady Alberta and Julia’s health.”
The gentlemen drank, Edward downing far more than either of them. Now he needed to think of another toast, give them reasons to continue drinking so they’d leave off the inquisition.
“And the kiss?” Ashe asked.
Edward fought not to reveal his irritation that Ashe was acting as though he were a chaperon. He didn’t want them reading anything into his displeasure other than what it was: annoyance at having all his actions questioned. “A husband kisses his wife when she does something to please him, doesn’t he?”
“Not always with quite so much enthusiasm,” Locke said. “The two of you generated more heat than the logs burning in the fireplace.”
“Bugger off, both of you.”
“You’ve grown to like her,” Ashe said, clearly befuddled.
“I might appreciate her more than I once did.” No harm in admitting that. They’d always liked her, thought he’d been a fool not to feel the same.
“The longer you wait—”
“Damn you, Ashe, do you not think I’m aware that there will never be a perfect moment to break her heart? The holidays just seemed an unusually cruel time to do so. In the new year. She’ll be fully recovered from the ordeal of childbirth and better able to cope with the grief. I’ll tell her then.”
Ashe tipped his head in acquiescence, sipped his brandy, his eyes narrowing. “Just see that you do or I shall.”
“It’s not your place.”
“As Albert’s friend, I disagree. He wouldn’t want his wife taken advantage of.”
“How pray tell am I taking advantage of her? I’m not bedding her. An occasional kiss is harmless. From the beginning, I’ve done nothing except strive to protect her. I gain nothing for myself by continuing the ruse.”
“He does have a point,” Locke said, tapping a finger against his snifter. “He’s truly the Earl of Greyling now. The temporary role is now a permanent one.”
