A Rake in Winter Page 6

  Dreams of his hard body...his rough voice...his wicked tongue...

  When that tongue swept boldly between her lips Merry gasped, but instead of pulling away she moved closer, clinging to the square cut lapels of his jacket as she brought her body crashing against his. He grunted from the force of the impact, but it was a pleased sort of grunt, the kind a lion might make after devouring a particularly tasty snack.

  “Like honey,” he rasped against her neck as his mouth trailed kisses along the sensitive curve of her jaw. “You taste like the sweetest honey.” He nipped her earlobe and Merry’s eyes flew open in shock from the sheer overwhelming sensuality of it all. She’d never known there was a nerve that connected her ear to her womanhood but surely there must have been for the moment Kendalwood wet one part her body the other part dampened in response.

  She moaned and he returned his attentions to her lips, fingers burrowing beneath her hat to sink into the thick folds of her hair. Her head lolled back, letting him plunder her mouth to his heart’s content. With a low growl of gratification he did just that, drawing her full top lip between his teeth and running his tongue along its sensitive edge.

  Had she thought she’d tasted passion before? It was nothing compared to this.

  Feeling as though she were burning from the inside out Merry writhed against Kendalwood’s rigid frame, mindlessly rubbing her breasts against his rocklike chest as she sought to ease the growing ache deep inside of her.

  His hands skimmed down her spine, tracing the tiny bumps of her vertebrae through the thick wool of her cloak before settling on her waist. He drew her against him, pushing their bodies even closer together until Merry committed every inch of his powerful torso to memory. The firm slant of his pectorals...the flat, rigid plane of his abdomen...the narrow waist that whittled down to the evidence of his arousal: a hard bulge pressing against his brown trousers.

  A hard bulge pressing against her.

  Her eyes opened. Stiffening she drew back, unlacing her fingers from where they’d burrowed into the nape of his neck and bringing both hands to her burning red cheeks. “That – that was...”

  “Proof,” said Kendalwood flatly. Not looking the least bit ashamed of his raging cock-stand he straightened his jacket and stared down at her, green eyes gleaming with a possessiveness that robbed her of what little breath she still possessed.

  “Proof of – of what?” she managed to croak even though part of her wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to know the answer.

  “That we belong together.”

  And without another word – without even so much as a by your leave – Kendalwood turned on his heel and walked away towards the house, leaving Merry staring after him in stunned silence.

  CHAPTER NINE

  On the subject of kissing

  “Well...I...that is say I’m not quite sure what...um....” – Miss Merry Clearwater

  “There is really only one thing better. Well, perhaps two.” – His Grace the Duke of Kendalwood

  For eight days she heard nary a word.

  No letters. No calls. Not even a message from a homing pigeon (something Merry had always secretly wanted to receive). Bewildered – and a bit despondent – she distracted herself with decorating the estate for Christmas. With the help of the serving staff and a little help from Cadence, Merry hung fresh pine boughs from the eaves and mistletoe from every doorway. Wreaths dressed in holly berries went up next followed by a tree so large they’d had to cut off the top just to fit it into the drawing room!

  When all was said and done the house was beautifully outfitted for the upcoming holiday and Merry only had enough time to think about Kendalwood a thousand times or so.

  Well, she reflected with a tiny grimace as she carefully wrapped a scarf she’d purchased her sister in delicate silk paper, perhaps two thousand times would be more accurate.

  The truth was, no matter how busy Merry made herself she could not get the duke out of her mind. Which was, she supposed, his intent all along...for why else would he appear out of nowhere, kiss her senseless, and vanish without a word?

  It did not make a wit of sense.

  Then again, her relationship – if she could even call it that – with Kendalwood never had. From their first kiss to their last she’d always been doomed to feel this way: heartsick, confused, and just a little bit angry. Angry that Kendalwood had paid attention to her in the first place. Angry that he’d made her feel important. Angry that he’d made her feel special. Angry that he’d walked away without a word of explanation.

  Thankfully, no one seemed to notice anything was amiss. Not Mrs. Clearwater, not Mr. Clearwater, and certainly not Cadence who was so busy deciding which holiday invitations to accept she’d been locked up in her room for the past two hours straight, leaving Merry to put the finishing touches on the Christmas decorations.

  Determined that something would turn out right, she finished with her wrapping and went through each and every room, straightening wreaths and retying ribbons until everything was positively perfect. If the servants found her obsessive behavior unusual, they made no mention of it. Merry, with her quiet nature, was by far their favorite in the household and they wouldn’t dare say anything to upset her. Thus it wasn’t until Evie arrived at half past three in the afternoon – with Nicola and Rosalind in tow – that Merry was forced to account for her peculiar conduct.

  “What are you doing?” Evie asked bluntly the second they stepped into the parlor and spied Merry balancing on a chair attempting to rehang a strand of fallen garland. “Besides trying to kill yourself.”

  Speaking around a piece of twine she held between her teeth, Merry said, “Attempting to get this loop to match the other.”

  “They look fine to me.” The heels of her shoes clicking on the wooden floorboards, Rosalind sailed across the room and spied a bowl of sugary treats that had been set out in a Georgian tea bowl the night before. “Oh look! Macaroons! My favorite.”

  “What dessert is not your favorite?” Evie asked dryly before she refocused her attentions on Merry. “Darling, do get down from there before you break your neck. And since when have you taken such an interest in Christmas decorations?”

  Since I have been trying to distract myself into oblivion, Merry replied silently. Ignoring Evie’s command, she narrowed her eyes in concentration. If she could just get the garland to hang in one particular spot...

  Without warning, her chair suddenly tipped to the side. Crying out in alarm she began to fall backwards, and were it not for the quick actions of Nicole and Evie – Rosalind was too busy stuffing her face with macaroons – she would have tumbled straight down onto a glass table.

  “Oh,” she gasped, sagging against their bodies as they held her upright. “Oh my goodness.”

  “You should have listened to Evie,” scolded Nicola gently.

  Once her heartrate had returned to normal, Merry pulled herself free of her friend’s protective embrace and turned around to face them. “Yes, well, I only had a small amount left to finish. But thank you.” Managing a wobbly smile, she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “I wouldn’t have liked to spend Christmas in bed with a broken arm.”

  “What were you doing up there in the first place?” Skirts swishing about her ankles, Evie marched to the tea service a maid had put out without Merry noticing and poured them all a cup of tea. Carefully adding a stingy dollop of sugar to hers, she took a sip, grimaced, and set it quickly aside. “I cannot abide strong tea.”

  “Then add more sugar and cream,” Rosalind suggested. Having finished with the macaroons, she picked up a cup of tea and proceeded to do precisely that. “It tastes much better.”

  “I have a dress fitting next week and an outing with Reinhold the week after that.” Reinhold, the earl she’d met at the garden party where Merry had sloshed wine on the Duke of Kendalwood, was now her fiancée. Or nearly her fiancée. No one seemed to be absolutely certain, including Evie. “What about you, Merry?” Her slender red eyebrows
crept up towards her temple as her smile turned impish. “Do you have any romantic outings planned?”

  Merry had known the subject would come up, but she hadn’t anticipated it coming up quite so soon. Caught off guard, she made a show of stirring cream into her tea. “No, of course not. Why would I?”

  “Oh, I do not know...maybe because a little bird told me a certain duke came to call?”

  “How did you know that?” Merry demanded, face paling as she wondered how on earth Evie could have discovered such a thing. Even her own parents did not know Kendalwood had come to see her!

  “I didn’t. But now I do.” Her expression smug, Evie took another sip of her tea, made the same face as before, and muttered something akin to, ‘Why do I even bother’ beneath her breath before she threw herself down into the nearest chair. “Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to an empty sofa, “and tell your dearest friends all about it.”

  Merry frowned. “There is not much to tell.”

  “If the Duke of Kendalwood came to call, there is a lot to tell,” said Nicola. Sitting down on the sofa, she patted the cushion beside her. “Be a dear, Merry. I need a dash of romance in my life.”

  “But you are married,” Merry pointed out in confusion.

  Nicola’s mouth quirked. “Which is precisely why I need a dash of romance.”

  Left with little choice in the matter – it was three against one, after all – Merry began to tell them what had happened, but before she reached the part where Kendalwood kissed her there was a loud knock on the door.

  “Are we having a party?” Rosalind asked as she glanced out at the foyer. A servant had hurried to answer the door and was now talking in a low, hushed tone impossible to decipher.

  “No. It must be someone here to see my sister,” said Merry. Although if that was true, why was she suddenly filled with a sense of foreboding? It couldn’t be Kendalwood on the other side of the door... Could it? Why would he come visit now, after eight days had passed without a word? And why in heaven’s name was she excited at the idea of seeing him again?

  Foolish.

  Foolish, foolish, foolish!

  She hadn’t been taking on dramatic airs when she’d told Kendalwood he shouldn’t have any interest in her. No matter how passionate their kisses were, the fact remained that he was a handsome duke and she...well, she was a chicken. He’d said as much himself. And chickens did not end up with dukes, no matter how badly they wanted to.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?” Evie said, noting the sudden tension in Merry’s face.

  “Him who?” asked Rosalind.

  Evie rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Rose, do try to keep up. The duke! The Duke of Kendalwood!”

  “Do you really think so?” Eyes bright with interest, Nicola stood up. “Merry, you should go see who it is.”

  “I do not want to go see who it is.”

  “I will go,” Rosalind volunteered. “What?” she said when Evie glared at her. “What did I say?”

  “I swear, sometimes you can be the most intelligent person I have ever met and other times you are nothing short of oblivious,” Evie complained. “Merry needs to go answer the door because the duke is here to see Merry, not you.”

  Rosalind threw her hands up in the air. “Well how am I supposed to know that?”

  “You’d know it if you paid any attention.”

  “I was paying attention.”

  “Oh really?” Evie snorted. “Is that what you call stuffing your face with macaroons? Paying attention?”

  Rosalind’s eyes narrowed. “Just because I do not have to watch every single thing I put in my mouth does not mean–”

  “Miss Merry, His Grace the Duke of Kendalwood is here to see you.”

  Four heads immediately swiveled in the direction of the foyer. His cheeks reddening beneath the weight of their stares, the footman awkwardly shuffled his weight from foot to foot as he waited for Merry’s response. When she said nothing – only stared at him with wide eyes and a mouth slightly ajar – he scratched the back of his neck and stammered, “Er...should I – should I ask him to come back another time?”

  “You will do nothing of the sort,” Evie ordered. “You may invite His Grace in here while my friends and I move to the parlor. Nicola? Rosalind? Shall we?”

  “Fine.” Grabbing one last macaroon, Rosalind followed Evie out the door.

  Nicola lingered, her sharp gaze assessing the sheer panic in Merry’s eyes. “It will be fine,” she said in a low, soothing voice. “He has merely come to pay you a visit. This is a good thing, Merry.”

  “But how can it be?” Merry cried. “I – I am no one of importance and I haven’t any idea why he has taken such an interest in me. Yes, we kissed, but–”

  “You are hardly no one of importance, Merry Clearwater,” Nicola said sternly. “You are very important. We know it, and it seems Kendalwood does as well. From everything I have heard about him he is not a man who wastes his time lightly. If he is here it is because he wants to see you. Or does he strike you as the sort of man who does things he doesn’t want to do?”

  “No,” Merry whispered. “No he does not.”

  “There you have it, then. For whatever the reason – and I am certain it is a very good one – the Duke of Kendalwood has set his eye on you.”

  “But I do not know why.”

  Nicole smiled. “We never know what men are thinking, sweetling. That is what makes them men. You do like Kendalwood, do you not?”

  “Well, yes, I think so although–”

  “Then put your chin up. After all, it is not every day a duke comes calling.” With a wink and an encouraging nod she swept from the room, leaving Merry to receive Kendalwood all by her lonesome.

  CHAPTER TEN

  On the subject of macaroons

  “They’re quite good, although one must be careful not to eat too many.” – Miss Merry Clearwater

  “As far as sugary treats go, I much prefer chicken.” – His Grace the Duke of Kendalwood

  He did not keep her waiting for very long. After what felt like a handful of minutes – but were most likely only seconds – a soft knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in,” Merry said in a strangled voice.

  The door opened to reveal Kendalwood standing on the other side of it, and even though she’d been expecting him Merry’s breath still left her lungs in a soft whoosh of air. Would she ever become accustomed to how splendidly handsome he was?

  Today he wore an emerald green waistcoat over a black pair of trousers that outlined his muscular thighs. A snowy white cravat adorned with a single gold pin covered his throat. For once his inky locks were neatly tended, although one tendril was threatening to spill over his brow.

  When her fingers itched to smooth it back into place Merry promptly put both hands behind her back. “To what do I owe this unexpected...visit?” she asked.

  “Aren’t you supposed to say pleasure?” he drawled, the rough timbre of his voice sending shivers of awareness rippling up and down her spine.

  “I do not know,” she said stiffly. “Am I?”

  Silence fell between them as they studied one another. Kendalwood was the first to break it.

  Walking across the drawing room he glanced down at the sofa Nicola had been sitting on. “May I?”

  “Of course,” Merry said automatically.

  When he sat, stretching his long legs out in front of him, she did the same, albeit in a more ladylike fashion.

  “You look disheveled,” he said, his gaze making a lazy sweep of her body from the tips of her walking shoes to the straggled ends of what remained of her coiffure. In her maddened haste to hang up decorations it had nearly come undone and was clinging to her scalp by a handful of pins.

  Refusing to feel embarrassed – after all, how was she supposed to know he would be coming to call? – Merry met his unwavering stare without blinking. “If that is supposed to be a compliment, it is not a very good one.”

  “If I wanted to complime
nt you,” Kendalwood said softly, “I would say your smile reminds me of a tulip on the first day of spring. Covered in soil, hidden from view, until the sun hits it at just the right moment and it slowly emerges, unfolding a little bit at a time. Not everyone will get to see it, but those who do should count themselves blessed for having witnessed such sheer, pure beauty.”

  “Oh.” Feeling a blush rising up her cheeks, Merry’s gaze darted down to her lap where her fingers had twisted into a tight ball. “I – I thought I reminded you of a chicken.”

  “Did I say that?” His mouth twisted in a wry grin. “Admittedly not one of my finest moments, but then you had me on my heels from the very beginning, Merry Clearwater.”

  “You?” she said in disbelief. “On your heels? I highly doubt that.”

  “It is true. You sent me floundering, and I’ve still yet to recover my balance.” Leaning forward, he stared straight into her eyes, the gold flecks in his irises burning with passionate intent. “But maybe that is the point. Maybe you need to wait until you find someone who makes you feel as though you may never step on solid ground again. Someone who makes the drab existence you’ve been dragging yourself through worth living. Someone who takes your breath away and gives it back to you all at once.”

  “What – what are you doing?” Merry asked in alarm when he suddenly stood up.

  Better yet, what was he saying? Where were these words coming from? And how had he known how she was feeling deep down inside her own heart?

  Merry did not want to be attracted to Kendalwood, but there was denying that she was. Not now, when every fiber of her being was yearning for his touch. She was so enamored she didn’t even think to shove his hand away when he gently cupped the side of her jaw and brushed his thumb across her soft cheek.

  “The men in my family have a tradition. One that has been passed down from generation to generation. Would you like to know what it is?”

  “I suppose,” she whispered.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Never let it be said that you give a man false confidence, Merry Clearwater.”