Chapter Four
On the Fourth Day of Christmas
My True Love Gave to Me
Touches Oh So Sinful
No one had ever dared tell him he was an ass. Granted, she hadn’t done so in so many words. But she had pointed out his unkindness. Something that hadn’t been done since Nanny had him in the nursery. It was a strange thing. In truth, it had never occurred to him he was being unkind.
He was adrift, unable to make sense of this woman who had borne so much. As he studied her pale face, marveling at the shimmer of tears in her eyes she wouldn’t let break free, a deep, mad need formed within him. He hungered to strike down every person who had given life to those tears.
He couldn’t offer her vengeance. He couldn’t even offer her solace, but he could…
Alexander slid his hand to cup her nape, weaving his fingers into her silken hair and tilting her head back. Her lips parted, the eternal sign of desire, but her eyes remained open, as if she were as unwilling as he to truly let go.
It didn’t matter. None of it mattered except this moment, here in the oak grove, yards away from the castle that had defined him. Alexander pulled her toward him, molding her body to his, and bent down and took her mouth with his.
The clunk of her mug hitting the snow punctured the silence as he tasted her lips. Spiced wine assaulted his senses, and he needed more. He slid his tongue between her lips, savoring the lushness of her.
She held still, tense in his arms, but then she lifted her palms and clung to his shoulders. The press of her body and the passion with which she gripped him shoved aside any doubts he might have had. He tilted her head back farther and allowed himself to take what he had secretly desired for so many months.
As she yielded to his kiss, she opened her mouth, tangling her tongue with his. The touch drove out reason, and he slid his hand to the small of her back, curving his hips into her body, hating the layers of clothing between them.
He longed to rip the fabric from her, strip her naked, and expose her completely to his desires. A low growl of hunger escaped his throat as his hands traced her back, pulling her as close as he could until she gasped against his mouth.
“I want you,” he murmured against her open lips. “I want to be in you.”
A moan met his words.
He pressed his forehead to hers. Barely able to form words. Barely able to realize that he couldn’t take her here. “But not like this.”
Her breasts pressed against his chest as she breathed in and out in fast, shallow breaths. “No, not like this. And not tonight.”
Leaning back, Alexander brushed a lock of hair away from her brow. “Shall we go back?”
She nodded, but it was almost impossible for him to tear his gaze away from her swollen lips. Even in the black of the Yorkshire night, he could see the way her body had responded to his rough kiss, and it was nearly his undoing.
That soft breath of hers caressing his neck, urged him to push her back up against the oak tree, lift her skirts, and find the wet, sweet heat between her thighs that would prove how much she wanted him. Some primitive part of him wanted to drive her until she was wild with need for him. To make her so slick and ready for him in a way that no man had ever done.
But he pulled back, separating his body from hers. Each inch of him ached at the loss of her touch. At last they stood, almost a foot apart. Still, they lingered, anchored by each other.
What was happening to him? He knew exactly why he’d agreed to this seduction. To know her, to understand how she had wheedled her way into his family, and find the true nature of her person. But now that he knew the touch of her lips? Hearing her speak of the painfulness of her past? Something else entirely was sweeping him up this Christmas morning.
A touch of magic.
Drawing in a deep breath, he forced himself to step back, to break the moment as he strode toward the basket and extra blankets. “Shall we?”
A smile twitched at her lips. “You’re carrying them back?”
He glanced down to the basket full of items the butler had had filled to the brim. It had been utterly thoughtless of him to ask a young footman to march out into the cold in his livery, carrying these items. “Even I can learn.”
She walked towards him, her skirts trailing behind her, her small body cloaked in the heavy wool, giving her a decidedly delicate air. “So you can,” she teased.
He offered her his free arm. “Perhaps it has to do with the teacher.”
Instead of the blush he’d hoped for, her face grew serious, the pale plains marred with a strange sort of intensity. “I would hope you could learn from anyone.”
And with that, she slid her hand over his forearm and followed him back to the castle, silence their companion. But with each step he took, he felt a more solid inkling that uncovering the truth about his little governess, who’d lived such a disadvantaged life, was not going to be anywhere as simple as he’d supposed.
…
Adriana rushed down the wide hall, patting at her hair. Morning had come far too quickly, and she’d barely slept a moment, her head dancing not with sugar plums and fairies but with images of her duke towering above her, taking her mouth in a seductively dominant kiss. One that had made her forget every fear that kept trying to dash her hopes.
Damnation, she’d never experienced anything like it. In fact, as she smoothed the front of her gown and stopped before the nursery door, she was shocked that her hands were shaking slightly.
How had her world become so entirely upturned?
She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself together to do the work she loved so well. Fortified, she grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.
A shriek of delight filled the room. “Miss Grey. Miss Grey, Happy Christmas,” Georgiana cried as she wildly waved good morning. All the while, her nanny fastened the hooks of her soft pink gown.
The bright smile pulling at Adriana’s lips couldn’t be stopped. The child’s joy filled the room and as always, Adriana was filled with awe at the little girl who found such happiness in life, despite the challenges she’d been given. “Happy Christmas, Miss Georgiana,” she replied, wishing as she oft did she might call the child something less formal.
But governesses couldn’t call their charges petal, pet, or my love. Oh no, that was saved for Nanny. Still, she felt love for the small girl who’d at first tried to run her out of the castle with tricks that had made her laugh rather than groan. A gently bred young governess would have likely taken one week of Georgiana and run. But Adriana had been raised in the streets of London, and it took far more than mud in her bed or pepper in her tea to send her off.
Now the two of them were as snug as two peas in a pod, having reached a strong understanding after Adriana had placed a rather large toad in Georgiana’s desk.
Adriana clapped her hands together. “Now, are you ready to go downstairs to open presents?”
Georgiana nodded an elfin chin, her black locks curled into perfect ringlets bouncing about her rosy-cheeked face. “I’ve been waiting hours and hours and hours.”
The little girl’s nanny, Beth, gave a beleaguered look, laughing despite the smudges under her eyes. At six years old, Georgiana had likely slept as little as Adriana had. Though the child’s excitement had sprung from the anticipation for Father Christmas, not a leap into moral madness.
Adriana extended her hand. “Shall we?”
With a labored step and a puff of ruffles, Georgiana struggled forward. Her clubbed foot gave her a pronounced limp that made walking laborious. She laced her small fingers into Adriana’s. “Do you think Father Christmas was pleased with me?” Her brow furrowed. “I tried very hard to be good this year.”
Adriana fought a bemused laugh. A few months ago, His Grace had returned from a long trip to Coburg with stories of Sinter Claus and that the English equivalent, Father Christmas, also watched children and decided if they should be brought presents. Georgiana had been transfixed by the marvelous and magical stories.
Fixing a most serious countenance to her features, Adriana leaned down and said, “Well, you’ve done me proud, and if that isn’t enough for Father Christmas, I don’t know what is.” She tilted her cheek. “Kiss?”
Georgiana laughed then pressed a soft kiss to Adriana’s face. “Perhaps Father Christmas has brought you something nice as well. You’ve been very good. I don’t know how you do it.”
If only Georgiana knew just how bad she’d been or how many lies she’d told to maintain the facade she’d developed over the last year. She’d no right to expect anything from Father Christmas.
Not a girl who had been deceiving others for so long.