Chapter 1
December 1815
Charlotte Hoffstead, Duchess of Donburrow, moved through the quiet halls of her country home with a soft smile. She loved this place. It was a beautiful estate, situated on a cliff above the sea. The views were magnificent and the grounds well-tended and stunning.
Right now it was a quiet place, with just her little family in residence, but that was all about to change. In two days, these rooms would be filled with laughing family and friends, and their giggling children. They would boisterously sing carols by the fire, she had heard a rumor that the Crestwood family intended to put on a play for an entertainment, and there were a dozen other Christmas Day excitements to look forward to.
Yet today a cold rain fell outside, rapping on the windows and it put her to mind of a Christmas five years past now. A long time ago, before she had married the duke. Before she had called this house her home.
A Christmas when she’d thrown caution to the wind and made seduction a weapon against her now-husband, Ewan. It had been a scandalous plan, one that could have just as easily destroyed her hopes rather than given her the future she’d dreamed of.
And yet, somehow, it had worked. Ewan had surrendered to her, despite the years of heartbreak and rejection that had once separated them. They had fallen deeply in love and married swiftly enough to cause gossip in every corner, and the past five years of their marriage had been filled with love and laughter and joy beyond compare.
So she loved this time of year. Loved it for the traditions and the gaiety, yes, but loved it more because the holiday had given her the opportunity all those years ago to receive the greatest gift of her life: the man she loved to distraction.
Now she could only hope he would equally love the present she had in mind for him this year.
She smiled as she began to pass by the music room. Before she could fully do so, a hand snaked out from the chamber and caught her elbow. She laughed as she was tugged inside by her husband. He wrapped his arms around her as he used their combined weight to shut the heavy door. As he kissed her—gently at first, sweetly, then with more force, more promise—he reached around her backside to lock the door.
“Your Grace,” she giggled breathlessly as his warm mouth slid to her throat. His hands cupped her bottom as he lifted her to grind against her gently. “Is this my gift?”
He lifted his head from her throat and speared her with a pointed and playful glare. He didn’t respond in words, though. Ewan had been born without the ability to speak. That fact had caused him a great deal of pain over the years. His mother and father had abandoned him and his family had fought to keep him from inheriting.
Charlotte had never thought anything less of him, though. As children, he had been close friends with her brother Baldwin, the Duke of Sheffield. Charlotte had even helped Ewan develop a complicated hand language she and Ewan still used to this day.
But in this moment, he needed no words, nor did she as he pushed her toward the settee in the back corner of the room. So often that was true. They were so connected now, so in sync that they only needed a look or a smile or a touch to convey a hundred magical experiences.
This was one of those times. She shuddered with pleasure as he laid her back against the settee, covering her with his weight. Her arms came around his back and she smoothed the lines of muscle there, whispering crooning sounds of pleasure and encouragement. He responded by catching the fine silk of the edge of her dress and hitching her skirt up while his mouth continued to plunder hers.
She sank into the passion, something that had never faded since the first time she’d dared test him with it. Not even all the years they’d shared, nor the children who demanded their time, nor anything else that had passed between them could cool it. Their desire was as constant as their love.
He found the slit in her drawers and drew back to meet her eyes as he pushed his fingers past it. She opened her legs a fraction to allow him greater access. He traced the shape of her sex gently. She shivered. He knew exactly how to touch her. Exactly how to move those rough fingertips across her lower lips, then spread them open, then stroke her once, twice, swirling his thick thumb around the sensitive bud of her clitoris.
“Ewan,” she gasped, turning her face into his neck as pleasure began to mount. “Please, please.”
He grunted from deep within his chest, then stood up. She held his gaze as he slowly unfastened his trousers and let his cock bounce free. She sat up slightly, reaching for him, stroking him with her hand, then smiling at him with wicked intent before she let the tip of her tongue trace the head of him.
His eyes widened, pupils dilating with pleasure, but then he shook his head at her. He pushed her hands away as he caged himself over her. His mouth found hers, driving hard and insistent. She felt him position himself at her entrance, and then he was sliding home.
She arched beneath him as he seated himself fully, moaning against his kiss as he ground his hips just right. The man was magical, made for her. She for him.
He stroked, over and over, heavy and hard, grinding against her to stimulate her perfectly.
She came in a rush, jolting against him as he continued to thrust, thrust, thrust until she feared she would go mad with the pleasure that never ended. Only when he stiffened above her, his seed spilling hot inside her clenching body, did she find full relief from the mobbing crest of sensation.
He collapsed down over her with a guttural sound of relief. He kissed her neck, stroking his hands over her sides, feeling her body almost like it was the first time they’d done this. Like it was all new and wonderous. For a little while, they just lay that way, the silence comfortable, as it always was.
At last he sat up, giving her a little more room. His face lit up as he smiled at her, then he signed, “You cannot truly think that orgasms are your Christmas gift, Charlotte.”
She giggled at his return to the conversation from before her surrender.
“I would not mind if they were,” she said. “Although, to be fair, you are so good at giving them, they’re really a regular gift. I will have to keep needling the truth out of you and guessing what it is you have in mind for me.” She glanced over at the clock on the mantel. “Oh damn, you do make me forget the time. The children will be awake from their nap soon.”
She knew their family was an oddity in some ways. Outside of their group of closest friends and family, most lords and ladies were not close to their children. Detached affection was the popular method of childrearing. But her own closeness to her family and his terrible distance from his had made them both thwart the common wisdom. And their home life was better for the deep and powerful attachment they both felt for their children.
Ewan’s eyes danced even as he signed, “Are you certain we cannot send them off to the village or something for a few hours and continue to explore this orgasm as gift idea of yours?”
She swatted him playfully. “Jonathon is three and Abigail is not even two. Great God, what would you have them do alone in the village?”
“Entertain everyone with how adorable they are?”
She shook her head and sat up, adjusting her skirts before she got up and moved to the mirror along one wall. She fixed her hair and watched in the reflection as Ewan got up and trudged his way through fixing himself, as well.
She turned to stick her tongue out at him playfully. “Come now, don’t act as though I never indulge you. You know I would spend a whole week in bed with you if we could.”
“Soon,” he signed with a wicked wink.
She laughed. “Yes, I cannot wait. Isabel and Matthew are taking the children in February so you and I can have an extra special escape to London.” She could already picture all the romantic fun they could have together. “But this is Christmas, Ewan! There are a hundred wonderful things to do with our family and you will not convince me to run away with you now.”
He waved his hand, as if he were surrendering even though he knew she was wrong. She giggled as she stepped up, settling against his side as he slung an arm around her. They walked to the door together. He unlocked it, and they stepped into the hall.