The Duke and Miss Christmas (7 page)

“What about me?” Sybil called. “I can't get my coat.”

“I'll get everything you need,” Miss Prim said to her. “You and Louisa keep the duke entertained until I return.”

Half an hour later Crispin and the Prim sisters were on their way up the knoll toward the thickets where the biggest selection of winter greenery could be found. Sybil was tucked in the bed of the wagon that was already packed with a ladder, clippers, and stacks of large baskets to hold their booty. Misses Lillian and Bonnie sat on either side of Sybil. All the girls were wore fur-trimmed bonnets on their heads and muffs to keep their hands warm as toast. He'd then piled two thick lap robes on top of them, making sure they wouldn't get cold.

Crispin sat on the bench between Miss Prim and his uncle's footman, handling the team. And the duke sat a lot closer to her than the servant. Crispin liked it that his leg touched hers despite the fact she had squeezed as close to the end of the bench seat as possible. Miss Prim was bundled up in a fur-trimmed cape, bonnet, and gloves, and she looked downright fetching.

The drive turned eventful when Bonnie started singing a Christmas song. Lillian and Sybil complained she was yelling in their ears and tried to quiet her. Bonnie insisted she was only crooning. Miss Prim tried to stop their quarreling but had little luck getting them quiet. They were too excited about their adventure.

Their arguing didn't bother Crispin. He'd learned from his sisters long ago how to tune out their squabbling and carry on with whatever he was doing. Besides, if the younger Prim sisters were busy picking at one another, it gave him opportunity to enjoy Miss Prim more. He deliberately moved his thigh tighter against hers and flicked the ribbons on the horses' rumps again, urging them to go a little faster.

Crispin stopped the wagon as close to the edge of the forest as he could so that Sybil would be able to watch them. He first helped Miss Prim down and then the other girls while the footman took care of the baskets, ladder, and clippers. Then the enjoyment and fellowship began.

Crispin and Gwen set about cutting the low-hanging ivy, pine boughs, holly berries, and clumps of mistletoe while the footman used the ladder for the much higher branches. They took turns loading up the arms of each of the girls and they would in turn walk back to the wagon and dump cuttings in the baskets.

He liked the way Gwen handled her sisters. She was kind but firm when speaking to Bonnie about complaining that it wasn't fair that Lillian could carry more trimmings than she could so her baskets were filling faster, or when Sybil complained that Bonnie and Lillian were ignoring her. Watching Gwen, Crispin had no doubts she would be as good a mother as she was a sister.

At one point, Gwen seemed deep in thought about something as she cut a branch of holly, so Crispin plucked a red berry from his stash and threw it so it landed right where her hands were. She blinked and looked around. He pretended to be busy at his task. He threw another at her as soon as her back was turned. And then another. When she looked at him again, he smiled. She knew the berries were coming from him. She smiled, too, and they went back to work.

Not long after that a berry grazed his chin and one hit his ear. He swept around toward Gwen, and as he did she threw a berry and hit him on the nose. He laughed and started toward her. She laughed, too, and threw a handful of berries at him and started running. Crispin started after her but checked himself when he saw Bonnie coming toward him. If they'd been alone Crispin would have chased down Gwen and tumbled her onto the ground and showed her just how desirable she was to him, but because the girls were nearby he allowed her to escape his grasp. A stab of impatience caught him. He couldn't wait until they were alone so he could sweep her into his arms and kiss her.

Their fun continued for another hour. The girls laughed, squealed, and argued. Once in a while Bonnie would start singing for them, too. Crispin's attention continued to stray to Gwen. He noticed she watched him often, too, though they didn't have time to do too much talking, as the girls were running back and forth from the wagon with empty arms to be filled again.

When the baskets were overflowing, Crispin declared the work was over and it was time for refreshments. He spread blankets on the ground, lifted Miss Sybil out of the wagon, and placed her down in the middle of them. Warmth from the winter sunshine and exertion from all their work and play had them all taking off their gloves, bonnets, and coats as they gathered around Sybil to enjoy chocolate, apricot tarts, and scones filled with sugared figs.

Gwen remained quiet and let her three sisters do most of the talking, which they were more than happy to do. Crispin answered all their questions about his sisters and brothers, where he lived, and his travels, but his interest kept straying to Gwen's wholesome-looking face. He loved the way the wind and sun had colored her cheeks and ruffled her hair. He loved the way she kept looking at him, too. There had never been another young lady he'd enjoyed looking at more than Gwen, and soon he would have her all to himself.

When the chocolate flask was empty and the last scone had been eaten, Crispin fit the three girls back into the wagon and tucked the blankets tightly around their legs. He then squeezed the baskets of cuttings all around them. Just as he'd planned that morning, once the wagon bed was filled there were two baskets left.

“We can't leave these,” he said to the younger girls. “If we do, you may not have enough to complete your decorating. I suggest I put these two baskets up on the bench with the driver and then Miss Prim and I will walk home. What do you girls think?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

Good girls!

“Then that's what we'll do.” He loaded the two baskets on the bench beside the footman, gave the man a nod, and the wagon took off with a jolt, a jangle, and a high-pitched squeal from Bonnie.

Crispin turned back to Gwen, who stood straight shouldered with her arms folded across her chest. He was quite certain she was tapping the toes of one of her feet, too, though he couldn't see beneath the hem of her skirts.

“Did you plan for that to happen?” she asked.

“From start to finish,” he admitted freely as he picked up her gloves, coat, and bonnet and handed them to her before picking up his own things.

“Come on, follow us,” Sybil called from the back of the wagon, and the other girls encouraged them to as well.

Crispin waved to the girls and he and Gwen started walking. “Would you like me to help you with your coat?”

“Not now. The sun is still warm and the wind isn't cold,” she said, and let out a heavy sigh.

“Are you tired?” he asked, stuffing his gloves in the pocket of his coat and then throwing his cloak over his arm.

“No. I was just thinking that it seems I'm always either apologizing to you for something or thanking you for something.”

“You know what that tells me?” he asked.

She looked over at him. “What?”

He grinned. “I must be doing something right and you must be doing something wrong.”

Her brow furrowed. “Unfortunately for me, you're right. But no matter the case, thank you for today. The girls had a wonderful time but especially Sybil. She hasn't been out of the house since she fell.”

“How about you?” he asked. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

She smiled and laughed lightly. “You must know I did, but did you? The girls were loud and screaming at each other sometimes, and we all know Bonnie can't sing.”

“That's family life, Miss Prim, and I don't mind it. I look forward to it.”

“And that surprises me.”

The wagon was getting farther away just as Crispin had planned. The sisters continued calling for him and Gwen to walk faster and catch up. That wasn't going to happen. Crispin had already given strict orders to the footman not to slow down the wagon until he reached Drakestone even if the girls begged him to do it.

“Why?” Crispin asked Gwen.

“I don't know,” she said, waving to her sisters. “I just thought because you are young, a duke with power and wealth, with many young friends to help you spend your hours creating mischief, that you would be with them and not four loud and boisterous girls.”

“Three,” he corrected with a rueful smile. “You were very quiet today.”

“That's because I'm trying to understand you.”

“Hmm,” he said.

“‘Hmm'?” she mimicked him. “What does that mean?”

“It means I'm wondering should I be happy you're trying to understand me or should I be concerned?”

She didn't look at him or answer him, so he added, “You could know everything about me you wanted to know if you'd ask as many questions as Miss Bonnie and Miss Sybil do.”

That comment made her reward him with a lovely smile and a hint of a genuine laughter. All Crispin could think was that he was smitten with her. He didn't just want to kiss her; he wanted all of her. Completely.

“I don't know everything young titled men do, of course, but I know they are given to use profanity like a drunken sailor who's trying to find his way back to his ship. I know they play cards, throw dice, and drink brandy for days on end without stopping. They flaunt their associations with mistresses, actresses, and all manner of unsuitable women. And they put wagers on who can seduce the most innocent young ladies to fall in love with them during a Season.”

She wasn't taking it easy on him, but perhaps he deserved no quarter. He'd been guilty of all that debauchery in the past and more, Crispin conceded as he noticed the wagon pulling farther and farther away from them. Too late, he'd learned that past wrongs were difficult to live down. And that youth, too much brandy, and foolish friends was no excuse for bad behavior, so he remained quiet and accepted the accusation of guilt without defense.

“I'm only trying to say that with all you have available to you, I'm surprised you have time for many family ventures.”

When Crispin saw the wagon break the crest of the knoll and head down on the other side and out of sight and the cries to hurry had faded, he stopped and turned toward Gwen. “I always make time for my family, Miss Christmas.”

She stopped, too, and faced him. Without hesitating, he took hold of her upper arms. Her firm muscles flexed and tightened beneath his grip, but she didn't flinch or try to move away from him. He took that as a good sign and continued.

“You see, the truth of it is that from the moment I rolled on top of you I've wanted to kiss you.” He slid his hands up and over her softly rounded shoulders. The air was cold to his gloveless hands and she was warm, inviting. It felt damned good to finally be touching her again. He had wanted this. Planned this. “That goal hasn't changed.” His hands slipped back down to her upper arms. “It's not going to change. I want to kiss you.”

Her expression was one of disquiet. “How do I know you don't have a wager with someone right now and that a kiss from me will only add another notch to your bedpost?”

A flash of emotion he wasn't sure he wanted her to see flared inside him. He deserved that question, but he didn't have to like it. With a little wooing, he could have most any woman he wanted, but he wanted this one.

“Because I'm telling you I don't,” he said earnestly. “I learned the hard way that I don't want to ever do anything again that I've got to spend the rest of my life apologizing for.”

She lowered her lashes as if she didn't want him to see what she was feeling. “I can understand that,” she said.

He lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers, forcing her to look at him. “I don't think so, Miss Christmas.” He shook his head for emphasis. “You couldn't have possibly done anything close to approaching what I've been guilty of.”

“You think not? There's still a mark underneath your eye, Your Grace. Every time I see it I want to apologize.”

“Then I am glad it will soon disappear so you can't see it.” He stepped closer to her. He lowered his head so that his lips were so close to hers it took all his willpower not to touch them. He was desperate to taste her, but he wanted her desperate for him, too.

“I want to kiss you because I desire you. There is no other reason. I believe you want me to kiss you. But you see, I won't do it without your permission.” He moved his face closer still. He wanted her to feel his breath, sense his desperation for her. “So it's up to you, Miss Christmas. Do I step away and we continue down the path to Drakestone, or do we kiss and find out if the hot embers that have been smoldering between us flame into a fire?”

Chapter 8

It was her choice. She stood quiet, barely breathing, allowing the duke to enchant her with his gentle, persuasive touch and earnest, provocative words.

Did she want the duke to kiss her?

Yes.

Did she want to kiss him?

Yes.

He was an admitted rake. Should she allow him to?

He wasn't vowing love or extending an offer of marriage. Just a kiss. And somehow, right now, standing so close to him, feeling not only the warmth from his body teasing her but also the warmth of the pleasure he'd given her sisters seeping into her soul, his past debaucheries and his lack of affection for her didn't seem to matter.

They wanted to kiss.

That's what mattered.

And if she was truly honest with herself, she had to admit that she'd wanted a kiss from the duke since the first time they met, too.

Now, with his mouth hovering so close to hers, suddenly Gwen's apprehension melted away. With emotions she didn't need to understand whirling and swelling inside her, she dropped her coat, gloves, and bonnet to the ground, rose up on her toes, and circled his neck with her arms. She placed her lips on his, and, though she'd never felt more daring in her life, her kiss to him was soft, shy, and brief. The magic of it swirled all the way down to her womanly core.