The Duke of Christmas Past (7 page)

Reluctantly, he released her, but didn't break
contact until he had to. Never wanted to let her go again. He knew
that now.

Once inside the study, Donovan sat behind his desk
and motioned to the chair beside it.

"Sit."

McDaniel sank slowly into the chair. "I want you to
know I only followed Delia because I felt I had no choice. My only
intention was to see her home safely; I never touched her."

Donovan stared at him in silence, enjoying, just a
bit, how the uncomfortable quiet caused McDaniel to squirm. After a
few moments — probably what seemed an eternity to the young man —
he leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Do you love my sister?"

McDaniel sat up straighter and looked Donovan in the
eyes. "Yes, with all my heart."

"Enough to give up your naval career?"

Obviously taken aback, McDaniel blinked several times
and furrowed his brow. "O-of course, if that's what you require.
But I won't marry her if I can't give her a secure future. I love
her too much to give her anything but stability."

Donovan gave him a curt nod. "That brings me to my
next question. Do you agree to never touch Delia's
inheritance?"

"Yes. You have my word. Her money will be her
own."

Donovan opened the desk draw and retrieved a sheet of
folded foolscap, a pen knife, and a stick of sealing wax. Using the
knife, he slit the paper in two. "I'm going to write my friend
Captain Alexander Fleming. He has connections with the port admiral
in Devonport, and I'm going to request that he help secure you a
position there." Donovan blew on the missive to ensure the ink was
dry and then folded it. With care, he warmed the wax over the
candle then sealed the letter with his ducal stamp.

"Th-thank you, your grace."

"I'm also going to write you a personal letter of
recommendation." When finished, he sealed the second letter and
then handed it to McDaniel. "I believe Captain Fleming is in port,
so I'll have a messenger deliver his letter immediately. Once I
receive his response, I'll send you word to report to the port
admiral with my reference."

A smile spread across McDaniel's face as he took the
missive with a shaky hand. A comical expression, considering his
swollen, bruised eye. But the happiness was unmistakable. "I can't
begin to repay you for such a gesture, your grace."

"You can repay me by taking care of my sister and
never making me regret I went against my better judgment."
Please let this be the right decision. Please let Delia stay
safe and happy.

"I swear it." McDaniel's tone said he meant it with
all his heart.

Donovan pulled the cord behind his desk. Almost
before his hand released it, Lawrence opened the door.

"Give me a few moments and then show Miss Warren in.
Make sure the carriage is ready for me to see her home once I've
spoken with her," Donovan said, subtly dismissing the young
man.

"Thank you again, your grace." McDaniel stood, bowed,
and headed for the door.

"McDaniel!"

He froze and turned slowly.

"There is one more thing. I'll have your word that
you will never take Delia anywhere that requires travelling by
water."

His features contorted in confusion. "I-I beg your
pardon?"

"Your word. Or I won't permit you to marry her."

Without hesitation, and without losing the joy in his
face, McDaniel nodded. "You have my word. Thank you."

Lawrence opened the door wider ahead of McDaniel.
Delia and Tess stood in the hall, holding each other. His sister
straightened and glanced first at McDaniel then at him. A mixture
of anticipation and wishfulness filled her beautiful face with the
slightest glimmer of light. But when he nodded at her, the faint
glow burst into a sun-bright shine.

Delia squealed and threw her arms around McDaniel.
She smiled at Donovan and mouthed, "Thank you."

His heart fluttered as if to say,
No, thank
you.

Whole-hearted approval lit Tess's smile. A soft,
almost affectionate radiance filled her sapphire eyes, sending a
jolt of love through his body.

An ecstatic Delia hauled Tess into a hug, breaking
their moment. Then Lawrence finished closing the door.

Donovan let out a sigh of relief. He covered his face
with his hands. The heavy burden that had pressed against his heart
for the past eight years had all but diminished. He breathed easier
than he had in a long time. More amazing, the worry, the brutal
terror that he'd wake to find his sister was still dead had all but
disappeared.

What an amazing feeling! His heart was so light he
seemed to almost float with the giddy sensation.

"Why the softening of your heart?"

Donovan started and whipped around, sending a sharp
pain through his head. He winced and touched the spot where the
chair had made contact. "I'm still of a mind that McDaniel isn't
good enough for Delia. But I've ensured she won't be getting on
ships bound for America. I pray that's enough to spare her
life."

Past Duke walked up beside him. "Ah, so your hope is
that she'll come to her senses and break her engagement to the
young man. That's a nasty bump. Allow me to fix it for you."

Before Donovan could object, Past Duke covered the
injury with his hands. A warm tingle pricked at his head, relieving
some of the throbbing pressure. After a few seconds, the pain had
completely subsided.

"How did you do that?"

The other him chuckled. "I've made it possible for
you to return eight years into the past and you're astounded I can
heal a little bump."

Donovan smiled and stood. The heavy bonds that had
held his heart captive for so long had loosened, and he knew a
moment of peace he hadn't for years. "I see your point. Now do go
away. Tess will be joining me any moment, and I really don't think
I can explain how there are two of me here."

The laughter vanished from Past Duke's face. "The
time to depart is at hand. We must make haste and return you to
Christmas Eve 1820 before midnight."

Donovan bristled. "Not until I speak with Tess. I
have to tell her how much I love her."

Past Duke shook his head. Remorse darkened his eyes.
"I'm sorry, but you cannot. It's not your place. You cannot cause
the course of the future to be departed from."

What the deuce did that mean? That he wouldn't marry
Tess? That he couldn't, or he'd ruin everything? Well, devil take
him if he'd stand for that.

Past Duke reached for him. Donovan recoiled and
backed away. "Curse you! You're the one who forced me to come back
here. You can't make me leave. I haven't fixed everything yet. I
need more time."

The clock began chiming, and his heartbeat quickened.
How many rings did that make? Three? Four?

Tears glistened in the other duke's eyes. "If you
change even an instance of the future that was not meant to be,
then all of this will have been for naught."

Ding.

"I can't leave. Not now. I have to speak with
Tess."

Dong.

Past Duke advanced on him so fast Donovan didn't have
time to react. The squeezing sensation on his heart pitched him
forward and he clutched his chest. The room spun around him, and in
his agony — from being refused the chance to see Tess one last time
or from the apparition's tight grip, he wasn't sure — he could no
longer suck air into his lungs.

Ding.

Dong.

Ding.

Dong.

The swirling grew faster, and then he ceased to know
anything.

December 24, 1820

Donovan jerked to alertness. His breath came in
shallow gasps and he had to force the air down his throat. He was
afraid to speak, afraid to move for fear time would resume and he'd
find it
had
all been a dream and that the warm joyful
feelings he'd experienced had been but an illusion.

He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and gazed
around the study cautiously. The bright light from the oil lamps
and candles made his eyes ache, and it took several seconds before
he could see the room clearly.

The chair opposite now had a rose and white flowery
pattern. The black leather was gone from his as well. A sitting
chair with the same design, along with a small table, sat in front
of the bay window. Greenery lined the mantel, the smell of
evergreen and pine heavy in the air.

Frantically, he searched his memory but remembered
nothing. It was as if his thoughts had been wiped away. The only
thing in his mind was darkness.

I've no control of my mind. This cannot be.

He stood to better survey the room. A flash of
burgundy caught his attention. Past Duke sat on the edge of the
desk, an amused light gleaming in his eyes.

The apparition chuckled. "Give it a few moments and
it will all come back to you."

Donovan clenched his fist and let out a curse. "You!"
In three strides he was on the past duke, grabbing the lapels of
his tailcoat and shaking the man so violently the desk creaked.
"Tess. What happened to her? Why did you take me away before I
could apologize? Before I could see her one last time?"

The candle on the desk rocked, sending wax flying
onto some of the papers. Past Duke alternated between grabbing the
edge of the desk and trying to break Donovan's hold on him.

"If — you — look — your hand… see?" The specter
fumbled off the side of the desk. The momentum was enough to break
Donovan's hold. Past Duke straightened and smoothed down his
tailcoat front.

Donovan advanced on him, rolling the sleeves of his
shirt up. When he managed to grab his other self by the neck, he'd
snap it like sealing wax on an envelope. "I intend to enjoy pushing
your teeth to the back of your throat."

Past him sidled around the desk, out of reach. "If
you would just listen to me for a moment, I can explain. You're
just overwrought from the time travel. I assure you, beating
yourself to a pulp will not make you feel better. Being your own
adversary will serve no purpose."

"I'm willing to take that chance." Donovan lunged for
Past Duke, grabbing nothing but air. "Blasted apparition."

"I could say the same. Why do you insist on making
things more difficult than necessary?" Past Duke propped his right
arm on the back of one of the high-back chairs. He let out an
exaggerated sigh, lifted his left hand, and wiggled his ring
finger.

A gold band glistened in the firelight.

Instinctively, Donovan glanced at his own hand. He,
too, wore a ring on his left hand… a wedding band.

"I-I-I don't understand." Dare he hope…

"Perhaps if you stopped trying to cause me bodily
harm and let me explain—"

"I thought you said I couldn't change the
future."

"Well… you didn't change it. You fixed it. There is a
difference, you know."

Shock and amazement washed over him. Had he truly
changed things? "How do I explain this to everyone?"

Past Duke shrugged. "Explain what? There's nothing to
explain. You set things right, and now the future is as it should
be. A pity though… living such an amazing adventure yet having no
one to share it with. John and Elizabeth Dickens' son Charles loves
a good tale. His imagination is remarkable. He could turn this into
quite a parody."

Donovan harrumphed. "If I start babbling nonsense
about returning to the past, everyone will think I've gone daft.
I'm still not certain I haven't." But he wanted to talk about it —
needed to talk about it. Yet finding the words to explain it seemed
an impossibility. Perhaps he would share the story with young
Charles.

The other him rubbed his chin. "True. True. Best to
keep it to yourself." He dropped his hands and bowed. "Well, it
wasn't easy, but my work here is done. Have a care with our future,
Donovan Ellis. I'm sure you have about as much interest in seeing
me again as I have in seeing you."

The glow around Past Duke intensified, and he floated
toward the bay window. "Wait!" Donovan yelled.

The beam of illumination grew brighter and the figure
within it became dull, indiscernible. Then nothing.

Blasted ghost! The least he could have done was
tell me if I really fixed things.
He could leave his study to
find out, but what if—

"There you are."

That voice. That honey-sweet voice. Her voice. Behind
him, speaking as naturally as if…

As if they really had married.

Donovan spun around. "Tess," he whispered.

She stood in the study doorway. The white gown with
pale blue lacing hugged her curves. "We really should be
going."

He started toward her then paused. Was she real? Or
was she a figment of his imagination, a dream? He stumbled forward
and reached out to her. When his fingers touched her arm, a jolt of
exquisite delight rushed through his body. She was here and she was
real. He jerked her to him in a fierce hug, nearly knocking her off
her feet.

"Donovan Ellis, what has gotten into you? Are you
foxed?"

He laughed, a deep, hearty chuckle. The sound was
foreign to his ears. When was the last time he'd laughed? "You are
the third person tonight — myself included — to make that
accusation."

Tess furrowed her brow. "Um… the third per—"

He took her mouth in a hungry kiss. One he'd been
waiting eight years to bestow upon her. With the slightest bit of
urging, she let him deepen the kiss. Her warm fingers caressed his
cheeks and he moaned. The touch of her, the smell of her had him on
fire with desire.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss. "How I've missed
you."

Tess laughed. "Is that a jab at how long it took me
to get ready?" Her hands drifted to his chest. His pulse soared.
"You could have used the time to dress for the Kringles' ball, you
know."

"Will, umm…" He stopped, cleared his throat. He tried
to force himself to say the words, but he couldn't do it. Heaven
help him, he couldn't do it, didn't want to know.