She tugged decisively on his arm, though he would have to come willingly if she was going to get him to budge at all.
With a sigh, he moved, muttering, “I cannot think of aworseway to spend an afternoon.” He glanced down at her. “Mark my words, this will be the beginning of an endless stream of people at my door, making demands.”
“Well, perhaps it is time that the duke of this dukedom had a little more to do with the people within it,” she pointed out. “You never know, they might bringyouthings instead of making demands of you, out of sheer gratitude that you have emerged from your castle at last.”
He sniffed. “I think you have too high an opinion of what it means to be a duke. It is nothing but a title and wealth if youare lucky. Why would these people be at all grateful for that? If I were them, I would be resentful.”
“Becauseeveryonelikes to know that someone cares,” Valerie replied. “That is what this party will mean to them—that you care.”
Adrian’s nose wrinkled. “It isyourparty, not mine.”
“If you really believed that, you would be at the castle instead of here,” she said with a knowing smile. “You cannot fool me, Adrian; you are enjoying this. I saw you making wreaths with Isaac and hanging garlands with David and helping that little girl to put her paper angel at the top of the window. You were having fun.”
“I was making myself useful; there is a difference,” he protested in a sullen voice, as if he did not like that he had been observed with his walls down.
She was so invested in teasing him, after his attempt a moment ago, that she did not notice the small bushel of mistletoe, tied upside down with a red bow, white berries gleaming like pearls, that hung above the doorway they were passing under. Rather, she did not remember anyone putting it there, whereeveryonewould have to pass beneath it.
Did Adrian do that?
He stopped her abruptly, glancing up.
She followed his gaze, heart racing.
“I hear it is bad fortune to ignore mistletoe,” Adrian said in that husky, seductive voice that made her want to surrender to his every request.
“I thought you did not care for Christmas traditions,” she replied, already a little breathless with the thought of being kissed by him again.
He frowned. “I have never claimed that.”
“No…” she mused aloud, frowning in return “… I suppose you have not.”
Adrian dipped his head, his mouth a whisper away from hers, the tickle of his breath makinghermouth part in anticipation. If she but raised herself up on a tiptoe, she would kiss him… and be entirely undone. Once she began, she would not be able to stop, and no one would receive their personal invitation and… and…
He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. His mouth was chaste, pressing a soft kiss to the silk of her glove, but his eyes were anything but, alight with a desire that she could not hope to resist. That fierce gaze did not leave her face as his lips lingered a moment too long to be considered appropriate.
“Come, then,” he purred, slowly releasing her hand.
“Pardon?” she rasped, so warm she feared she might be glistening.
He stepped through the doorway and into the hallway beyond, where he turned back with that infuriating smirk of his. “If we are to deliver our invitations before the snow falls, we cannot delay.”
Adrian Holbrook, I suspect you are a kind of cruel after all…for that was the meanest trick that had ever been played upon her, to stir her up into a fluster and then not leave her satisfied. Indeed, as she hurried after him, she becamequitedetermined to have her revenge.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Everyone is welcome, and it would be our honor if you would attend,” Valerie said, repeating the same speech she had delivered to the countless houses and lodgings and shops that they had already passed.
At least this is the last house,Adrian thought, his face aching with the effort of ‘seeming pleasant.’ Whatever that meant. He did not know; he just knew that it was uncomfortable to behave in a manner he was unaccustomed to.
“Oh, now, how lovely!” the woman in the doorway cooed, calling back into the house for anyone else who happened to be nearby. “Children, come and see this! The duke is outside, inviting us all to a party!”
Three ruddy-faced creatures appeared out of nowhere, small hands clinging to the woman’s skirts, big eyes peering up at the duke as if they knew what a beast he was. After all, it was right there on his face, written in every scar.
“What party?” one of the children, a suspicious-eyed girl, asked.
She gained a sharp smack on the back from, presumably, her mother. “Manners, child! My goodness!”
“What party, Your Grace?” the girl repeated, a touch facetiously.
