Page 54 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

“Georgia!” He tossed the bough at her feet with more force than necessary. “I’m in a tree. Cutting Christmas boughs. Freezing my arse off, and why? Because—”

“Because you know it will make me happy,” she interrupted with a soft smile. “And I appreciate it.”

That wasnae… He sighed. Aye, that was exactly the reason he was doing it, cockwomble!

“Two more, please, and that ought to be enough.”

He sawed faster. “Thank Christ.”

“…for now.”

Stifling his groan, he tossed the boughs down to her. It was his own fault for agreeing to this, but he’d been frantic enough to promise her anything when he’d found her in such pain. Christ, he remembered the pain of his burns, and what it had taken to overcome them…imagine doing that each month!

Shaking his head, he jumped down from this tree and began to gather the boughs in his free hand, stacking them to make it easier for her to tie. Ugh, the sap was sticking to everything, and it was the dead of winter…spring would be worse.

When he leaned down to rest the saw against a tree, Demon’s hair swung forward, getting in his way. Irritably, he pulled the locks aside, only to curse again when the sticky sap caused them to adhere to his palm.

“Contemptable crockweasels!” He was muttering when he turned to find her smiling at him. “What?”

“You look like a petulant child,” Georgia teased, stepping toward him. “Here, let me help you.”

He held still as she carefully unstuck him. He didn’t need her help—damn hair was getting too long anyhow—but he liked the way she touched him so gently. Her attention was on his hand, her tongue clamped between her lips as she concentrated.

That tongue would be the death of him.

How did she manage to smell so good in the middle of the woods?

“There.” She finished her ministrations, but didn’t step away. Didn’t release his hand either, just tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “All fixed.”

Was he?

She twined her fingers through his, and even through their gloves, he could feel her. “You know, Demon… The people of Banchot deserve to know you. You are their baron, and Endymion must have been an important part of their lives for generations. You cannot hide from them forever.”

As she spoke, his scowl returned. “Aye, I can.” He tried to pull away, but she didn’t let him go. “I dinnae want to talk about this.”

“I do,” she said simply, quietly. “Demon, you have hidden yourself away long enough. You are not cursed, and you are strong enough to face your future.”

“And what about ye?” he snarled, snapping back to face her. “What about yer future?”

She shrank back, but didn’t release his hand. “What about it?”

This is stupid. Ye’re no’ angry at her.

Ye’re angry at the world.

He wanted to be done with this. He didn’t want to have to think about the future. He was doing perfectly fine surviving in the here-and-now, planning his revenge on Blackrose…until she showed up.

She, who was still staring up with concern, as if she genuinely wanted to hear what he had to say.

So he stifled his sigh. “Ye told me about begging yer father to take ye back, eh? And my guess is ye’ve spent the time since then doing yer best to make him happy, following his orders.”

Her chin rose. “I do what is expected of me. I owe it to my sister to ensure she has a happy future, since I endangered her chances years ago.”

And her bastard of a father was using her to repay his debt.

The same way ye’re using her.

“Aye, ye’re under yer da’s thumb, and I’m sure he’s happy to have ye there. But what if ye werenae his perfect daughter? Would he still love ye?”

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