Page 55 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

“He has reminded me many times how lucky I am that he granted me forgiveness and allowed me back into his home.” Georgia wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore. “I have not wanted to test his love for me.”

Because he almost disowned her the last time she was found in bed with a bastard like ye.

“Ye’re afraid he’ll kick ye out, aye? One misstep, like before, and—”

“No!” She shook her head, her fingers tightening around his. “Father was right to demand dignity and decorum from me! Danielle has been his perfect daughter, and she’s only weeks away from the happily ever after she deserves.”

Demon sighed. “I assume ye havenae told him of our—our bargain?”

“I was…circumspect.”

Meaning she’d lied. He knew she’d lied, but she didn’t know he knew.

“I have not heard back from him.”

Of course she hasnae. Because he wrote to ye giving his agreement to this bargain! Ye’re going to have to tell her eventually.

But he was afraid that when he did, it would break her heart.

And he hated being afraid.

“So what’s yer plan, milady? If ye dinnae ken yer father’s thoughts, but ye’re afraid of him?”

“I am not…afraid,” Georgia obviously lied, staring stalwartly at his chin. “I am cautious. I am certain I know his thoughts before I return home, Demon.”

Home, Demon.

He hated those words too.

So why did they make him feel…warm?

“Besides,” she declared, forcing a smiling and meeting his eyes. “I am far too excited about decorating Endymion to think about my father.”

Which is why he was out here in the bloody cold, covered in sap! Trying to help distract her from her father’s betrayal.

From Demon’s betrayal.

Traitorous Spunkmuffins, ye dinnae deserve her.

He scowled down at her but she was doing that thing with her lips again, where he could see her tongue. Hellfire, she had the most interesting lips, didn’t she? Demon’s attention was caught.

And when she tipped her head back and stared at something over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but turn as well. There, hanging above the pair of them, was a lonely bunch of mistletoe.

Scrawny, ill-formed parasite.

But when he glanced back at her, she offered him a shy smile, and he knew she was thinking about the legend of the mistletoe and what was supposed to happen beneath it.

Well, shitegoblins! He didn’t want to find love or a future or any of that nonsense. But he did want to make her happy.

Unable to stop himself, he leaned down to brush a kiss across those tantalizing lips.

She made a noise of surprise, then slipped her free arm around his neck to hold him in place, and responded enthusiastically. He couldn’t help the possessive growl which rose in his throat as he held her closer.

Christ, this woman could fire his blood! One little kiss, and his cock had gone hard, pressing insistently against her belly, making demands of her. And he wanted her, too. He wanted to hold her the way he had that night in the library; he wanted to feel her skin against his.

To do that, ye’d have to remove yer clothes. Show her yer scars.

She nipped at his lower lip, drawing his attention where it belonged, and his grunt of laughter caused her to smile against him. Their fingers were clenched around each other, and her hips were making suggestive little circles against him.

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