Page 94 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
“Fawkes?” She touched his forearm.
His green eyes were wide when he finally looked her way.
“She said she loved me,” he whispered.
Oh.
Oh, be still my heart.
It wasn’t the fact Merida said it—despite the household in which she’d been raised, the girl didn’t limit her affections—but that Fawkes was so touched by it, which melted Ellie’s heart.
Her fingers closed around his forearm, resisting the urge to caress the corded muscles. “Thank you for everything you have done for her, Fawkes,” she murmured. “For both of us. You have given her a Christmas.”
“I’d rather give her a ho—” He bit down on what he was going to say, shaking his head. Then he shifted so her hand was suddenly in his. “Come with me.”
Since Merida’s room was at the end of the corridor Ellie followed easily, wondering if they were going back to the parlor to enjoy the decorated tree, or to indulge in some more of the succulent tarts Mrs. Clutterbuck had created.
But instead, Fawkes reached for the door to his chambers. “I wanted to show ye something,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he tugged her inside.
His room was larger than hers and she found herself peering about with interest. In some ways, it reminded her of his room in his flat; simple, free of decoration or clutter. But there was a warmth here, a scent she couldn’t quite name. It felt more…comfortable.
“Well,” she mused. “I suppose I know now where the adjoining door in my chamber leads.”
“Aye, we’re connected.” As he spoke, Fawkes placed his hands on her hips and stepped closer, wickedly close, until she was plastered against his chest. “I thought ye kenned that.”
It was possible, were Ellie capable of speech, that she might have had a clever rejoinder about architecture or floor plans or whatnot. But the hard bulge pressing against her belly made all thoughts of wit skip from her head.
Besides, how witty could one be aboutdoors?
Actually, Merida likely has a joke about doors. When was a door not a door? When it was ajar!
But what actually emerged from her lips was a sort of “Mmwah?”
His dimple appeared, and she had a smashing view of it when he tipped his head back. “That’s what I wanted to show ye.”
Ellie tried to drag her gaze away from his, she really did. It’s just that…he was so delightful to look upon, with that sparkle in his eyes…
“Mistletoe,” he explained quietly when he realized she wasn’t paying attention. “Do ye ken the legend of the mistletoe?”
Ellie didn’t even bother trying to speak. Instead, she focused on trying to keep her heart out of her throat and her lungs working.
He’d almost kissed her yesterday, out in the snow. And then again in the parlor—there’d been mistletoe there, hadn’t there?—the look in his eyes had saidperhaps yes. But before…he’d been soangrywhen she’d come to him, demanding intimacies.
No, that is not why he was angry. He was willing to give you pleasure, remember? He was angry you used him for a baby.
“Ellie,” he whispered, his fingers rising to rest against her temple. “The ancients believed mistletoe to have romantic properties, the ability to increase vigor and lust. It’s said to be bad luck to refuse a kiss beneath the plant.” His fingertips dragged the length of her jaw to rest against the side of her neck.
She couldn’t look away from the way his eyes shone. “I thought it was poisonous,” she whispered.
“Och, lass, dinnae fash, I'm no’ asking ye to eat it! I’m a chemist, remember? There are plenty of plants which can be harmful if ingested without preparation, or in the wrong dosage. Remember, even foxglove and deadly nightshade can be useful medicines.”
Was he leaning closer? “So you are saying…?”
He was! He was leaning toward her! “Kissing beneath the mistletoe is perfectly brilliant for yer health, love.”
When his lips claimed hers Ellie surged upward, throwing her arms around his neck. This wasFawkes! He’d made the decision to kiss her, and she wouldn’t feel badly about throwing herself at him again!
In fact, this was only the third kiss they’d shared, and truth be told, this was nothing like the first two.
