Page 50 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
“He began to scream,” Samantha declared, taking over for her sister, who seemed clearly at a loss for words. “Terrible, terrible screams of agony!”
“We think he could be dying.” Jonathon conveyed with a jerky nod and wide eyes. Clearly, he was quite shaken by the possibility.
“Emma, dear,” Cecile broke in calmly, accustomed to the children’s theatrics as she was. Emma glanced up, worry lines etching her forehead. “Perhaps you should go and see what is the matter with the duke?”
Even before she agreed, Emma had already risen from the table. “Yes,” she relented at once, her thoughts reeling. She didn’t stop to consider the rush of relief she felt at Cecile’s suggestion. “Perhaps I should,” she said a little hysterically.
“Yes, dear,” Cecile said, her tone full of concern, and Emma nearly bolted from the dining room in her haste to reach Lucien.
Lord, but she couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him right here in her home! She wished him gone but certainly not dead!
“Children,” she heard Cecile reprove, “you must stay here with me. Aunt Em will do much better without you in her way.”
“Yes, mum,” they agreed sweetly, and Emma was quite certain they were the most thoughtful children she had ever known. Lifting her skirts, she ran up the stairwell to the first floor and then down the corridor to the duke’s room.
Groaning, in pain, Lucien made his way to his feet, clutching his tailbone.
Christmas—bah, humbug!
He hoped those brats ended with nothing but coal in their stockings and even that was too much!
With every step, he grew more cantankerous and then hearing the advancing footsteps, he propelled himself into the bed with a bellow of pain and another curse. He barely had time to cover himself before the door burst open, and Emma bolted within.
None too chivalrously, he spat another oath at the sight of her and jerked the sheets clear to his chin. “Doesn’t anybody in this infernal house knock?” he asked, incensed.
Emma stiffened at his accusation, though it didn’t keep her from entering and nearing his bedside. “Even sick you are debauched,” she said, frowning. “Lord, can you never cease with the profanity?”
Debauched, was he?
She didn’t know the half of it, Lucien thought wryly. The sight of her warmed his blood like mere blankets never could have. He groaned, lifting his knee to conceal tell tale evidence. “I seem to recall that you’ve developed quite an aptitude for language yourself, Miss Peters.”
“Yes, well...” She eyed him none too benevolently. “You seem to bring out the worst in me,” she conceded. “Do I see that you are perspiring?”
Despite the glare she gave him, she came closer still, standing beside the bed now. She reached out to place the back of her hand, almost timidly, to his cheek.
Bloody hell, it was all Lucien could do not to seize it and press it more firmly against his heated flesh. He craved her touch like a Scot craved whiskey.
“My, but youarewarm!” she told him with great concern.
No small wonder, Lucien thought, when she bent over him, once again baring her décolletage. He tried not to look at the bounty set before him. No Christmas feast had ever tempted him more. Dressed in deep rose, the color only enhanced the flush of her skin, and he couldn’t help but think she’d never looked so ravishing. Her hair had been lifted artfully and fell in gentle ringlets about her face, framing it perfectly. Her lush lips appeared the same color as that of her too provocative gown and he wondered what they would look like after being thoroughly kissed.
The monster beneath the covers stirred feverishly.
Damn.
She took in his disheveled appearance, the flush of his skin, and shook her head with obvious concern. “In fact, you look quite dreadful!” she announced. “You should be thankful the children were playing outside your door and heard you,” she added. “Were it not for them, I would never have known to come.”
He cocked a brow. “Really?”
“Truly,” she said, lifting her chin. “You should thank them profusely.”
“At the first opportunity,” he agreed.
Thank them, indeed.
At the instant, he was torn between spanking their rotten hides and giving them the finest, grandest gifts they had ever beheld in all their lives—whatever that may be.
Were it not for the children, he would have been long gone by now, and he wouldn’t have the slightest clue how his fiancé had blossomed.
