Page 12 of The Scoundrel's Christmas Challenge
“Lovely woman. She’s very fond of you.”
“You think you still love me.”
His breath caught at the suddenness of the statement. But she was wrong. He tapped her glass again. Was that disappointment in her eyes? He grinned. “I know I still love you. I’ve never stopped.”
She blinked at him but said nothing.
“You don’t believe I can convince you.” He would call her bluff.
She tapped his glass. “I have every confidence you can.”
He poured himself more wine and drank it in one gulp. “You’re afraid to risk your heart.”
“It’s my turn, I believe.”
Clever chit, avoiding the statement.
“You still hate Edward and believe I betrayed you.”
This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. He grabbed the bottle and took a long drink, not bothering with the glass. “I’m not sure if it’s still so strong as hate. Time and death have a way of blurring the edges, but I will never forgive him for taking what was mine.”
“I belong to no one.” Christiana stood and retrieved the plate of biscuits and oranges. “You still have a penchant for these?” she asked as she popped a slice of the fruit into her mouth.
Lucius watched as her lips closed around the segment. “You are afraid to risk your heart again.”
With a sigh, she picked up her glass and took a drink, licking her lips. “Madeira pairs well with orange.” She closed her eyes, her head tipping back. “You cannot understand why I still shy away from men.”
He went to pick up his glass, but her hand dashed out to stop him. “No, not part of the game. An observation.”
They were talking again as they once had. No reservations, no correct words to be chosen, only the simple truth as they knew it. “Some men should always be shied away from. But you had a kind father, a model from which you learned not all men are thoughtless or cruel.”
“But he died. Followed too early by my mother, who couldn’t find happiness on her own.” Her sorrowful eyes held his. “I’m not sure which is worse—being ignored and humiliated by your husband, or being so in love, you do not wish to live without him. Either way, a woman has little choice.”
“So you prefer to be alone?” A waste, in his opinion. “You have so much to give, Christiana. Let me help you do that.” She looked away, and he pressed his point. “If you give me a chance, you will see I can make your life better. Fall in love with me, don’t fall in love with me. It matters not. After the past five years, you already know you can live without me. Where is the risk, then?”
“What do you propose?”
Hope sprung in his chest. “We’ll have our own competition in the dark of night while the others sleep. If I win the most challenges, you will allow me to court you. With an open heart, not merely tolerating my presence. If you win, I shall never shadow your doorstep again.”
She drummed her fingers on the table. “That’s why you kissed me earlier. To remind me of the passion missing in my life.” Her gaze returned, searching his face for something, an expression between longing and doubt in her green depths.
He smiled and reached out to cover her hand with his own. “Will you allow me the chance to show you the man I’ve become? To reacquaint myself with the woman I fell in love with?”
A heavy sigh, a bittersweet smile. “I fear I’m more disillusioned with love than hesitant. So, midnight tomorrow? Here?” Christiana stood, preparing to leave.
He did the same, wanting another kiss before she left him. Another memory to add to the earlier kiss as he tried to find sleep later.
“No, tomorrow night we’ll meet in the drawing room.” He moved closer and cupped her cheek in his palm. She pressed into it, and it was an almost impossible feat not to pull her close, feel her body meld with his. As he leaned forward to taste her lips, her hand reached out, and the glass of madeira went crashing to the floor. She let out a cry as it shattered on the stone floor.
The butler burst into the kitchen, chest heaving as he scanned the room and found his employer and then Lucius. With bunched fists, the giant of a man marched toward him, eyes narrowed, violence in his demeanor.
“I’m fine, Mr. Jensen. Just an accident,” said Christiana, one arm out to stop the butler. She turned to Lucius. “I will see you in the morning, Lord Page. I hope you sleep well.” And with that, she left the kitchen, her defender close on her heels.
No wonder she had no fear of hosting unattached men. Christiana was no fool. The brute would make short work of most men who threatened his mistress. And judging by Jensen’s face, he had no issue with receiving pain while inflicting it. His loyalty was obvious. And Lucius’s heart felt lighter at the realization.
CHAPTER 6
25 December
