Page 16 of The Scoundrel's Christmas Challenge
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Is he selling his commission?”
Lucius nodded. “Ambrose has a growing congregation, and he and Hester are expecting their first child.” There were days he couldn’t believe two of his younger brothers were married with families, or a babe on the way, and he had only just begun to think in that direction. Because of the woman sitting across from him.
“Time moves on, doesn’t it?” she murmured. “I wanted that once. Children. Then the years went by, and… well, here I am.”
“It’s not too late.” He leaned forward and tipped her chin up with his forefinger. “You’re still young enough to carry a child if it’s what you truly want.”
She blinked, her eyes shining.
“Are you…?” Lucius jumped from his chair and pulled her up, crushing her body to his. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He pushed back just enough to brush a tear from her cheek, cursing himself for causing her distress. “I want to give you a world where there are no tears.”
She sniffed. “It’s not your fault. I think it’s the holiday, thinking of my parents gone, how alone I am.”
Without another thought, he covered her mouth with his. They clung to each other, a tangle of lips and tongue and teeth, remembering a past when they were still young. Still innocent.
With his forehead braced against hers, he whispered, “You are never alone, for I am here. I’ve always been here.” He kissed her closed eyes, her nose, both corners of her mouth, soaking in her warmth, her sweet vanilla scent. If there was a way to stop time—now, at this very moment—he would sell his soul to do it.
“Is your brute outside the door?”
“He won’t crash through it unless I scream,” she said with a chuckle, then wiped her wet cheeks. “Shall we finish the game?”
It was as if their kiss had removed the wall between them. Lucius had been tense with the sexual tension between them, wondering if she would allow him to touch her again, if he would lose his mind if she didn’t. The rest of the game was full of laughter, recounting memories, and telling her of his family. He was at his most charming, and she was as witty and amusing as he remembered.
“I don’t believe I’ve felt so much like myself in years,” she said as she pegged out. “It’s as if the young Christiana has returned for Christmas.”
“A Christmas miracle. You’re welcome.”
Her smile melted his heart, a puddle swishing around in his chest.
***
His charm, sincerity combined with humor, was burrowing under her skin. How could she have forgotten how magnetic he was? As if she had no choice but to be near him.
Yet, she had let Edward overshadow that attraction for a few brief weeks while Lucius had been away. Long enough to convince an innocent girl to marry him, to believe it was Lucius who was the rogue in disguise. A young man tasting of freedom. Edward had explained it was all an act to deceive her, lure her into bed. Christiana had seen the Earl of Winfield as a worldly man, sophisticated compared to Lucius’s practicality, droll compared to Lucius’s boyish humor. Her dead husband had been a master at twisting words and situations to his advantage. And she had been the queen of fools.
As Lucius gathered the cards, she noted the tiny white mark on the right corner of his mouth. It could have been mistaken for a dimple when he smiled. But she knew he’d received it in a mock battle with his brothers, an oak branch whittled to a sharp point and used as a sword.
They had a history together. Their families were acquainted, though she and Lucius hadn’t met formally until she was sixteen. Her mother had wanted her to wait for her first Season. Christiana’s father had died a year earlier, and Mama hadn’t been ready to come out of mourning. But Papa would have wanted them to go on, enjoy life, she had urged her mother.
And she had met Lord Page again, his thick brown curls tamed back, gold flashing in streaks as he bowed over her hand. She thought she would be lost forever in those sea-green eyes.
“Is that a yes or a no?” he asked, bringing her back to the present.
“I beg your pardon, but I was?—”
“Not listening to a word I’ve said? You wound me, my lady.”
His smile, those pearl-white teeth, the square jaw above a strong neck—all devastating. She shivered.
“Are you cold?” He immediately stood to remove his jacket.
“No,” she said, holding up her hand, palm out, as she shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Indeed.”
The smile came unbidden. “You are incorrigible.”
Standing before her, he held out a hand. “Shall we retire for the evening? I’m not sure what you have planned for tomorrow, but this is our second late night.”
