Chapter 9

P erdita had selected three books of poetry and four songs. One of them had to work. Surely, she would succeed at choosing something that would elicit romance in his soul. One might have asked why she was being so dogged and so insistent in the pursuit of a man who did not act as if he wanted to chase her.

Well, when one felt it in their heart and soul that they were with the right person, one had to listen to their bloody heart and soul. Typically, she would not go after a fellow who was running away from her. It was a terrible idea for ladies to do such a thing, but she wasn’t going to chase. She was going to lure, which was a very different endeavor.

She stared at her poetry books, then she looked at the music and the pianoforte. Hoping. For her heart truly was gone now. It did not matter how little time it had been. It was like her heart had known his upon sight and could not bear to go on without its mate now.

The Yule log crackled in the fire.

It was a massive thing, as was the fireplace. After all, dukes did have a tendency to have fireplaces that put those in other houses to shame. She loved the sound and the scent of the wood burning and crackling away. It gave a glow to the room that was so incredibly cheerful that she felt another dose of hope.

How could she not? And so, she knew instinctively what to do. Her brothers had gone upstairs, laughing and slapping each other upon the back, as had Gordon.

Though he’d been a step to the side and not fully in the Briarwood brother pack.

They’d all gone up to change, and they would have to come down for dinner soon. And so as soon as she heard footsteps on the stairs that were undeniably male, footsteps she knew were not her brothers, for she knew them all, she sat down at the pianoforte.

Drawing upon her courage, she began to play a beautiful slow song, one that spoke of yearning and romance and love, yet not heartbreak, for she refused to play a song which would make their love doomed. Just as she had expected, just as she had hoped, she heard his footsteps pause on the other side of the entry, and then he entered the room.

The Earl of Hythe crossed to the pianoforte and began to sing.

It was if he had been called by her spirit, or perhaps it was simply the recognition of some age-old memory. He clearly was very familiar with the lyrics and music.

His voice was so beautiful. It soared into the room, caressing the ceiling and surrounding her as if it was an embrace. So beautiful. So great…that tears sprung to her eyes. When, at last, she played the final notes, they locked gazes and there was something different upon his face.

In that moment, she was certain that she had won. She had done exactly as her mother said. She had shown him romance, and now he would romance her in turn.

“Are you certain this is what you want?” he asked softly.

She rested her fingertips on the ivory keys, her heart beginning to pound. “Us?” she whispered.

He gave a tight nod of his head.

“Yes,” she replied.

“It won’t turn out the way you think it will,” he warned, his voice a deep rumble.

It was a most daring thing to say, but she tilted her head to the side and replied without fear, “Nothing ever does. You’re a fool if you think that you know how it will all go in the end.”

He stared for a long moment, and his sensual lips parted as he sucked in a soft gasp, and then something changed in his eyes. They crackled with intensity, burned with desire.

“Stand up,” he all but ordered.

It sent a thrill through her veins. This was a side of a gentleman she had never seen before. His voice was not the honeyed notes of the pianoforte. No. His voice was a winter storm, and she wanted to be lost in it. And so she did exactly as he instructed. She slipped the piano bench back, stood, and waited.

“Come here,” he growled softly. And again, she did as he asked, but there was something about him now that was utterly compelling.

His dark eyes searched over her face for a moment. Shadows seemed to dance over the planes of his visage. Slowly, he reached up and stroked a lock of her wild, dark hair back from her face.

“I want to be very clear, Perdita. You sought this out, not me. You understand that, don’t you?”

She gave a tight nod of her head.

“You understand that I am not the sun to your moon, don’t you?”

She let her brows rise. “I have no intention of defining you, my lord. Please don’t try to define me. Let us merely see what unfolds between us.”

“We can try,” he said. “But I have given you fair warning, have I not?”

She let out a laugh. “Yes. You’ve warned me, sir. Now, do your worst.”

He stroked his thumb along her jawline, his masculine power crackling through him. “Everyone in this household thinks that we are going to get married, including you, I think.”

“And what do you think?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat. She wouldn’t deny what was true.

He didn’t smile. “I want you. Devil take it, I want you. But I don’t intend to marry you. It would be the worst thing for you. So, anything that happens after this is fully your decision and fully your choice. Do you understand?”

She balked for a moment. This did not sound like romance, nor the good man that her mother said he was, but she knew deep in her heart that’s exactly the sort of person he was.

Honorable, good, strong. Look at how he had taken in his falcon. Look at all the people he had tried to help. It had driven him to the brink of exhaustion. That was how good he was.

“I think, my lord, that you have a very loud bark and no bite at all.”

He smiled slowly, but there was a sad note to that smile. “The only way to find out is to see.”

“Then I shall take my chances,” she said defiantly. “Show me.”

And so he did. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He kissed her with the sort of intensity that one only reads about in plays and novels and doesn’t really exist in reality. So everyone was always disappointed.

She was not disappointed. Her breath was stolen from her. Her mind was completely transported into some place with his. The room? It was bliss, transformed to heaven.

And he, holding her in his powerful arms, made her feel safe, despite the fire raging through them both.

His hard body arched her back, bowing her, taking her with passion. Their lips teased and sought out that unknown sanctuary that only a perfect union could bring.

His tongue teased the line of her mouth and then slipped past her lips, tasting, delving, sucking, and awakening her to a hunger that felt like a tide pulling her far from the shore. She could not draw breath. No, she clung to him, desperate to feel all of him against her. To feel at one with him, despite their clothes.

Her legs wobbled and he held her tight, keeping her locked in his embrace.

In that moment, she felt protected and in no danger, except she was. There was no question she was in danger because she had already lost her heart. The moment she’d climbed that ladder, there was no going back. She had lost her heart to him, a very precarious thing indeed.

He had not given her his, but he certainly would.

He must. It was the only possible outcome of such a kiss.

And when suddenly he stood back and gazed down into her face, he looked shaken, as if something had happened to him that he had not expected. He looked as if he too had been transformed.

“You see,” she whispered, licking her kiss-swollen lips. “It is not how you thought it would be, is it?

“No,” he rumbled. “It is not.”

“Do you like it?” she asked, her skin tingling at the feel of his body so close to her and feeling the rumble of his voice travel through her.

“How can you ask if I liked that?” he growled.

“Well, you have the strangest look upon your face,” she said, frowning.

“It is because all of this is so unpredictable,” he returned. “I have plans… This does not feel as if plans will be allowed.”

“Good,” she returned.

“Good?” he challenged, incredulous.

She nodded and laced her hands about his neck, savoring the way his coarse hair teased her fingers. “I think you need a little bit of unpredictability. You’re so certain that everything will fail—”

“Because I’ve failed so many times,” he ground out. “I have seen the nature of man, and it is not pretty.”

Her eyes danced. “Lucky for you that I’m not a man then,” she teased. “Give in to this, and I promise—”

“Do not make promises,” he rasped, stepping back from her, sliding away from their embrace. “Promises are terrible, terrible things because, in the end, no one can be sure that they can do what they say they will.”

They stood like opponents now, on the eve of a great battle, sizing the other up, longing for salvation and safe delivery.

But before she could reply, her brothers and her mother all but danced into the room, such was their merriment.

“Marvelous!” her mother cheered as she spotted them. “You two are looking like a pair of lovers from Shakespeare. There is color in both of your cheeks! Splendid. I’m glad to see things progressing beautifully.”

Were they? She couldn’t quite tell. Unless one thought unbridled feeling was beautiful progress.

Of course, her mother would think such a thing was progress. It was certainly progress for the earl. For before this night, he’d been a grumpy, prickly man, and rightfully so. Tonight, he had emerged from his horned shell and feeling had taken him. Taken them both.

He was clearly still caught up in it.

“I am so very glad you are our guest, dear boy,” her mother said to the earl as she crossed to him. “I know you think you don’t fit. But all your sharp edges are the very reason why you belong with us this Christmas. I, for one, adore your angles. We are so very lucky to have you.”

And with those words, a strange look crossed his face.

For a moment, Perdita could have sworn she saw pain and regret…and longing in his eyes.

The longing of a little boy for a mother and a mother’s love, and for a mother to be proud of him.

It was gone as fast as it had flashed across his face.

The Earl of Hythe then bowed to Perdita’s mother as if it was the most natural, normal thing in the world. “Thank you, Duchess.”

She beamed at him, then tsked. “You must call me Sylvia.”

He tensed for a moment, then said, “Sylvia.”

And at that, Perdita’s heart swelled. For surely he might say all of these things about resisting and not marrying and all sorts of nonsense. But she was going to watch the way that he behaved because the truth was people lied all the time with their words, and tried to hide the workings of their hearts, but how one acted was the truth.

And he was acting as if he longed to be a part of her family, no matter what he said or felt.

Now, he had kissed her. Now, he had called her mother by her first name. He was accepting them as family. He was going to give in! And he was going to love every moment of it!

“This is where you are meant to be,” her mama said, with her brothers looking on.

The earl flinched. Actually flinched, and that gave Perdita pause.

Her brothers, sensing the intimate nature of the conversation, drifted across the room to the far windows.

“I don’t think that is true, Sylvia,” he replied.

Her mother tilted her head to the side. “In this moment, you look as if you have been caught in a trap.”

“That’s not true,” he stated.

Her mother lifted her gaze and said gently, “Perhaps my daughter doesn’t see it, but I do. You cannot hide it from me, Gordon. You fear being caught and trapped and forced away from the life you’ve chosen for you and you alone. But sometimes… Sometimes, it’s good to be trapped because if you are not rescued, you will beat your wings against the windows trying to escape. All you need to do is realize that you are in a warm room with people who are ready to care for you. Then you shall not wish to escape us.”

“Ah, you want me to give up the wild life of a bachelor?” he teased, though there was something quite serious to him.

She tutted, then leaned towards him and said as if she was sharing the greatest secret, “Never. For you see, we Briarwoods are the wild ones. I want you to join our pack. That is the difference.”

“Too many metaphors,” he said softly.

She winked at him and then gently reached out as a mother does to a son, cupping his cheek. “Why would I limit myself to just one? Do I look as if I am interested in limits?” she teased before stepping back.

He stared at her for a long moment, then he threw back his head and laughed. He truly laughed, and the rumble of it traveled through Perdita’s spine.

And there it was again. Hope. Because Christmas miracles did occur, and one was about to transpire for her. It had to.