How the Duke Saved Christmas
by Anna Harrington
Genre: Historical Holiday Regency Romance
MERRY
CHRISTMAS…
Two
years ago, Lady Clara Marshall led a fairytale life. She was the
toast of the ton,
beloved sister to an earl, leading charity patroness, and deeply in
love. A bright future lay in her grasp, until a tragic phaeton
accident ripped it all away. Now, she’s lost the use of her right
leg and never ventures from home. She’s lost all happiness and the
love of her life. When she’s forced to travel north for the
holidays, a fierce snowstorm, a damaged bridge, and her meddling
brother all conspire against her to bring her under the same roof
with the one man she never wanted to see again.
MARRY
ME?
Michael
Stanton, Duke of Wakefield, cannot believe his eyes when he sees
Clara being carried into his country house to seek shelter from the
storm. Two years ago, his heart nearly stopped when he watched the
wreck, only for it to shatter completely when she broke off with him
without explanation. Certain she blames him for her leg, he’s
resigned to having lost her, until her brother asks for his help in
showing her how to live again.
But
the last thing Clara wants is to be trapped with Michael and all the
ghosts of Christmases past. Will the duke be able to save not just
Christmas, but also her life?
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The sweet scent of cut pine swirled
around them as they glided down the lane toward the edge of the woods and the
fields beyond. The silence of the snow-filled woods around them was broken only
by the muted clomp of hooves and the soft growl of compacting snow beneath the
sled’s wide runners.
Having Clara next to him felt like
old times. Over the years, the two of them had spent hours driving through the
park in London and across the countryside. They’d chatted, discussed,
argued—mostly, they’d just sat quietly, happy to let the comfortable silence
stretch between them. Like this.
She’d let down her guard during the
past few days and had started to emerge from the isolation she’d cast herself
into since the accident. True, he’d forced her into it by having Mrs. Hansen
and Eads distract Mrs. Bailey so that Clara would have to be more independent,
and he’d ceaselessly encouraged the children to include her with everything
they did, short of asking her help with their math work. He felt a pang of
guilt at the deception. But he would do anything for her. For God’s sake, he’d
nearly clicked up his heels when she’d gone into the library to select a book
for herself.
A book! He’d felt less
victorious when he’d been graduated from Oxford.
He could have cheered that he’d
managed to convince her to come into the woods with him. No, not with him, he
realized ruefully. With the children. But he’d gladly take his victories
wherever he could find them.
“Do you remember the last time we
gathered greenery together?” he asked in an attempt to make casual
conversation.
She brushed back her fur-edged hood
with her kid glove to look at him. “We did?”
“It was that holiday I spent with
your family at Raleigh Hall when Anthony and I were still at Eton.” He slanted
her a sideways glance. “Don’t you remember? You must have been about Margaret’s
age. My parents and brother were in Ireland and couldn’t return until well
after the new year, so Anthony insisted I spend the term holiday at Raleigh
rather than stay on at Eton or be alone at Northbourne.”
Her expression softened at the
memory, and he couldn’t mistake the happy glow in her eyes as she slid her
hands into her fur muff and settled back on the wooden bench seat. “I remember
that you spent the entire holiday pulling at my braids, hiding my dolls, and
showing off by doing all kinds of tricks with horses and weapons. You even
stole my Christmas pudding.”
He quirked a half grin. “Perhaps I
was attempting to win your affection.”
“Or perhaps you were just being a
fifteen year-old boy on leave from school for the holidays.”
Duly chastised, he muttered with
feigned chagrin, “Well, when you put it like that…”
She laughed, and the soft sound
drifted through the still woods around them like music.
“Did you enjoy yourself this
afternoon?” he asked as casually as possible, yet he knew there would be a
world of meaning in her answer.
“I did.” She grudgingly admitted,
“It was nice to be out in the fresh air, in the woods and fields. I thought…”
When her voice trailed off, he
prompted gently, “You thought what?”
With a self-deprecating smile, she
shook her head. “It doesn’t matter if I enjoyed myself. The children had a
grand time. That’s what matters.”
“They certainly did.” Not wanting
to push her too much about being out of her room, he warned instead, “They’ll
hold you to your promise, you know.”
“What promise?”
“Hot chocolate and gingerbread in
the conservatory this evening.”
Her bright smile sparked a warmth
deep inside his gut before she turned back to look over the heads of the
ponies, who flicked their ears back and forth in an attempt to eavesdrop as
they plodded out of the woods. “Chocolate and sweets… That’s the kind of
promise I always like to keep.”
Unable to stop himself, he reached
over slowly and took her hand. She stiffened with surprise when he lifted her
hand to his mouth and placed a kiss to her knuckles. But she didn’t pull away,
and emboldened, he gently took the fingertips of her glove between his teeth
and slipped it off her hand. He let the cream-colored glove fall away onto his
lap.
This time when he kissed her bare
palm, a shiver raced through her that had nothing to do with the cold winter.
“Michael,” she whispered, so softly
that his name was nearly lost beneath the muted sound of the sled runners
beneath them.
He dared to take another kiss and
let his lips linger against her warm, soft skin. He nearly groaned at the
sweetness of her, of her familiar taste and scent that still haunted his dreams
and even now made him ache with desire.
When her fingers curled slightly beneath
the feel of his lips, he placed tender kisses to her fingertips. “There are
other promises worth keeping, too.”
He closed his mouth around her
finger, and she gasped. The sound pulsed through him and tightened his gut. So
did the quickening of her breath when he lightly sucked.
They’d once done far more together
than this, when she’d lain so scandalously with him on a picnic blanket that
last summer when they were still together. With her legs bare beneath the skirt
gathered at her thighs and her untamed hair lying around her shoulders, she’d
been the most delicious temptation he’d ever experienced in his life. He’d
summoned all his restraint not to take her innocence right there amid the
wildflowers, instead finding his pleasure in bringing her to hers in all kinds
of wanton ways. Yet now he trembled from these chaste kisses to her hand as
much as he had that day from his kisses to her bare breasts and the quivering
flesh between her thighs.
“What promises…would those be?” Her
voice emerged as hoarse sighs between light pants.
He twirled his tongue seductively
around her finger, then moved on to do the same to the next. One by one, slowly
and decadently… “You promised you’d let me kiss you and touch you for the rest
of our lives.” He drew a faint whimper from her lips when he licked at the
sensitive flesh between her fingers. “You promised to marry me.”
She stilled. Confusion darkened her
face, but so did the desire his lips and mouth were flaming inside her. “Some
promises,” she murmured sadly, “shouldn’t be kept.”
Anna fell in love with historical romances—and all those dashing Regency heroes—while living in London, where she studied literature and theatre. She loves to travel, fly airplanes, and hike, and when she isn’t busy writing her next novel, she can usually be found in her garden, fussing over her roses. She loves to hear from her readers and can be reached at:
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