Page 53 of One Winter's Night

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Curse the saints!

Panic brought bile bubbling up into his throat. Forsyth mentioned nothing about her leaving.

“Well?” Hugo thrust out his hand when Crudging failed to offer the missive. “Where is it?”

Embarrassment stained the butler’s cheeks. He reached into the pocket of his immaculate coat and placed a tiny square of paper into Hugo’s palm. “I swear, my lord, that when the lady asked for paper and ink, she was given every resource.”

Hugo patted his butler on the arm. “I’m sure Miss Bennett did not find our resources lacking. Now, I shall retire to the study and root out my magnifying glass.”

He did just that.

Relieved to find but six words written on the note, and not a lengthy explanation why they couldn’t wed, he studied them with feverish excitement.

Love awaits you in the tower.

His mouth curled into a wicked grin.

Minx!

With his body burning to join her, he threw on his greatcoat and raced to the orchard. The torrential rain poured down as if the heavenly angels had taken to emptying hordes of buckets. Water lashed his face, dripped off the brim of his hat. As he quickened his pace, he slipped on the sodden grass more times than he could count.

Once at the tower, he hurried inside, removed his hat and greatcoat and shook off the excess water. Then he mounted the stairs two at a time.

“Crudging gave you my note.” Lara’s soft voice reached out to him like a siren’s song, pulling him into the room. Dressed in nothing but a thin chemise, and with her damp hair cascading over her shoulders, his betrothed stood poking the fire.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, removing his coat and draping it over the chair. He noted the split logs filling the wicker basket, the plush bed on the floor made with furs and blankets. A tray laden with shortbread, spiced apple cake, wine and two glasses sat on a trestle near the fire. “Clearly you have magical powers. You bewitched me the moment we met. But how the devil did you achieve this on your own?”

She laid the poker on the grate, brushed soot off her hands and padded over to him. “I wish I could say I used a spell.” With deft fingers, she unbuttoned his waistcoat. “But I’ve made at least three journeys while you’ve been busy with Lord Northcott.”

He shrugged out of his waistcoat and let it fall to the floor.

“Did your mother tell you that she’s planning a trip with Montague?” Lara untied his cravat, gripped one end and tugged it slowly from his neck.

“Yes, they’re planning to live in sin.” He didn’t give a damn what they did. Blood pumped through his body at a rapid rate. He was so hard for this woman he was surprised she hadn’t noticed. “Planning to live in sin while touring the world at their leisure. Considering Penelope has never ventured north of Upavon, it’s rather remarkable.” Not as remarkable as the woman currently tugging his shirt from his breeches.

“I saw Lord Northcott leave. He seemed rather jolly for a man accused of treason.” She pushed her hands up under his shirt and caressed his chest.

Hugo closed his eyes briefly and tried to calm his breathing. “Miss Venables invented the details in the note to make Northcott look guilty. She’s probably on her way to London with my fifty pounds filling her reticule.”

“It’s only money,” she said as she teased his nipples to peak. “Nothing surprises me when it comes to any of the guests.” She drew his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor to join his other garments. Lust lit her eyes when she gazed upon his bare chest. “I’ve wanted to do this all morning.” And with that, she took his nipple into her mouth and sucked.

“Hellfire! Love, you know how to tease me.”

“Oh, I’m not teasing.” She offered a sultry smile. “You will have me, Lord Denham, make no mistake about that.”

The moment she traced the line of hair leading from his navel down below the waistband of his breeches, his control snapped. Indeed, he was naked and thrusting inside her on their makeshift bed before his mind caught up with his body.

“God, have I told you I love you this morning.” He pushed deep, relishing the feel of her warm body.

“Numerous times,” she said just before a sweet moan left her lips. “And I love you, in case you’re in any doubt.”

“This has been one hell of a house party.”

The dreamy softness in her eyes spoke of lust and love. “So you’re not at all mad at me for inventing a story?”

“Hell, no.” He bent his head and captured her mouth in a kiss that conveyed all that was in his heart. “This festive season has been the most taxing, the most trying of my entire life. But in the process, I have found something wonderful.” He stilled above her, filling her full, claiming the only woman he had ever loved. “I found you.”

Chapter Seventeen


Tags: Adele Clee Historical