The Duke Beneath Her Mistletoe, page 17
“Not yet.” He coaxed her back into their waltz.
She sighed and rested her head against his chest.
He was certain there were gasps from the crowd surrounding them. However, he did not care in the least. He would love his Georgiana no matter how many times she thumbed her nose at propriety.
Once the orchestra crescendoed, she placed her lips against his ear. “Meet me in the drawing room.”
Oh, that raspy voice. She glided to the exit, looked over her shoulder, and smiled. His cock throbbed as he made his way back to the blunderbusses. He would gloat for a moment before taking his leave.
“I dare say, Astleyshire, the girl seems to have taken a fancy to you,” Kingsley said.
“Yes, and if any of you cockchafers have anything to say about it, you might want to reconsider.” William sent Thomas Merrick a cutting glare. “If you will excuse me, I will take my leave for the evening and head to bed. I had quite an adventurous few days for I recently visited my cousin, the prince.”
Thomas grinned. “Stories are circulating about you and this Winkentattle chap. Some quite salacious.”
William took a heavy step toward the marquess’s son, who backed away and held up a palm. “Of course, no one believes the stories.”
Not a single man muttered a sound as William walked away.
“If she is naked, you cannot fuck her on the drawing room floor,” William whispered as he took the stairs two at a time.
Georgiana stood in front of the fire. A glowing halo surrounded her copper hair and gold dress, making her look like an angel from heaven. She ruined the seraphic image when she grinned mischievously and pointed to the ceiling.
Mistletoe swayed and beckoned. William could not get under it fast enough. She leaped into his arms and their lips locked.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“And I, you,” she said.
“Ah, hmm,” someone murmured from the doorway.
Alistair and Evan stood, arms crossed over their chests.
“Oh, bother.” Georgie scowled at them. “Can we just be on our bloody way?”
Alistair sighed. “Harrington, she is all yours now. Good luck.”
“Take care of her or I will track you down and disembowel you,” Evan said.
Georgie entwined her fingers with William’s and planted a kiss on each of her brother’s cheeks before dragging him out of the room.
She sprinted down the steps, through the kitchen, and out a back door of Trent Castle. “Hurry,” she called as they ran across the yard.
William picked up his pace and overtook her. “Last one there is a rotten plum.”
Their laughter echoed through the night as they raced toward the stables.
Epilogue
January 30th, 1817
The blood-red wine was the same color as the rubies encrusting the chalice. The Baron of Deene brought the drink to his lips. At his first sip, something crackled. Then without warning, the legs of his chair gave out, and he crashed to the floor.
From G. E. Tattle’s Tales
From its perch on a tree-lined mountain, Hockley Castle overlooked Astleyshire. Even from a distance, the high curtain wall that surrounded the bailey grounds emanated power. Five turrets, as well as a half dozen keeps, and spiraling conicals jutted into the sky.
Georgie pressed her heels into Burney, and they flew across the drawbridge. She halted in front of the Gothic gate and drew in cold air. Her condensation-coated exhale floated upward to a pointed arch where the portcullis met stone.
William and Lightning arrived a few seconds behind her. However, it took a while for the coach containing Millie, Anna, and Lady to catch up.
“’Tis three times the size of Trent Castle,” Georgie said to William. “And it looks like something out of a medieval fairytale.”
“As long as you stick to the main rooms you will find it as cozy as your home. In fact, we keep the dining room quite warm,” he said. “But, once you step outside of the main keep, I cannot make any promises.”
Once they were through the gatehouse at least seventy servants in starched forest green livery lined the walkway to the main building. How would she ever manage such a grand house?
A groomsman took Burney’s reins, and Georgie leaped to the ground, seeking William’s comforting touch. Meanwhile, Millie handed her Lady’s leash and Anna smiled at the gathered crowd. A pink-cheeked woman approached and curtseyed. Overwhelmed, it took Georgie a moment to realize that the woman’s “Your Grace,” was addressed to her.
“Mrs. Benning, I shall give my duchess the tour of Hockley Castle. Would you see to Millie’s accommodations? I would like our luncheon to be served in my chambers.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Benning curtsied again.
By the time Georgie had been introduced to her new staff, her cheeks hurt from smiling. Luckily William was there to steady her because her legs shook as she traversed the great hall with its ornate woodwork and twenty-foot-high ceilings. Long hallways and gray rooms swirled into an intimidating maze. Lady’s barks echoed off the stone walls. Georgie’s breath caught in her throat. How had she ever thought she could do this?
William’s palm squeezed hers, and she forced a smile. His beautiful eyes warmed her soul. She would do this, for him.
“Mayhap you should like to see my favorite places?” he said.
Words escaped her, so she simply nodded and allowed him to carry the puppy as he guided her up a winding staircase. Floral wallpaper in shades of green greeted them on the landing, providing a much-needed respite from the bland stone.
William pushed on a door. “This is my study. I mean, our study.”
Georgie gasped. Ceiling-high mahogany bookshelves, holding thousands of books, lined three sides of the room. Triplet Gothic stained-glass windows showcasing every color of the rainbow and a velvet settee that would make a cozy reading nook made up the fourth wall. At the foot of the settee, sat a pink pillow.
William set the pup on the floor. She trotted across the room, turned in two tight circles, and plopped down on her new bed.
William smiled. “I dare say, I think this meets Lady’s approval.”
Unable to control her glee, Georgie climbed the ladder and plucked a book from the highest shelf that she could reach. “The Taming of the Shrew,” she declared with a chuckle.
Deciding she might enjoy reading it for a third time, she clutched the volume beneath her elbow, descended the ladder, and sprang into William’s arms.
“This, my darling, is your wedding gift.” Grinning from ear to ear, he pointed to one of two mahogany desks. Paper, pens, candles, and an oil lamp had been artfully arranged.
Georgie did a double take and squealed. “Sweetmeats!” She popped one into her mouth and savored the cherry flavor.
After plopping her book beside the silver candy dish, she sat on her throne-like chair and propped her feet on her desk.
William sat at his desk and grinned. “You can pen your stories while I research policy and write proposals to Parliament.” He scratched his head and sighed. “I also need to become more involved in the running of my properties and to get out amongst my tenants and workers to get to know them.”
Oh, how she loved him. However, she swallowed her treat and stuck out her tongue. “My desk is bigger.”
“By five centimeters, if that.” He chuckled. “And remind me to have Buttons’s head. He was in charge of ordering it and making sure it arrived on time.”
“I am of the opinion that he should receive a prize,” she said.
Although William rolled his eyes, he could not fool her. Joy oozed from every one of his pores.
“Would you like to see our bedchambers?”
Georgie nodded with so much enthusiasm that a strand of hair tumbled from its confinement.
Much like the combination library study, her bedroom was spectacular. The upholstery, bedding, and curtains were turquoise with tiny yellow roses. Fresh flowers sat on the writing desk and nightstand. And a dressing table festooned with yards of frilly fabric sat beneath another stained-glass window.
“’Tis beyond lovely.” She placed Lady in the center of her bed and within seconds the pup was sound asleep.
“But I hope that you will spend your evenings with me.” William pushed on a door and invited her into his chamber of rich burgundy and gold.
Four massive posts and a lush canopy of brocade and velvet surrounded the bed where they would make love night after night. A tray of beef sandwiches and pretty cakes had been laid out on a table for them.
Much more at ease, and filled with excitement, Georgie devoured her meal as they talked.
“Are you too tired to see the rest of the castle?” William asked.
“I shall just live in our bedchambers and the study.” She stretched her arms to the ceiling and sighed.
“But the best part is still to come.”
“Oh?” Georgie’s toes tingled as he pinned her in his gaze and removed his cravat.
She licked her lips and waited for him to expose the hard lines of his muscular chest. Instead, he came around behind her and tied the silk fabric around her eyes.
Behind the mask, her senses heightened. His breath flicked across her shoulder like tiny flames and his husky voice landed deep in her belly.
“Let us go.”
She tilted her head back and enjoyed the sensuous kisses he placed on her neck. Her heartbeat quickened and her thighs quivered as he helped her to stand. Making love while masked—oh, my!
The bed was only a few feet away so when the door closed behind her, it became apparent that they had left the room.
“William, where are we going?”
“Trust me, darling.”
With her life. For he was as loyal as Alistair, as charming as Evan, and as brave as Stephen.
Chilly air blew across her, eliciting a shiver. Their footsteps which had been muffled now hit stone instead of carpeting. Were they to make love in the dungeons? Well, she had once said she wanted to lie with him in every room of Rosa House.
She bit her lip. Yes. The same was true of Hockley Castle.
After a long trek, William asked, “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” He could ravish her wherever they were.
He untied the blindfold and it fluttered to the ground.
She blinked.
They stood in the middle of a piste, and the piste was in the center of a vaulted, impenetrable room.
“My brother and I turned the casemate into a training ground about two years ago,” William said.
No wonder her husband could outwit her in the sport in which she excelled.
Foils, swords, gloves, masks, training pads, and an assortment of training gear had been organized and mounted on the far wall.
“Are you too tired for a quick bout?” he asked.
She bounced onto her toes. “No.”
“Splendid. For a duel with my duchess shall whet my appetite for some delicious post-bout activities.” He winked.
Georgie grasped the bottom of her skirt and prepared to rip.
“No,” William said. “I do love that dress.” His gaze slid over the low neckline and her overflowing bosom. He pointed to a curtain. “Behind there you shall find whatever you might need.”
Georgie kicked off her slippers and chose a pair of knickers and a cotton shirt.
William lifted the curtain and with heavy-lidded eyes, he watched her change.
“If you do not stop looking at me like that, I should make love to you right here in this dressing closet,” she said.
Pulling her to him, he grasped each of her buttocks in his large palms. He squeezed and she squealed with delight.
Lovemaking or fencing? Oh, her life was grand.
“First to achieve five taps wins,” he said.
A game that involved both hearts and swords might prove the perfect afternoon.
She pulled on shoes and skipped to the center of the room. Bending her forward knee, she took the ready position.
Mostly their swords clashed. Although occasionally their lips knocked together. William had much difficulty keeping his hands off her breasts and once she grasped and kneaded My Grace.
Eventually, William tapped her for the fifth time.
She stomped her foot. “You may have won again, my husband. But I shall make it my life’s work to bring you to your knees.”
He dropped to the floor in front of her and ran a hand up her thigh. “You already have me at your knees.”
Georgie chuckled as she retrieved his discarded cravat. Swinging it between her fingers, she carried it to where he knelt. “I have been thinking…”
“Yes, my duchess?” he asked, his blue eyes glittering mischievously.
She formed the necktie into a blindfold and secured it around her head. William Harrington, the Duke of Astleyshire hissed and tugged her knickers to the ground.
Thereupon, they enjoyed their late afternoon delight.
A word about the author…
Nicki Pascarella lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter, and hyperactive Shetland Sheepdogs. When she isn’t writing fiction, you will find her reading, belly dancing, or running 5ks with her furry partner.
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https://www.nickipascarella.com/
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Nicki Pascarella, The Duke Beneath Her Mistletoe
