Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,197

leather across the countryside in the hopes he could rid himself of his frustration. Before he realized it, he was nearing his parents' home. He had not intended to stop by, but if his mother learned he had been in the vicinity and had not come to see her…

Which is how he found himself sitting in her parlor, gnashing his teeth against the delicate teacup, wishing it contained something a lot stronger.

"Darling, why are you making those dreadful growling sounds?" His mother's words might have been chiding, but her tone was nothing but concern.

His father chuckled. "I'll wager he is biding his time until he can depart, without causing you to rail at him for leaving so quickly."

"No, it is not that…"

His parents, seated next to each other, watched as he tried to come up with an answer that would not provoke another round of questioning.

"I am a bit disgruntled about something that does not concern you."

"It always concerns me," his mother said, "especially if it involves your happiness."

His father lifted her hand and gently clasped it in his. It was a tender gesture Desmond had seen hundreds of times while growing up, yet today it irritated him, since it seemed to demonstrate he might never have that with Lorelei. At one time, the lack would have been because of his resistance, but now he was on the receiving end.

"I would rather hear how the both of you are faring," Desmond said, changing the subject. "You are recovering rather well, I see."

His father bristled at the mention of his recent injury, but finished with a grin. "Yes, I am doing quite well. A good reminder that I wish to remain here for many years to come." He lifted his wife's hand to his lips, pressing a deep kiss to it. His mother returned a smile that was not exactly beatific.

Desmond's lips twisted wryly. "It is a mystery why I do not have any siblings."

His mother chuckled. "You are as impudent as ever."

"I fear I am. And you two are even more devoted than before. I did not think it possible."

"A life-threatening injury will do that, I suppose," his mother added.

"It was not life-threatening," his father protested. "It did prevent me from some of my favorite activities for a while—"

Desmond held up a hand. "Please, try to remember this is your son you are conversing with."

"You are out of sorts," his mother said. "Perhaps you need a new amour."

Desmond did his best to halt it but the sigh escaped anyway.

"Yes. Of course," his father said. "He has a new amour, but there are complications. Surely we can assist you with these troubles."

Desmond grinned. His parents were avidly devoted to each other, and had been their entire lives. He imagined they would spend their afterlife equally enthralled with each other. Yet they loved their son just as much, if not more, and could not bear that he might be unhappy.

"Your love story is one that everyone still talks about. I cannot believe you know the first thing about complications when it comes to matters of the heart."

His father snorted, while his mother burst into laughter.

"It has been nothing but complications," she said. "Your father can be so maddening there are days it would have brought me great joy to toss him from his horse."

"It is true," his father said, nodding sagely. "And there were times I was ready to throw myself from my mount because she had caused me no end of frustration."

Desmond sat forward, eager to hear more. "Yet that has only been recently."

"Not at all. I was frustrated beyond belief when we were first courting." His dad's gaze stayed pinned to his wife's face. "She did not believe my intentions were honorable…"

"He was the most renowned scoundrel," she added tenderly. "How could I believe he meant to be anything but scandalous? Women everywhere were throwing themselves at him."

"I fought my way out of that crowd, only to see you surrounded by a bevy of rogues and roués."

Desmond chuckled. "I feel I am hearing the outline of a Drury Lane production."

His father gave him a mock glare. "I can only hope you never experience such agony, knowing the woman who has your heart thinks you are merely trifling with her. Though it seems now you have."

"It was only to be expected," his mother said. "With Desmond's reputation."

Desmond winced. He had spent several years being a bit of a scoundrel, a man who could be counted on for a short affair, filled