Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,214

irresistibly smooth. She swallowed hard, the sound as loud as a cannon in the small space between them. “Please.”

He hesitated before taking the nightshirt and resting his hand on her hip. “If you are worried about my health,” he murmured, “you are welcome to join me beneath the sheets to keep me warm.”

His seductive smile caused a flutter in her belly. Every rational thought urged her to withdraw, but she swayed toward him as if drawn by a magnetic pull. “A gentleman would never ask a lady to engage in such scandalous behavior.”

“Not an innocent to be sure, but you are a widow, Lady Hadley. Surely, I’ve not shocked you.”

No, she shocked herself by considering his offer. Although it was generally acceptable for a widow to take a lover if one was discreet, Bess had never embraced this aspect of widowhood. It felt crass, flitting about from bed to bed. She’d liked being married and having a partner by her side—a companion. “I fear you have misjudged the type of lady I am.”

He studied her, the wheels of his mind moving behind his mesmerizing eyes. “Have I? Tell me, what type of lady are you?”

“The marrying kind.”

“Hellfire!” He dropped his hand from her waist. “Are you serious? Do you want another husband?”

“Why Lord Julius”—she batted her lashes—“a proposal seems premature, but how could I refuse? My very own incorrigible scoundrel for Christmas. Won’t the ladies be jealous?”

He laughed, tossing back his head. The heartiness of his laughter lightened her heart. Not many men appreciated her sardonic sense of humor. She’d honed the skill as a child, growing up with six younger brothers. She couldn’t match them in brawn, so she’d outmatched them in wits.

“You are an amusing woman.” Lord Julius wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “Perhaps I will propose someday to see how you might wiggle your way out of it.”

“Perhaps I will accept to spite you.” She took a step back to put distance between them before she did something foolish, like peck a kiss to his cheek and wish him goodnight. “Do as you’ve been told and go to bed. I will return early tomorrow to rouse you and send you on your way.”

He was grumbling under his breath about country hours when she pulled the door closed behind her. Gemma met her in the corridor outside of her bedchamber. “Is our guest settled?”

“I don’t think we will hear any more from him tonight,” Bess said. “Would you have a cup of tea with me? I find I’m not ready to retire yet.”

“After all the excitement, neither am I.”

Below stairs, Bess examined the broken lock on the delivery door just outside of the kitchen. “I hope his lordship is handy with repairs. Did you see the damage he has done?”

“Have a little compassion. I cannot say I blame him with the weather.” Gemma was swinging the kettle over the fire when Bess re-entered the kitchen. “Have you ever seen such a sight?”

“Never,” Bess admitted. “He is exceedingly well-formed.”

Her cousin giggled. “I meant the thunder snowstorm.”

“Oh!” A flood of heat washed over her. She busied herself with readjusting Lord Julius’s wet clothes on the line.

Gemma took mercy on her and changed the subject. “I will send Robbie for the locksmith tomorrow.” The young servants had been ordered to bed so they could rise early to attend to Lord Julius.

Bess and Gemma moved to the servants’ dining hall with the pot of tea and sat at the long oak table. Bess questioned her cousin about their unexpected guest and his family.

“The Seabrooks are a close knit brood,” Gemma said. “They will come looking for him when he doesn’t arrive home.”

“What a pity. I thought I might keep him,” Bess said, poking fun at herself.

“I wish you luck. No lady has been able to catch him, much less keep him.”

Bess knew the type well and made a habit of keeping her distance from his ilk.

When Bess and Gemma retired for the night, all was silent on the second floor. Lord Julius was unlikely to stir before morning, given his state of inebriation. Nevertheless, Bess instructed her cousin to turn her lock as a precaution, and she did the same.

By midmorning the next day, Lord Julius still hadn’t made a sound. Bess was growing concerned. “Robbie, was his lordship sleeping when you last fed the fire in his chamber?”

“Yes, milady.” The boy didn’t look up from his task of shoveling ash from the sitting room hearth and dropping it