Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,369

tracked down her face as she realized she would not win her Prince Charming. Her Christmas wish would not be granted. He did not love her. If he did, he would chase after her, begging her to reconsider, but he was letting her go with no complaint.

Blade poured another brandy and noted his hands shook. Harriet was right. Long ago, he’d had his heart ripped to shreds. He’d been young and cocksure of himself. He was a wealthy duke, good looking and very popular. He thought he could have any woman he wanted. Like every young buck that season, he’d wanted the belle of the Ton, Lady Abigail.

He courted her, showered her with gifts, and to his surprise he fell head over heels in love with her. He was ready at only two and twenty to make her his duchess. Then he’d overheard a conversation.

“You’ve certainly sharpened Blade’s blade.” A gaggle of giggles filled the air. “He’s panting after you like a well-trained puppy. I never thought I’d see the day. He’ll propose to you, I’m sure, and I’ll lose our wager.”

“I told you I could have my pick of gentlemen and there was no way I’d waste my time on anyone other than a duke. Her Grace has a lovely sound to it.” Abigail’s voice sounded full of pride and Blade’s smile faded. He knew he shouldn’t be listening, but he could not move away.

One quiet voice spoke up. “Not only a duke, he’s wealthy and oh, so handsome. Laying back and thinking of England will not be a chore if rumors are to be believed.”

More giggling.

“I will do my duty, but I’m hoping he’ll take many mistresses. I will definitely make it clear I’m not a fan of his attentions.”

“You don’t find him irresistible?” The quiet voice asked. His pride recovered at her obvious shock.

“No. I do not find him attractive at all. All dark and brooding. Now Lord Henswick is dashing. I think I’ll take him as my lover once I’m married.”

His pride fled and anger rose in its place.

The disdain in her voice when she spoke of him, and the knowledge she planned to take lovers when he would have offered her the world, saw his heart shrivel in his chest.

He turned and walked away and never spoke to Lady Abigail again. She would never be his duchess. He learned his lesson well. From that day on, he’d locked his heart securely away, realizing that women wanted the title, not the man.

How ironic that the one woman who wanted the man, not his title, had just refused his offer because he would not love her. He admired her courage and had to admit she was not interested in becoming just a duchess. He should marry her for that alone, but Harriet deserved more.

He deserved more, too.

A smile formed on his lips. It would be so easy to love her. The pain in his chest lessened as the chains shackling his heart loosened.

He let love flood his body and knew what he needed to do if he wanted to make this a Christmas to remember.

He had to convince the lady who would be his, and his alone, that his heart could love and that she filled it. Not an easy task given the bumbling fool start he’d made to showing her she was all he wanted.

Chapter Six

The crisp sunny winter’s day lifted Harriet’s spirits. The house was abuzz with organization. Apparently, as promised, Blade and her brothers had left early this morning to cut the trees and the proud fir tree’s scent filled the ballroom where it stood in its pot.

The doors out onto the terrace were cast wide open and at one end of the room tables were covered in food and drink. The tenants were right at home here, given this was an annual tradition. The men, including her brothers and Blade, were standing on the terrace in the sun talking about—well, she had no idea, but probably farming.

“Stop staring at him. The ladies are noticing.” She smiled at Diane’s teasing. “If you don’t want to marry him, maybe he’d wait for me.” And then Diane laughed.

That made her head snap round to where her sister stood next to the barrel containing the holly. “I’m glad you find this situation funny. I shall remind you of this when it’s your turn to be married off.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Diane said. “Father would never force you to marry anyone you didn’t want.”

She wanted him. That was