No Groom at the Inn: A Dukes Behaving Badly Novella (7 page)

Uhtceare:

1. The next-to-last toe.

2. The combination of juniper and mint, used as a remedy for toothache.

3. Anxiety experienced just before dawn.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

S
ophronia flopped back on the bed, feeling all sorts of new, interesting, and very difficult emotions. At the same time.

Why did he have to be so honorable? Why couldn’t he just make the decision for her, push her to where she secretly wished to be?

The one man with whom she wanted to be inappropriate, and he turned out to be an honorable, considerate man. Of all the stupid luck.

She had to laugh at herself, of course, because if she didn’t—well, if she didn’t, she’d cry. And she did not want to cry. Not only because crying felt so maudlin, but also because it would make her eyes puffy, and her nose red, and Mrs. Green would likely notice and comment and send her daughter scurrying after Jamie to try and comfort the poor dear.

And then he’d end up compromising Miss Green, and have to really marry her, not just be pretend betrothed to her.

So crying was not on the agenda.

It had felt so wonderful, being kissed by him. She’d liked how he felt, as well, his muscles, his back, his mouth on hers.

And now she was back to wishing he weren’t so honorable.

But if he were so honorable he wouldn’t have thought of this devious plan in the first place—she wouldn’t be here, they wouldn’t have met, and she’d be in the country tending children and chickens. So maybe it was her?

No, she knew it wasn’t that. He seemed to have a perverse sense of honor, one that made him try to please his mother (in the short term, at least), but wouldn’t have to do anything unpleasant for himself. And it was clear he thought being tied down permanently was thoroughly unpleasant.

Whereas she had to admit that if the person tying her down permanently was him, she would find it very pleasant indeed.

And that was what she had decided earlier, wasn’t it? Even if it was temporary—and that wasn’t an if, it just was a fact—she would very much like to find out what it would all be like. She could be a respectable spinster when she and Maria were at the cottage.

During this most festive season, she wanted to be festive. She knew now she couldn’t depend on him to do the wrong thing, so she was going to have to.

She was going to have to seduce him.

Happy Christmas, indeed.

T
here would be no seduction today, however. For one thing, it was too cold outside to engage in any proper seduction, and secondly, Jamie was too competitive to get sidetracked by anything that might prevent him from winning.

“Over here, Sophy,” he called. They had been the first into the forest, and he’d had the foresight to equip himself with a sturdy saw and some rope so they wouldn’t waste time getting help to drag the tree in.

“Sophronia,” she muttered, following the sound of his voice. The wardrobe he’d gotten for her didn’t include clothing suitable for tramping about in the cold and the snow, so she was already damp and cross.

And since she couldn’t achieve her own ends, now that she’d decided on them, she was even more cross. But it wasn’t as though she could say, “Excuse me, James, but would you mind taking advantage of me over by this tree here? Yes, it is inappropriate and scandalous and cold, but I’ve come to realize that this is what I want for Christmas, and you are the only one who can give it to me.”

She
wished
she could say that, but she also suspected that the aforementioned cold and snow would reduce the pleasure she found in it, and if she were going to ruin herself, she wanted it to be enjoyable, at least.

“Look, this has to be the best tree out here,” he said in an enthusiastic tone of voice as she made her way to him.

It was definitely a tall tree. Perhaps twice his height, and that was saying something. Its branches were thick and full, and it didn’t take much imagination to see the tree would be gorgeous decorated with garland, candles, and ribbon.

Or whatever Mrs. Green deemed appropriate to decorate a tree with. Thank goodness she didn’t take issue with Prince Albert’s importation of the custom, since Sophronia did love the tradition.

She’d have to keep it up next year, when it was just her and Maria.

Although she wouldn’t have six feet plus worth of strong male to haul her tree back for her. She’d have to get a gentle shrub or something.

“Are you certain we can bring it back by ourselves? Oughtn’t I go get some help?” Sophronia couldn’t keep the skepticism from her voice. It was a very tall tree.

“And risk someone else finding something that would suit just as well, and they would win the contest?” He sounded outraged. “No, we can do it, didn’t I prove that last night?”

Oh, right. By taking her hand and placing it on his bicep, which was hard and large and made her feel all sorts of prickly things inside.

“You did.” No need to express her continued doubt. He would likely just hoist the tree over his shoulder to prove her wrong.

“Bring the saw over, I’ll have the tree down in no time.”

Sophronia handed him the saw, then watched as he started the process.

A half hour later, he was in only his shirtsleeves, his hair was tangled and damp, and he was still sawing.

She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a gloriously visceral sight in her life.

“There,” he said at last, just in time for her to jump out of the way. The tree landed with a thump, sending whirls of snow flying up into the air.

“Now all we have to do is get it back to the house.”

“Good thing that’s all we have to do,” Sophronia commented dryly.

But she had to admit she was wrong—gloriously, sweatily, strenuously wrong.

He dragged the tree while she walked alongside, holding his jacket and cravat. She felt awash in his scent, a warm, strong aroma that just seemed essentially him.

He’d rolled his sleeves up, and she couldn’t stop darting glances at his forearms—strong, of course, and sprinkled with brown hair.

“Let’s sing, shall we?” he said, startling her out of her perusal of said arms.

“What? But don’t you need your breath to—?”

He shook his head in mock outrage. “You doubt me, Sophycakes. I can drag a tree and sing at the same time. I am very talented.”

She had to laugh at that. “Fine, then. What shall we sing?”

“A holiday carol, of course. Have you no imagination?”

I’ve got plenty,
she wanted to reply.
Enough to think about what it would feel like if you wrapped me in those strong arms of yours and kissed me senseless. And did other things I know about, but am too embarrassed to discuss even in the confines of my own brain.

“Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of Stephen,” he began to sing, and of course he had a lovely voice, all resonant and rich and thrilling.

She joined him, not nearly as shy about singing out loud because it was with him, and he just made her feel so comfortable, even though he also made her feel all prickly and odd and wanting.

“Y
es, your tree is definitely the best, Mr. Archer.” For once, Sophronia didn’t begrudge the woman’s definitive way of speaking. It was a few hours later, and Jamie had unfortunately had a bath and gotten properly dressed again. The rest of the party had returned, each team having retrieved a tree for Mrs. Green’s inspection.

None were as large or as robust as theirs. Of course. Because none of the team members was as large or as robust as Jamie himself.

“And you may take anyone you wish under the mistletoe,” Mrs. Green continued. Jamie glanced her way, a mischievous look in his eye. “Except for your own team member,” she added, and Sophronia wanted to laugh at how startled he looked at that, and he looked at her again, only this time it was in shock and a mild expression of horror.

“Mrs. Archer, do come and stand just here,” Sophronia said, taking the older woman by the arm and guiding her under the mistletoe.

Jamie met her gaze and smiled, a thankful, relieved smile that made her feel all warm and useful.

“Oh, but what about the other young ladies?” Mrs. Archer expostulated, even though she went to the correct spot willingly enough.

“None are as deserving of a holiday kiss as you, Mother,” Jamie replied smoothly, looking down at her fondly. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then shot one last thankful look at Sophronia.

“And now that is done, we will all go rest for a bit and then meet again at dinner. We will have the tree decorated, and then we can play some more games and sing carols.” Mrs. Green looked directly at Sophronia. “We all need to look our best.”

Thus commanded, Sophronia returned to her bedroom, thinking about strong forearms, what she wanted to do, and the best way to go about it.

“N
ot that gown, Maria. The gold one.”

Maria’s hand stilled in the wardrobe and she darted a glance back at Sophronia. “Are you certain? That one seems rather grand for a house party.”

“It isn’t as though I will have occasion to wear it any other time, Maria,” Sophronia replied in a dry tone of voice. “After this, the most I’ll be dressing up for is maybe a village dance, and then only to keep watch over the young ladies.”

Maria shook her head. “You never know, my lady. You could be in our cottage and a handsome stranger would stop by, needing something all of a sudden, and there’d you be, and he’d be struck by you, and then you could wear that gown on your wedding day.”

Wearing a gown bought by the man who had engaged her to act as his pretend betrothed to marry a stranger she had yet to meet, and doubted existed, didn’t sound like the kind of thing she wanted to be doing. Especially since she’d rather be doing all the marrying in the gold gown with the man who had actually purchased the gown in the first place.

She was a hopeless wreck, she knew that. But at least, at the end of it, she would be on her own, beholden only to herself. Ensuring she and Maria had a reasonable future ahead of them.

Huzzah.

But she also had a seduction to accomplish, hence the gold gown. Huzzah!

I
t was worth all of Maria’s shaking her head and concern that she was overdressed to see the expression on his face when she entered the dining room. He had been speaking with Mr. Green, but turned as the door opened, and his mouth dropped open, as well.

He walked quickly to her, taking her elbow in his hand and guiding her to her seat. “You look lovely, Sophy,” he murmured, and she knew it wasn’t for show, he really meant it, since he’d said it too quietly for anyone else to hear.

“You do, too,” she replied. He did, of course; he was dressed in his evening clothes, and his hair was as smooth and well-brushed as she’d ever seen, so she was better able to see his face. There was something appealing about how dangerously rakish he looked when his hair was unruly, but there was also something appealing about him when he was well-groomed, the clean lines of his face showing the result of a close shave, his features standing out in their stark beauty.

In other words, there was something appealing about him no matter what he did to himself. She should just admit that and stop fussing about it.

D
inner was enjoyable, even though Sophronia spent far too much time darting glances at him rather than what was on her plate, so she didn’t notice what she’d actually eaten.

Hopefully this was not the time Mrs. Green decided to poison her.

“We will be decorating the trees after dinner, and then we will play some games. The townsfolk will come tomorrow afternoon to partake of holiday refreshments and we must present them with the best Christmas trees they have ever seen.” Mrs. Green’s normally disapproving expression was practically beatific. “As happens every year.”

Jamie leaned over to whisper in her ear. They were seated in the large room the trees had all been brought to, theirs occupying the place of honor right in front of the fireplace. “If it happens every year, then how can they be the best they’ve ever seen?”

Sophronia stifled a giggle. “Perhaps you should be the one to bring up that incongruity to her. I don’t think she thinks very well of me, given our circumstances.”

“For which I am devoutly grateful,” Jamie replied, a sincere look in his eye.

The servants, under Mrs. Green’s watchful eye—and commanding voice—dragged in all the decorations deemed essential for the trees: candles, ribbons, apples, colored paper, dolls, sweetmeats, and walnuts. At first it seemed as if there were far too many things to fit on the trees, but since their tree was so enormous, it was just enough.

“Goodness,” Sophronia breathed, as she stood back and looked at the sight.

It was impressive. The candles had all been lit, casting a golden glow that seemed as bright as the sun. The trees’ branches were bedecked with all the treasure, and Sophronia glanced around at the other guests, all of whom were wearing the same enchanted expression.

It was lovely. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, think that in half an hour or so the candles would be snuffed. For right now, this was enough. Enough that she was here, drinking in the sight, feeling the charm and the warmth of the season.

Not to mention the charm and the warmth of her fake betrothed, who looked even more gorgeous in the candlelight, the flickering lights making shadows on his face, highlighting the strength of his cheekbones, the dark intensity of his gaze.

Oh, Sophronia, you are in so much trouble. And this will all be a distant memory in a few months, and then next Christmas you’ll recall it, hopefully with a warmth and a pang of something to be cherished.

“W
hat games will I be winning at this evening?” Jamie said, viewing the company. Mr. Green was tucked in the corner, drinking a second or third glass of port; the viscountess and her daughter were seated on the sofa, talking about a ball they’d been to where the viscountess’s daughter had been, as usual, the prettiest thing there; the vicar had buttonholed Sophronia and was talking animatedly about her father and his own collection of books; and Mrs. Green and her daughter were discussing what to serve to the villagers the next day.

“I like the game Alphabet Minute,” Miss Green offered with a hesitant smile. Jamie returned the smile, thinking how difficult it must be to be Mrs. Green’s daughter.