Page 45 of How the Duke Saved Christmas

“Hmm.” He splashed the dark claret into two glasses and returned the decanter to its tray. “I’d expected that.” The stopper clinked softly as he replaced it. “Gordon said the same.”

“That he won’t be able to return for me until after the New Year,” she informed him, attempting to keep a light tone to her voice, “and so I should make myself at home here, especially with the good cognac you keep in your study.”

“Your brother’s wrong about that.” When her mouth fell open in surprise, he crooked a grin at her. “I keep the truly good cognac in the library.” He carried the two glasses across the room to her. “A man needs fortification to withstand all that Voltaire and Johnson.”

When he wrinkled his nose with distaste, she couldn’t maintain her chastising scowl, and her brow lightened into a small smile as she accepted a glass.

“But he’s correct about everything else. The Coldstream bridge is still out, and Gordon said the roads north from Kelso took the brunt of the storm. He’s better waiting at Raleigh Hall until he knows the route is clear and safe to return, and by then, he’ll be able to bring news of a new baby.” He took a slow sip from his glass. “I envy him that.”

So did Clara, but she kept her silence as she lifted her glass to her lips. The light red wine tasted anything but sweet on her tongue.

“He’s right about the other, as well.” He sat next to her on the bench but faced the keys. “You should make yourself at home here, and I hope that finding you at the pianoforte tonight means you’re doing just that.”

“I am trying,” she grudgingly confessed.

“That’s all I ask.” He set down his glass on the closed top and freed his hands to put them on the keyboard. With great care, he slowly played the basic melody of an old tune. “Do you remember this one? It’s one of my favorites.”

“Bach.” She smiled as she identified it. “Minuet in G Major.”

“Play it for me?”

Her heart stuttered as the old fear gripped her. “I—I can’t. It won’t be any good. Please don’t ask.”

“Then I’ll just have to play it myself.”

He started over from the beginning. But he was late for every chord change and fumbled enough of the keys beneath his large hands that the effect was more painful than persuasive.

When she could no longer tolerate it, she placed her glass next to his and covered his hands with hers.

“Michael, please stop.”

“Then play it for me.”

“Please…stop.” Her smile faded, and she slipped her hands away. “You’ve been pushing me—the holiday plans, the children, the horse, now this—and I’ve been trying to do more, I truly have.” She shook her head. “But I’m not ready for everything you want from me. Ican’tdo all that you’re asking.” She pulled in a shaking breath. “You need to leave me alone.”

“AndIcan’t do that.” He lowered his hands from the keys and turned on the bench to face her. “For God’s sake, Clara.” His dark eyes searched her face. “Do you really have no idea how much I cared for you? Can you honestly not see that part of me still cares about you?”

She lost the battle for control, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. “You shouldn’t.”

He tenderly wiped the tear away with his thumb, then cupped his palm against her face. “Can’t help it.” He leaned over and lowered his mouth to hers, and his warm breath tickled across her lips. “I do, no matter how difficult you want to make it for me.”

Then he captured her mouth with his and stole her breath away.

Her hands went to his chest as she struggled to decide whether to push him away or clasp him to her. Her head knew she should stop him, knew that this was only a fleeting pleasure with no possible future for them.

But her heart begged for more, and she yielded against him with a soft sigh of surrender.

“Clara,” he whispered when she began to kiss him back, moving her lips tentatively beneath his.

Slowly, she moved her hands up to his neck and played her fingers through the soft hair at his nape as she increased the intensity of the kiss, deepening the pressure of her mouth against his. When she dared to touch the tip of her tongue to his lips, he opened his mouth with a low groan to let her inside. Emboldened, she slipped her tongue between his lips to taste every bit of him she could. She wanted to imprint on her mind every detail of him, fearing that every kiss he gave her might be the last.

The strength and warmth of him nearly overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t stop herself from whimpering when he closed his lips around her tongue and sucked. The soft pull tugged through her, straight down to the tingling ache between her thighs.

She tore her mouth away from his to pant back the breath he’d stolen, only for her pulse to spike when he placed open-mouthed kisses against her throat.

But he didn’t stop with kisses to her neck, didn’t stop when he trailed his mouth down her chest and into the valley between her breasts just above her neckline. He moved even lower, slipping off the bench to kneel on the floor in front of her as he continued to place kisses down her front.

She held her breath as he nuzzled her belly through her dress. The tiny muscles inside her clenched tighter with each caress of his hands down her sides to her hips. She didn’t stop him. She wanted his hands and mouth on her, wanted to feel beautiful again, and the desire growing inside her went far beyond any longing to reclaim the joy of her life before the accident.