Mastered Under the Mistletoe Read online

  Liz smiled at his grumbling. He might have harsh words for the barkeep, but his bark would be worse than his bite.

  Although his bite was pretty darn delicious, too.

  Chapter Six

  “How much longer do you propose we wait?” Marcus adjusted the collar of her cloak, pulling the edges close together. “It has been nigh on an hour. The servants would be expecting us back soon.”

  Liz peeled her gaze from the spy hole and frowned at her husband. They stood in an old servants’ tunnel that ran behind his library. The tunnels had been built so the domestics could attend to their duties with the minimum amount of intrusion into the lives of those they served. As though making an entire class of people invisible increased one’s social stature. Fortunately, Marcus didn’t believe in such antiquated nonsense.

  The tunnels did make it easy to spy, however.

  Her husband’s face was a dark shadow except for the slash of light that came through the slit in the wall and crossed his stubbled jaw and lips. She sighed at the tight press of his lips.

  “It will take as long as it takes.” She returned to her post. “And if no one shows this afternoon to try to steal the music box, then we’ll have to return tonight. Whoever it is may be too busy with their duties to thieve while we are supposed to be out on a carriage ride.”

  Marcus had grudgingly allowed her to go through with the plan she’d devised that morning. Most likely more to show he valued her opinions than because he anticipated its success, but still. He was allowing her in on the hunt.

  He moved behind her and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “I thought you didn’t believe it was one of our servants who had taken the key.”

  She pressed her fingers into the rough stone wall. “I don’t want to believe it.” And the fact that no one had yet appeared in Marcus’s library gave her hope. “But if it wasn’t Nalley and the chandler, there aren’t many other options.” She drew her shoulders back. “No, telling several of the girls that you’d received a beautiful music box yesterday is the best way to flush out the culprit. You know how the maids like to gossip. Everyone in Hartsworth will have heard of it by now.”

  Marcus plucked a pin from her hair. His breath was hot on her ear a moment before he softly pressed his lips to the flesh. “I don’t know how the maids conduct themselves, but I’ll accept your judgment on the matter. But it is too cold in this passageway for you to remain much longer.” The tip of his tongue traced down her throat, past her pulse point and to her collarbone.

  She leaned back into his firm hold. “What are you doing?”

  He removed another pin, and her hair tumbled from its knot. “Why, keeping my wife warm, of course.”

  “But …”

  Marcus swept his hand under her cloak and tugged down the bodice of her gown. Her breast tumbled into his palm.

  “Oh my,” she breathed. She cleared her throat. “Marcus,” she said, trying to make her voice stern, “we are here to observe your library. I can hardly keep a close eye when”—he gathered up the skirts of her gown with his other hand—“when … you keep doing that.”

  “Hmm.” He kept his hands busy, making her melt against him. “I say we can do both.” He maneuvered them closer to the stone wall. Nudging her cloak aside with his chin, he kissed the spot where her neck met her shoulder. “You’ll keep your gaze fixed to my library, no matter what I do.” His hand made a creative exploration, and she gasped. “And you won’t move,” he finished, his voice holding all the sternness that she had only hoped for.

  Eager for the game, Liz bent her head. She would withstand his delicious torment. She would fix the library in her gaze until—

  “Marcus!” she said in an excited whisper.

  He bit her shoulder. “Moving your lips qualifies as moving. Hush.”

  The back of a shoulder in a dark blue coat wedged further through the doorway into Marcus’s library. It looked as though whoever was sneaking into Marcus’s private room was speaking to someone still in the hall. She leaned closer. Two thieves?

  Marcus rubbed his finger along the seam of her sex. A callous scraped against her clit, almost making her jump out of her skin. Lord, she loved that her duke didn’t have the soft hands of a nobleman. A pampered fop just wouldn’t do.

  She shook her head. And that was completely irrelevant at the moment. “But Marcus—”

  He scored her throat with his teeth. “I see someone wants to feel my palm across her fine arse.”

  Well, yes, that went without saying, but really her husband could be too single-minded at times. She turned her head to glare at the infuriating man. “Someone. Is. Entering. Your. Library.” She enunciated the words as clearly as possible.

  Unfortunately, it had its desired effect. Marcus dropped his hands from her body and brushed her to the side. “What?” He bent, pressing his eye to one of the spy holes.

  Liz shoved in next to him and peered through the other. “See! I told you my plan would work. Now, as soon as he turns around we’ll know …”

  The man in the blue coat stepped through fully, pulling a woman with Liz’s dark mahogany hair in behind him. He turned, and toed the door shut.

  Liz’s shoulders drooped. “Oh. It’s only Julius and Amanda.” Wait, why was that disappointing? Her sister had arrived! A day early, but their rooms were already prepared. She turned, eager to greet the couple.

  Marcus wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. “And where do you think you’re going?”

  “To welcome my sister and brother-in-law?”

  Marcus palmed her abdomen and eased his hand over its swell, following a path Liz loved. “Not until we finish what we’ve started in here.”

  Her greeting could afford to wait a few minutes more. She pressed her palm into the rough stone wall and her gaze fell to the spy hole again. A giggle slipped through her lips.

  “Something amusing?” Marcus sucked the lobe of her ear into his mouth.

  She raised one shoulder. “I’m not the only one who likes my mistletoe. Unlike you, your friend seems to appreciate its purpose just fine.”

  “What?” Marcus pressed his face to the stone and peered through the slit. He cursed under his breath. “Not on my bloody chair!” Shoving his shoulder into the wall, he forged forward until the hidden door pushed open three feet. “Julius! Cover your woman and get off my chair.”

  Liz fought her smile and brushed past her husband. “Mandy!” She hurried to her sister, her fully-clothed sister, who jumped up from her husband’s lap. Really, Marcus was all too prone to exaggeration. The couple had only been stealing a kiss under the mistletoe.

  She and Amanda embraced. It had been too long. Three months since their last visit. Liz stepped back. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Amanda pulled the edges of Liz’s cloak apart. Her eyebrows shot up. “Me too. I wouldn’t want to miss seeing my little sister grow as large as a house.”

  Liz slapped her hands away. “I am no such thing. I’m only as large as a cottage. It will take a couple more months for me to grow house-sized.”

  Marcus kissed her cheek then leaned in to give Amanda one, too. “And you’ll be a very fine house, indeed. Good afternoon, sister.” He stepped around them to shake Julius’s hand. “We weren’t expecting you till the morn.”

  “We made good time,” Julius said, “and Amanda was eager to see Hartsworth ornamented for the holidays.”

  “And my sister.” Amanda pinched her husband’s arm, shaking her head. She turned to Liz. “But truly, this place looks wondrous. Boughs of evergreen and sprigs of holly everywhere.”

  “Yes, do you have any trees still standing on your property?” Julius reached above the desk and pulled a berry from the mistletoe. “What?” he asked when Marcus raised an eyebrow. “’Tis the tradition. One berry removed for every kiss stolen underneath. I’m disappointed in you that there are still so many remaining on the ball.”

  Marcus sighed and turned his back on his frien
d. “Amanda, are you hungry? Shall we retire for refreshments?”

  Liz clapped her hands together. “Ooh, let’s go to the Green Drawing Room. I want to show Amanda our tree. Can you have the refreshments sent there?”

  “Of course.” Marcus moved to the bell pull as Liz threaded her arm through Amanda’s.

  She strolled down the hall, peppering her sister with questions. “You’ve recovered fully from that fever you wrote me about? And how is Reggie? And why didn’t you bring him?”

  Amanda laughed. “I did, sister. But Reg is a smart dog. His first stop at Hartsworth is the kitchens. Mrs. Todd is generous with her scraps.”

  “I still can’t believe you stole my dog.” But there was no heat in Liz’s words. Reggie had gone where he was most needed. Liz rubbed her lower back as they entered the drawing room.

  “How do you truly fare?” Amanda stopped and turned to face her. “I was too young to remember our mother during her confinement with you.” She pressed her hand to Liz’s abdomen. “We have no experience in this matter. No one to give you advice.”

  Liz patted her hand. “Marcus has the doctor out every other week. I am being well taken care of. Now, turn around and compliment me on our Christmas tree.”

  Amanda’s chocolate eyes crinkled with amusement. “All right.” She turned and clapped her hands together. “Liz! What an extraordinary tree you have.”

  “Fine.” Liz rolled her eyes. “Make sport, but even you have to admit it is lovely. I think even Queen Charlotte herself would think so.”

  The yew tree stood in a large wooden tub, the top of it reaching nearly eight feet. The ribbons Liz had chosen darted in and out of the boughs. Paper-wrapped bundles of sweetmeats, almonds, and raisins hung from the branches, and small white candles were wired to the tips. Liz and several of the maids had fashioned ornaments of thick colored paper cut into the shape of snowflakes and set them to dangle from the tree’s limbs.

  Marcus and Julius walked in, heads close together as they spoke.

  Liz turned to her husband. “Can we light the candles tonight?”

  “Of course.”

  Julius stopped next to Amanda and blinked up at the tree. “Good lord above. It’s as though Saint Nicolas became ape-drunk on wassail and cast up his accounts in here.”

  Amanda elbowed him in the ribs. “It is beautiful. Almost as pretty as that music box you’ve brought for Marcus.”

  Marcus started. “You have it? I thought Dunkeld was acquiring the box.”

  “He was and he did.” Julius shrugged. “He knew I was seeing you so gave it to me to deliver. A present for us to open on Christmas.”

  Liz exchanged a glance with Marcus.

  “What?” Julius looked between them. “What is it?”

  Marcus stepped to his friend and gripped his shoulder. “Let’s sit down and discuss it. We don’t need to disturb the ladies.”

  Liz pressed her lips together and shook her head. Some habits were hard to break, but she knew Marcus was trying. Besides, she didn’t need to be involved in that conversation; she already knew the particulars.

  Walking to a sideboard, Liz plucked a lit taper from a silver candelabra and strolled to the tree. “Would you like to do the honors?” she asked her sister.

  Amanda took the taper. “I’d be delighted.” She bent to the candles on the lower branches first, working her way up. “I don’t suppose I could have one of the treats tied to the tree? I know they’re usually left for children, but I am famished after our trip. Just a little to tide me over until the refreshments arrive.”

  Liz tutted. “Stealing treats from children,” she said with a smile in her voice as she reached for a bundle of wrapped sweetmeats. Her hand knocked the bough, setting it to jiggling. An unexpected shape glimmered in the corner of her eye.

  Liz froze. “Marcus,” she whispered.

  “What’s wrong?” Amanda asked. She blew out her candle and hustled to Liz.

  Liz shook her head. It couldn’t be. It made no sense. “Marcus,” she called, her voice louder. “Come take a look.”

  Footsteps padded behind her. “I’ve seen your tree.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “It does look nice all alit, I must say.”

  “Not that. Although, thank you.” She pointed at the ornament swinging from a ribbon. “That!”

  “My lord,” he breathed. He stretched his hand over her shoulder and pulled the turtle-dove from the tree. “It’s the key. How on earth did it end up here?”

  “The key?” Julius stepped next to them. “Thank the heavens. I wasn’t looking forward to attempting to break into the box.”

  A maid stepped into the room, pushing a food cart in front of her. “Shall I set the food on the table? Oh.” She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped forward, a smile curving her lips. “I think that one’s my favorite. Do you like it, Your Grace?”

  “Your favorite.” Marcus’s voice was sharp, but then, it usually was.

  The maid took no account of it. She stroked a finger along the lacquered wing of the bird.

  “What do you mean?” Marcus asked. “Have you seen this before?”

  “Why, of course, Your Grace. I hung it on the tree.”

  “You—”

  Liz squeezed his arm. “Sally, how did you come upon this?”

  “Why, you remember, Ma’am.” The girl cocked her head. “We were in the library, going through your boxes of ribbons and buttons and whatnot. This was in one of the boxes. I thought if I strung a bit of ribbon around its neck it would make a right nice ornament.” She clasped her hands together. “Don’t you like it? You did want lots of decoration on the tree.”

  “Yes,” Liz said faintly. She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Marcus’s gaze burned into her back, willing her to turn to face him. She fought the pull. Nothing good could come from facing his knowing look.

  “Indeed.” Marcus rested his hand on Liz’s shoulder. “And this box where you found the … ornament. It was sitting on the desk with the others, not in my desk drawer?”

  Sally’s mouth rounded in shock. “Of course, it was, Your Grace. I would never go into your desk.”

  “Of course. My apologies for insinuating otherwise.” Marcus stepped in front of Liz and turned, leaving her no choice but to either marvel at the starch in his cravat or meet his gaze.

  She sniffed and tilted her chin. She tried to look every bit the haughty duchess.

  A dark smile slowly unfurled across Marcus’s face. “Thank you, Sally. That will be all.”

  Aptly sensing the tone of the conversation, Sally scurried out of the drawing room, shooting a pitying look at Liz as she fled.

  Liz swallowed. “Now really Marcus, you cannot blame the girl—”

  “Oh, I’m not blaming Sally.” He advanced a step. “I know exactly who pulled the box from my desk.”

  “But you know I was storing some of my ribbons in your library.” She hastened backwards, her hip knocking the edge of a settee. She scuttled around behind, putting the piece of furniture between them. She didn’t remember taking the box out, but she had been digging through his drawer for some paper. The tiny mistake must have occurred then. “And need I remind you that if you had only told me about the key in the first place, none of this would have happened. I would have been more careful about the boxes I removed from your desk.”

  Amanda strode to the food cart and filled a plate high with food. “I think I’ll go find Julius. We can eat in our room.”

  Liz narrowed her eyes. Traitorous sister. And after all that Liz had done for her. “Wait!” Her gaze bounced around the room. “Where is Julius? You’re our guests. Any disagreement Marcus and I have can be discussed later.” After his thrill of catching her out had ebbed. “I didn’t even hear him leave.”

  “He treads lightly.” Amanda walked backwards toward the door. “And you know I love you sister, but I have no wish to be your bulwark.”

  “Why does Elizabeth need a bulwark?” Julius entered the room, a square box
clutched in his hands. He closed the door behind him.

  “Is that the music box?” Marcus’s gaze sharpened on his friend’s burden.

  Liz breathed a sigh of relief. She knew this conversation wasn’t over, just as she knew Marcus truly wasn’t angry with her, either. He had the box, he had the key. All was well that ended well.

  But he wouldn’t let her forget her part in the key’s disappearance. Her bottom tingled at the thought.

  She used to question their intimate acts. Wonder what it said about her that she enjoyed submitting to her husband’s discipline. Tried to puzzle out why she felt cleansed after a session over Marcus’s knee, and since that was so, why she sometimes resisted his control.

  Marcus and Julius made their way to the low table in front of the settee. Julius set the box down and pulled a gold gilt music box from its depths.

  Her husband took the turtle-dove and inserted its base into a slot on the top of the box. His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows drew close in concentration.

  Liz’s skin heated. Now, she no longer questioned anything about her desire for this man: for his kiss, the caress of his finger, the stroke of his cock.

  The sting of his palm.

  All of it, every part of their intimacies bound her closer to her husband and freed her to be her best self. Marcus gave her peace of mind when her brain was bursting with worries, soothed her body when her muscles were tight with tension. Every touch, whether sensual or demanding, gave her something she needed.

  A strange pinch nipped at her belly. From the inside out. Liz’s jaw dropped. She pressed her hand to her abdomen and felt her child give another kick.

  “Here we go.” Marcus turned the turtle-dove counterclockwise until it clicked. He released the key and stepped back.

  The music box came to life. As the bird twirled in a circle, the melancholy melody of Greensleeves sounded through the room.

  Liz stepped next to Marcus and rested her head on his shoulder. “It’s beautiful.” Taking his hand, she placed it on her stomach. When he started, she knew that he’d felt it, too. Their child. Their future. A future of laughter. Of love. Of fights, and their resulting reconciliations and tempting punishments. Christmas must truly be a season of hope, because Liz felt only promise for the future.