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  “I don’t understand,” Amanda said. “What’s supposed to happen?”

  “Just wait.” Julius stood behind her and wrapped his arms around his wife.

  They watched the bird spin and twirl to the haunting music. When the last strains of the song drifted into silence, a small drawer at the bottom of the box popped open. A folded piece of parchment lay within, dotted with suspicious dark red blotches.

  Marcus carefully pulled the letter out and unfolded the paper. His eyes scanned the document. “Happy Christmas to England. This might be the best gift yet.”

  Liz smiled. No, that letter was important, but there were better gifts. She rubbed her abdomen. The one to come. And the ones she’d already received.

  Marcus tucked the letter into his breast pocket and stood next to Liz, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

  Nothing surpassed the gift of the love of a good man.

  Liz circled her arms around Marcus’s waist and squeezed.

  His love … and his firm hand.

  Marcus’s Epilogue

  Marcus’s heart leapt when he saw her. It always did. His Liz was a masterpiece. Her heart, her bravery, and her determination shone through in every plane of her face, in every line of her body.

  And right now, she was holding that body most precariously, one slippered foot balanced on the needle-point cushion of an armchair, one hand gripping a yew branch for balance as she tucked a bit of white ribbon high onto a bough.

  With a heavy sigh, Marcus pressed the door to the drawing room closed and turned the key in the lock. He didn’t need their guests or servants walking in on this. Had he thought his wife determined? Obstinate and foolish more like.

  Not wanting to surprise Liz, he prowled across the Aubusson rug on silent feet to stand behind her. Her hips lifted, her pert arse shifting beneath the fine wool gown she wore as she rolled onto the ball of her foot.

  Everything in Marcus hardened, and a predatory smile stretched his lips. With the toe of his boot, he knocked the leg of the chair and caught Liz beneath the knees and waist as she tumbled with a delightful shriek.

  All right. Perhaps he enjoyed surprising his wife. At the appropriate times.

  He turned and sat on the chair, settling Liz on his lap. “Wife, I declare you will be the death of me. What do you think you’re doing climbing on furniture, hanging off trees, in your condition?”

  Liz pushed an errant lock of hair off of her cheek with the back of her hand. “Really, Marcus, that was completely unnecessary. Scaring me like that, you should be ashamed.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I wasn’t the one risking harm to our child. Again.” He palmed her swollen belly. If he could wrap Liz and his unborn babe in gauze, he would. She might think him too stern when it came to her safety, and perhaps he was. But Liz knew how he liked his rules. Knew he expected her to take better care.

  And knew what the consequences were for breaking them.

  The corners of his mouth itched with the effort to keep from grinning.

  Liz had just delivered the perfect gift for the both of them that Christmas morn.

  “I have stood on chairs all my life when necessary to reach on high.” Liz wrapped an arm around his shoulder and wiggled on his lap. “You really are too much.”

  Marcus peeled the edge of her fichu from under the corner of her bodice. Inches of creamy flesh were revealed, and blood rushed to his groin. “Now, darling, you know protesting wins you no favors.” He traced the line of her collarbone with his index finger. It seemed like Liz’s skin had become even softer since her pregnancy. Was that possible? “As an agent of the Crown, I have serious matters to attend to. I cannot be worrying about whether my wife will break her neck or not.”

  “Oh!” She tugged on his shoulder, pulling herself to sit up straight. “That reminds me. Did you hear back yet from the prime minister? About your letter?”

  He slid the other end of the fichu from the bodice and let it drift to the floor. “Discussing affairs of state will not stop your punishment.”

  “Marcus, please. You promised.” She stared up at him, her big brown eyes widening ever so slightly, and Marcus knew he was lost. One look, and he was clay in her hands. He prayed Liz bore him a son. He wouldn’t survive another girl wrapping him around her finger.

  He sighed. “I did promise. And I intend to let you be involved in my tasks for the Crown.” Safely at home, where no harm could come to her. She had been right, however. Liz had a sharp mind and would be a useful partner to discuss his jobs with. He had forgotten just how skilled a spy his wife was, perhaps because he didn’t like to remember the circumstances of how they met, and how close he’d come to losing her. “I just left the prime minister’s courier. As it is Christmas, I invited him to sup and rest here for the day.”

  Liz yanked on the end of his cravat. “I didn’t inquire about our hospitality to the man.”

  He dipped his finger into the valley between her breasts, idly stroking. “The prime minister received my communication. He was able to send a team to the Royal Mint in time. The plot to ruin England’s economy failed.” He inched her skirts up, his fingertips dancing along her inner thigh.

  Gooseflesh pebbled her skin. Her breasts stopped moving as she sucked in a breath and held it.

  He bent his head and pressed a kiss to the patch of skin beneath her ear. “Now, wife, no more delays. Time to pay the consequences for your reckless behavior.” He started to turn her over, but she hesitated.

  “The babe …”

  “Will be fine.” He widened his legs and settled her so her rounded abdomen rested safely in between his thighs.

  She gripped his boot as he raised her skirts. “Marcus,” she whispered when cool air kissed her bare skin.

  Marcus placed his hand on her arse and squeezed. “I know.” The moments before a spanking were an enticing allure for him, as well. The anticipation of the sting of flesh striking flesh. The crack that sliced through the air when his palm met her skin. The sight of her beautiful arse shaking with the contact.

  His cock grew impossibly hard.

  He rubbed a slow circle into her bum, bringing a rosy blush to the skin. Sometimes his Liz needed his hand to crack through her reserve and release her pent-up emotions. Sometimes she needed the added stimulation to achieve orgasm. And other times, like this morning, it just made for fucking diverting bed sport.

  “Happy Christmas, my love.” Marcus raised his hand, his palm tingling. His wife was well, happy, and across his lap. There was a child to come.

  A very happy Christmas indeed.

  ****

  See how it all began for Liz and Marcus. Get DISCIPLINED BY THE DUKE now!

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  Books in the Lords of Discipline series

  DISCIPLINED BY THE DUKE (Marcus and Elizabeth’s story)

  BOUND BY THE EARL (Julius and Amanda’s story)

  BURNING FOR THE BARON (Max and Colleen’s story)

  MARKED BY THE MARQUESS (Sinclair and Winnifred’s story) – Coming 2019!

  About the Author

  Like almost one-third of all romance writers, Alyson Chase is a former attorney. She happily ditched those suits and now works in her pajamas writing about men’s briefs instead of legal briefs. When she’s not writing, she’s probably engaged in one of her favorite hobbies: napping, eating, or martial arts (That last one almost makes up for the first two, right?) She also writes humorous, small-town, contemporary romance novels under the name Allyson Charles.

 

 

 
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