Dukes By the Dozen

“Good night, my darlings,” Meg said as she stood to join Jonathan as he walked to the door. She hadn’t intended to, it just worked out that way.

“Wait!” One of the twins cried as they reached the doorway. In tandem, they turned and looked back at the shadowed beds. “Look!” The twins both pointed above their heads, and they, perforce, looked up.

Oh dear.

It was mistletoe. Blast the dowager and her insistence that the stuff be scattered everywhere.

“You have to kiss now,” one of the twins said. Meg suspected it was Vicca, the minx.

She and Jonathan shared another chagrined glance. His shoulder lifted. “I suppose she’s right.”

“Of course she’s right,” Meg said, struggling for a matter-of-fact expression, though her heart raced. “It is mistletoe.”

“That it is.”

“Do it!” their audience demanded.

With a sigh, that made clear this was an onerous task, Jonathan put his fingers to her cheek and tipped her face to his.

Meg held her breath, which was unwise, because she was already a little giddy due to his closeness, and the dizzying scent of his cologne. She watched, breathless, as his head descended. She saw it then—just before their lips touched—his quirk of a smile. It warmed her heart.

And then everything warmed, because his mouth was on hers, delicious and velvety smooth. It send a shard of hunger and delight through her. It made her want in a way she had never wanted before.

Cold, bitter disappointment scored her as he pulled away, far too soon, but it was only to look into her eyes with an indecipherable expression…before he lowered his head again.

This kiss was deeper. Sweeter. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, against his firm, perfect form as he explored her mouth.

She was barely away of the cheers from the peanut gallery, her mind was so utterly consumed with the delirious sensations flooding her. Thank God he was holding her, or she might have melted to an ignoble puddle right then and there.

When he lifted his head for the second time, it was to stare at her with a quizzical expression she had no hope of understanding. But when he smiled at her, it was one of his teasing grins. The one a friend would offer in a mutually uncomfortable situation.

And oh, uncomfortable she was.

“Happy Christmas, Meg,” he said as he let her go.

Her soul wailed as he did, but she steadied herself by leaning against the wall, and trying desperately not to look at him like a mooncalf. “H-happy Christmas, Jonathan,” she murmured.

And then, with another “Good night” to the girls, he made his way to his rooms, without so much as a single glance back.

Clearly the kiss hadn’t meant anything to him.

Meg, however, was devastated.

CHAPTER 5

JONATHAN TRIED to maintain an indifferent demeanor as he walked away from Meg, but damn. That had been the most amazing kiss of his life. It had been all he could do to not lay her down on the carpet and take her there, right in front of his daughters.

Granted, he hadn’t kissed a woman like that for a long while. Since Tessa, probably.

It had been a long time since he’d even wanted to.

Of course, he hadn’t wanted to, this evening. Not particularly. He’d been goaded into it by his children. But now that he had, now that he’d tasted Meg, experienced the soft delight of her mouth… Hell, now it was all he could think about.

She’d always been a friend—a little sister—to him. He hadn’t thought about her in that way, most probably out of respect for his friend George. How had he never noticed how seductive she was? How sweet she smelled? How had he never truly thought about her as a woman?

Well, he was thinking about her as a woman now, that was for certain.

And then, there was the comment she’d made, about being too old to marry him.

What kind of nonsense was that? She was four and twenty. Hardly an old biddy, though she did kind of look old, in that baggy black frock she always wore. And her hair, up like that in a tight bun. Other than that one night when he’d found her with his children, it had been years since he’d seen it down. His fingers itched to—

“Your Grace.”

He stopped short, stunned to find Rodgers standing right before him. If his valet hadn’t spoken, he might have just plowed right into him.

He adjusted his cuffs. “Yes, Rodgers?”

“Two of your guests have arrived.”

“Really?” So early? Jonathan lifted a brow.

“Yes, sir. A Lord Mattingly and Lord St. Clare. They’re waiting for you in the billiard room.”

Ah, excellent. Drinking partners. Just what he needed to smooth off the rough edges his unexpected encounter with Meg had engendered. “Put them in the west wing, please. Near my chambers. I will go and join them now.”

Rodgers bowed and scuttled off to wherever valets went and, with a smile, Jonathan headed for the back of the house where his friends awaited him.