Page 33 of The Mistletoe Dare

Because you’d find a nice, even-tempered fellow as dull as ditch water and you’d far rather have a challenge on your hands, echoed back a little voice in her head.

“Best get yourself out for a walk in the fresh air, hen. Put some colour in your cheeks and wear yourself out. Ye might sleep better tonight. That or find the big fella and get him to tumble ye about a bit.”

“Meg!” Georgie exclaimed, wide-eyed.

Meg smirked. “Well, it’s plain as a pikestaff that’s what ye’re getting yourself all het up about. Yer blood’s runnin’ hot, ye numpty. Get the devil to kiss ye and ye’ll feel a deal better for it.”

Georgie glared at her outrageous maid. “Not helping, Meg!”

Meg chuckled unrepentantly. She stabbed Georgie with a couple more hairpins and went about her work, humming merrily to herself and leaving Georgie in more of a stew than ever. The wretched woman. Now, there was no hope of ridding herself of the heated waking dreams that had disturbed her last night. Dreams where Rochford had not let her go but held her fast against the wall whilst he kissed her thoroughly, his big body pressed firmly against hers and his hard—

“Stop it!” she scolded herself.

Well, at least that had put some colour in her cheeks, she thought, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Thoroughly frustrated, she took Meg’s advice—not the bit about letting Rochford have his way with her—and took herself off for a walk.

An hour later, the colour in her cheeks was most definitely from exertion and the cold. A few tentative flakes of snow had even made an appearance, leaving a fine scattering of white like a giant hand dusting a cake with sugar. In a far better temper than when she’d left the house, Georgie returned via the stables to visit Apollo.

The stables at Beverwyck were just as impressive as the house. Two storeys high, with four ranges set around a spacious courtyard, she’d seen mansion houses which were less imposing. There was a large entrance bay with clock and bell tower in the form of a domed lantern, and the horses entered each of the luxurious stable blocks via grand arched walkways.

After a pleasant half hour spent with Apollo and chatting to the grooms, many of whom she’d known since she was a little girl, Georgie meandered back through the stables, towards the house, pausing when she heard a familiar deep voice. Ducking back behind one of the stable arches, she peered around to see that Rochford had sat down upon a low wall to remove one of his boots and shake out a small stone. He was now trying to put it back on and hampered by three mewling kittens, who seemed to think he was a very fine playground.

“Get off me, you ridiculous creature,” he grumbled, picking a kitten off his shoulder and placing it gently on the ground. He turned his attention to another that was chewing the buttons on his waistcoat as the first climbed up his leg again. “Ow, you little blighter. You’ve sharp claws.”

Georgie bit back a giggle. As fast as he unhooked one, another climbed back up his leg. An intrepid ginger kitten made a heroic leap from the floor to his foot and sank its tiny needle claws into his big toe.

“Ouch! Stop that, no… Argh!”

He released it from his foot and put it down, thrusting his foot into his boot quickly before he was attacked again. Then he reached for the kitten which had made a triumphant climb up to his shoulder where it clung on precariously. This time, instead of putting it on the floor, he put it in his lap, where it immediately made itself comfortable and settled down.

“No, don’t go to sleep, you can’t stay there,” he warned it, unhooking another kitten from his thigh and putting it with the first. There was a little mewl of displeasure at the third kitten lost its grip on his calf and fell back to the ground where it sat, crying piteously. Rochford glared at it before she heard his usual harrumphing sound, at which point he picked it up by the scruff of its neck and deposited it with its siblings. “Only for a minute, you hear?” he instructed them as they purred and kneaded at their comfy new bed.

A little like last night’s trifle, the opportunity was simply too delicious to resist.

Georgie crept out from behind the arch and gave a sigh. “Well, if that isn’t the most adorable thing I have ever seen in my life. The curmudgeonly duke who’s kind to kittens.”

“I’m not,” he objected at once. “I’m only—”

Georgie’s eyebrows went up as he cast about for another explanation for having a lapful of kittens.

“Only?”

“I want a fur lining for my hat,” he said, scowling at her.

Georgie snorted and went to sit beside him. “Oh, give over, Rochford. Admit it, they’re adorable and you’re not half so scary as you’d like everyone to believe.”

“They’re a blasted nuisance, and not the only one around here, I might add. Take them away.”

He gestured for her to remove the kittens, but Georgie shook her head.

“Oh, no. I’m enjoying the sight far too much. I love cats, and there’s something about a big man holding kittens that makes my insides go all squirmy.”

“Must be that second helping of trifle coming back to haunt you,” he said darkly.

Georgie snorted.

“You’re supposed to be staying away from me,” he remarked, absently stroking a soft, fluffy head.

Georgie watched his large hands caressing the tiny furball with such care and gave a despondent sigh. “I know.”