Page 57 of The Mistletoe Dare

Nic continued to watch him until Louis sighed and arranged his face into something placid and amenable.

“See? Perfectly fine.”

“Yes, very convincing, to anyone who doesn’t know you as I do,” Nic said with a snort. He set down his coffee on the bedside table, steeling himself. “Louis, Christmas can be a difficult time for anyone if—”

“I will kill you if you continue this conversation,” Louis murmured icily.

Nic threw up his hands, exasperated, and spoke before he really thought about what he was saying, driven by instinct. “Damnation. Is this about Evie?”

Louis went very still. “What the devil do you mean by that?”

“What the devil do you mean by last night’s behaviour? Alone with her, Louis? And what the hell were you playing at?”

“We’re always alone together,” Louis snapped. “It never bothered you before.”

“You never acted this way before.”

His brother’s face shut down, his eyes a glacial blue. “What exactly are you accusing me of? Do you think I’m intent on seducing her? Is that it?”

“Are you?” Nic demanded.

Louis erupted. He flung the coffee cup across the room where it shattered against the wall and scrambled across the bed, grabbing Nic by the cravat. “If any other man said that to me, I would kill him,” he growled.

Nic held his breath, not moving an inch, taken aback by the fury in his brother’s eyes. “And is this display of temper because it’s something that could never, ever happen, or because you’re terribly afraid it might?”

It was a risk, one that could have backfired badly, but Nic knew his brother better than he knew himself.

Louis released him and stalked from the bed, snatching up his dressing gown and pulling it on. The silence was so profound Nic felt it ringing in his ears. He had to admit he was shocked. Although he’d been shocked last night too, but to have his suspicions confirmed—Putain! Louis and Evie? Before yesterday, he would never have dreamed it possible. Louis was besieged by beautiful women and yet… and yet now he thought about it, it made an odd kind of sense. His brother might never admit it, but he did not want to be worshiped, he wanted—needed, love, security and kindness, things Evie offered in abundance and without hesitation. Did Louis realise that was what he wanted though? Did he comprehend the risks to both him and Evie?

“Louis,” Nic pressed. “Talk to me, damn you. I know you care for her. I know you wouldn’t deliberately hurt her.”

Louis walked to the window, keeping his back to Nic. He pushed the curtain aside and stared out.

“I want her,’ he said, the admission raw.

Nic blinked, startled by his brother’s candour. He had not expected that. “Want to bed her, or…?”

Louis shot his brother a scathing look from over his shoulder. “My. You do have a high opinion of me.”

Nic muttered a curse and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean that you would, but… Truly, Louis? You’re serious? You wish to marry her?”

“Yes. Yes, dammit, I do, but she is too young, Nic. Too young and far too innocent. She needs time yet.”

Nic let out a breath of relief. He had wanted Louis to settle down for a long time. Admittedly he’d never considered Evie, but he understood her appeal for Louis. “She was eighteen in the summer. Many of her friends have married already,” he pointed out.

“And I am almost ten years her senior in age, and a thousand in experience. I would feel like a damned predator taking a lamb. I do feel it. Believe me, you have no need to reprimand me for last night’s performance. I have chastised myself quite thoroughly, I assure you.”

“I believe you.”

Louis put his head in his hands. “My God, help me, will you? What do I do?”

“You could court her. There is no need to rush.”

Louis made a harsh, unhappy sound. “She does not see me, Nic. Not as a man, only as her friend and confidant. Is that not deliciously ironic?”

Nic’s lips quirked at his predicament, despite Louis’ obvious unhappiness. He could only imagine how galling it was for his beautiful brother not to be seen as a romantic prospect by the only woman he’d ever wanted for himself.

“Nic.”