Page 92 of The Mistletoe Dare

“I felt like a prize idiot,” he admitted ruefully.

“That’s the fun of games. Everyone here liked that you joined in with them, though.”

He nodded and raised her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingers.

“Are you happy, Alden?” she asked him.

“Happy?” he repeated with a huff of laughter.

He took a moment to respond, looking about the room. Lyall and Pa were standing by the fire, drinks in hand, laughing over something. Over the mantelpiece, the Christmas greenery fluttered in the rising heat, sending the scent of pine drifting through the warm air. Muir and Hamilton were bickering good naturedly, and around the room were piles of wrapping paper and ribbons and the many gifts that had been unwrapped and admired. Mrs MacLeod bustled in with Sheenagh to collect the tea tray from earlier and tell everyone that they’d laid out an informal repast for whoever wanted it.

“Can I answer that later, love? When we’re alone?” he said.

Georgie gave him a puzzled look, wondering why he didn’t just reply, but she nodded, and they went through with the others for tea.

Georgie pulled back the curtain and watched the snow fall, big fat flakes that tumbled with slow deliberation, covering the landscape in a quiet hush of white. Though she loved their house at Wick it was lovely to be back in her childhood home with her family for a few days. She shivered in the cold emanating through the glass and clutched her arms about herself.

“You ought not stand by the window in your nightgown, love. You’ll catch a chill,” Alden scolded, wrapping his arms about her.

Georgie sighed and leaned back against him, shivering for an entirely different reason as the heat radiating from his bare chest sank into her bones. “Not when I’ve you to keep me warm.”

“Always,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her neck. His hands moved over her, sliding up over the fine material of her nightgown to cup her breasts and gently squeeze.

She smiled, relaxing into his touch. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she reminded him.

“Ah, yes,” he said, nuzzling the tender skin beneath her ear. “Though it was a foolish question, as you well know.”

“You’d been playing charades and whatever other daft games my brothers could force you into. It was a fair question in the circumstances,” she pointed out.

His laughter was a soft flutter of warm breath against her skin. “I felt like a prize idiot, as I said, but… but I also felt like I belonged. Like they want me here, to be a part of this.”

Georgie turned in his arms and rested her hands upon his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart thrum beneath her palms. “They do. They all like you. Pa especially. He’s seen how happy you make me, and this is the third time we’ve visited them this year, plus you took me to stay with the Bedwins again, and to balls and the theatre. You’ve kept your word to make me happy and to be a part of this family instead of stealing me away. They adore you.”

“I love you, Georgie, and I’d do anything to make you smile, you know that. But to answer your question, yes. Yes, I am happy, happier than I believed possible. You’ve given me so much, not just yourself, not just your love—which is more than I ever dreamed of, but you showed me the world is not as cold and unwelcoming as I’d supposed. I have you, I have a family, and… I have friends.”

He said this with such a wondering expression that Georgie’s throat felt thick.

“You have,” she agreed. “And they love you, because they see who you really are now, because you let them in. You gave them a chance.”

He shook his head. “It was you that gave me the chance. It was you who saw something in me and wouldn’t take no for an answer. My brave, beautiful duchess.”

He bent his head and kissed her, and Georgie sighed with pleasure. Straightening he broke the kiss and gazed down at her, his expression grave.

“Tell me, my love. Is there anything else, anything you don’t have that you would like me to give you? You need only name it.”

Georgie stared up into the face of man she adored, and smiled. “Well,” she murmured coyly and reached for the little bit of mistletoe she’d hidden on the windowsill. She picked it up and held it over his head. “There is perhaps… one little thing.”

She slid her free hand from his chest, down his belly to lie over the placket of his trousers. His body stirred at once, and she stroked her hand up and down as he stiffened beneath her touch.

“That,” he said hoarsely, “is not a little thing.”

Georgie snorted. “True enough, but it’s the thing I want most in the world.”

“Is it?” he asked, his voice low as he pulled her tight against him. He kissed her then, a slow, tender kiss that left her breathless.

“Always,” she said.

He gave a little growl of approval that had desire blooming inside her and made quick work of stripping her of her nightgown.