Page 19 of The Mistletoe Duke

“Good to know. Now, both of you, under the covers. Close your eyes. Time to sleep.”

“We’re too excited to sleep,” Lizzie said.

Vicca nodded. “The party starts tomorrow!”

“That it does. So you both need your sleep. And…” He fixed them both with a dark scowl, which made them giggle. “I expect you both to be on your best behavior. All the mavens of society will be there.”

“I thought Grandmamma was the maven of society.”

Lizzie nodded. “That’s what she told us.”

Jonathan chuckled. “She is. But all her maven friends will be there. And you need to understand that your behavior reflects on the entire Pembroke family. That is a great weight to bear.”

The girls sobered and nodded, apparently listening to their father…for once.

“It’s possible that I might even find you a new mama.”

Oooh. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that, on account of the fact they were listening and all. They both made faces.

“What if we don’t want a new mama?” Vicca asked.

“Of course you do.”

Lizzie shrugged. “We like Meg. Why don’t you just marry Meg?”

A mortifying silence settled. Meg and Jonathan exchanged chagrined glances. Before Jonathan could answer, Meg forced a laugh. “Nonsense. Your papa needs a young wife.” She ignored his sharp glance. “She has to be able to keep up with you, after all.”

Vicca pursed her lips and then nodded. “You are awfully old,” she told Meg.

It was difficult to hold back a laugh. “Thank you.”

“All right. Enough of this.” Jonathan pulled up their covers and tucked each one in with another kiss. “Go to sleep.”

“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.