A Yuletide Invitation: The Mistletoe Wager / The Harlot's Daughter. Christine Merrill
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anger at him warred with guilt. Elise and Harry were in a terrible mess, and she might have been the cause of it all. But how could Tremaine stand there, flirting so casually, as though it did not matter? ‘She might have come back, but she is foolish to trust you. What would she think of you, I wonder, if she found you and I here, alone together?’
‘I think she would go running right back into Harry’s arms, as she did once before.’ He seemed to be considering something for a moment, before reaching out to brush his knuckles against her cheek. ‘But enough of Elise. I know what she has done these past years, for we have been close, although not as close as I once wished. At no time did she ever mention that Harry had a sister.’
Rosalind cleared her throat, to clear her head, and stepped a little away from him, until he was no longer touching her. ‘Half-sister.’
‘Mmm.’ His acknowledgement of her words was a low hum, and she thought she could feel it vibrating inside her, like the purr of a cat. ‘If it was not a trick, as I first suspected, is there some reason that they kept you so well hidden?’
She swallowed hard, and when she answered her voice was clear of emotion. ‘Harry and my father do not get on well. He was sent away to school when we were still young, and took the opportunity to spend all subsequent holidays with his own father’s family, until he was of age. Then he came to London.’ She hung her head. ‘I remained at home, where I could not be an embarrassment to the family.’
He was still close enough that if she looked up she could admire his fine lips, see the cleft in his chin. And she remembered the feel of his cheek against hers, the taste of his tongue. She had lost her freedom over a few kisses from that perfect mouth. And somehow she did not mind.
She could feel him watching her so intently that she feared he could read her thoughts, and he said, ‘What did you do in the country, my little black sheep? Did you continue in the way you set out with me? Were there other incidents of that kind, I wonder, or was I an aberration?’
Rosalind pulled herself together, pushed against his chest and stepped out of the doorway further into the room. ‘How rude of you to assume that there were. And to think that I would tell you if I had transgressed is beyond familiar.’
He turned to follow her and closed the distance between them again. ‘But that does not answer my question. Tell me, my dear Rosalind, have there been other men in your life?’
‘You were hardly in my life. And I most certainly am not your dear …’
‘Ah, ah, ah.’ He laid a finger on her lips to stop her words. ‘Whether I was willing or no, I was your first kiss. But who was the second?’
‘There has not been a second,’ she answered, trying to sound prim. But his finger did not move from her lips, and when she spoke it felt rather as though she were trying to nibble on his fingertip. His mouth curled, and she shook her head to escape from the contact. ‘I learned my lesson, I swear to you. There is nothing about my conduct of the last years that is in any way objectionable.’
‘What a pity.’ He leaned away from her and blinked his eyes. ‘For a moment I thought Christmas had arrived, in the form of a beautiful hostess every bit as wicked as I could have wished. But if you should have a change of heart and decide to throw yourself upon my person, as you did back then, I would make sure that you would have nothing to regret and much more pleasant memories.’
She turned away and looked out of the window, so that he could not see the indecision in her face. The offer had an obvious appeal. ‘How dare you, sir? I have no intention of, as you so rudely put it, throwing myself upon your person.’
‘Did you have that intention the last time, I wonder?’
‘I have no idea what I thought to accomplish. It was the first time I had drunk anything stronger than watered wine, and I did not know my limitations. One cup of particularly strong Christmas punch and I lost all sense.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘And how is the punch at this house?’
‘Nothing I cannot handle.’
‘If you have returned to the straight and narrow, then you are no use to me at all.’ He turned and walked away from her, throwing himself down on the couch as though he had forgotten her presence. ‘Whatever shall I do now, to give Elise a distaste of me? For if that fool brother of yours does not come up to snuff soon and reclaim his wife, I am likely to end up married to her after all.’
She looked at him in surprise, and then she blurted, ‘Do you not mean to marry Elise?’ It was none of her business, but it turned the discussion to something other than herself, which suited her well.
‘Elise is already married.’ He said it flatly, as though stating the obvious, and stared up at the ceiling.
It was her turn to follow him. She stood before him, hands on hips, close enough so that he could not pretend to ignore her. ‘Elise is separated from Harry. If she can persuade him, she will be divorced and free. What are your intentions then?’
‘Divorce is by no means a sure thing,’ he hedged. ‘I would have to declare myself in court as her lover. And even then it might amount to nothing. But it would drag the whole affair into the public eye.’
‘Do you have issues with the scandal of it?’
He shrugged. ‘If I did, then I would be a fool to escort her now. It is no less scandalous to partner with her while she is still married.’
‘Would you think less of her should she be free? Would she be beneath you? Because that would put things back to the way they were before I spoiled them.’ She sighed, and dropped her hands to her sides, remembering the look in her brother’s eyes when he had seen his wife in the doorway. ‘Although it would hurt Harry most awfully.’
Nicholas gave her a tired look, and stretched out on the couch with his feet up and a hand over his eyes. ‘There is nothing wrong with Elise, and no reason that I would find her unfit to marry if she were free. Save one.’ He looked as though the words were being wrenched out of him. ‘I do not love her.’
‘You do not …’ Rosalind looked confused. ‘But she has come back to you again, after all these years. And when I spoke to her, she seemed to think …’
‘What she understands to be true is in some ways different from what I have come to believe.’ He turned his head to her, and there was a look of obvious puzzlement on his face. ‘At one time I would have liked nothing better than to meet her in church and unite our futures. But in the years since she turned me down in favour of Harry?’ He shrugged. ‘Much time has passed. I still find her beautiful, and very desirable—for, while I am circumspect, I am not blind to her charms. I enjoy her company, and I value her friendship above all things. But I seriously doubt, should we marry, that I will be a more satisfactory husband than the one she already has. Once the novelty began to pale she would find many aspects of my character are wanting. And for my part? She broke my heart most thoroughly the first time she chose another. But I doubt when she leaves me this time that it will cause similar damage.’
‘How utterly perfect!’ Rosalind reached out and pulled his boots onto the floor, forcing him to sit up.
‘Oh, really?’ He was eyeing her suspiciously. ‘And just why would you say that?’
She sat down on the couch beside him, in the space his legs had occupied, trying to disguise her obvious relief. ‘I will explain shortly, if you can but answer a few more questions to my satisfaction. If you do not want her, then why did you take her back?’
He scratched his head. ‘I am not sure. But I suspect that force of habit brought her to me, and force of habit keeps me at her side.’
‘That does not sound very romantic.’
‘I thought at first that it was lust. A desire to taste the pleasures that I was once denied.’ He gave her a significant look. ‘But our relationship has not yet progressed to such a stage, and I find myself most content with