“I am glad because you are stuck with me until death do us part.” He took out a handkerchief, wiping her eyes. “Now, what other things can we take off your plate?”
Sniffling, she said, “I think I would like more help with Livy and Christopher.”
“Hire more staff.” His lips twitched, and he spoke before she could. “Yes, I know that is my solution to everything. But trust me, pet: it works.”
She gave him a rueful look. “When did you become the sensible one in our marriage?”
“You’ve rubbed off on me.” He canted his head. “Are there any other tasks I can help you with? Any other balls you need help juggling?”
She thought about it. Realized how much lighter she felt.
“Not really.” She smiled up at him. “You have been an immense help.”
“Splendid.” A distinctively rakish gleam entered his eyes. “Because nowIhave some balls in need of your impeccable management skills.”
“That’s wicked.” A laugh rustled from her throat. “We cannot possibly inhere…”
“It’s a pressing matter that requires your attention now,” he murmured.
He took her hand, placing it against the front of his trousers where, indeed, his arousal was pressing quite forcibly against the placket. She curved her palm around the steely length of him, a quiver going through her blood at his bold virility. She slid her hand lower to cup the pendulous weight of him, and his nostrils flared.
“I suppose I could take you in hand,” she teased.
His eyes lit with laughter, lust, and love. He swooped down to claim her lips, and she kissed him back with all the passion in her heart. One thing led to another and before she knew it, he’d spun her around and she was gripping the worktable, her skirts tossed up, her duke’s thick, filling thrusts driving moans of bliss from her lips. His relentless onslaught drove her to her peak twice, and when his thumb pushed gently into a forbidden place, she went over again. This time he followed, his lean body shuddering over her, his harsh groans of completion heating her ear.
Utterly replete, she lay sandwiched between the table and her husband’s solid warmth. As he stroked her hair, she drifted into a state of drowsy relaxation. She thought dreamily that she could remain this way forever, warm and safe, surrounded by the sound of their mingled breaths and the scent of baking…
“The pies.” She opened her eyes. “They’re done.”
Alaric helped her up, and she grabbed a pair of dish towels, using them to pull the hot tray of pies from the oven. As she set the perfect, golden-brown pastries out to cool, Alaric reached for one. She slapped his hand aside.
“You are going to burn yourself,” she chided.
Her husband ignored her, snatching a pie. He blew on it and took a bite.
He flashed a satisfied smile at her. “Having just had my way with you in the kitchen, pet, I think I’ve demonstrated that nothing is too hot for me to handle.”
6
Hogmanay
Hogmanay arrived,and Tessa managed to keep her chin up for most of the big day. The cheerful company distracted her a little from missing Harry. She still hadn’t heard from him, and now it appeared certain that he would not arrive in time to ring in the new year.
You’re the Duchess of Covent Garden, and here you are acting like some lovelorn miss,she chided herself.
She resolved not to mope. It helped that her sisters-in-law and friends made sure she was involved in the merrymaking and mayhem. Her toddler Bartholomew, who was adorable and a holy terror, also kept her occupied. Bart’s favorite toy was the wooden sword that his great-grandpapa and namesake had given him, and his favorite activity was to run around brandishing it at unsuspecting people. Whenever Tessa lost track of him, she went running in the direction of the startled shrieks.
In the afternoon, a refreshed-looking Emma gave a brief introduction to the tradition of “saining the house.” The ritual involved blessing the newly cleaned castle with water from a local stream. Afterward, the lady of the house went about purifying the rooms with smoke from a burning juniper branch, which was thought to chase away evil spirits.
The first part went well enough. The children all wanted a chance to toss water about with impunity, and Emma let them participate (although she was wise enough to distribute silver teaspoons, limiting the water throwing to one teaspoon per child). Afterward, it was time for the smoke ritual, and the guests gathered around as Emma selected a branch from a basket, lighting it in the hearth with a ceremonial flourish.
The smoke had hints of cedar and sage, reminding Tessa poignantly of Harry’s cologne. As she followed Emma and the guests from room to room, her heart grew heavier and heavier. Everywhere she looked she saw couples in love. Mr. Murray had caught Bea beneath some mistletoe and was kissing his blushing wife. Marianne was standing next to her husband, Mr. Kent’s arm snugly around her waist.
Whatever tension that had briefly intruded upon the Strathaven’s marital bliss looked to be completely dissipated: the duke was watching his duchess with pride, adoration…and no little amusement. As Emma marched through the chambers filling them with smoke, he discreetly gestured to the footmen to open the windows: good thing, or they would all be choking on the thick fumes.
Tessa was happy for her dear friends…but she was miserable for herself.
A series of shrieks shattered her reverie. She looked down at her side.
