“It is. A gift from Cam.” Julian grinned at her. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? Take it off me at once, please.”
“But you look so dashing in it.” Her gaze moved over him and her body flushed with heat, as it did every time she looked at Julian. “Very handsome indeed, Captain.”
He let out a low growl, and tugged her onto the bed and into his arms. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting all night, and I’m…lonely.” He rolled her onto her back and slid his leg between hers.
Charlotte wrapped her legs around his hips, a smile rising to her lips at his helpless groan. “I’ve been trying to come up this past hour. I adore my friends, but…” She slipped her hands into the open neck of his banyan to caress his bare chest.
“You adore me more?” He was pulling the pins from her hair with one hand and tearing at the buttons on her gown with the other. “I know there’s bare skin under here somewhere. Ah, here it is.” He pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, then dragged his mouth lower, to kiss between her breasts. “Dear God, you smell good, and you taste even better.”
She sank her fingers into his hair and tugged gently to raise his face to hers. “I adore you above all things, Julian. You know I do.”
He nodded, his dark eyes going soft as his gaze moved over her face. “And I adore you. I love you so much, Charlotte.”
“Show me how much.” Charlotte dragged his banyan down his back, then arched up to nip at his bare shoulders and whisper, soft and low in his ear. “Show me, Julian.”
And he did.
When a headstrong beauty clashes with the man she once loved, she’s determined that the spirit of Christmas will open his mind, heal his heart, and perhaps give them a reason to celebrate—for many seasons to come…
As far as Ethan Fortescue is concerned, his family’s seat in Cornwall is only a source of torment, one that he’s managed to avoid for two years. Now that he’s the Earl of Devon however, he can close the door on his haunted past by locking up the cursed place for good. But upon arriving at Cleves Court, he’s shocked to find the house aglow with Christmas celebrations, and filled with music and laughter. And right at the center of the holiday madness is the infuriating—and eternally tempting—Theodosia Sheridan…
Thea has always loved the town of Cleves, especially at the holidays. As a girl, she also loved Ethan with all her heart. It’s painful to see how his brother’s tragic death has embittered him. Still, she will do anything to make sure the town thrives—even if it means going to battle with Ethan to save Cleves Court. Now she has only until Twelfth Night to make a Christmas miracle happen—by proving that his childhood home can be a source of love and wonder. But before long, she finds herself wondering if she’s trying to save the house—or its handsome master…
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of Anna Bradley’s
TWELFTH NIGHT WITH THE EARL
coming soon!
Chapter One
Cornwall, England
Christmas Eve, 1816, 7:00 p.m.
Somewhere between the Duke’s Head Inn and here, he’d fallen off the edge of England and into the deepest pit of hell.
Hell, or Cornwall. Same bloody thing.
The Duke’s Head.
Ethan snorted. Pity he wasn’t in the mood for a laugh, because that was damn amusing. The Duke’s Head was the only inn in the tiny village of Cleves, and it was the last place a duke would be caught dead, with or without his head.
His horse stumbled as Ethan led him around another of Cornwall’s endless muddy puddles. Christ, it was dark here. He wouldn’t have believed any place in England could be this dark if he hadn’t seen it himself. Or not seen it, as it happened, because it was too bloody dark to see bloody anything. Well, except for his flask. He could see that because he had it clutched in his hand, and a bloody good thing too, because a man doomed to spend Christmas in the wilds of bloody Cornwall bloody well better keep a flask to hand at all times.
He paused to count, the flask hovering in front of his lips.
Six bloodies in less than a minute.
There was a chance—just the merest possibility, of course—he wasn’t overflowing with the joys of the season.
Ah, well. At least he was overflowing with whiskey.
He tipped the silver flask to his lips and took another swallow. What he lacked in Christmas cheer he more than made up for in drink, and it wasn’t as if any of the servants left at Cleves Court were in a position to scold him for his drunkenness. He was the Earl of bloody Devon now, and in the year since he’d become his lordship, he’d discovered earls were permitted to behave rather badly, indeed. Not as badly as marquesses and dukes, but badly enough, and no one seemed to trouble themselves much about it.
Perhaps that’s how his father had become such a wastrel. Too much…Earling? Earlishness? Lordshippery? Ethan frowned. It was one of those, but it didn’t matter which. Whatever you called it, it amounted to the same thing—some earl or other had behaved badly, so the new earl was obliged to ride to bloody Cornwall in the cold and dark to clean up the disaster the previous wastrel of an earl had left behind.
That itwouldbe a disaster, Ethan hadn’t the slightest doubt. The last time he’d been to his country seat it was teetering on the edge of disreputable, and that was two years ago. He hadn’t the faintest idea why his father hadn’t shut the cursed place down altogether as he’d promised he would, but whatever whim had moved the old earl was no doubt fleeting, like most of his whims.
