A Rake in Winter by Jillian Eaton

A Rake in Winter by Jillian Eaton

Author:Jillian Eaton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Courtney Milan, Regency Holiday, Christmas Romance, Christi Caldwell, Lisa Kleypas, Rose Gordon
Publisher: Jillian Eaton
Published: 2016-10-10T16:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER SEVEN

On the subject of children

“I find them delightful. Although puppies are remarkably cuter.” – Miss Merry Clearwater

“Dreadful.” – His Grace the Duke of Kendalwood

He could not get the damn wench out of his mind.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Duke of Kendalwood stalked across his study to stare broodingly out the window at the falling snow. Raising his arm, he took a liberal sip of the scotch he’d been steadily drinking for the past five days. He was accustomed to using spirits to dull his thoughts when they grew particularly troublesome, but no matter how many decanters of his finest scotch he imbibed he could not forget Merry Clearwater’s face. Her wide blue eyes haunted his dreams and the memory of her sweet virgin lips left him aching for another taste.

How ironic it was, Kendalwood reflected with a scowl, that a young lady who possessed none of the traits he found desirable would be the one to tie his bloody heart in knots.

He’d known it would happen eventually. The men in his lineage may have been rogues and scoundrels and ne’er-do-wells, but when they fell in love they did so fiercely and all at once. His late father was testament to that, as was his father before him and his father before him. They’d all been arrogant men. Strong men. Coldly demanding men.

Except when it came to their wives.

They’d all had whores and mistresses, but the instant their eyes fell upon their fated mate they had forgone their vices and pledged themselves to loving one woman and one woman only for the rest of their lives.

Some saw it as a gift.

Kendalwood had always viewed it as more of a curse.

Sleep with one woman for the rest of his bloody life? It was a fate worse than death. Or so he’d thought until a little awkward sparrow of a girl with a propensity for stuttering had captured his heart.

What had he called her? Oh yes, he recalled with the vaguest hint of a grin.

A little hen.

He had called her a little brown hen.

And she did resemble the winged farm animal, if only in the way her eyes darted about when she got nervous and her feathers fluffed up when she defended herself. He had to give her fair credit, however. Not many women – or men, for that matter – would have stood toe to toe with him and held their ground as well as Merry had. True, she’d stuttered and blushed all the while, but she had kept her feet firmly planted beneath her no matter how many cutting remarks he’d tossed her way.

Remarks he now soundly regretted.

Merry Clearwater may have been the epitome of a shy, forgotten wallflower, but there was strength beneath the flustered layers of self-doubt. Strength the likes Kendalwood had never encountered. There was also a genuine innocence about her; not the calculated kind he’d seen time and time again when women were trying to win his favor but the sort of innocence that radiated out from one’s very soul.



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