Her Christmas Earl

sp; “I broke into your room. The blame is mine.”

“Yes.”

Another silence while she waited for him to say something conciliatory. When he didn’t, she glared at him. “Now we’re tied together for life.”

The green eyes were unreadable as they rested on her face. “Do you mind?”

Blair was a wonderful man, and every day she discovered new and intriguing facets of his character. Not to mention that when he touched her, he made her feel like a goddess. The promise of a lifetime in his bed made her want to skip and sing and turn cartwheels. How on earth could she mind?

“Not for myself,” she said, too shy to share the wanton thoughts running through her head.

“So you think I should mind?” he asked neutrally.

“If you’d been free to make your own decision, you’d never have chosen me for your wife.”

A smile teased his lips. “That’s true.”

Oh, dear Lord in heaven. She’d been right. He did regret marrying her.

Philippa clenched her free hand in the tangled blankets as a jagged hole gaped in her heart. “So you’ve been forced into a situation not of your choosing. And it’s my fault.”

“Definitely.”

Despite the justice of Blair’s response, her lips flattened with displeasure. She didn’t expect a declaration of eternal love, but this swift agreement with her bleak assessment irked her. “You should wish me to the devil.”

The green eyes seemed to convey a message she couldn’t read. Something unconnected to his hurtful words. “You know, when you put it like that, I suspect I should.”

“But it’s too late,” she said in despair.

“Once the vows were spoken, it certainly was.”

She bit her lip and told herself she’d cry when she was alone. Despite that exhortation, tears pricked at her eyes. She spoke the only words she could, knowing even as she did that they were utterly inadequate to the wrong she’d done him. “I’m so sorry.”

“You know,” Blair said musingly after a long while, “given all these grim facts you’re so determined to enumerate, any sensible man should be as angry as a dog with fleas this morning.”

Miserably she stared at him. Why did he have to be so handsome? Right now, his physical appeal felt like yet another attack on her wilting confidence. “Yes, he…you should.”

Another delay before he responded in the same thoughtful tone. “But you know—”

She braced for condemnation. Instead he relaxed back against the elaborate headboard with a casual air that left her bewildered.

The silence continued to the point where she wanted to scream.

“I know what?” she forced out.

“You know—” His lips stretched into a smile that set her foolish heart dancing, despite the morass of wretchedness. “Now I think about it, I’m not nearly as discontented about our wedding as I imagined I’d be. When your uncle threatened to shoot me if I didn’t do the right thing, I was sure that we’d got ourselves into a deuce of a coil.”

Her wayward heart stumbled to a standstill. Open-mouthed with shock, she stared at her husband. She didn’t trust what she thought she’d heard. “What does that mean?”

Amusement lit his eyes to emerald. “It means, wife, that I’d like to try and make this a true marriage.”

She frowned. This seemed too good to be true. Handsome, profligate men didn’t give up their sensual pleasures for the sake of plain little mice like Philippa Sanders. “You think I believe that?”

He leaned forward and cradled her face between his hands, sending her heart into another ridiculous jig. “I think you’re creating monsters in your mind.”

Desperately she searched his remarkable face for signs of deceit. “I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“Believe me, after last night, no man could be unhappy. It’s just not possible.”