Her Christmas Earl

She blushed again. “There’s more to marriage than bed sport.”

He laughed with the hint of affectionate mockery familiar from the night they were locked in the dressing room. “It’s a start.” When she didn’t smile back, he continued. “And we’ve got more than that, Philippa. You know we have. I like you. I admire you. You’re always interesting. In fact, I couldn’t have chosen a better wife if I’d tried.”

Relief flooded through her and under the unabashed warmth in his eyes, her fit of futile guilt melted like ice in the sun. “Do…do you mean it?”

“Of course I do.” He paused and his expression became serious. “Now the question is whether you’re happy to go forward with me.”

This time she didn’t try to hold back her smile. “My lord, you demonstrated some essential husbandly skills last night. I look forward to sampling your other talents.”

He laughed at her light response, which was just what she wanted. In a marriage so new, she couldn’t burden him with the unprecedented emotions that had welled in her heart when he’d joined his body to hers. Perhaps her feelings now were merely a virgin’s romantic fancies, but staring into her husband’s brilliant eyes, she wondered if she was halfway to falling in love with the scandalous Earl of Erskine. More than halfway, she suspected, wondering why the idea didn’t make her sick with fear.

Perhaps Philippa wasn’t terrified because her husband’s expression warned her of an impending demonstration of husbandly skills.

With sudden confidence that everything would turn out all right, despite their topsy-turvy beginnings, she leaned forward and eagerly pressed her lips to his. As he kissed her back with gratifying enthusiasm, she silently promised Blair that whatever happened, he’d never regret their marriage.

Epilogue

Hartley Manor, Wiltshire, Christmas Eve 1824

PHILIPPA’S LAUGH RANG with joy and excitement as Blair dashed up the long corridor and dragged her into their bedroom. It was the same room he’d slept in as a bachelor when he’d so reluctantly attended Sir Theodore Liddell’s last house party.

“Blair, they’ll hear us.” Her family must guess exactly what the earl and his countess planned for their “early night.”

“Too bad.” Blair turned to haul her into his arms, kissing her with a passion that had only grown more powerful since their wedding. When he raised his head, he regarded her with the narrow-eyed green glitter that warned her she was about to become very rumpled indeed. “Anyway, all attention is on the new Mr. and Mrs. Fox.”

“I hope they’ll be happy,” Philippa said, although right now she hardly cared.

Blair shrugged, kicking the door shut behind him. The huge bedroom that had seemed so daunting last Christmas Eve was empty. Mills had swiftly learned to appear only when summoned. “Your sister looked almost human when she walked up the aisle this morning. Perhaps she’s finally growing up.”

“I hope so.” It was true. Amelia had even complimented Philippa on how pretty she looked in her attendant’s gown. With her sister, that was as close to an apology for her spite as Philippa was likely to get. “And my mother unbent enough to ask my opinion of the flowers in the church.”

“Good God, much more of this, and I’ll stop dreading family gatherings,” Blair said wryly. “Which doesn’t mean that once we’ve done the pretty for Christmas, we’re staying past Boxing Day.”

The Earl and Countess of Erskine had become country bumpkins of the most dedicated sort. They’d spent most of their year together on Blair’s Scottish estates and Philippa had never been happier.

When her husband edged her toward the wall, Philippa frowned. “Aren’t we going to bed?”

He laughed. “What a hussy I married.”

She blushed. Twelve months of dedicated carnal education hadn’t cured her of the habit. “You don’t seem to mind.”

Even in the early months of dazzling sensual discovery, she’d been sensible enough to wonder whether his interest would wane once her novelty faded. But he’d never shown any restlessness. At first that had astonished her. But eventually she’d come to accept that she’d captured

that rarest of beasts, the reformed rake. And the rake showed every sign of being content in his captivity.

“It’s Christmas Eve. Time for good little boys to get what they’ve asked for.” He took another step forward.

Frowning in puzzlement, she automatically took another step back. “But you’ve had me all year.”

He stopped herding her like a stray calf and burst into laughter. “Oh, my bonny lassie, you are a treasure. I bless the day that door jammed.”

Could her blush get any hotter? “Well, I’m beginning to think I married a lunatic.”

He stopped laughing and focused that concentrated regard on her face. “Only beginning?”

She dug her heels in, refusing to budge. “What are you up to, Blair?”

He was still smiling. “I’m fulfilling a dream that’s teased me for a year, my dear wife. Brace yourself.”