Her Christmas Earl

Queasy with self-disgust, she eased away from Blair and gingerly sat up. As she pulled her nightdress over her head, her body twinged in unfamiliar places. A reminder that despite his care with her, she was unused to a man’s possession. The faint discomfort only made her recall his gentleness, and how that gentleness had flared into a passion beyond imagination.

Blair had repaid her sins against him with breathtaking pleasure. But this morning she faced the stark truth that fate had dealt him an awful hand when Philippa Sanders broke into his room.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The drowsy baritone question from behind her made every muscle tense. Muscles already aching after the night’s exertions.

It seemed her husband was a light sleeper. Curse him for stirring. She’d hoped to escape unnoticed.

Long fingers curled around her wrist above where her hand spread against the rumpled bed. As if she needed reminding of how uninhibited they’d been. Twice. Blair had woken her after midnight and used her slowly and sweetly with whispers of praise that her lonely soul had soaked up like a desert soaked up water.

The first time had been astonishing enough. That second time had threatened to break her heart.

“I thought I’d go and sleep in the next room,” she mumbled, without looking at him.

He’d made such a gallant effort to pretend that this forced marriage hadn’t blighted his life. But of course it must. Devilishly handsome rakes didn’t willingly tie themselves to women undistinguished by either fortune or beauty.

How wrong her first impressions of him had been. Blair was the kindest man she knew. She didn’t deserve him. And he certainly didn’t deserve a disaster of a wife like her.

“Did you indeed?” Even with her back to him, she knew he studied her. Worse, he probably guessed that she’d woken unhappy. She was developing a healthy respect for his powers of perception. “Why?”

“I thought you might like some privacy.”

She definitely wanted some time alone. Lying in his arms, she couldn’t think, and she badly needed to think. There must be some way to release him from the prison of this marriage.

The bed dipped as he sat up and shifted closer. “I can think of something I’d like much more than privacy.”

After last night, she thought she’d never blush again. She was wrong about that. “Do you want to do…that again?”

“Don’t you?” He didn’t sound sleepy anymore.

“As you wish.” She blinked back tears and finally made herself turn in his direction. She struggled to appear calm.

Apparently she failed.

“What is it, Philippa?” He frowned, more in puzzlement than irritation. “And don’t tell me I’m imagining that there’s something wrong.”

She stopped on the verge of saying just that and glanced toward the glowing embers in the hearth. She couldn’t bear to look at him. He was so beautiful and seeing him only reminded her of how marvelous he’d made her feel last night. “Please let me go,” she said tonelessly.

His hold tightened, making her pulse leap under his fingers. “No.”

Surprised she stared squarely at him for the first time since she’d woken. He didn’t look annoyed, although even she admitted that she acted like a ninnyhammer. Instead he looked determined. Which was much more daunting than anger. “I thought you were joking about the obedience.”

A faint smile teased his lips, but his eyes remained watchful. He raised the hand he held and kissed it. “That depends on what you intend to do next.”

Even as reaction shivered through her, she closed her eyes against tears. If only he wasn’t so considerate. If only he was the heartless rake she’d believed him to be. That man deserved to be saddled with a wife he didn’t want and a life he hadn’t planned. “Please—”

“Talk to me, Philippa.”

He released her, but his kiss still tingled on her skin, reminder of the hundreds of kisses he’d given her last night. He’d been so good to her, so generous. And she wasn’t worth his care. “This marriage isn’t what you wanted,” she said in a choked voice.

To her surprise, he greeted that with a soft laugh. “I thought the issue might be something like that.”

She waited for him to say that it didn’t matter, to lie. Ever since they’d been caught together, he’d done his best to shield her from the consequences of her actions, but that didn’t make him a willing participant in events. When the silence extended, she opened her eyes, pique stirring beneath self-castigation. “You were trapped into marrying me.”

He settled with a sigh against the headboard, his stare unwavering. An embroidered lady wearing a steepled head-dress peeped over his shoulder with faded eyes. “And now you’re torturing yourself with guilt.”

&nb