Read Online The Duke of Christmas Past by Kim Bowman - Free Book Online
Authors: Kim Bowman
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imagination is remarkable. He could turn this into
quite a parody."
Donovan harrumphed. "If I start babbling nonsense
about returning to the past, everyone will think I've gone daft.
I'm still not certain I haven't." But he wanted to talk about it —
needed to talk about it. Yet finding the words to explain it seemed
an impossibility. Perhaps he would share the story with young
Charles.
The other him rubbed his chin. "True. True. Best to
keep it to yourself." He dropped his hands and bowed. "Well, it
wasn't easy, but my work here is done. Have a care with our future,
Donovan Ellis. I'm sure you have about as much interest in seeing
me again as I have in seeing you."
The glow around Past Duke intensified, and he floated
toward the bay window. "Wait!" Donovan yelled.
The beam of illumination grew brighter and the figure
within it became dull, indiscernible. Then nothing.
Blasted ghost! The least he could have done was
tell me if I really fixed things. He could leave his study to
find out, but what if—
"There you are."
That voice. That honey-sweet voice. Her voice. Behind
him, speaking as naturally as if…
As if they really had married.
Donovan spun around. "Tess," he whispered.
She stood in the study doorway. The white gown with
pale blue lacing hugged her curves. "We really should be
going."
He started toward her then paused. Was she real? Or
was she a figment of his imagination, a dream? He stumbled forward
and reached out to her. When his fingers touched her arm, a jolt of
exquisite delight rushed through his body. She was here and she was
real. He jerked her to him in a fierce hug, nearly knocking her off
her feet.
"Donovan Ellis, what has gotten into you? Are you
foxed?"
He laughed, a deep, hearty chuckle. The sound was
foreign to his ears. When was the last time he'd laughed? "You are
the third person tonight — myself included — to make that
accusation."
Tess furrowed her brow. "Um… the third per—"
He took her mouth in a hungry kiss. One he'd been
waiting eight years to bestow upon her. With the slightest bit of
urging, she let him deepen the kiss. Her warm fingers caressed his
cheeks and he moaned. The touch of her, the smell of her had him on
fire with desire.
Reluctantly, he broke the kiss. "How I've missed
you."
Tess laughed. "Is that a jab at how long it took me
to get ready?" Her hands drifted to his chest. His pulse soared.
"You could have used the time to dress for the Kringles' ball, you
know."
"Will, umm…" He stopped, cleared his throat. He tried
to force himself to say the words, but he couldn't do it. Heaven
help him, he couldn't do it, didn't want to know.
Tess lifted her brows. "Yes…"
"Will… will Delia be there?"
Tess furrowed her brow. "Of course not."
Grief exploded in his heart. Donovan stumbled
backward. His hand grazed the edge of the desk, and he sank to the
floor. Dread seeped into the pit of his stomach. Bile rose in his
throat. He wanted to rip the traitorous heart from his chest. How
could he be so happy, even overjoyed, when Delia's fate hadn't
changed? She'd still died.
"Donovan!" Tess dropped to her knees in front of him,
took his face in her hands. "What's happened? Are you unwell?
Should I send for the doctor?"
He stared, unseeing. Her voice was no more than a
faint whisper. How could this be? It had all been for naught. How
could he be happy when Delia had still died? How could he—
"…Delia and Henry tomorrow. They can make our excuses
to John and Elizabeth Dickens. I'll send word we must delay—"
Donovan grabbed her hands. "What did you just
say?"
"I said we can't possibly make the trip to Guildford
if you've taken ill."
Memories rushed back to him so quickly he became
lightheaded. The room started spinning, blurring everything. Delia
was alive and well and living in Guildford, awaiting the arrival of
her third child. And she was happy. Deliriously so. Almost as happy
as he and Tess. Their son was in Guildford with Delia and Henry. He
had a
quite a parody."
Donovan harrumphed. "If I start babbling nonsense
about returning to the past, everyone will think I've gone daft.
I'm still not certain I haven't." But he wanted to talk about it —
needed to talk about it. Yet finding the words to explain it seemed
an impossibility. Perhaps he would share the story with young
Charles.
The other him rubbed his chin. "True. True. Best to
keep it to yourself." He dropped his hands and bowed. "Well, it
wasn't easy, but my work here is done. Have a care with our future,
Donovan Ellis. I'm sure you have about as much interest in seeing
me again as I have in seeing you."
The glow around Past Duke intensified, and he floated
toward the bay window. "Wait!" Donovan yelled.
The beam of illumination grew brighter and the figure
within it became dull, indiscernible. Then nothing.
Blasted ghost! The least he could have done was
tell me if I really fixed things. He could leave his study to
find out, but what if—
"There you are."
That voice. That honey-sweet voice. Her voice. Behind
him, speaking as naturally as if…
As if they really had married.
Donovan spun around. "Tess," he whispered.
She stood in the study doorway. The white gown with
pale blue lacing hugged her curves. "We really should be
going."
He started toward her then paused. Was she real? Or
was she a figment of his imagination, a dream? He stumbled forward
and reached out to her. When his fingers touched her arm, a jolt of
exquisite delight rushed through his body. She was here and she was
real. He jerked her to him in a fierce hug, nearly knocking her off
her feet.
"Donovan Ellis, what has gotten into you? Are you
foxed?"
He laughed, a deep, hearty chuckle. The sound was
foreign to his ears. When was the last time he'd laughed? "You are
the third person tonight — myself included — to make that
accusation."
Tess furrowed her brow. "Um… the third per—"
He took her mouth in a hungry kiss. One he'd been
waiting eight years to bestow upon her. With the slightest bit of
urging, she let him deepen the kiss. Her warm fingers caressed his
cheeks and he moaned. The touch of her, the smell of her had him on
fire with desire.
Reluctantly, he broke the kiss. "How I've missed
you."
Tess laughed. "Is that a jab at how long it took me
to get ready?" Her hands drifted to his chest. His pulse soared.
"You could have used the time to dress for the Kringles' ball, you
know."
"Will, umm…" He stopped, cleared his throat. He tried
to force himself to say the words, but he couldn't do it. Heaven
help him, he couldn't do it, didn't want to know.
Tess lifted her brows. "Yes…"
"Will… will Delia be there?"
Tess furrowed her brow. "Of course not."
Grief exploded in his heart. Donovan stumbled
backward. His hand grazed the edge of the desk, and he sank to the
floor. Dread seeped into the pit of his stomach. Bile rose in his
throat. He wanted to rip the traitorous heart from his chest. How
could he be so happy, even overjoyed, when Delia's fate hadn't
changed? She'd still died.
"Donovan!" Tess dropped to her knees in front of him,
took his face in her hands. "What's happened? Are you unwell?
Should I send for the doctor?"
He stared, unseeing. Her voice was no more than a
faint whisper. How could this be? It had all been for naught. How
could he be happy when Delia had still died? How could he—
"…Delia and Henry tomorrow. They can make our excuses
to John and Elizabeth Dickens. I'll send word we must delay—"
Donovan grabbed her hands. "What did you just
say?"
"I said we can't possibly make the trip to Guildford
if you've taken ill."
Memories rushed back to him so quickly he became
lightheaded. The room started spinning, blurring everything. Delia
was alive and well and living in Guildford, awaiting the arrival of
her third child. And she was happy. Deliriously so. Almost as happy
as he and Tess. Their son was in Guildford with Delia and Henry. He
had a
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