Read Online Under The Mistletoe by Mary Balogh - Free Book Online

her, and bowed. She stepped inside, and he closed the door from the outside.
    What had happened to the warmly happy woman he had seen a few times in the course of the day? he wondered. She seemed to have disappeared. Was this to be an ordeal to her? And why would he want it when the two weeks following their wedding had brought him no pleasure at all?
    But he was mortally tired of wondering and guessing. He wanted her. It was up to him, he supposed, to bed her in such a way that at least it would not be a repulsive experience for her. But damn it, that was exactly the attitude with which he had approached her bed during those two ghastly weeks. It was up to him to see to it that their coupling was a pleasurable experience for her.
    He turned in the direction of his own room, next to his wife’s.
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    Elizabeth stood looking out through the window. The snow had stopped falling, but the sky must still be cloudy. There was not a star in sight. The snow made the landscape unnaturally bright, though. It was Christmas Eve, soon to be Christmas Day
    She shivered. Not that she was really cold. There was a fire burning in the hearth, and she was wearing a long-sleeved, high-necked nightgown—the lace-trimmed one she had worn on her wedding night last year. Indeed, she felt almost too warm.
    With what high expectations she had awaited him on that night just a little over a year ago. She had fully expected a happily-ever-after. How disappointed she had been.
    And this year? Did she have expectations now? She knew what it would feel like, not unpleasant but . . . disappointing. She longed for it anyway, for that touch of intimacy, that illusion of closeness.
    And what were her expectations of the future? Was there a future? It was best not to think of it. After all, there never was a future, only an eternal present moment, all too often lost because human nature had a tendency to yearn toward the nonexistent future. What did it matter that he might leave the day after tomorrow and not return for months or even a year? Tonight he was here, and he was coming to her bed.
    There was a light tap on the door of her bedchamber even as she thought it, and it opened before she could either cross the room or call out.
    He was wearing a long dressing robe of green brocade with slippers. His blond hair had been brushed until it shone. He was freshly shaved.
    It was like their wedding night all over again. Elizabeth could hear her heartbeat thudding in her ears. She clasped her hands loosely before her and concentrated upon relaxing, or at least upon not showing any of the turmoil of her feelings.
    â€œYou told me you have always hated Christmas,” he said, coming closer to her. “Are you hating this one too, Elizabeth?”
    â€œNo, of course not,” she said.
    He stopped a foot or so away from her.
    â€œBecause I am the one asking you, and it would not be at all the thing to say yes?” he asked her, tipping his head a little to one side and looking closely at her.
    She frowned slightly before smoothing out her expression again. What did he mean? She did not know how to reply.
    â€œI am enjoying it more than I expected when I arrived,” he said.
    â€œI am glad,” she told him.
    â€œAre you?” He reached out one hand and took one lock of her hair between his fingers—she had had her maid leave it loose.
    It was one of their usual conversations, saying nothing and leading nowhere. She had always felt more awkward with him than with any other man of her acquaintance.
    He bent his head then and kissed her.
    She was taken totally by surprise. This was different from their wedding night.
    He did not immediately draw back. Instead he parted his lips and settled them more comfortably over her own. She tasted heat andmoisture and wine. At the same time he settled his hands on either side of her waist and drew her against him. She lifted her hands and set them on his shoulders—broad, solidly