A Christmas Surprise Page 14

  Grace's father crossed his arms as he waited for Ewan to obey.

  Ewan stood up and shot daggers at Grace before marching out of the room, leaving the smell of brandy in his wake.

  "Sweetling, why don't you put down the decanter and head to bed? Why were you up, anyway?" her father asked gently as he took the decanter from her trembling hand.

  "I… I wanted to see Father Christmas," Grace replied, still terrified he'd see through her falsehood and punish her.

  "Ahh, I see." Winding his arms around her small frame he carried her off to bed.

  "We'll see the magic in the morning," he replied as he tucked her in, kissing the end of her nose.

  "All right, Papa." She watched him as he left, but couldn't sleep. Oh, Ewan was going to be so angry with her! Fear crept in her heart as she wondered how he'd retaliate. For if there was one thing she knew about Ewan, the future Duke of Greys, it was that he would get even someday.

  Chapter One

  "How's my pretty little liar tonight? Hmm?" Ewan Emmett, Duke of Greys asked.

  "Delightful, now that I'm dancing with you, your grace." The false sweetness dripped from Lady Grace Hashiver's lips with practiced execution. Her wide mouth pulled into a sarcastic smile that was all too familiar.

  He still loved to taunt and provoke her. Satisfaction settled in his chest at her reaction. "Ah, Grace, sarcasm does not become you."

  Her eyes narrowed. "It's Lady Grace to you." She spoke with a defiant tilt of her chin.

  "Most people are too intimidated to correct me. Tell me, where did I go wrong with you? A little humility, any semblance of respect from your lips would be manna from heaven. But I'm sure Hades would have to freeze over first?" he asked with a wicked grin, arching his eyebrow as he spoke the last words, knowing their truth.

  "Ah, you're smarter than you let on, your grace," she mocked, beaming at him.

  Unaffected, he continued with their banter. "Our little secret. After all, I wouldn't want to spoil the fun for all the blushing debutantes who only want me for my physique." Ewan waited for her prickly response. He knew how much she despised his teasing.

  "Yes, well, some value looks over anything else, including manners," Grace shot back while she offered him a dismissive look and focused her attention on the other dancers.

  "Ah, yes, the old 'manners' debate, but, we have digressed. Tell me, Grace dear, where did I go wrong with you? Haven't you the slightest tremble when I hold you in my arms, press myself close to you, lean down to whisper in your ear?" With a suppressed chuckle, he leaned down and pressed himself closer to her, teasing her with his legendary rakish charm, yet she never seemed the least bit affected.

  Perhaps that was why he was able to remain such close friends with Grace over the years. She never took his advances seriously, and he was able to tease, torment, and play to his heart's content.

  Yes, Grace never took him seriously, although a small part of his mind wondered what would happen if she did. In fact, a small part dared to hope for it, regardless of how he continued to silence the wild notion.

  ****

  Indeed Grace was not as unaffected as she seemed. Ewan was a constant reminder of everything she wanted but could never have. Ever since her little lie — rather, a large lie, which had caused him unforgivable punishment — she had written him off as a possible suitor. But that didn't stop her heart from fluttering when he asked for a waltz at each gathering they both attended.

  He had grown from the gangly eleven-year-old with too much confidence into a rake of the first order. If he even had the slightest idea that Grace dreamt of his wavy ebony hair, eyes the color of sapphire, and heart-stopping smile, he'd use it to his advantage, and she'd walk away ruined… in one way or another. So, to protect her heart and virtue, she reverted back into her eight-year-old attitudes, with the added benefit of an eighteen-year-old vocabulary.

  Taking a silent breath and resisting the urge to lean closer as his head dropped down, she focused on the question and tried to come up with a witty reply. Her quick tongue had been her salvation in dealing with the notorious charm of the Duke of Greys.

  "Ever since the summer you arrived to dinner clothed in a loincloth and a smile, I can't seem to be afraid." She looked at him in the eye, raising an eyebrow, and then allowed herself to be distracted from his handsome features by watching the swirling dancers. "I keep picturing that small boy with the scrawny legs whenever you smile at me, and I'm afraid, the mental image has stuck."

  She tossed her head back to look at Ewan full in the face. "It is exceedingly difficult to be afraid of you when that is what I remember." She allowed her gaze to sweep him from head to foot and waited with a defiant glare.

  ****

  Ewan grinned down at Grace, unaffected by her attempt at humbling him.

  "I looked quite dashing," he stated.

  "Dashing is exactly what you did. Too bad your attempted escape from your irate mother left you naked," she quipped back.

  "A delightful sight, if I do say so myself. You should consider yourself blessed. Many a woman would be eager for such an intimate view," he remarked, impervious to her attempt at injuring his considerable ego.

  "Odd. I don't remember being impressed." Her eyebrow rose in sarcasm as she dismissed him once again with her eyes.

  "I'm sure you would be now." His head dipped lower as he spoke the words, and though Ewan knew he was imagining things, he thought he could feel her heart pound wildly in response to his words.

  "I'm sure I wouldn't be." She spoke in low tones as she captured him with a direct gaze that eliminated the suspicions he had entertained only moments before.

  Ewan paused, gazing down at Grace. Her cinnamon and gold hair was twisted into some sort of fashionable confection, but he never stopped seeing the girl with the braids whenever he looked at her. Oh yes, he had been irate when she bested him that Christmas, lying to her father and effectively sentencing him to the harshest punishment he'd had in years. But that she had even done it and bested him, the Duke of Greys! That he'd never forget.

  Of all the women who simpered and cooed over him, fawning and throwing themselves, she never once had batted an eyelash or given him the 'come hither' stare. It annoyed him. She had bested him and she didn't give him the time of day.

  The only reason she even danced with him was because polite society demanded it. The first time he'd asked, he was sure she would turn him down. Oh, her eyes, the same color as her emerald earrings, had flashed fire. He had held his breath, half-hoping she'd give him a set down in the middle of the crowded room, and half-hoping she'd say yes and apply that passion to more worthy endeavors.

  Shaking his head he stopped the thought before it grew into more than it was worth. Grace would never consider a dalliance, not even a flirtation. No, he'd best think of her in the braids. Things would be much better that way.

  "I knew your vocabulary wasn't large, but I never thought you'd run out of intelligent conversation so quickly," Grace remarked, arching her eyebrow.

  Ewan pulled himself from his musings concerning Grace to offer her the reply he knew she was anticipating. "Ah, well, sadly, as we've discussed, I'm not usually sought out for my intelligent conversation, but for my… other… talents."

  He caressed her waist with his thumb and watched her narrow her eyes at his advances, trying to ignore the odd sensation in his chest as he tightened his hold on her.

  "Ah, I'll let you keep those talents to yourself," Grace said coolly.

  "Hmm, a waste on the likes of you."

  "I know I should be insulted, but I find that I'm not." Grace spoke dryly.

  "I could say the same," Ewan challenged, expecting Grace's offense to override her better judgment.

  She replied simply, "You probably should."

  He was disappointed that she hadn't taken the bait. "Touché."

  The waltz came to a close, and Ewan escorted Grace to the edge of the room and back to her mother's side. He tried not to smile because h
er arm was stiff, radiating the hostility he'd come to expect and somehow appreciate.

  He bowed to Grace's mother with practiced elegance. "Lady Jarvais, a pleasure. You grow more beautiful each time I have the delight of seeing you." Ewan leaned over to kiss the air above her hand.

  "Well, Ewan, you are quite the flatterer, but please, continue." Lady Jarvais leaned forward and playfully tapped Ewan with her fan.

  Grace's expression took on an exasperated grimace. It was no secret that Lady Jarvais adored him, much to Grace's chagrin. He continued to banter with her mother, leaving Grace out of the conversation simply to irritate her. How he enjoyed it, when her green eyes would narrow and the hostility rolled off her! Though he knew he was far too old for such childish impulses, he found he couldn't help himself. He doubted Grace was truly resentful of his friendship with her family; he simply assumed it was because he'd often used it as a lad to worm his way out of trouble.

  "Alas, your daughter doesn't find my company nearly as charming as you do. I'm afraid I'll never recover from her sharp tongue." He tilted his head slightly and winked at Grace, causing her to narrow her eyes.

  "Grace! Where are your manners? Why would you speak harshly to Ewan? Why, he's one of your oldest friends." Lady Jarvais gently scolded Grace, just as Ewan had hoped. The carefully contained fury on Grace's face was worth the tongue-lashing he'd surely receive later.

  ****

  "Mother," Grace started and then closed her eyes, collecting herself before she spoke without thinking. As she opened her eyes to reply, she turned her head and stopped, noticing the gentleman that had just entered the growing crowd.

  Light blond hair and dark brown eyes focused on her, and he smiled, revealing straight white teeth. Tilting her head, Grace gave herself the luxury of taking in his dress, the sculpting breeches, high-collared crisp white shirt and honey-colored cravat. The gentleman gave her a small nod and started in her direction. A minor blush warmed her face at being caught at brazenly staring at a man. She tried to recover her dignity and offer up a smile at the grinning man.

  ****

  Ewan was shocked when Grace stopped her much anticipated reply. Resisting the temptation of waving his hand in front of her face, he turned slightly to see what she was gawking at. Spencer Raleigh, Earl of Shiply. Anyone but Shiply! But of course Grace would find his angelic looks enticing. Hadn't scores of other debutantes believed the same? Eyeing Grace, he intended to set her straight but paused, noticing how she observed the gentleman from head to toe in a seductive fashion. Ewan doubted she even realized it.

  I want her to look at me like that, he thought, feeling the fire of jealousy burn in his gut as he realized that it wasn't that Grace was immune to charm in general, she was simply immune to him. Disregarding the offensive thought, he focused on Shiply's advance. He had to think fast, Shiply had targeted her and was sauntering over in an effort to secure an introduction.

  "Greys! I thought I saw you," Shiply said enthusiastically as he reached out to shake Ewan's hand.

  Trying to think of a way to keep him away from Grace, he paused, stalling for time. "Shiply, didn't expect to see you here. In fact, I know of a gentleman who wanted to speak with you, if you'll just…" He hoped Shiply would take the hint and leave, but Shiply waved him off and began another thread of conversation, one that led to Grace.

  "Why would I miss this crush? And who may I ask is this English flower?" he asked, turning toward Grace, offering her a seductive smile that made Ewan cringe.

  ****

  His eyes held her captive, and Grace felt as though she had stopped breathing, she was so lightheaded. She marveled at how gentle he was when he reached out and grasped her hand before kissing the air above it. Thought many gentleman had done the same, his administration had warmed her insides.

  "Ah, yes, this is Lady Jarvais and her daughter, Lady Grace." Ewan made the introductions, mumbling slightly. With a questioning glance, she waited for Ewan to offer up the stranger's name.

  When Ewan stared back stubbornly, challenging her with the slight squint of his eyes, she turned back to her new acquaintance. "You'll have to excuse Greys, he tends to mumble and forget his manners when he's foxed."

  Grace felt her eyebrow raise. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir…" She waited for him to fill in the blank. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ewan stiffen before settling on an unamused smirk.

  "Spencer Raleigh, Earl of Shiply, at your service," he said with a smile, and he offered her a playful bow. His light hair brushed his brow as he leaned down, adding a boyish charm to the already handsome man.

  ****

  "Excuse me, but I am not 'foxed', as you put it, Lady Grace," Ewan interrupted her conversation with Shiply. He tamped down the urge to get into fisticuffs with the flirting earl but barely. Why was Grace reacting in such a way? He disliked the emotions the arrival of Shiply had uncovered.

  "My mistake," she quipped, but never took her eyes off Shiply, which irritated Ewan even more.

  "Care to dance, Lady Grace?" The honeyed words dripped from Shiply's mouth, causing Ewan to fight a gag reflex. Some people had no class.

  "I'd be delighted." Grace's smile lit up her face, and Ewan found himself unable to look away. She truly had grown into a beautiful young woman, though when this had occurred was unknown to him.

  Her perfectly straight teeth flashed against full lips that reminded him of the crimson-colored sheets currently covering his bed. Aroused at the thought, he imagined her kiss, with those passionate green eyes closed in rapture. She bit her lower lip as she took Shiply's hand. Ewan found himself licking his own lips, wondering how her kiss would taste.

  Ewan mentally shook, pulling himself from his desirous thoughts, and focused on Grace's retreating form. He stood scowling and watching the pair dance and flirt, his mood darkening by the second.

  "Wipe that scowl from your face, Ewan. It's not as if she's never danced with anyone but you before," she chided, clicking her tongue.

  Ewan started slightly. He had all but forgotten about Lady Jarvais's presence. He turned toward the dear woman and tried to act the unconcerned rogue. "Yes, well, he's unsuitable. A rake, rogue… whatever you call the unsavory characters that prowl about, these days." He lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture toward Shiply.

  "Yes, and you yourself are nothing of the sort?" she asked as her eyebrows rose.

  He understood his hypocrisy as she gave him a disbelieving look. No. He wasn't any better. However, he wasn't the one trying to woo Grace, attempting to seduce her to his bed, make love to her until the far reaches of the morning…

  What am I thinking? His mind spun out of control imagining Grace in all those situations with him. The air was warmer, so he pulled on his collar. He also fought the urge to loosen his cravat.

  His eyes never left her twirling body, and he physically responded to her curves. Cursing, he looked away, willing his body to calm and forbidding his mind to think of her tempting body pressed against his. As he searched for a distraction, he noticed Lady Jarvais watching him with a curious expression on her face before it lit up in an understanding smile.

  "You're jealous." She spoke the words with awe. She looked thrilled. Ewan felt his stomach drop. No, he couldn't be jealous. Could he? But admitting she was correct would require him to acknowledge all the twisting emotions within his gut, and he refused to do that.

  No, he was not jealous. Annoyed, certainly. Straightening his collar, he faced Lady Jarvais. "I am nothing of the sort."

  Glancing back at the dance floor, he saw Grace give Shiply a flirtatious smile. His insides burned with a jealous rage. Perhaps he was jealous, although he would never admit it out loud. Ever.

  "You are so. It's written across your face, clear as day," Lady Jarvais remarked, still marveling. "You know, I saw this coming," she added, with an arrogant grin full of trouble. The way she tilted her chin reminded him of Grace.

  "You most certainly did not, because it is not happening. I'm not jealou
s!" He glanced up and muttered, "Especially of that arrogant cad, Shiply."

  After a moment he added, "Lady Grace has far more sense than to fall for the likes of that sort." He huffed, hoping he sounded more convincing than he felt.

  "Ah, and you'd be far better for her than Shiply." Lady Jarvais's green eyes twinkled as she challenged his claim.

  "Of course. Anyone would," he replied with little patience. Hadn't he already said as much?

  "Good. Then I trust you to make sure she'll be safe." She watched him expectantly.

  "Excuse me?" He looked at her as if she had lost all sense. What could she mean? As an available gentleman, he couldn't act as chaperon, nor would he want to, but Lady Jarvais knew that. Trepidation seeped into his chest as he watched Lady Jarvais grin.

  "Yes, Lord Jarvais is gone for business on our country estate in Sussex. He won't be back until a week before the Kringle Ball. Her brothers are all busy with their own families. There are only us two who can look out for poor Grace."

  With a touch of her fan on his shoulder, she continued, "I won't be able to be everywhere at once, so I'm enlisting your help. As a longtime family friend who has Grace's best interests at heart, I trust you to make sure she is safe from this unsavory Shiply character." She said 'Shiply' with mock terror as she widened her grin, not enough to mock him openly, but enough to issue a challenge — a challenge he was sure to take on, regardless of how his head told him to walk away.

  Ewan watched Lady Jarvais's face, trying to determine if she was in earnest or if she was trying to ferret out a reaction to affirm her suspicions. Could she be serious? Keep an eye on Grace? Although it wouldn't be difficult — he had always kept an eye on her — the thought of deliberately watching her flirt with Shiply, or anyone else for that matter, set his stomach on edge. However, if his present state of emotional upheaval remained constant, he would find himself watching her, regardless. He might as well have a good reason for his actions.

  Better to live in denial for a bit longer, he decided.

  "Fine, I'll help. But don't expect me to be gentle about it. She's far too headstrong for her own good. And you…" he glared at her, knowing it would fall short "…must tell her that I am responsible for her as well, so she won't fight my help or interference should it be required." Ewan nodded and folded his arms across his chest, causing the fabric of his evening coat to tense across his shoulders.