Free All I Want for Christmas Is a Duke by Delilah Marvelle, Máire Claremont

glass. He held it toward her. “Take it.”
    Reaching out, she took it, her fingers grazing his. Her hand trembled from the contact as she drew the glass away from that hand.
    He leaned against the desk and, holding her gaze, raised his filled glass in silent salute.
    Wanting to tamp down the nervousness she felt, knowing she was having a brandy with Mister X, she held up her glass in turn. Bringing the drink to her lips, she gulped down the welcoming smoky burn that warmed her tongue and throat. It was surprisingly divine and reminded her of exactly that: better days.
    Leveling the empty glass, she glanced toward the decanter. “I need one more glass. Before I can leave.”
    He slowly set aside the brandy he hadn’t touched. Picking up the decanter, he removed the crystal stopper and poured more brandy into her glass. “I didn’t realize you liked brandy.” His tone was low and conversational as he set the decanter back onto the silver tray.
    She fingered the filled glass. “I always had a glass of brandy before going onstage. It had a calming effect.” She lifted the cool glass to her lips again, savoring each additional sip.
    Martin took up his glass again, still leaning against the desk. Tilting it, he tossed the amber liquid back with impressive swiftness. He poured himself another glass. “I hope, in time, you will forgive me.” He tossed back another glass. A breath escaped him.
    She blinked, the warming effect of the brandy dazing her. She finished what was in her glass and settled against the desk close beside him, her skirts bundling against his thigh.
    He paused.
    She silently held up her glass.
    He silently refilled it.
    And then refilled his own.
    They drank glass after glass after glass in silence until all the brandy in the decanter was gone and Jane knew she was mentally and physically compromised.
    She held up her empty glass, trying to focus. “I think we need more brandy.”
    He eyed her. “I think we’ve had enough.”
    She huffed out a breath, knowing he was right.
    He slipped the empty glass out of her hand and set it back onto the tray with his own. He swiped his face and sat on the desk as if he were too exhausted to find a chair.
    She tucked herself up onto the desk as well, booted feet dangling. It reminded her of the days when they would sit atop the garden wall and drink lemonade. She missed those days. She had everything then but didn’t realize it. She’d thought she needed more. She thought she needed the world and the adventure and fame that her talent for singing could bring.
    Some adventure. She now spent her mornings using a boot to kill roaches.
    Repositioning herself beside him, and with the brandy now blurring the edges of reality, she blurted, “I’m not angry anymore. I forgive you. But only because you’re Martin. If it had been anyone else, I would have already left.”
    He glanced toward her, his dark eyes searching her face. “You forgive me?”
    She nodded and kicked her feet out and in, feeling very much like she was twenty again. She had no doubt the brandy had everything to do with it. “How many glasses of brandy do you think we drank?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
    “That isn’t good.”
    “No. It isn’t.”
    They sat in silence.
    Not wanting to sit in the awkward quiet a moment more, she poked at his trouser-clad leg. Like she used to when they were younger. When she was trying to get him to say something.
    He shifted toward her. “You poked me.”
    “I did.”
    “Which means you want me to say something.”
    He remembered. “I do.”
    He shifted his jaw. “What do you want me to say?”
    “The first thing that comes to mind.”
    “Are you certain of that?”
    “Quite.”
    He nodded and then asked, “Would you stay the night?”
    She snapped her mouth shut, stunned by his bluntness. She did ask him to say the first thing that came to mind.
    He tilted his head, watching her. “With the weather being what it is, you should stay. You