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

could take the guest room.”
    She could feel her face heating. Whilst she could tell he was being quite casual about it, the idea of staying a night, just down the corridor from him, now that they were both well over twenty, seemed risqué. “I can’t. I have a lesson in the morning. In fact, I should probably go.”
    He softly tapped a fist against his thigh. “Do you have to leave? Couldn’t you stay another hour? Or two?”
    If she stayed, heavens only knew if she’d have the ability to resist him. She, as a woman, knew when to go. She shook her head. “No. I can’t.”
    “Can you at least sing something for me before you go? I miss hearing you sing. You used to sing for me all the time. Do you remember?”
    She pursed her lips. “I probably shouldn’t. Not in my condition.”
    He nudged her. “In our condition, it will sound all the more beautiful. Don’t you think?”
    She couldn’t help but laugh. “You wish me to sing? Now?”
    “God, do I ever,” he rasped, stilling his tapping fist against his thigh. “Sing ‘Ah, Mio Prence.’ Then I will let you leave.”
    She was too astounded to object. “That was the first song I ever sang onstage.”
    He leaned in. “I know. I was there for it.”
    She blinked, almost unable to focus. “You were? You came to my debut?”
    “Yes.”
    “How is it that I didn’t know?”
    “Because I got caned for it and was confined for too many weeks to count.”
    Her heart squeezed, searching his face. “You got caned for attending my performance?”
    He leaned away and shrugged. “It didn’t hurt.”
    She lowered her chin. “You lie. If your father delivered the caning, it probably swelled for days.”
    “If it did, I don’t remember.”
    She slowly shook her head. Bless him. He had been there for the greatest moment in her life and she never knew. “Do you really want me to sing?” she whispered.
    “I won’t let you leave until you do.”
    She sighed. Better to sing than to stay. “I shall have to stand for it.” Sliding off the desk, the room tipped and she stumbled.
    Martin jumped toward her, catching her arm. He lurched, making them both stumble back toward the desk.
    She caught the desk and he caught her.
    Righting herself, she rolled her eyes. “This performance will be sadly compromised.”
    He slowly released her arm. “I don’t mind. I just want to hear you sing.”
    She pointed toward the desk. Or what she thought was the desk. “I need an audience. Sit.”
    He promptly did, spreading his booted feet. “All of London awaits.”
    “Give me a moment.” Setting a hand to her bodice, she admitted, “I’m not fully prepared. I usually have to loosen the strings on my corset to allow better breaths.”
    His bare hands slowly gripped the edge of the desk he was sitting on. “Did you need me to unlace you?”
    Her heart flipped. She pointed at him. “The laces stay on, Brandy Boy.”
    He stared. “I’m not that drunk.”
    “Oh, yes, you are. Or you wouldn’t have said it.” She wet her lips, knowing it had been quite some time since she sang for anyone outside of her students. “I must warn you. I’m out of practice.”
    He smiled. “I will revel in it all the same, I assure you.” He swept a hand toward her, announcing he was ready to be entertained.
    She nodded and steadied herself. Drawing in a full, well-embodied breath, she released the melody. Closing her eyes, she gave way to the lilting of her voice, taking it higher and higher. She had always felt like she was flying when she pushed her voice to obey. She sang and sang as if she were back onstage, letting her voice drift toward an audience that breathed when she breathed. Dropping her voice in finale, a lavish breath escaped her, knowing she hadn’t sung like that in years.
    Reopening her eyes, she exhaled.
    Martin stared at her heatedly for a long, pulsing moment. “Do you miss being onstage?”
    She swallowed, sensing he was looking at her the way all men had back in her