Free Mischief & Mistletoe (A Christmas Novella) by Tanya Anne Crosby

within.
    None too chivalrously, he spat another oath at the sight of her and jerked the sheets clear to his chin. “Doesn’t anybody in this infernal house knock?” he asked, incensed.
    Emma stiffened at his accusation, though it didn’t keep her from entering and nearing his bedside. “Even sick you are debauched,” she said, frowning. “Lord, can you never cease with the profanity?”
    Debauched, was he?
    She didn’t know the half of it, Lucien thought wryly. The sight of her warmed his blood like mere blankets never could have. He groaned, lifting his knee to conceal tell tale evidence. “I seem to recall that you’ve developed quite an aptitude for language yourself, Miss Peters.”
    “Yes, well...” She eyed him none too benevolently. “You seem to bring out the worst in me,” she conceded. “Do I see that you are perspiring?”
    Despite the glare she gave him, she came closer still, standing beside the bed now. She reached out to place the back of her hand, almost timidly, to his cheek.
    Bloody hell, it was all Lucien could do not to seize it and press it more firmly against his heated flesh. He craved her touch like a Scot craved whiskey.
    “My, but you are warm!” she told him with great concern.
    No small wonder, Lucien thought, when she bent over him, once again baring her décolletage. He tried not to look at the bounty set before him. No Christmas feast had ever tempted him more. Dressed in deep rose, the color only enhanced the flush of her skin, and he couldn’t help but think she’d never looked so ravishing. Her hair had been lifted artfully and fell in gentle ringlets about her face, framing it perfectly. Her lush lips appeared the same color as that of her too provocative gown and he wondered what they would look like after being thoroughly kissed.
    The monster beneath the covers stirred feverishly.
    Damn.
    She took in his disheveled appearance, the flush of his skin, and shook her head with obvious concern. “In fact, you look quite dreadful!” she announced. “You should be thankful the children were playing outside your door and heard you,” she added. “Were it not for them, I would never would have known to come.”
    He cocked a brow. “Really?”
    “Truly,” she said, lifting her chin. “You should thank them profusely.”
    “At the first opportunity,” he agreed.
    Thank them, indeed.
    At the instant, he was torn between spanking their rotten hides and giving them the finest, grandest gifts they had ever beheld in all their lives—whatever that may be.
    Were it not for the children, he would have been long gone by now, and he wouldn’t have the slightest clue how his fiancé had blossomed.
    In fact, she was exquisite, and any doubt that he might not be attracted to her was gone. If the beast between his legs had any say in the matter, he would be begging her forgiveness and rushing her away to the altar.
    But he wasn’t simply the sum of his parts, he told himself. He was a rationale man with good reason to wish to protect her… except that his resolve had gone missing along with his clothes.
    Lucien simply stared at her, knowing she couldn’t possibly discern the imminent danger her virtue was in at the moment.
    “I think you should go,” he said without much conviction.
    Her brows knit. “Tell me where it hurts?”
    Lucien was quite certain she didn’t wish to know.
    Neither of his pains were quite suitable for tender ears to hear. He was on the verge of telling her that he was perfectly fine, that he could only be better if they would simply give him back his infernal clothes and his blasted carriage wheels, and then she knelt beside the bed and took his breath away.
    The scent of lavender drifted over the sheets, heady and sweet.
    She blinked and her deep brown eyes peered at him with such distress that it made him feel strangely warm.
    He held his breath so long that his lungs began to ache and his eyes locked upon her luscious cleavage, now taunting him at