Free Deck The Halls With Love: Lost Lords Of Pembrook Novella by Lorraine Heath

something will come of it.”
    Tightening his hold on her, he asked, “And what of us? Will anything come of us?”
    “I’m not quite sure. It depends on you, I suppose. You should know that within my pocket I have a slip of paper for every lady you intend to dance with tonight. I want all of your dances.”
    “You shall have them.”
    “You should also be aware that Father threatened to take away my dowry if I didn’t marry Litton. I suppose he knew I had reservations and thought to dispense with them. I don’t know if he’ll carry through on his threat.”
    “I’ve told you before that I don’t give a damn about your dowry.”
    She took a deep breath. “I don’t love Litton. I never did, but he seemed a pleasant enough sort, and he made me feel appreciated. I thought I would be content with him, but then I discovered something I wanted more. Just a few moments ago, I cried off with him. He plans to tell everyone about the tryst in the garden. I shall be ruined.”
    “Lovely chap. I shall introduce him to my fist later. But right this moment you do know that the best way to stop gossip is to give people something far more interesting to talk about.”
    She nodded. “I never stopped loving you.”
    His heart contracted, then expanded, and he thought it might burst through his chest. “That’s good, because I have loved you from the night we met, and I shall love you until the day I die.”
    “Then kiss me now.”
    And he did. He stopped dancing, folded his arms around her, and lowered his mouth to hers. He heard the slowing of feet, a few gasps, some chuckles, a clap or two. Yes, they would be the talk of high society. But he wasn’t quite done.
    Breaking off the kiss, he held her warm gaze for but a moment before going down on bended knee and taking her hand.
    All dancing halted. The music stopped.
    “Merry, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, my marchioness, the mother of my children? Will you be my love for as long as I draw breath?”
    Tears welled in her eyes, as she pressed a trembling hand to her lips. “Oh, Chetwyn, yes, of course.”
    Taking from his pocket a ring with small emeralds that matched her eyes, he slipped it onto her finger. At her stunned expression, he couldn’t help but smile. “I told you, Merry, that first night that you were the reason I was here. Happy Christmas, my love.”
    Standing, he kissed her again as a rousing cheer went up from those who surrounded them. As her arms closed around his neck, he pulled her in against the curve of his body and held her tighter. It was going to be a very lovely Christmas for them both. The first of many.

 
    Read on for a thrilling peek at the final book in
the Lost Lords of Pembrook trilogy,
    LORD OF WICKED INTENTIONS,
    by New York Times bestseller Lorraine Heath
from Avon Books,
May 2013

 
    An Excerpt from
    LORD OF WICKED INTENTIONS
    T he invitation came because of a debt owed. Owed to him. All debts were owed to him, while he owed no man anything. Not his friendship, not his loyalty, not his kindness. And certainly not his hard-earned coin.
    But the Earl of Wortham, a man of little worth , Rafe Easton thought snidely, did owe him a good deal of coin, which was the reason that he was allowed into the earl’s magnificent library. He wondered briefly how long it would be before it was stripped of all the former owner’s prized possessions. The late earl had left his son with little, and what remained had been quickly gambled away in Rafe’s club.
    The man wanted his credit extended, and so for tonight he pretended a friendship with the Rakehell Club’s owner.
    Drinking fine Scotch that the earl could scarce afford, Rafe lounged insolently in a chair near the fireplace while the other lords mingled about, chuckled, chatted, and downed far too much liquor. They were a randy lot. He could sense their eagerness and anticipation hovering thickly about the room.
    The young earl had a sister, although he didn’t recognize her as