On A Cold Christmas Eve Read Free Page B

wasn't a bear, but rather a great beast of a dog, one with dark, soulful eyes that seemed to be watching her intently.
    When the dog realized that she was awake, he sat up and emitted one low, mournful howl and then settled back down, crushing the breath from her once again.  "Fenster!  Down!"  It was only the sharp command of a deep male voice that made the dog rise and leap away, easing the pressure that had been preventing her from drawing a normal breath.
    Down?
    Sitting up a bit, Lucy realized that she was lying in a bed much softer than she'd even been in, her form piled high with thick blankets and an assortment of coverlets and pillows.  To her left, she could see a woman with steel-gray hair tucked up under a cap snoozing peacefully in a chair.  She was snoring so loudly that Lucy had no idea how she'd not heard that before.
    "Wondered how long you'd sleep through Ethel's rumblings," the deep voice said and Lucy turned just in time to see the most strikingly handsome man she'd ever laid eyes upon rise and cross the room to stand by the bed.  The Duke of Enwright himself.  She had succeeded, though she hadn't a clue how she'd accomplished it.  "Actually, I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever wake up."  He frowned at that, as if he hadn't wanted to even consider the possibility.
    Looking around, Lucy knew that there was no possible way she was back in her uncle's home.  Firstly, she'd never been treated this well there, and secondly, her uncle was so cheap that he'd never, ever, allow a maid to sit and watch her sleep.  That would have been too wasteful.  Wherever she was, it wasn't the Mayfair house she'd last slept in only days before.
    "Where am I?" she managed to ask, even though her throat was parched, and she felt as if she hadn't spoken in a week.  Considering that the last thing she remembered was the hard, driving rain slowly changing to snow, maybe she hadn't.
    Instead of immediately replying, the man in front of her sketched a deep bow before rising again with a grin.  "Lady Lucy Cavendish, may I welcome you to Overlook Hill, country estate of the Duke of Enwright.  Which," he said with a smile, one that reached his eyes and made him all the more handsome, "just happens to be me."
    She should have been surprised that he knew her name, but she wasn't.  He was a duke, after all, with more connections than she could ever hope to have.  Not to mention that she doubted there were many society misses who were currently missing.  It wouldn't have taken long for him to deduce who she was.  In fact, she didn't doubt that he had a full dossier on her already waiting on his desk.  That was simply how men like Adam St. Vincent conducted business, even that of a personal nature.
    Lucy took a moment to gather her thoughts and study the man in front of her the way she had always wished to in the ballrooms of London.  At the moment, he wore no cravat and his shirt open at the throat to reveal a sprinkling of dark hair on his chest that matched the dark and thickly curly hair on his head.  He was beyond tall and his shoulders were the broadest she'd ever seen.  They were, quite simply, massive, tapering down to a narrow waist.  His calves were encased in riding boots, but his thighs were heavily muscled, at least if the way the fabric of his breeches stretched over them was any indication.  She had lusted over his body behind her fan many times, but now, in this bedroom, it was different.  More intimate.
    It was his eyes, though, that completely transfixed her.  A rich, deep brown, they seemed to hold all of the secrets of the universe, as well as things of a darker and far more sensual nature.  They were also guarded, as if he was as unsure of her as she was of him.  This situation was highly improper, but at the moment, she didn't particularly care.  It was unlikely that anyone would discover that she'd been here, not to mention that, at the moment, she had far more pressing problems to