A Holiday Proposal by Bianca Blythe

Author:Bianca Blythe [Blythe, Bianca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Rogue, Rake, bluestocking, christms, Holiday, Regency, victoria
Publisher: Bianca Blythe
Published: 2019-11-19T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TRISTAN KNEW HE SHOULDN’T listen to the prince, despite his title and despite his importance.

He didn’t need to kiss Irene.

The prince was teasing him. It simply meant the prince was comfortable, and that today’s long meeting had been a success, even if it hadn’t ended with the desired signature.

And yet...

Irene’s cheeks had pinkened in a delightful manner. Ringlets framed her face alluringly, and she stared at him.

He gazed at her eyes. How had it never occurred to him that green was the loveliest color in the world? Her eyes were soft and gentle, framed by long lashes that swooped up and down.

He wanted to pull Irene closer to him.

He wanted to hold her in his arms again.

And he wanted to kiss her.

Truly kiss her.

And so he did.

His lips danced with hers, and his heart beat. Her slender form fit perfectly in his arms.

Tristan remembered where he was and stepped away.

He stared at Irene, despising that even now he longed to continue to kiss her. He wanted to press his lips against her throat, and he wanted to trail kisses to her bodice.

He’d acted horrendously. Irene was an innocent. And he’d kissed her. Truly, truly kissed her. He fought the urge to pull her back to him.

“The evening is finished,” he said, his voice rough.

“Naturally. We are encroaching on your time together,” the prince said. “I have forgotten that you are newlyweds.”

“So romantic.” The princess turned to her maid. “Come Elena.”

They left the room, and when the sound of their footsteps padding on the floorboards halted, Tristan remembered to breathe.

“I’ll take you home,” Tristan whispered. “I—I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She averted her gaze, and her cheeks remained pink, as if still horrified. “It was the mistletoe.”

Tristan nodded.

But it hadn’t just been about the mistletoe.

It had been about...Irene.

Tristan had long ago learned that kisses were unequally divided in excellence. Sometimes kissing even the prettiest actresses and widows was surprisingly unsatisfactory, despite those women possessing a beauty that any observer would confirm.

But he hadn’t been disappointed when he’d kissed Irene.

He’d been shaken.

Their lips had melded together. The kiss had been, simply, splendid.

They were quiet as they exited the manor house and strode toward the castle. The stars twinkled above, but Tristan didn’t want to think about romance.

Thinking about romance might make him kiss her again, and that would not do.

“I’m sorry about dragging you here,” Tristan said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Owning Hades’ Lair is your dream.”

“It’s not a good dream,” Tristan admitted.

Irene raised an eyebrow and observed him. “What makes you say that?”

“Well. I should desire to stay here, right? To take care of this manor house? And I will. I mean, if I manage to buy the gaming hell, I will do that. I’ll just have to hire an estate manager to look after things. In fact, I already have an estate manager, so he simply wouldn’t be losing his job.” Tristan laughed weakly. “I don’t intend to terminate any of the servants. I would still visit on occasion.”

“Like Christmas?” she asked.

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