"I cannot believe you consider me so fearsome. But I may see how to put this knowledge to good use in future." Lorelei snuggled into his embrace, her heart filled to overflowing. "I had always thought this was impossible. It is still hard to believe."
"It is. But then Fate put us together, despite Martin's well-meaning attempts. Clearly this is the proverbial match made in heaven. How can we go against what the angels have decreed?"
"That is quite the fanciful speech, Desmond."
"And every word is the truth."
She kissed him. "I propose you deliver it each year, to commemorate the fanciful way in which we met. And to celebrate another year of happiness."
"I agree. And we shall give Martin credit. Oh, and there must be mistletoe, of course."
"Of course. I hope you have some now."
He pulled out a bunch, laden with white berries. "This should prove to be a good start."
She grinned, tugging on his hand, leading him towards the nearby settee. "Indeed. A very good start."
Epilogue
One year later
Lorelei tucked a sprig of mistletoe into the bandeau holding her curls in place. She had festooned the house with the greenery, but chose to leave ivy out of the decorations. She had become quite fond of overindulgence, thanks to Desmond. He had insisted no amount of the flora could possibly keep him from pleasing his bride over and over.
She turned as she heard him entering the room. Her heart did the same excited jig it always did when she saw him. How had she ever believed it would be different?
He approached her slowly, his eyes filled with appreciation. "Our guests are due to arrive shortly, yet you are inspiring the most devilish thoughts."
She gave his lips a light kiss. "I could drape myself with strands of ivy."
"It would only inspire me more." He wrapped his arms around her. "Reminding me of the first time you decorated my home. Now it is our home."
"A home which will soon be filled with children—"
"I am looking forward to Caroline and Henry coming round."
Lorelei took his hand and placed it against her stomach, pressing lightly against the small bump hidden by her dress. His eyebrows shot up as he realized what she meant.
"See what our overindulgence has wrought?" she teased.
He kissed her lovingly. "I have always been convinced it was a wondrous quality. Now you have proved it true." He sighed before pulling her even closer. "I love you, Lorelei the temptress. Every day I tell myself my life is absolutely perfect, and I marvel at how I can be so fortunate."
"I love you, Desmond, more than I ever dreamed possible."
He glanced at the mistletoe in her hair, counting how many berries it contained. "I wonder how many of those will be remaining when everyone else arrives."
"I would guess not many. But I have tucked several sprigs about the house, in case we should need to replenish them."
Desmond grinned. "I shall know where to meet you then."
"And I will always be waiting for you there."
The End
About Donna Cummings
I have worked as an attorney, winery tasting room manager, and retail business owner, but nothing beats the thrill of writing humorously-ever-after romances. I reside in New England, although I fantasize about spending the rest of my days in a tropical locale, wearing flip flops year-round, or in Regency London, scandalizing the ton.
You can find details of her work at
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WHILE YOU WERE ROGUISH
~ An Everly Manor Happily Ever After ~
by
SAMANTHA GRACE
She’s making a list…
When Lady Hadley answers the call to help prepare her cousin’s newly inherited house for Christmas, there is much to do. Hire staff, dust every corner, hang garland… Handling a half-naked man found rummaging in the kitchen is not on her list. When Bess realizes he’s foxed and learns he has a reputation for being wild, she decides to teach him a lesson. Instead, he reignites a fiery passion in her that almost led to her ruin years ago—and threatens to consume her now.
He’s in the naughty column…
Lord Julius Everly is in danger of freezing when his horse dumps him in a creek during a brutal winter storm. Fortunately, his lady neighbors are the hospitable sort. Not only is he given shelter and a warm bed to pass the night, it appears he and the lovely widow making calf-eyes at him the next morning made good use of it. It’s too bad he can’t remember a thing, including asking her to marry him. When Bess’s guilty conscience forces her to confess to lying, Julius can’t deny the truth. She is his other half, and he’ll risk anything to have her.
Chapter One
“Raise your cups, chaps.” Julius Everly thrust a pewter tankard overhead. Ale sloshed over the side and soaked his jacket sleeve, but he barreled on with his toast. “To Clive, may your bachelorhood rest in peace.”
“Huzzah!” The Sleepy Owl Inn and Tavern erupted as the proprietors stomped their feet or hammered fists against a scarred slab table that stretched more than halfway across the room. The floor shuddered from the thunderous ruckus.
Clive’s chiseled jaw was firmer than usual as he flicked bored glances at their drinking companions. “Chaps? Do you know any of these men?”
“No man is a stranger when the drink flows freely,” Julius yelled above the din.
Clive cursed into the tankard before taking a long swig. Julius laughed. His older brother hated being made into a spectacle. Julius, on the other hand, had grown accustomed to being the subject of gossip. Sometimes he started the rumors himself for a lark when he grew bored in London.
In the pastoral village of Chiddingstone, a few miles west of Everly Manor, teasing his brother into a better mood was the only entertainment to be had. Julius’s playful pokes, however, did not indicate a lack of sympathy for Clive’s predicament. The poor man hadn’t been allowed a moment of peace since their parents’ house party guests started arriving two days ago. Julius’s older brother would be unbearable by Twelfth Night unless he took control of the situation.
“I’ve always found the direct approach to work well with the ladies,” Julius said.
A tussle broke out between two men across the table. An elbow banged against the edge, spilling Clive’s drink. “Make them go away,” he growled at Julius.
“Our parents’ guests or our drinking companions?”
His brother allowed his glower to speak on his behalf.
Julius stood and snapped his fingers. “Go, all of you. The barkeeper will serve one more round.” He caught the tavern owner’s eye; the man acknowledged the request with a sharp nod.
No one complained about the rude dismissal as they lugged themselves from the benches. With the bulk of men crowding the bar, the noise level improved. The same couldn’t be said about Clive’s disposition. His brother's frown was something fierce to behold—a trait he’d inherited from their Danish mother.