Page 83 of The Mistletoe Dare

His large hand grasped hers. “Ah, Georgie. I’m going to miss ye something fierce, ma bonnie girl. Be happy, aye? Or I’ll have to fetch ye back again.”

Georgie swallowed a sob and hugged him tightly. “I’ll miss you too, Pa.”

He gave her a bear hug, the kind that had always made her feel better as a child.

“I love ye.”

“Love you too.”

Papa sniffed and cleared his throat. “Away with ye, now, duchess. Ye have a husband, and a new life awaiting ye, and… and I’m so proud of you I could burst,” he added, his deep voice unsteady.

Georgie kissed his cheek and turned away before her composure deserted her entirely, to find Rochford waiting for her. His gaze was intent, and Georgie smiled nervously as he held out his hand to her.

“I’ll take good care of her,” he promised her family, before helping her up into the carriage.

And then they were on their way.

The so-called ‘small property’ in Wick that Rochford had neglected for so long turned out to be a fine Palladian country house on a large estate about two miles outside of town. It was also in excellent repair, a fact that became evident as the housekeeper greeted them and showed Georgie the main rooms before taking them to their private apartment.

“How strange that I see no sign of extensive building work underway, your grace,” Georgie remarked, once they had been left alone.

“I only employ neat builders,” Rochford replied gravely.

“And if you consider this a small property, I am quite terrified at the prospect of living at Mulcaster.”

“As well you should be,” he replied, which was not entirely encouraging. “It’s vast, and draughty, and bloody inconvenient, and bits fall off it with alarming regularity.”

“Home sweet home,” Georgie said wryly.

Rochford hesitated, looking anxious. “I told you Mulcaster was not the most welcoming of homes. It’s yours now, though, love. So you must do with it as you wish, but… I wasn’t entirely honest about this place.”

“Oh?” Georgie asked, though it was obvious there had been no renovation done here recently.

“I only just bought it,” he confessed, looking sheepish.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I didn’t own it when I first arrived at Wildsyde. That was a lie. I’ve spent the time looking for somewhere close to your parents so you could visit them when you wanted to, but we didn’t have to stay with them. Not that I don’t appreciate their hospitality, but—”

Georgie burst out laughing. “Oh, Rochford. You wicked man. You made up the entire story.”

“Of course I did. I had to have a reason for turning up on your doorstep, didn’t I?” he protested.

“I thought I’d given you a good enough reason,” Georgie said, walking closer to the window and looking out. It was raining now, unsurprisingly, and a fine mist had covered the landscape, shrouding it in grey smoke.

“For turning up in a month, or a week or two perhaps, yes,” he admitted, and Georgie’s heart picked up as she heard his steps grow closer to her. “But not the same day.”

“You’re very impatient,” she said, hearing her voice quaver as she became increasingly breathless. He was standing close behind her now, the heat of him warming her back as if she stood before a fire.

“I am,” he admitted. “The past months have been a dreadful strain.”

“Poor Alden,” she whispered. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly now, the pretty corset she’d worn especially for him suddenly far too tight.

“I love the way you say my name,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair.

“Alden,” she said again, smiling as he breathed in her scent and his arms went around her.

“Are you frightened?” he asked, his voice low.