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This façade of a marriage wasn’t at all what he’d expected. From the moment Charlotte had sat upon his lap just now, he’d gone instantly hard. He’d wanted to push up her nightgown and pull her on to his aching erection, sliding deep within her.

He gripped his shaft, sliding the tips of his fingers against the bead of moisture at the head, and his breathing grew rough and untamed.

When she’d asked him to kiss her, he’d deliberately avoided her mouth. He didn’t want to push past that barrier of intimacy, so instead, he’d kissed her throat. At the time, he’d thought it would mean little, but she’d been incredibly responsive to his touch. Her hands had dug into his hair, and she’d pressed her soft bottom against him.

He stroked himself in a slow rhythm, remembering the scent of her skin, and the way she’d grown aroused at his touch.

He should have ignored the rules and brought her up here with him. It would have taken only seconds to strip away that thin nightgown, and he could be inside her at this very moment.

He imagined what it would feel like to make love to his own wife. He’d deliberately teased her with that mistletoe, and he hadn’t missed the way she’d inhaled sharply, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he’d tantalised her with the berries. Then he’d stroked her nipples through the nightgown, and it was all he could do to maintain control.

If she were here now, he would cup her breasts, using his tongue to arouse her even more.

Alaric’s hand moved in rhythm to the vision, faster and faster, until he seized up and a blissful release poured through him.

You could have brought her to your bed, he told himself. The vision could have been real.

When they finally consummated this union, he couldn’t allow himself to get too close to Charlotte. He had to maintain a careful distance, keeping their marriage at a surface level, although he was hopeful they could have an amiable marriage. He had bought Charlotte several gifts for Christmas that he thought she would enjoy.

As he let himself drift back to sleep, he resolved that he would maintain the rules they had already established. It was the best way to ensure that nothing ever changed between them.

Hours later, they gathered in the drawing room to exchange Christmas presents. His brother had arrived and was leaning against the wall beside the door. Charlotte wore a bright crimson gown trimmed with green ribbons, with matching ribbons threaded through her hair. Although her eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep, her smile was bright.

‘Happy Christmas, Thornton.’ She took his hands in welcome, then bade him sit in one of the chairs near the fireplace.

His brother set down the gifts he’d brought and leaned back to sprawl in the chair, his long limbs stretched out. ‘Happy Christmas.’

Charlotte asked them both, ‘Would you care for some chocolate or tea?’

‘Chocolate,’ Thornton answered.

‘Tea,’ Alaric said.

‘Wonderful. I’ll pour. Cook made currant buns, lebkuchen, and pound cake for us.’ She gestured towards the tea trolley. ‘Help yourselves, and you both can look inside your Christmas stockings.’

‘I wasn’t aware that I had a stocking,’ Thornton said with a twinkle.

‘Well, you do today.’ Charlotte handed him a lumpy stocking, and she gave another one over to Alaric.

A tightness caught his gut when he realised his wife didn’t have anything in her own Christmas stocking. He hadn’t known she’d planned to fill them. Damn it all. He should have paid more attention this morning instead of being distracted by seeing his wife in her nightgown.

Guilt sank into him, but she was eagerly awaiting his reaction to the stocking. Alaric reached inside and found a brown paper-wrapped packet of sweets and a new cravat. His brother found the same and immediately opened the sweets and began eating them.

‘Thank you, Charlotte,’ Thornton said with a smile.

Alaric echoed the words before he unwrapped one of the sweets and walked over to his wife. Charlotte was busy filling their plates with currant buns and cake, so he held out the sweet towards her lips. She smiled and opened her mouth, accepting it from his fingertips. She appeared flustered by the gift but murmured her thanks before she turned around and began pouring drinks.

When she gave him his cake and tea, Alaric accepted the cup, noting that she’d made it perfectly once again. But no one had given her anything to drink. ‘Tea or chocolate?’ he asked her.

‘Oh, I’ll have chocolate. But you needn’t worry. I can—’

He ignored her protest and poured her a cup, handing it to her. Her face grew slightly flustered, so she turned her attention to the chocolate. She offered a slight smile as she sipped. ‘Thank you.’

It was clear that he’d rattled her composure. She glanced over at Thornton, then back to him as if she didn’t know what to do.

‘I suppose it’s time for the gifts.’ She reached for a small package and handed it to him with another similar gift for his brother.

Alaric guessed what it was as soon as he felt the soft texture. Thornton carefully unwrapped his, and they both held identical pairs of black knitted socks.