Minerva waved her hand. “I have no intention to knaw off heads today.” Minerva strolled toward the cherry wood sideboard. “Certainly not my favorite brothers.”

  “I am your only brother,” Blake drawled.

  “Then, it is little wonder that you are also my favorite.” She picked up a crystal decanter and poured a measure of its amber liquor into a tumbler.

  Blake could not help but grin. Minerva had a way of making him smile even when it was the last thing he wished to do.

  She crossed the room and handed him the tumbler before seating herself beside him.

  He took a long sip, enjoying the way the brandy heated his insides, then turned his attention to her. “If you do not intend to yell at me, then what is it you wish to discuss?”

  “Carstine, of course.” Minerva smiled sweetly.

  Blake sighed. “Indeed,” he said before lifting the tumbler back to his lips. He feared one glass would not be nearly enough to sustain him.

  “It seems the two of you have gotten off on the wrong foot,” she said.

  “To say the least.” Blake swirled the liquor in his glass.

  “I want you to give her a chance. To show her you are truly sorry and make nice with her. It would please me if the two of you got along.” Minerva said, her eyes emploring.

  “And how do you suppose I am to accomplish that?” Blake asked before taking another long drink.

  Minerva tipped her head to the side, her gaze turning thoughtful.

  Blake braced himself for what was to come. If he knew his sister at all, and he was confident he knew her better than most, she would devise a cake worthy scheme.

  One, he would have no choice but to enact if he wished to escape her ire.

  She smiled as she clapped her hand onto his arm. “I’ve got it.”

  “Oh? Do go on,” Blake offered false enthusiasm, then brought his brandy back to his lips. No doubt, this would be a whopper.

  “You will invite her on an outing.”

  “I will?” Blake arched an eyebrow.

  Minerva’s smile broadened. “You will. A sleigh ride, perhaps?” Her gaze turned speculative for a moment, then she smiled. “Yes, a sleigh ride shall be the perfect way for you to get to know each other.”

  Blake drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. “Perfect?” Utterly harebrained is what he’d wanted to say, but he could not bring himself to further upset his sister.

  “Yes, perfect,” Minerva repeated. “It is a respectable way for the two of you to be alone. That will allow you to apologize again as well as show her what a delightful gentleman you can be.”

  Minerva grinned. This time the jubilation reached her sky-blue eyes. “She is a splendid girl. If you just give her a chance, you’ll see. Carstine is impossible to dislike.”

  Blake drained his tumbler before turning his attention back to Minerva. “I fear the die has been cast in this case.”

  “Nonsense, brother.” She slid closer, her gaze locked on his. “Do it for me. For Mother as well. She’d not wish for you to dislike her guest. She is rather fond of Carstine, you know.”

  “Actually, I wasn’t aware,” he drawled.

  “Well she is. Carstine happens to be the daughter of her dear friend, Mrs. Leticia Greer. Surely you remember Mother speaking of her.”

  Blake searched his mind but could not recall the name. “I fear not.”

  Minerva took his tumbler, then stood and started toward the sideboard. “They were school friends. Leticia is English born, but she married a Scottish landowner. She and Mother have stayed in contact all these years despite the miles and miles that separate them.” Minerva rotated her wrist, twirling her hand. “When Leticia wrote to Mother sharing her desire for Carstine to have a London season, Mother could scarcely stop herself from offering to sponsor the girl.”

  “How very much like Mother.” Blake accepted the glass, then ran his finger around the edge as he considered what Minerva had told him. Carstine was a Scottish lass with English blood and the daughter of his Mother’s dear friend. He sighed. As much as it pained him, he would have to make an attempt at mending their relationship.

  “Indeed, Mother has always enjoyed this sort of thing, and so you see why she would want the two of you to get on well?”

  Blake held up a hand in resignation. “You’ve won, dear. There is no need to continue on.”

  “Then, you will invite her on a sleigh ride?”

  “As soon as she is mended,” Blake agreed, then took another long, slow sip of his brandy.

  Bedding the feisty lass was entirely out of the question. He’d have to find a more civilized way to even the score between them. He tipped his glass to his lips.

  No, he’d have to give up his revenge.

  Swallowing another deep drink, he could not help but think that his previous assessment had been wrong. This would not be a Merry Christmas, not even close. It would, no doubt, be an irritating one, indeed. The women in his house would see to it as sure as the snow would fall.

  “Blake?”

  He turned his attention back to Minerva. “What?”

  “Are you quite, alright?”

  “Indeed.” He waved her off as he relaxed back against the sofa. “Be a dear and deliver my invitation.”

  Minerva beamed. “With pleasure.”

  Chapter 3

  Blake’s breath caught for a heartbeat when Carstine appeared on the porch. He’d thought her to be a beauty before, but now, dressed as a proper lady and not the least bit disheveled…she was captivating.

  His gaze traveled from the fur-lined hood of her sapphire-colored cloak all the way to her toes and back, not missing a single curve or flair. Her eyes were sparkling, pink lips plump, and her cheeks held a slight flush, likely from the crisp winter air.

  He swallowed past the dryness in his mouth as she approached, then extended his hand. “Allow me.”

  Carstine met his gaze but did not take his hand. “I believe ye have a bit more crow tae swallow before I consent to go anywhere with ye.” Her sweet smile belied her words.

  Blake was instantly reminded as to why he didn’t like the woman. She was annoying, snarky, and sharp-tongued. He’d not stand for the abuse—not even for Minerva.

  He released an exasperated breath and shook his head. “I am only doing this for Minerva, but if you do not have the same care for my sister and mother, you are welcome to return to the house.”

  Carstine’s eyes narrowed before she tossed her head back and laughed.

  Laughed! The insolent woman found him amusing. What the devil was wrong with her?

  On second thought, he didn’t care to know. Blake shoved his hands in his pockets and pivoted to stride away.

  “Wait,” she called to his retreating backside. “I’m sorry. Let us do our duty tae yer family.”

  He turned back, a scowl pulling at his lips.

  “Come now, we may even enjoy ourselves.” Carstine strolled over and laced her hand through his arm. “Dinna be sour. I promise tae be nice henceforth.”

  He pinned her with his gaze. “You had better be, or I’ll leave you in the snow to fend for yourself.”

  She smirked. “Ye wouldna dare. Ye said so yerself yesterday.”

  “That was before I knew you.” He smiled with amusement as he led her back to the sleigh.

  “I said I was sorry,” she protested as he handed her up.

  Blake went around the sleigh, then climbed in and settled beside her. “As did I, but my apology did nothing to steam your obnoxiousness.” He slanted his gaze at her. “Now, I am to simply forgive you even though you have not forgiven me?”

  “Nae, yer wrong.” She waved her hand with a little flourish. “I forgave ye the moment I saw the embarrassment over yer assumptions color yer cheeks.”

  His jaw slackened as he took up the reins and set the sleigh into motion. “Then why did you give me a hard time just now?”

  “For tae fun of it. Yer rather cute when ye are cross, ye ken.” Her laughter rang out, filling the air around them with a whimsical, contagious melody.

  She thought him cute? He fought a grin at the revelation, and shot her a reproachful look. “I am not the least bit amused.”

  “Ye and Beira seem to be of tae same mood.”

  “Beira?” Blake arched a brow in question.

  “Aye, the goddess of winter.” Carstine held out a glove covered hand and caught several fluffy snowflakes that swirled in the air around them. “Ye’ve not heard of her?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Blake answered.

  “She’s a haggard old woman with ash-colored skin and one eye. Beira rules over winter, and when she is displeased, she makes it known.”

  “You are comparing me to a haggard old woman?”

  “Aye, but only in temperament.” Carstine tucked her hand back into the blanket, covering her lap. “She’s been in a mood tae be sure. ‘Tis why we’ve seen so much snow and wind of late.”

  “I’m not in a mood.” Blake shook his head.

  “Nae?” Carstine slanted her head to study him. “Then why do ye keep scowling?”

  “I don’t.”

  Her smile grew, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Yer doing so now.”

  “I’m not.” Blake forced a smile.

  Carstine began laughing again. “Ye look like a statue about to crack into a thousand pieces.”

  Blake imagined he must look as she’d described for his efforts were hurting his face. He no doubt appear downright ridiculous, and why? Because a slip of a lady was jesting with him?

  Ridiculous indeed!

  He chuckled at the pure lunacy of it.

  “Much better,” she said as she playfully nudged him. “Ye ken, Minerva is rather fond of ye. She near tae blathered my ears clean off talking about ye. Insisting that ye were a good sort, and I must give ye a chance tae redeem yerself.”

  That did indeed sound like his sister. Blake gave a genuine smile. “She did the same to me in your regard.”

  “A suborn lass, tae say the least.” Carstine shuffled on the seat, turning to face him more fully. “I say we forget our first meeting and all that has followed.”

  “Indeed, we should,” Blake agreed.

  “Aye.” Carstine nodded, then held out her hand. “I am Miss Carstine Greer.”

  Blake hesitated for a moment before bringing the sleigh to a stop and taking her hand. “Blake Fox, Earl of Edgemore at your service.” He took her hand and drew it to his mouth, placing a kiss on her glove covered knuckles.

  “Tis a pleasure to meet ye, my lord.” She grinned, her green eyes vibrant as she studied him.

  “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” Blake gave a roguish grin. “Now do, tell me all about yourself.”

  “As I’m well aware, ye ken, our mothers are old friends…”

  Blake took up the reins and set the horses back into motion as Carstine chatted. She told him how her parents meet and married and how she was born and raised in Scotland, but her mother always did what she could to make sure Carstine was also exposed to her English heritage. He hung on her every word, finding her more than a little captivating.

  “And so, ye see why Mother wished for me tae have an English season.”

  “I do.” Blake nodded. There was something in her voice, and the way her eyes seemed to dim that made him suspect that Carstine did not share her mother’s wishes. He gave her a slight smile and asked, “Am I right in thinking that you do not share her wish?”

  Carstine sighed, a tiny laugh escaping her as she shook her head. “What gave me away?”

  “Nothing, really.”

  “Come now.” She nudged him with her elbow.

  Blake chuckled. “Very well. Your voice seemed to carry a note of sorrow, and your eyes changed for a fraction of a heartbeat.”

  “And ye noticed that?” She fiddled with the edge of her lap blanket. “I dare say, ye are a surprise. And not an altogether unpleasant one.”

  “Some would most certainly disagree with that assessment. I am a renowned rogue, you know?” He winked, relishing the fresh blush that crept across her cheeks.

  She burst into another fit of laughter, and Blake found himself chuckling as well.

  By the time they returned to the house, he had long forgotten his earlier frustration with the woman. Carstine, though a pain in his arse, was an unusual and captivating woman. One he wished to know better. She was like a decadent treat made of many layers—some hard, perhaps even a bit tart, and others sweet and soft. He wished to devour her one layer at a time. Uncover all of her flavors and textures, savoring each and every one.

  A startling realization to be sure.

  Chapter 4

  It seemed that Carstine’s sponsor intended to waste no time in her introduction to English society for the countess had filled the house near to bursting.

  It proved to be an awkward affair as Carstine was herded into the parlor and introduced to one gentleman after another. The countess told each that Carstine had been sent from Scotland so that she might enjoy an English season. Carstine suspected a bit more than that had been said in private for the men appraised her as one might inspect livestock for sale.

  Exasperated, Carstine turned a forced smile on the countess. “Thank ye for takin tae time tae introduce me, but I fear all the excitement has gotten to me. Might I have a few minutes tae collect myself?”

  The countess patted her arm. “Of course, dear.”

  Carstine wasted no time joining Minerva in a far corner. She released an exasperated sigh as she stood next to her friend. “Yer mother seems tae be on a mission.”

  “Indeed.” Minerva turned a sympathetic gaze on Carstine. “I should have warned you.”

  “Aye, but Dinna fash yersel. I’ll survive.”

  Minerva scanned the parlor, then brought her gaze back to Carstine. “If it is of any consolation, this gathering has as much to do with me as it does you.” She offered a sympathetic grin. “Mother thinks it wise for me to meet every eligible gentleman in Briton before my first season begins. She believes it will allow me to marry both well and fast.”

  Carstine cringed. “How dreadful, lass.”

  “Indeed.” Minerva took Carstine’s hand and squeezed. “Though I must admit that I am pleased, no, overjoyed, to have you by my side. It means we can endure it together.”

  “Aye, misery does enjoy company,” Carstine gave a conspiratorial grin.

  “There’s Blake.” Minerva waved at her brother.

  Carstine turned her head to find Lord Edgemore strolling toward them. Her pulse quickened as he drew closer.

  The man was something to behold in his fine-cut evening clothes. His black coat hugging his muscular frame and long legs flexing beneath the fabric of his trousers held Carstine captive. But what enthralled her most was the boyish grin tilting his lips.

  She tried to look away but found it an impossible task as her gaze seemed to roam back to him of its own accord.

  He gave an exaggerated bow. “How lucky am I to begin my evening standing beside the two loveliest ladies in the room.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Minerva beamed at her brother.

  Lord Edgemore turned his attention to Carstine, took her hand, and dropped a kiss to the back of it before meeting her eyes. “Tell me, Miss Carstine, does my sister speak the truth?”

  “Nae, my lord.” She shook her head. “It will get ye nowhere with me.”

  “You wound me, fair lady.”

  Carstine let a small trickle of laughter escape her. “I doubt that very much.”

  Minerva grabbed Carstine’s arm, her gaze sparkling with mischief. “I have an idea.”

  “God help us,” Lord Edgemore said.

  “Not at all.” Minerva swatted his arm with her fan.

  “Dinna keep us in suspense.” Carstine stared at Minerva.

  “Blake can save you from the masses by pretending an interest in you. Leastwise, for the holiday.”

  “No,” Lord Edgemore and Carstine blurted in unison.

  Minerva pouted. “Why ever not?”

  “Because,” Lord Edgemore said flatly.

  Minerva stared at him. “But it’s the perfect plan. If the gentlemen Mother invited believe you have an interest in her, they will back away.”

  Lord Edgemore shook his head. “I’ll not be a party to it.”

  “For goodness sake, Blake. It’s not like I’m suggesting you marry her.” Minerva turned pleading eyes on Carstine. “Surely, you can see the merit in my plan?”

  Carstine bit her lip as she considered. She could not argue Minerva’s point, so instead, she said, “Lord Edgemore barely tolerates me.”

  “Nonsense,” he said.

  Minerva’s face lit, her eyes sparkling. “Good, then you’ll do it!”

  He gave a resigned nod.

  Carstine stared dumbstruck at the earl. Finding her voice, she asked, “Are ye certain?”

  “Yes, it has been a long time since I played a role in a good lark.” He shot her a grin. “In fact, now that I have considered the idea, I’m rather looking forward to it.”

  “Then, it’s decided.” Minerva took Carstine’s hand and placed it on Lord Edgemore’s arm. “You can begin by promenading her around the parlor.”

  She shot a pointed look at Carstine, then her brother. “And do pretend to enjoy yourselves.”

  Before either could argue, Minerva had swept herself off to join another group.

  “Is she always like that?” Carstine asked.

  Lord Edgemore arched a golden eyebrow. “Like what?”

  Carstine strolled beside him with slow, easy steps as she considered the best way to describe Minerva. She settled on a word and said, “Mischievous.”

  Lord Edgemore chuckled. “Ah, that. Yes. As well as scheming and calculating.” His steps faltered.

  Carstine slid her gaze to him. “What is it?”

  “I believe we have just played into the minx’s hand.” He frowned as his gaze moved to where Minerva stood.

  Carstine gave a slight tug on his arm, and he resumed walking. “How so?”

 

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