Prologue
Hampford Castle, England
Sunny ducked out of the room when the Stringham family began to hand each other gifts.
Walking down a long, drafty hall, he almost regretted accepting Wick’s invitation to come home with him for the holidays.
Not that he had wanted to go to his ducal seat, Sunderland House.
It was like visiting the crypt of a church.
Silent and cold. None of the clocks had moved since his father’s death eighteen years before.
Black curtains shrouded every window, and the furniture was hidden under holland covers.
The only visitors were the ghosts that haunted the halls.
There were no other people except the servants and his mother, who behaved as if her sole purpose in life was to mourn her extravagant and rakish late husband.
His only other close family member was his uncle, who resided in London.
Lord Simon Tremaine was a surly old bachelor who never missed an opportunity to tell his nephew an unflattering memory of his brother, the late duke.
At the age of three, Sunny had become the Duke of Sunderland.
He had no memories of his father, which made his mother’s lifetime of grief difficult to understand for a young boy.
For all intents and purposes, Sunny had lost his mother, too, that fateful day when his father had jumped a fence while blind drunk and hit his head on a rock.
Uncle Simon managed to stave off his father’s creditors by selling the unencumbered lands and smaller estates.
Sunny was still not out of debt. His yearly income was five thousand pounds from his only remaining estate, which barely covered the bills, and his widowed mother kept pushing him to marry an heiress to fill the empty family coffers.
Another reason why he’d chosen to accompany Wick to Hampford Castle rather than going home or to London.
“Sunny! Where did you go?”
Turning, he saw Wick’s little sister Mantheria.
She was only sixteen years old and more beautiful than any young woman had the right to be.
Her blonde hair was worn in thick ringlets around her head, and her facial shape was oval with delicate features.
Long, dark lashes framed her big blue eyes.
Her legs were long and coltish, but her bosom was generous, and her overall figure was certainly pleasing.
Perhaps too pleasing. For the first time in his life, he’d tried to avoid her. She was simply too tempting.
Mantheria reached him, breathing heavily. “Why did you leave the room so abruptly?”
Sunny felt blood rushing to his face. He’d felt like he was intruding on their family’s holiday. Previously, he’d only stayed with the Stringhams during the summers and Easter. “I didn’t want to make you all feel uncomfortable.”
Mantheria placed a hand on his arm. “How would you make us uncomfortable?”
Her touch made him feel hot and off-balance. His face probably resembled a holly berry. “I didn’t want your family to feel uncomfortable because you didn’t have a present for me.”
She dropped her hand from his arm and laughed in his face.
Despite being a destitute duke, people usually did not treat him so cavalierly. Sunny wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole, saving him from the misery of being laughed at by a beautiful young woman.
Pushing his arm, she smiled at him. “Silly gudgeon! We have a stack of presents for you. Didn’t you think Wick would tell us that you were coming?”
He dropped his shoulders and ducked his chin before swallowing convulsively. “You bought me a present?”
A pink tinge entered her cheeks, and Mantheria shrugged. “You’ll have to come back to the saloon and see. You have a great pile of presents there. And one of them just might be from me.”
Feeling his pulse rushing to his ears, Sunny walked beside her, back down the long, drafty hall to the red saloon.
When she opened the door, he immediately felt the heat from the room—in his core, neck, and face.
It was a large apartment boasting two full hearths with blazing fires.
The younger Stringham sisters were running around the room, showing their new gifts to their elder brothers and grandparents.
Mantheria led him to a back table where ten presents were piled on top of each other.
“There you are.”
Sunny didn’t want to appear greedy, so he kept his hands at his sides and rocked slightly. “Which one is for me, Mantheria?”
She laughed in his face again. “All of them are for you, Sunny.”
He gulped, feeling more foolish than ever.
When he was a child, Sunny and his mother had only exchanged one small gift on Christmas Eve.
It had usually been something he needed for school.
A pair of new boots. More paper. A new quill.
Since he’d left Eton for Cambridge, his mother hadn’t bothered with any gifts.
And Uncle Simon had only sent him a guinea under the seal of a letter for his birthday, and he completely ignored Christmas.
Helen ran into him, followed by Becca. They were rambunctious little girls who always seemed to have wild creatures in their pockets. Sunny liked them very much and almost wished that he had little sisters. His attitude brightened.
“Have you seen, Sir Guinea Pig?” Becca demanded.
Helen pointed under the table. “He’s that way!”
Bumping him again, both girls dove past him and underneath the table. Becca emerged with a furball in her arms. It appeared to be a large rodent of some type, with a pink nose and claw-like feet. She was petting it like a cat. “There, there, Sir Guinea. I am sure Wick didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m pretty sure that he did,” Helen said sourly, sticking her tongue out at her brother.
Wick, their eldest brother and his best friend, didn’t seem at all offended by her action. He laughed and turned back to speak to his grandfather.
Becca all but shoved Sunny’s present into his stomach, still holding her rodent with one arm. “This one is from me. You should open it first.”
The gift felt heavy.
His chest caved in. Sunny had not brought the Stringham family any gifts. The weight in his hands increased, and for a moment, Sunny feared that he might find a live creature inside the large box wrapped with paper. Happily, when he opened it, he found a book about mice.
He picked it up. “It’s a beautiful book.”
“Would you like me to show you my real mouse collection?” Becca offered.
A shiver of discomfort ran down his spine.
Mantheria laughed. “He doesn’t.”
Helen smirked at her sister and handed Sunny another present. “This one is from me.”
Sunny felt tongue-tied and embarrassed, but managed to peel off the expensive paper of the second gift.
It was a pair of badly embroidered slippers.
He thought that the orange thread might have been a lion, but he couldn’t be sure, so he didn’t say anything specific.
“Thank you very much, Helen. They are very fine and useful.”
Mantheria shyly held out a gift to him. The pinkish tinge returned to her cheeks. “Mine is less useful.”
Sunny felt three pairs of eyes on him as he opened her gift. It was a book: Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border by Sir Walter Scott.
“It’s my favorite book of poetry,” Mantheria said, looking at her slippers as if they were the most fascinating item in the room. Sunny was glad that he wasn’t the only person who felt embarrassed. “I hope you will enjoy it.”
“I will treasure it.”
He would treasure every word spoken between them. Every look. Every touch. Sunny had never fallen in love before, and it both scared and thrilled him. He felt euphoric every time that he was near Mantheria. He was so beguiled by her that he often daydreamed and lost track of time.
Helen huffed, bringing him back to the current moment, before handing him the stack of seven presents. “You’re taking too long, Sunny. Hurry it up. We need to get on to roasting chestnuts.”
Sunny felt the blood returning to his face with vengeance.
He quickly set down the stack and opened the remaining presents as quickly as possible: a new pair of boots, chocolates, licorices, two embroidered handkerchiefs, and a golden pocket watch that must have cost a small fortune.
His heart warmed at the Stringhams’ kindness.
They had not only welcomed him into their home and family for the holidays, but they had also showered him with gifts for Christmas.
He didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Luckily, Sir Guinea Pig escaped from Becca’s arms and scampered between Sunny’s legs. Darting to the side, he managed not to get bowled over by the two youngest Stringhams, who chased after the hairy rodent, squealing.
The butler, Harper, picked that inopportune moment to open the door to the room, and the guinea pig escaped.
“Everybody, after Sir Guinea!” Becca yelled.
To Sunny’s surprise, Wick got up and raced after his little sisters. Even the duke and duchess trailed behind in a quick shuffle, followed more sedately by his grandparents.
Wick’s younger brother, Matthew, bumped Sunny’s shoulder with his own. “Come on, Sunny! This will be better than a fox hunt.”
Sunny glanced at Mantheria. He felt a fluttering in his empty stomach. She’d lifted her skirts and was running for the door, but she stopped when she reached it, blocking his way out. Pointing to the mistletoe above her, Mantheria gave him a gamine grin. “You owe me a kiss.”
There was nothing that he wanted to do more.
Still, he was so nervous that his hands shook as he raised one palm to cup her soft cheek.
Her skin was as delicate as a rose petal, and she smelled beautiful, too.
Sunny had only kissed barmaids before, or rather, allowed them to kiss him.
Such exchanges had been very pleasurable, but nothing as exciting or transcending as this moment with Mantheria.