To Wed His Christmas Lady (The Heart of a Duke Book 7) by Christi Caldwell Read Free Book Online

icy veneer. He growled. He’d been too long without a bloody woman if he was lusting after that one.
    The innkeeper shuffled over and motioned to William’s drink. “Another?”
    William gave thanks for the timely interruption from the fleeting madness of lusting after the ice princess. He smiled and held his nearly empty glass out to be refilled. “Fine ale, thank you…?” He stared expectantly up at the older man.
    “Martin. My name is Martin and my wife is Martha,” he motioned to the old woman running a rag over empty tables.
    He lifted his tankard in salute. “Fine ale,” he lied. It was blasted rubbish stuff.
    A twinkle lit Martin’s eyes. “Kind of you to say as much.” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But it is lousy stuff.” He nodded off to his wife and William followed his stare. “But I do not have the heart to tell her that it’s as bad as our accommodations here.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Takes pride in this place and I’m content to let her believe we run the finest inn in the king’s kingdom.” Martin gave a wink. “Then, that is what you do when you’re in love, isn’t it?”
    His smile grew brittle. To conceal that telling gesture, he took a sip of his awful ale. “Indeed,” he murmured. He’d never personally experienced that sentiment and with the future his parents expected of him, he never would. The man made to move, but William motioned to the seat opposite him. “Please, sit.” On a cold, dreary night like this, he didn’t welcome being alone with thoughts of the life awaiting him. The old innkeeper swiftly set down his jug and claimed the rickety chair William had indicated.
    In actuality, William knew nothing of being in love. His own parents’ marriage was a happy union, so he did not doubt that reality existed for some gentlemen. It just would not be him. For even as this man and that nameless harpie abovestairs who believed him to be a coarse commoner with his pockets to let…the truth was, he’d someday ascend to the vaunted title of duke. As such, those simple, but important pleasures afforded others—the ability to bind them to a person they respected and admired, and mayhap even loved—well, that was not a luxury afforded all members of the ton .
    The servant cut into the silence. “Do you have a lady you call wife?” he asked, following the path William’s thoughts had wandered.
    “No wife.” Not yet. He took another sip, welcoming the warmth afforded him by the miserable contents of his drink. But there would be. God help him, there would be. His throat burned for the sting of more drink and he raised his glass once more.
    “Ah, the lady abovestairs is indeed a lovely one.”
    William paused with his glass halfway to his lips. Surely he’d heard the man wrong. Or mayhap there was another, sweeter, smiling creature he’d not had the pleasure of meeting. He managed a noncommittal grunt.
    That glimmer deepened in the man’s eyes. “A spirited one, she is.”
    He rolled his shoulders. “She is a lady.” And more specifically, the manner of cold, unfeeling figures he’d spent his life avoiding. It was enough that his parents would see him honor a connection to one of those very ladies. William clenched his jaw as the age-old resentment swirled through him. Nay, they could not have selected a woman who was, at the very least, pleasing and kind. His mother’s devotion to her late friend had come before even William’s own happiness.
    Martin leaned close. “Eh, but then even with your coarse garments and bullish figure, I’m not supposed to believe you are anything other than a gentleman.” He gave a wink.
    William started. Craving the obscurity that came with being a titleless figure, he’d foolishly hoped those in this inn would fail to see past his unassuming attire.
    “Your secret is yours, my lord,” Martin assured.
    He passed his drink back and forth between his hands. “Thank you.” As it was, the freedoms