Music and Mistletoe: A Ridlington Christmas Novella

by Sahara Kelly

  She shifted, unwilling to waste time in the cold air, longing for the chance to heat her cool skin with Perry’s warmth. Her dress fell away and she loosened the sleeves, stepping out of it as she heard him toss his jacket and boots to one side.

  Clad only in her chemise, she hurriedly pulled the pins from her hair, ran her fingers through it and then tiptoed over cold floorboards to the bedside, turning back the blanket.

  The scent of lavender assailed her nose and she sighed with relief. “The linens are fresh.”

  “Good. Get in and warm them for me.” He chuckled, slipping off his breeches.

  Grace gulped as he stood nude by the bed, illuminated by the flickering candlelight. What a splendid man he was, his muscles well defined, a smattering of hair on his chest with one or two silver threads gleaming amongst the dark whorls.

  He was no lazy dilettante although he might foster that image. No, this was a man who liked to walk and ride and keep active. He’d not have the body she was staring at if he sat at his desk all the time.

  And of course her eyes drifted down as he neatly folded his breeches, giving her a good look at what hung between his legs.

  The shiver this time was of anticipation. Hard and thick, his cock sprang from a nest of curls, his sac firm beneath. She looked up and met his gaze—he’d been watching her as she took stock of him. It was a strangely erotic moment and she licked her lips, seeing him take a breath in response.

  He grinned as he slipped in beside her, making a dent in the mattress with his weight. She squawked as she rolled right into him.

  “God, Grace.” He gathered her to him. “Yes, it’s damn cold, but take that bit of flimsy off. I want you naked. Now.”

  Obligingly, she slithered out of her chemise, pulling the linens and the thick quilt all the way to her chin.

  “That’s so much better, don’t you think?”

  His arm was over her, his thigh resting on her hip, his cock hard against her softness. Yes, it was better, and she nodded, amazed at how natural it seemed to be nude with a man for the first time in years. They were snuggled together in a nest of blankets, their bodies warming each other, touching, caressing, intertwining as they began the dance that would lead to ecstasy.

  When his hands stroked—her arms, her shoulders, her back all the way down to her buttocks—the chill of the room vanished as his touch seared her sensitive skin.

  “Perry,” she sighed, moving even closer. “You make me want things, things I never imagined wanting at this stage of my life.”

  “That’s good,” he whispered, finding her hip and tracing its contours with a fingertip. “Because I want you, Grace. All of you.”

  Her insecurities rose up and threatened to choke her. “Even though…”

  “Shh.” He stopped her words with a quick, hard kiss. “None of that. Not here, not now. We are going to enjoy each other. Pleasure each other. Find the many delights our bodies can offer…”

  His fingertip dipped low, finding her damp skin. “You’re wet for me, aren’t you?”

  “Oh God,” she gasped, not really knowing how to answer him.

  “It’s all right. It pleases me to know that your body wants what I want. You can’t deny it, Grace, nor can you ignore it. You still desire. You are still a woman with needs, with passions…”

  He kissed her then, a meeting of lips that was far from polite. His tongue thrust in, fiercely claiming the delicate tissues, learning her teeth, her taste even as she learned his once more.

  But now they could clasp each other, skin to skin, and she instantly responded to the sensation of his chest abrading her nipples.

  She moaned, a sound that surprised her, but that came naturally from her throat. It was so good, this arousal, this nearness, this naked journey of discovery. His cock was a hard length crushed between them and she instinctively moved to get it where she wanted it—nuzzled between her thighs.

  He grunted as she did so, pushing his hips forward and pulling his shoulders back. “I want your breasts,” he whispered, “I want to taste them. Suck them…”

  Grace whimpered as he suited words to action, his mouth hot and wet and finding her sensitive buds with unerring accuracy. His suckle drove knives of exquisite pleasure down to her loins and her fingers clenched his arms as she writhed in his sensual embrace.

  There was no thought of the temperature outside the covers since the heat they were generating could have warmed most of the rooms on this floor. She wanted to smile at that notion, but then he rose, moving over her, taking his weight on his hands and her mind blanked.

  “Grace, I find myself in urgent need of you. I wanted to spend longer on your body. I wanted to lick you all over, to taste your skin, nibble your toes and bite that beautiful arse…but I can’t wait…”

  “Perry,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “I can’t wait either.” Parting her legs, she bent her knees, opening herself, inviting him to take what they both craved.

  He accepted, pressing slowly against her, finding his way with all the care and delicacy of a man moving into paradise.

  “Oh God,” she murmured. “Don’t be careful, be bold…I want you so badly…”

  And that was all it took.

  *~~*~~*

  Sinking into Grace was like sliding his cock into a tight, wet, sheath of fire.

  She was hot, hot as a volcano around his length, and so wet he found himself falling deep, his passage smoothed by the liquid silk within. He fit snugly, welcomed, held and kept in place by a ser of inner muscles that could have been designed just for him.

  She was no virgin, of course, but clearly had not experienced this intimacy for a long time. Her gasps, sighs and moans were music to his ears; every move, every thrust of his hips was greeted with an enthusiastic response.

  Her hands were all over him, grasping his arms, running over his thighs and when he buried himself to the hilt, she dug her fingers into his backside and pushed him even deeper. A soft groan urged him on—he could not fight against the desperate need to pound into her, as her muscles tightened around his cock and encouraged him to do just that.

  Her legs rose to clasp his hips and her breaths quickened. When he slid a hand between them and found her swollen pearl amidst the folds, she gasped aloud and lifted to meet his touch, rising in rhythm, a tempo that matched their heartbeats.

  Perry realised he was powerless to hold himself in check. “Grace…”

  “I know,” she panted. “Now, Perry…please…”

  How could he resist? He pushed himself into her so fiercely his balls hit her body with a thud, sending shivers of pleasure up and down his spine. He couldn’t halt the onrush, the tide of ecstasy that had risen rapidly, and was threatening to sweep him away

  “God, Grace…God…”

  And with a muffled shout of surrender, Perry let go, releasing everything that he had and everything that he was into the amazing woman beneath him.

  She shuddered as his cock pulsed, and then she erupted, her inner muscles clamping down so violently they drained him within seconds.

  Her breaths were harsh, her body rigid, and he could feel the massive spasms rocking her to her core. She trembled and shook, whimpering as the pleasure tore through her from toes to eyebrows.

  As he softened, he closed his eyes and let her movements tell him all he needed to know. She was with him, all the way. It had been a mutual joy, a trip up the highest mountain which had resulted in them falling together into the mindless vortex.

  He shuddered a little as he slid free and felt her legs collapse beside him. Carefully he eased himself to one side, slumping next to her, tangled in her limbs, and with a heart finally returning to its more customary pace.

  “Are you all right?” He touched her face, a mere shade in the light of the dying candle.

  “Oh yes,” she purred. “I am so all right I might die of it.”

  He chuckled. “Please don’t. Marry me instead.”

  To his surprise, she giggled, then turned
in his arms to tuck her bottom into his groin. It was a perfect position and he settled next to her, enjoying the cuddle.

  “You laugh at my proposal?”

  Her head moved in a nod. “Of course, dear man. You are such a wonderful gentleman. But we’re long past the stage where such activities need result in a request for my hand. You don’t have to make an honest woman of me. I’ve done that myself.”

  “Uh…” He was caught off guard; her reply practical yet puzzling. Did she think he spoke in jest? Ripe with the after effects of a mutually magnificent release?

  He pulled her closer. “I mean it, my love. Marry me.”

  A soft snore was the only response.

  He couldn’t help but smile, even though his brain was trying to work out the logic behind her words. Didn’t she want him? Well, that would be a difficult argument to present, given what they’d experienced together in this very bed. A woman surely could not make sounds like that, or touch a man the way she had touched him if she were not finding the experience to be pleasant. He’d felt her come apart around his cock, for God’s sake. So that couldn’t possibly be what she meant.

  Was she averse to marriage?

  That might be a stronger cause for her reaction. She certainly had no particular reason to be eager to wed again, after her experience with her first husband.

  But that must have been twenty years ago, at least. Grace was older than her brother Max, he knew. But not by much. Which would put her into her early forties. That tallied with a marriage at a young age and close to two decades since it had ended so tragically. But it did not preclude considerations of re-marriage. She was the perfect age for him; children were unlikely, but if they arrived he’d adore them with every fibre of his being, and he believed she would be a great mother, given her handling of the Muir children.

  So that wasn’t any kind of impediment to marriage, in his opinion.

  They were both self-sufficient. He had more than ample funds, and she wanted for very little. He was unfamiliar with the disposition of the Seton-Mowbray family fortune, or whether Chaney had left her anything, but clearly Grace was not obliged to pinch pennies.

  Another matter off the list of things to be considered.

  The room was pitch black now, the candle gutted, the drapes closed against the bitter night air. But Perry needed no light to keep him awake.

  His mind turned over and over, revolving around the woman next to him and how to persuade her that they belonged together.

  He’d found something he’d not anticipated—a woman who could fullfill every one of his fantasies. Her intelligence rendered her out of the ordinary, her musical talent defied description and her physical responses had nearly driven him out of his mind.

  What more could a man ask for?

  She stirred, turned and he heard her breathing change. “Perry?” she whispered.

  “I’m here, sweetheart.”

  The yawn she gave was quite clear. “Why are you not asleep?”

  “Because you are lying naked beside me. Because I can breathe in your scent and feel your heat. I swear I can even hear your heartbeat.”

  She chuckled softly. “You are a romantic, Sir Peregrine.”

  “Only with you, dear Grace.”

  She moved, rising beneath the covers, and—to his astonishment—straddling him, the folds of her sex rubbing against him in a deliciously teasing and tantalising manner.

  “Grace,” he murmured, his cock hard as iron.

  “Hush. I have always wanted to try this…to ride like this…”

  He gulped and reached for her breasts. “Well, all right then…the reins are yours…”

  It was quite some time before they slept again, but at least Perry had stopped thinking about anything but the woman above him.

  After they were done, his snores joined hers and echoed around the silent chamber.

  Chapter Ten

  Despite the lateness and energetic physical experiences of the previous evening, both Perry and Grace were up and dressed in time to share breakfast with the Muirs. Perry rose first and was almost out of the bedroom door before Grace stirred.

  A quick kiss and he was gone. She sighed, but knew their outrageous idyll had to end at some point.

  So she prepared herself for the day and found herself drawn to the parlour by the scent of bacon and toast.

  It was Christmas Eve, and the Muir children were clearly aware of that fact, since the number of bounces in their chairs had increased considerably since yesterday.

  Perry had ventured outdoors to check the conditions and walked into the room to greet the others with a smile on his face. “It’s melting,” he announced. “I believe it will be safe for us all to travel today.”

  Cheers erupted, especially from the youngest at the table.

  “That is excellent news indeed,” smiled Mrs. Muir. “It is passable enough to drive all the way home, do you think?”

  Perry helped himself to the modest breakfast, mentally awarding everyone in the household staff a Christmas bonus, since they’d provided for unexpected needs efficiently and quietly. One could ask no more of servants. He had been most impressed.

  “I would guess that within the hour the ice will have loosened its hold on everything,” he said, returning to the table and taking his place. “It’s already dripping off the trees.”

  Grace had glanced outside to see clouds, but had yet to spy a break. “So it warmed up overnight then?”

  “I would say so, yes.” He shot her a wicked look, reminding her that they had warmed up the night quite considerably.

  She fought down her blushes. “And yet the sun has not made an appearance.”

  “I’m confident it will,” answered Perry. “The sky seems brighter to the west. Always a good sign, I’m told.” He took a bite of toast.

  “We only have a few miles to cover, and it would be lovely to get home at last.” Mrs. Muir sighed, then looked at Grace. “Not that we haven’t been made very comfortable and welcome here, of course…”

  Grace waved her words aside. “We are very happy we could help. And it’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She smiled at the children. “All of you. So we’ll hear no more thanks. We have all enjoyed an unexpected little holiday. Let’s just leave it at that?”

  Elizabeth slid from her chair and ran to Grace’s side. “Thank you for pwaying the piano fow us, Missus Chaney. I liked it. I want to pway too, and Mama says I may learn when I am seven.” She held up the appropriate number of fingers carefully.

  “How wonderful, Elizabeth. And how good of your Mama to let you have lessons.” She touched the soft hair in a tiny caress. “I shall look forward to hearing you play one day.”

  “You can come to my house and visit,” Elizabeth’s eyes were those of a kitten begging to be petted.

  Grace’s lips twitched and she glanced at Mrs. Muir. “This one’s going to be a handful, isn’t she?”

  Mrs. Muir shook her head. “Without a doubt.”

  “Well, Elizabeth, since there is still some time to go before you are seven, I shall hold your invitation in reserve. When you are ready to play for me, just send me a message and I will be happy to visit.”

  The little girl clapped her hands with glee and ran to tell her Mama, in case she’d missed any of the conversation.

  “We’re going to need a piano, aren’t we?” said Mr. Muir mournfully.

  “I can’t learn to pway without one, Papa,” frowned his daughter.

  She turned as the others laughed, a puzzled expression on her face. “It’s twue, isn’t it?”

  “It is indeed, sweetheart.” Her father leaned over and picked her up, setting her on his knee. “I also support your lessons. If you can play as beautifully as Mrs. Chaney someday, I shall be well pleased.”

  “Oh no. I shall pway much better,” announced Elizabeth confidently.

  Grace ached from laughing. “I hope so, Elizabeth. I really do.” She wiped her eyes on her napkin.

 
“Right then, children. We are going to leave shortly, so I would like you all to return to our room and make sure you haven’t left anything there. Nurse will have your coats and hats and mufflers ready when you come down again.” Mr. Muir rose and pointed the way for his offspring, who trooped dutifully out of the parlour.

  The clatter of feet as they ran upstairs rattled the breakfast china.

  Grace pushed away from the table as Mrs. Muir stood. “How long do you think it will take you to get home from here?”

  The other woman shook her head. “I’m not sure, since a lot depends on our country roads. But probably no more than two hours.”

  Grace smiled. “That’s good news.”

  Together they walked to the hall, where the Muir’s large bags already waited, along with an assortment of outer garments. Edward had opened the front door and she could see the family’s carriage ready for its passengers, the horses making clouds of steam in the cool damp air.

  “I do believe that might be a sunbeam,” she said optimistically, peeking around the doorjamb.

  “A good omen,” agreed Perry, joining them.

  “How do we thank you?” Mrs. Muir tied her bonnet beneath her chin. “We would have been in dire straits if not for your kindness.”

  Grace stopped her by holding up her hand. “As we said before, no thanks are necessary. Your company has been most pleasurable and this entire trip will be an adventure I look back on with a great deal of delight.” She paused. “If you truly want to thank us, then the next time a traveller is in distress, you can help them as we helped you.” She smiled. “How does that sound?”

  “What a splendid notion, Mrs. Chaney. A delightful suggestion.” Mrs. Muir beamed at them both. “I suppose you’ll be heading back to town?”

  Perry nodded. “We will indeed. But it should be no problem for us since we’ll be on well-travelled roads within half an hour.”

  Grace found herself swallowing down a measure of disappointment at his words. Of course they could not stay here. It was not Perry’s house; he was merely a prospective buyer. Plus, it was Christmas Eve, so doubtless he had plans for this evening.