Christmas with the Charming Earl

by Roxie Brandon

  His raw maleness was compelling and enticing to more than one woman in the room if furtive glances were anything to go by. His virility was on rampant display, yet he seemed bored with the entire proceedings.

  He was drinking too much and too fast and his speech had begun to slur. Every so often, he leered at Rebecca’s low-cut neckline and she felt as if he wanted to touch her breasts in front of everyone in the room.

  Isabella was intolerable. She sniggered and undermined Rebecca’s every word. The only break from her relentless ribbing was Anthony. He’d been watching Isabella carefully. Rebecca had noticed, because she had spent much of the night looking at him in the same way. Whenever his sister’s comments seemed to dip too cold he would scorn her, much to their disgusted responses.

  “Oh, brother, what has happened to you? You used to have a humor which was as wicked as mine. Don’t tell me that all the gossip of you being a rake is just that? Don’t tell me that you have softened,” Isabella said.

  “Softened?” Anthony snorted at his sister. “ The fact that I wish to see Rebecca treated to with respect, does not mean that I have softened. It only means that I have been plagued with humility and you, too much pride.”

  Rebecca felt confused. How could Anthony condone his sister over what he had done himself? He was preaching respect, but hadn’t he spent most of the time staring at her cleavage.

  “That will be enough from all of you,” the Duke’s voice boomed. “You will all treat Rebecca with the respect that gave to your mother.”

  Rebecca felt uncomfortable. She did not want the Duke’s children to think of her, as their mother. It seemed unbalanced for them to think of her in that way. What authority could she hold over them? What advice did she have that would be worth sharing?

  “I am sure,” she broke her silence at the table, "that Isabella is just surprised by the sudden disruption to her life. Once she has had time to settle on the fact that I am to marry her father, I’m sure she will be much more welcoming to me.” Rebecca knew her words were untrue. She could see the looks of jealousy in Isabella's eyes. Isabella did not approve of her. She did not approve of her father marrying a maidservant.

  “You give Isabella more credit than she is due,” Anthony said.

  The feel of his attention turning towards her made Rebecca goose bumps rise up on her skin. She did not approve of the way that he undressed her with his eyes, but that did not mean that she did not enjoy it.

  “If Isabella is such an angel, then why is she not married?” “Enough,” the Duke boomed. “I will not sit here and listen to you insult your own blood in such a way!”

  The room was quiet. The only sounds were those of cutlery hitting the china plates and glasses being taken and returned to the table.

  Rebecca could feel the heated glares coming from Isabella as she ate but, she did not return her with any kind of look of her own. She was too taken by the confusing display that Anthony had placed at the table and what it meant.

  But it couldn’t mean anything. She was marrying his father. She was marrying the Duke. The agreement had already been made, her stipulations agreed to. There was no going back for her. The only thing she could do was move forward with her plans, even if Anthony had thrown them into disarray for a brief moment.

  At the conclusion of dessert, the Duke took Rebecca’s hand, bowed and kissed it.

  “Rebecca, my dear,” he whispered.” As soon as the guests leave, I shan’t be too long in coming to visit you in your boudoir.”

  Rebecca forced a smile and nodded. People were moving out of the room. Anthony sat in place, finishing the last of his drink.

  Rebecca longed for the evening to be over so she could be alone to ponder how life would be from now on. Perhaps the Duke would take her tonight and then go off somewhere for a trip so she would not have to endure their pre-marital encounters.

  Anthony rose from the table and turned to Rebecca. “Enjoy your romp with my father, Rebecca. He’s a lucky fellow to be in your bed tonight. You look so fetching in that gown and I can imagine exquisite without it on.”

  Rebecca rushed to join the other ladies in the parlor, thinking that Anthony was attracted to her, even a touch jealous that his father would be the one to ravage her later in the evening.

  As she lay in bed, sobbing quietly, Rebecca knew that everything she had allowed the Duke to do to her was for one purpose. Without giving him her body to have his way with, she could never hope to have her beautiful daughter with her. It was the price she had to pay for her dearest wish.

  Sleep didn’t come that night. Rebecca was exhausted, but resigned to her fate as the Duke’s wife. She resolved to be dutiful and her thoughts were how wonderful it would be to have Emma close by. She would have to devote herself to her duties as Duchess. Being a good wife to Duke Robert Langley, would prove that she was grateful to have Emma living with her at his grand estate.

  Chapter Five

  ❆❆❆

  The only thing that had helped her get through the awful experience had been thinking of Anthony. While the Duke was on top of her, she spent the time wondering what it would be like to have Anthony in her bed instead of the clumsy Duke who grunted and groaned as he satisfied his urges.

  For a moment she fantasized about Anthony Langley being her bed partner instead of his father. Rebecca wondered why Anthony attracted her in such a sensuous way. He was rude and self-absorbed and utterly despicable. More than that, he was soon to be her step-son and anything intimate between them would be taboo.

  She got up and went to the window. As she parted the drapes to look out, she saw the sun in the sky. After her experience with the Duke, she needed fresh air, so she left her chamber and crept downstairs.

  The sun blinded her for a moment, and the figure was only a bright silhouette in the sunlight. Then the figure stepped forward, and Rebecca was gazing at Anthony Langley. He smiled. “You look frightened,” Anthony said, with a slight tilt of his head. “Have I given you cause to fear me?”

  “I have cause to fear much, these days,” Rebecca said. “I have to go,” she went on, as she walked.

  She assumed he would turn back; instead, she felt a presence at her shoulder. He was walking beside her.

  “I confess,” he said, “that I am intrigued by you, my lady."

  Then he moved closer and caressed the side of her face and took her chin lightly in his hand.

  “Tell me, Rebecca, how is it that such a beautiful, young woman can concede to marry my disgusting, dirty old devil of a father? You could have any man you desire with your amazing face and figure?”

  “Why do I feel so close to you?” Anthony mused aloud. “I hope you will not laugh. I feel as though I have known you for years.”

  Rebecca, not allowing herself to dwell on what she was about to do, leaned forward into his chest. She was falling, now, and if he wanted he could catch her. Equally, he could push her back and declare that she was a low woman, as many men would in this circumstance.

  But he did not push her away. He wrapped his arms around her like it was the most natural thing in the world. She breathed in the scent of his clothes, felt the hard muscle beneath his shirt pressing against her body.

  Before Rebecca could protest, or even begin to make sense of what was happening, Anthony had her pinned against the wall, his body pressed against hers, his lips capturing her own in a deep, passionate kiss.

  It was as though she had melted, Rebecca’s knees were as weak as jelly as Anthony claimed her mouth with his own. One arm encircled her waist, while the other pinned her ruthlessly, yet passionately against the wall.

  Rebecca knew she should protest – but the feeling of butterflies low down in her stomach, and the small moan of pleasure that escaped her lips were clouding her judgement. He forced her mouth open and plundered it with his tongue as she relented and kissed him just as ferociously as he was kissing her.

  The kiss intensified, and their teeth clicked together. She wrapped her arms aroun
d him and gripped his strong back, dug her fingernails into his shirt. He moaned loudly, and she moaned with him. His body pressed against hers, pushed hard against her breasts, pushed her nipples.

  Rebecca pushed away, breathing heavily. No, she thought, the memory of that night returning with a force it had never possessed before.

  No, not now! Her breath came quicker, more frantic. She leaned forward, her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Panic wracked every part of her. Her head pounded, her chest galloped, her palms sweated and her fingers fidgeted.

  Her legs trembled so violently that she fell backward into a nearby tree, slid down it, and slumped onto the earth. She rubbed her eyes with her thumbs, trying to push the images away.

  “I am sorry!” Anthony cried, deep concern in his voice.

  She heard him kneel beside her, heard the rustling of his clothes and the rustling of the leaves.

  “I do not think any less of you, Rebecca! You are not diminished! I am at fault! The blame is mine. Please, do not let this hurt you!”

  She shook her head. “Not that,” she sighed, eyes slammed shut, images cycling through her mind so jarringly that she felt sick. She shook her head again. “Need a moment, Anthony,” she breathed.

  He did not say anything else, and she was grateful for that. She focused on her breathing, and focused on locking the memories back into their box. She breathed slower, and slower, and visualized a box, and folded the memories and placed them in the box. She closed the box, locked it, and then sighed once more. Her mind cleared slowly.

  When it was finally clear, her body no longer lurching and jiving, she opened her eyes. Anthony looked at her with wide-open eyes, his lips twisted into frown.

  “What have I done?” he said. “I have hurt you!”

  “It is not you,” she said. “I—I cannot tell you of it. I am sorry, but it is too painful to speak of. Will you just hold me for a little while? I must return soon, but in that time I would rather be held by you.”

  “Of course,” Anthony said.

  He maneuvered so that he sat behind her, and then he enclosed his arms around her. She gripped his arms tightly, wishing that she always had them about her. She felt much safer when this strong man held her.

  “A woman like you does not belong with a man like my father,” Anthony whispered in her ear.

  “Who do you suppose I belong with?” Rebecca asked him taking a step forward. “Do you suppose that I belong with you?” she taunted him.

  Anthony leaned in to her. A sharp jolt struck Rebecca, when his lips brushed up against the lobe of her ear. His breath was hot against her skin.

  She leaned into him. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stand the idea of him pulling away.

  “You see,” he whispered quietly. “You just can’t help yourself.”

  He was right. Every part of Rebecca was aching for Athony’s touch.

  Then Rebecca realized what she was doing and pulled away. She glared at Anthony with scorn. Her hand came up to her mouth and she wiped the kiss away, albeit reluctantly, to show him that what he had just done was totally out of place for a man who was set to become her stepson.

  Turning away from Anthony, she rode off in a less than elegant way, almost sliding off the saddle in her haste to put distance between them.

  Rebecca rode as fast as was safe until she reached the northern boundary of the estate. She sat quietly in the saddle and pondered what had just happened.

  She had never felt such ardor before, and the force of nature demonstrated to both of them that they were romantically compatible. But it was wrong and dangerous because if their interlude were to come to the attention of the Duke, she might never get Emma back.

  She would have to make Anthony aware that a repeat of their impulsive kiss could never happen again. Yet as she relived the sensations of that kiss, she knew it would be almost impossible to resist his advances.

  He was not the type of man to back off and respect her wishes. And he seemed to hate his father, so maybe he was trying to undermine the marriage pact that the Duke and she had struck.

  But would she ever be able to forget the feelings that Anthony evoked in her? Did she even want to?

  She longed to see Emma, so her plan was to ride to town so she could sneak a look at her daughter as she played in the grounds of the orphanage. It was important to be sure that her little girl was being properly cared for. Did the little girl understand why her own mother had abandoned her?

  Chapter Six

  ❆❆❆

  The ride to town was pleasant on such a beautiful day. There was a constant breeze moving the air around her.

  She stopped outside a large building with several broken window panes. The disrepair of the building made her heart ache. How could it be that Emma was in there? How could it be that she’d allowed for that to happen?

  She looked at each window. She knew that there wasn’t a real chance of seeing Emma. The deep, cold aching in her heart was crushing her.

  She tried to focus on the wedding. It wasn’t enough to quell the storm inside of her. It could never and would never be enough. She had allowed Emma to end up there. She had allowed things to spiral so out of control that she’d lost control. “Who is in there?” she jumped again, as Anthony crept up on her.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Did you follow me? You have no right to follow me,” she told him.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Anthony said.

  “I have no need to answer your question,” she told him stiffly.

  “I could go over and ask,” he shrugged. “I imagine that with my status that it would be no imposition on them.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Rebecca stepped in front of him. “You leave alone what you do not know,” she warned him. “It must be someone important,” Anthony’s eyes narrowed. “Is it a parent? Is this a mad house? I bet that’s it. You’re hiding away a looney parent aren’t you?”

  “You may believe what you want,” Rebecca told him. “I will not share my secret with you.”

  “I worry about what my father holds over you,” Anthony said.

  “What makes you believe he holds something over me?” Rebecca asked him.

  “Why else would you marry him?” Anthony asked her. “Would you have me believe that you love him?”

  “I would have you believe that this isn’t your concern,” Rebecca told him sternly.

  “Do you truly believe that?” Anthony peered at her. “Do you truly believe that you are not special to me?”

  Rebecca stepped away from him.

  “I do not know what you are trying to say, but insist upon you leaving this subject.”

  “I shall do no such thing,” Anthony told her quickly. “You cannot deny what happened between us. You cannot deny that you want it again. Just like I cannot deny that watching you marry my father would be a great torture to me. Do you wish me to go through that?”

  “This cannot be about you,” Rebecca wouldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She knew that all he was saying was true, but that the truth could not matter, when it came to her decision.

  “Who is this about?” Anthony asked. “Who is my father helping for you? Why won’t you tell me?”

  Rebecca finally turned to look at him. She had to. “My daughter,” she told him fearlessly.

  She knew what the truth meant. She knew that he would never look at her in the same way again but, that was what had to happen. She had to jade his perception of her, so that she could marry his father without objection.

  “You have a daughter?” he asked, stunned.

  “Yes,” she told him simply. “She was taken into an orphanage, when my father left all his fortune to my uncle. I couldn’t do the one thing that a mom should do.”

  “Does she live in this building?” Anthony asked her.

  “Yes,” Rebecca said in barley a whisper. “I wanted to feel close to her.”

  “Right,” Anhony said. “Then we
must take her out now.”

  “I can’t,” Rebecca protested. “The agreement I have with your father is that she is to come here only after we are married.”

  “Rebecca, you believe that you see the devil in me and I make no excuses for that. It is hard to believe though, that you can see in me what you cannot in my father. I did not become this way through chance. My father will not stick to his word and that is why he’s forcing you to wait. Once you are married it will be too late. Do not deceive yourself into believing that my father would allow for anyone to know that his wife had a child out of wedlock.”

  “What do I do?” Rebecca asked in despair. “Your father is the only chance I have. Without him, I am nothing.”

  Anthony grabbed her arm and gently pulled her forward. “You are not alone,” he told her firmly. “I am never going to let you be alone.”

  “Do you truly believe that I am to think that?” Rebecca pulled her arm away from him. “I am one of but many girls you have chased after. I make no delusions about my importance to you.”

  A look of hurt sank over Anthony’s face.

  “I do not expect you to believe that I am a changed man. I only ask that you believe I can change for you.”

  “Why would I believe that?” her eyes burned into his. “Why would I believe that you care in any way?”

  Anthony looked frustrated for a second, before dropping to his knee. “Marry me?”

  “What?” Rebecca shook her head.

  He was crazy. He had gone insane.

  “If you wish for me to prove how serious I am then, marry me. We will go to a chapel tonight and pick up your daughter in the morning.”

  “I cannot do that,” Rebecca protested again. “What would we do after? How would we live?”

  “Do you not realize that I have a great fortune of my own?” “You have no such fortune,” Rebecca frowned at him.

  “Is that so?” Anthony smiled. “Do you really take me to be such a fool? I have saved a percentage of every investment my father has ever given me. Without his knowing I have collected quite a nice sum, which he has no way of touching. I have my own house in the North, Brighton House. Let me take you and your little girl there. We will be happy and settled for many years to come.I love you, Rebecca. I love you. I love you. I love you! I cannot say that it makes a great deal of practical sense, but, yes, I cannot fight the way I feel.”