by Sofia Daniel
Swallowing back my reservations, I reached for the package. Our fingers brushed, the sensation squeezing my heart.
“Open it,” he murmured.
Even without the bruises, I could tell this was Maxwell. A mix of warmth and uncertainty radiating through his gray eyes—the stark opposite to his asshole brother.
I eased off the white, satin ribbon and pulled the lid off the box, releasing the scent of leather. A black, suede box lay within the first, and one of the butterflies in my stomach flapped a wing.
“Why did you buy this?” My voice cracked, making me cringe.
This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the girl who cried over a man or the girl who whined for explanations, but the night of the fashion show had changed everything.
The boy standing in front of me had risked himself to save my neck from Sammy, Billy Hancock, and their henchmen. He’d given me the best sex of my fucking life, only to let me get arrested in the most humiliating fashion and then smirk in my face.
Maxwell stepped across the threshold and flipped open the suede box, revealing a thin, rose-gold bangle studded with diamonds all around its front with a diamond fleur-de-lys motif. Around it was a matching necklace and stud earrings.
A lump formed in my throat. “They’re...” The words stuck in the back of my throat. Exquisite, feminine, delicate. Pride demanded that I hand back the gift, but it was worth well over five grand. I closed the box. “They’re pretty. Thank you.”
Disappointment flickered across his features, and irritation fizzled across mine. If he thought a few gestures could negate such a deep and calculating betrayal, he was kidding himself.
“May I come in?” he asked.
I stepped back into the warmth of the house and held the door. “You’d better return to the academy before you freeze on the doorstep. Merry Christmas.”
His face dropped. “Lilah, I am sorr—”
I slammed the door shut, and guilt tightened around my chest like an Alexander McQueen corset. Then a choker of paranoia wound around my throat. What if this jewelry was the start of another set-up? A way for the boys to prove their loyalty to Elizabeth by shattering what was left of my heart.
Shaking off those thoughts, I strolled back through the hallway, my footsteps clacking in time with the ticking of the grandfather clock. Back in the living room, I met the curious, blue eyes of my grandfather. He sat at a champagne-colored armchair, nursing a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
I should have let Maxwell inside. It would have been fun to watch him squirm under the scrutiny of Mr. Burgh.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“Maxwell.” I placed the Tiffany box on the coffee table. “He wanted to apologize.”
Mr. Burgh extracted the suede box from the blue one and flipped it open. His brows furrowed. “You accepted this?”
After lowering myself onto the sofa, I grabbed my own mug, inhaling the sweet aroma of rum and chocolate. “It’s the least he can do after—”
The doorbell rang.
Excitement swelled through my insides, and I placed the mug back on the coffee table. Maxwell had returned.
“Bring him inside,” said Mr. Burgh with a growl.
“Alright.” I suppressed a smile and stood. With as much restraint as my thrumming heart would allow, I strolled back to the door and flung it open.
Orlando stood at the doorstep with his hands behind his back. He grinned down at me with a dazzling smile. “May I come inside?”
Maybe it was the mischief twinkling in his hazel eyes or the festive blond curls, but without even meaning to, I stepped aside to let him in.
After stamping the snow off his boots, Orlando stepped inside and closed the front door.
“Why are you here?” My gaze dropped down to his arms, which he still held behind his back.
“I brought you something.”
I smiled back. “Oh yeah?”
He raised a sprig of mistletoe. “I thought you could use a Christmas kiss.”
“Why?”
“After the terrible time you’ve had, one of us needs to make amends.”
“And you’re going to prove this with your lips and tongue?”
“Maxwell’s jewelry didn’t work, did it?”
I didn’t reply. Those diamonds were mine, and I wasn’t going to fling them in anyone’s face to make a point.
“Everyone knows you’re not like the other girls.” He stepped toward me, encasing my senses in his leathery scent. “Baubles and trinkets won’t fill your heart.” The way he said those last few words made me think he was looking to fill me somewhere else.
Ignoring the tightening of my nipples, I said, “One shitty, little kiss?”
“I intend to do more than kiss you.”
“Not without my say-so.”
Another step brought him so close, I swore he could hear the fluttering of my heart and smell the dampness slicking my folds. Something about Orlando’s presence distracted me from hating the knights. He’d probably sprayed himself with pheromones designed to beguile a girl because the pulse between my legs thrummed par-rup-a-pum-pum.
“Lilah,” he said in a low voice that made my core tingle. “May this humble suitor offer you a Christmas kiss?”
I tilted my head up. “What do they say? A suitor’s for life, not just for Christmas?”
Orlando’s large hand cupped the side of my face. He brought his head down and pressed his soft, full lips on mine. Pleasure sparked from my lips, down to my nipples. Before it could reach my pussy, he broke the kiss.
“All that buildup and that’s what I get?” I scowled up into his smirking face.
“Want more?”
Raising a shoulder, I said, “You know me.”
Orlando chuckled and leaned down for a do-over. His lips caressed mine, more gently than he’d ever kissed me at the back of his limo or on the dance floor of Wank. If I was the type to read into things, I would have thought the kiss a gentle apology. The hand cupping my cheek slid around to the back of my head, and his other arm rested on the small of my back holding our bodies together.
His tongue slipped between my lips with languid strokes that flooded my senses in pleasure. With a soft moan, I wrapped both arms around his neck and trapped him in a head-lock. Orlando groaned and deepened the kiss.
A little voice in the back of my head screamed at me to stop. Orlando was the enemy. One of the quartet of bastards who had gotten me arrested and half-mauled by dogs.
But the fucker sure knew how to kiss.
I told it to bugger off and continued letting him plunder my mouth. With the deftest of movements, Orlando had my feet off the ground, my back wedged against the hard wall, and his erection pressing between my legs.
“Lilah,” he murmured into the kiss. “You’re so sexy.”
“True,” I whispered back.
“Mr. Nevis,” said a deep voice.
Orlando jumped back, leaving me to slide down the wall.
Mr. Burgh stood a few feet away, his face as hard as granite. “It’s customary to kiss young ladies at Christmas, not devour their faces.”
“Of course.” Orlando gave the headmaster one of those standing-to-attention stances.
“My granddaughter is not a plaything. She is not to be passed from one reprobate to another and discarded.” Mr. Burgh loomed over us, seeming to expand with every step. “Is that understood?”
Orlando gulped. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t keep Mrs. Campbell waiting.”
“Yes, sir.” Orlando inclined his head. “Happy Christmas, sir.”
My gaze darted to Mr. Burgh, who still looked like he wanted to kick Orlando’s ass. “I’ll see him out.”
He grunted his approval, and I rushed up to the old man and pecked him on the cheek. If he hadn’t interrupted us, I might have let Orlando carry me upstairs for a Christmas fuck. Before he could give me an I’ll-deal-with-you-later glower, I rushed back to Orlando, who stood at the door.
“He must love
you,” said Orlando. “I’ve never seen old Burgh looking so riled.”
My heart made a happy flutter. “He’s been great.”
He leaned down and gave me a peck on the lips. “Happy Christmas and congratulations on finding such an understanding grandparent.”
I grinned. “It’s like winning the lottery.”
Orlando stepped down from the doorstep and blew me a kiss. I waved back, resisting the urge to go all cheesy and snatch it out of the air. Not wanting to look like I’d forgiven him—which I hadn’t—I closed the door and walked back to the living room.
Mr. Burgh stood in front of the crackling fire, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Like winning the lottery, eh?”
“You were eavesdropping?”
He turned to me, his sapphire eyes grave. “Be careful with Mr. Nevis. He’s just as unruly and lewd as Maxwell Deloraine.”
Heat bloomed between my legs, and I placed both palms on my cheeks. If Orlando was as good a fuck as Maxwell...
The memory of Orlando scheming against me in the nightclub toilets pushed to the forefront of my mind, and the fires of my arousal flickered to dying embers.
I gave Mr. Burgh a sheepish smile. “You’re right. I don’t know what came over me.”
His head tilted to the side in one of those looks that told me he’d dealt with young scallywags for decades and knew the exact cause of my problems. “I’ve broken up enough canoodling couples to know what’s what.”
“Canoodling?”
“What do you call it these days, snogging?”
I stifled a laugh. “Come on. The hot chocolate’s getting cold.”
Later, we shared the best Christmas dinner of my life. We started with cock-a-leekie soup, made with chicken, leak, and bacon. Then Mr. Burgh served a roast pheasant, roast potatoes, and an array of winter vegetables. For pudding, custard and clootie dumpling, a steamed pudding of currants and apple prepared with gorgeous spices.
No dogs, no druggies, and no henchmen. Just me and Mr. Burgh—my grandfather. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone I’d met a mere three months ago, but the old man had captured my heart and wrapped it in a satin bow.
He told me stories of how he had celebrated Christmas with his family, of his childhood and his early days as the headmaster, which made me laugh out loud. And he popped open a bottle of champagne.
Later, the doorbell rang. Mrs. Campbell arrived with a bottle of whiskey. She had loosened her Professor McGonagall bun into a less severe updo with loose tendrils framing her face. Delicate ruffles lined the lapels of her usual tweed jacket.
Mr. Burgh cleared his throat. “Mrs. Campbell came to wish us a merry Christmas.”
I kept all traces of mirth off my face. Even though they addressed each other by their titles and kept a professional distance, any fool could tell she had missed him at the dining table.
“This is for you.” She handed me a book-sized package.
“Thank you.” I pulled the wrapping paper off to reveal a copy of Everything is Figureoutable, which featured a young woman striking a fierce pose. “Wow.”
“It comes highly recommended by Oprah Winfrey.”
“It’s much appreciated, Miss.” I smiled at the deputy headmistress and held up an empty champagne glass. “Will you stay for a Christmas tipple?”
Mrs. Campbell’s eyes softened. With a soft chuckle, she said, “I wouldn’t say no to a wee sip.”
I picked up the bottle and poured the older woman a large helping of champagne.
It looked like I wasn’t the only one who would get a Christmas snog.
Chapter 17
Things became even warmer at the Burgh household after Christmas. Mrs. Campbell joined us in the living room for high tea on Boxing Day, where I served pheasant sandwiches. She brought a light and fluffy Victoria sponge cake, which she had made in the morning.
As the older woman explained that she didn’t have much of an opportunity to cook since her husband had died, I wondered if I was a chaperone or a third wheel and cramping their style.
The doorbell rang, and I sprang to my feet. I hoped it was Orlando, but even if it was one or both of the twins, I’d invite them in to even up the numbers. At the front door, I smoothed down my hair and practiced looking used to having gentlemen callers.
Gideon stood at the doorstep, looking pensive in his navy blue overcoat.
With a frown, I stepped aside and let him in. “I thought you were spending Christmas with Lachlan.”
The corner of Gideon’s lips curled into a smile. “Let’s just say there was an incident where I stood under the mistletoe with both Lachlan and Francesco.”
My jaw dropped. I shouldered on my winter coat, kicked off my shoes and slipped on a pair of Uggs. “Gideon’s here,” I shouted into the hallway. “We’re going out for a walk.”
His brows rose, but he didn’t comment until I ushered him out of the house, down the stairs, and across a courtyard of shin-deep snow. Freezing wind blew the scent of pine trees down the driveway, but at least it had stopped snowing.
“Mrs. Campbell’s visiting,” I said as we walked through the gates. “I didn’t want tales of lewd conduct drifting into the ears of the headmaster and deputy headmistress.”
After turning right, we walked in the middle of the driveway, which someone had kindly cleared and salted. Waist-high mounds of snow piled against the fence on our right and to our left lay paddocks with snow gathered on the tops of the wooden fences.
Gideon adjusted his cashmere scarf. “We did more than just kiss.”
I looped my arm through his. “You were the pig in a spit roast?”
“Must you speak in such vulgar terms?” he said.
“How would you describe it, then?”
Gideon stuck his nose in the air. “Ménage à trois.”
The perfect French pronunciation made me cackle like the wicked witch of the west.
“Do I need to throw a cup of water over you?”
This was what I loved best about Gideon. On the outside, we were so different. I was a girl from the shittiest borough of London, and he was practically a Nigerian prince with the way he talked and carried himself. But when you stripped away the layers, we were like two peas in a pod. Mrs. Campbell had been a genius to know we would get along when she sent him over on the pretext of giving me elocution lessons.
Out in a distant paddock, a black figure rode a white horse.
I pulled my hat over my ears and groaned. “She’s back.”
“Who?” Gideon turned in the direction of my stare and shook his head. “One would think she would be busy attending functions with Lady Liddell and the archbishop.”
“Where do they actually live?”
“There’s a mansion somewhere on the estate, but the archbishop works from Edinburgh Cathedral and stays in the attached palace,” he said. “But I expect they’re not impressed with her recent stunts.”
I grunted my agreement. “Mr. and Mrs. Deloraine can’t be impressed by her getting their son arrested and beaten up in custody.”
“And I’m sure Mr. Burgh had a few things to say to all of them about Elizabeth’s campaign against you.”
We continued down the driveway past a smaller house built in a similar style to the academy and the headmaster’s quarters. Above its front door was a wrought-iron balcony similar to the one in my room. I wondered if that was where Mrs. Campbell lived.
“I don’t know what kind of punishment Elizabeth got from the Board of Governors.” A cloud of condensation escaped my lips. “Mr. Burgh’s being tight-lipped about the details of her disciplinary.”
“I suppose he wants to play fair. Giving you privileged information might lead to you saying something incriminating to Elizabeth.”
“It’s a pity no one on her side seems to think the same. She would never have been able to dredge up all that stuff about my mother without the help of someone in the police.”
The memory of that brutal kiss on the frost seeped
into my mind, and bile rose to the back of my throat. “Sometimes, I want to smash some sanity into her skull.”
Gideon stopped walking and stood in the middle of the driveway. “I know things are difficult, but please think about your future.”
“What do you mean?”
“Elizabeth’s entire life is laid out for her. When the archbishop passes away, she will become Lady Liddell and the mistress of everything you see from here to the horizon.”
Irritation flared across my skin. Not at Gideon, but at the truth in his words. It was so unfair that someone who had never needed to struggle would resort to such extreme tactics to resolve a petty rivalry that she started. “Miss Martin said something similar. That I should leave and get away from Elizabeth.”
Gideon shook his head. “In your position, I’d work from the shadows and learn from her mistake.”
“Which is?”
“She always takes her actions far enough to make them backfire. Instead of revealing your illegitimate birth and criminal stepfather, she told everyone about your family connection with Mr. Burgh, which turned many in your favor and resulted in your warm relationship with the headmaster.”
“Right.” I narrowed my eyes. It almost sounded like Gideon was saying Elizabeth had done me a favor.
“And then there’s the drug bust.” Clasping his hands, he continued down the driveway. “Elizabeth could have placed a gram of cocaine in your room and gotten a better result. Instead, she sprinkled the drug over a kilogram of whatever, instantly proving to the police that it was a set-up.”
I raised my shoulders. “It’s not like she’s clever.”
“Stupidity isn’t her Achilles heel. It’s an overinflated sense of invincibility. Use that to your advantage and uncover what those boys you texted me about have on her.”
“That was the plan…”
“I know.” He intertwined his fingers between mine, and we continued walking. “Just be stealthy about getting your revenge. When you uncover what she’s been doing, find a way to reveal it without getting yourself into trouble.”
