Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1)

by Anna Campbell

  Theodore smiled, coming closer as Lauren instinctively retreated. She didn’t realize how serious his pursuit was until her shoulder blades came in contact with one of the large windows at the room’s northern end. The glass pane was icy-cold, chilling her through the layers of her clothes.

  It was darker here, the sconces’ light barely illuminating the shadows. Trapped by Theodore’s elegantly muscled body, she was caged in place. Held hostage by a memory of melting the first time this man kissed her. How frightening it was because it seemed her soul was no longer her own. It had felt from that moment as though she belonged irrevocably to him and no one else.

  How she detested the fact she had missed him.

  “My lovely girl, I’ve no need for your inheritance.” Theodore trailed a finger over Lauren’s cheek. “I never held any intention of using it as a means of restoring what my irresponsible father squandered.”

  Theodore’s icy blue eyes bore into her own grey ones, searching, probing. Lauren swallowed, wanting to look away but unable to do so. Her gaze locked on his firm mouth, which looked as kissable as ever, the lower lip full and lush and utterly sinful.

  “The contract died with our fathers,” Lauren whispered. “Nothing binds us together now.”

  “The contract still exists, although I’d never force you to honor it.”

  “I don’t understand what you want from me, Hawthorne.”

  “I did not want you because of your inheritance. I agreed to marry you because I fell in love with you.” Theodore leaned closer, brushing his nose along her ear, inhaling her scent. “I’m still in love with you.”

  “You barely know me,” Lauren replied shakily. The three blissful months of their engagement before she learned of his deception also taught her a valuable lesson. Time could not reveal every nuance of a man’s character.

  Yes, he barely knew her, and she certainly hadn’t known him.

  Theodore shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were meant to be mine. You knew it, too. The first time I kissed you, you kissed me back.” He tucked a stray lock of hair back into her updo and tilted her chin up with his finger. “Tell me you did not feel it too, Lauren. Tell me you did not know my heart belonged to you, and yours belonged to me.”

  The intensity of his gaze could not be escaped. “Your father—”

  “Is dead. As is yours. What’s left is between us. I want you, Lauren. I want you to be my wife. I want the opportunity to prove we should be together.”

  “I’ve no wish to be a wife.” Lauren turned her head, dislodging his finger. “I want to control my own funds, make my own decisions…”

  “And so you shall,” Theodore agreed with cryptic smoothness. “Shielding you from fortune hunters, knowing you would become a countess, my countess, was your father’s greatest motivation. He trusted I would take care of you for the rest of your life. Had my father not lost nearly every penny of our estates, he would never have asked Lord Kendall to consider a marriage between us. Had I not been struck by the lightning of your smile, your father would have never considered me for your husband.” Theodore’s head tilted, his eyes gleaming. “Tell me, Lauren. Have you not thought of me during these many months apart?”

  “No.”

  “Liar. Your voice is trembling. You’re trembling.”

  “I’m cold,” she protested.

  “That’s not why you are shaking in my arms. Shall I tell you how often I think of you, Lauren? Every day. You are in my thoughts when I wake. When I retire for the evening. When I have my morning tea. When I work. When I ride my estate grounds. When I walk the gardens. Even when I sleep, I dream of you.”

  His head dipped toward hers until his hair tumbled into his eyes. It was a glossy, dark chestnut hue, and so thickly luxurious it resembled mink fur. Lauren’s fingers twitched with the sudden urge to brush it back from his brow. To smooth the strands into order and kiss his temples as she did so.

  “Look at me, Lauren,” Theodore commanded softly. “Look at me, because I have a proposition for you.”

  Their eyes should have clashed, hers hard with wariness, his bright with challenge. Instead, Theodore’s gaze was so warm and caring, Lauren melted just a little.

  “What is it?”

  “For every bit of mistletoe I find you beneath, I ask that you grant me a kiss, a favor, or a truth. By Christmas, I will have changed your mind about us.”

  “There isn’t enough mistletoe in all of England to accomplish that,” she breathed.

  Theodore grinned. “If I haven’t convinced you by the end of Christmas Day that our marriage is precisely what you need, then I shall bother you no more. But I have overwhelming confidence in my plan.”

  “You are incredibly pompous.”

  “Without a doubt. Now, do you agree to the terms? Yes? Good. We begin.”

  “No. We do not begin, you ruffian,” Lauren bristled, attempting to push away from the glass window and out of the cage his arms created.

  She may not have agreed to his proposal, but her own words indicated compliance. There was no understanding the irresistible pull she experienced with this man. It was irrational and dangerous.

  Theodore blocked her escape simply by shifting his body. Once again, he placed a finger beneath her chin, tilting until her head fell back enough to see the bow of greenery above them. Decorating the high arch of the window’s frame, it filled the space between the opened draperies.

  A large ball of mistletoe hung from the garland’s ribbon-bedecked center. In the shadows, the plant’s white berries glowed like tiny, bright stars.

  “This one doesn’t count, Hawthorne,” Lauren choked out in alarm. Her heart accelerated, galloping twice its normal speed.

  Theodore chuckled darkly, fingers sliding into her coiffure, his palm cupping her jawbone. “Oh, sweetheart. This first one counts far more than any of the others to follow. Do you even understand why you will change your mind and open your heart to me again?”

  Lauren shook her head in a fractional gesture, frozen as Theodore’s mouth hovered over hers. There was such an agonizing, delicious hesitancy in the gesture that a whimper of longing snagged in her throat. His hands made her dizzy. Made her remember how wonderful it felt being in his arms. How warm it made her when he smiled at her.

  Forgetting he once only wanted her for her inheritance was incredibly easy. Remembering that might not have changed was even harder. Had he truly recovered his fortunes?

  Theodore’s winter blue eyes burned her, dark lashes shielding his true thoughts as he stroked her skin.

  “It’s very simple, my sweet, lonely, future wife. You need me as much as I need you. To fill the void of emptiness. To settle the restlessness in your soul. To quiet and free your desires. Give yourself to me, Lauren, and in return, I’ll give you everything you never knew you wanted.”

  Chapter 3

  Theodore hadn’t forgotten how sweet she always smelled, like roses and vanilla. How her body curved against his own hard form as though crafted for him, her skin soft and warm as velvet.

  But when his lips touched Lauren’s, slanting at an angle which allowed greater access to the depths of her mouth, he realized memories paled in comparison with reality.

  She tasted like ambrosia. Or the rarest brandy. Sinful and heady. Intoxicating. He wanted to drink from her until he could drink no more. Until he’d emptied her of whatever it was that fueled his hunger.

  When he bit her plump, lower lip, Lauren moaned and opened her mouth further so his tongue could sweep inside. She still trembled, and Theodore moved her away from the window, wrapping his free arm around her waist and keeping her jaw cradled in the palm of his hand.

  She’d been such a responsive creature before, so many months ago, leaning into his touch and eagerly accepting his kisses during their stolen moments. He was glad to see that at least had not changed.

  He could not be gentle now, although he did try. In a restrained frenzy of possessiveness, he showed
her how terribly he’d missed her. Showed her how desperately he still wanted her and how ironclad his resolve was.

  When he finally drew back, Lauren’s grey eyes were stormy and dark. Her features mirrored his own need, her skin flushed with warmth, her fingers clutching his forearm as though needing something solid to steady herself.

  “I’ve two weeks to convince you this is where you are meant to be, Lauren. Here, in my arms. Where I can kiss you any time I desire, wherever and however I want.” Theodore traced the outline of her mouth with his tongue, pushing past the seam of her lips until she parted them with a little sound of frustrated yearning.

  “Hawthorne…” Lauren whispered.

  “Use my name as you did once before. Don’t treat this like a random social call. Do you understand me?” He ravished her mouth until she was panting. “Do you. Understand. Me?”

  Her breath hitched at his unyielding tone, but she complied. “Theo.”

  Theodore could not deny the jolt of lust that electrified him when she said his name in a quivering sigh. His forehead dropped forward until it touched hers. “I want to devour you until I’ve gorged myself. Until I can’t possibly take any more of you. But the truth is, I will never have my fill, Lauren. I want all of you.”

  Pressing one last heated kiss on her mouth, Theodore allowed her to sink back from him. His arms felt empty without her warmth.

  “Now, come. Let’s see you settled into your room so my conquest of your heart may begin in earnest.”

  Hours later, Theodore watched Lauren during supper. She was doing a fine job of avoiding him, and he suspected she’d engaged Penelope in making sure she was not seated anywhere near him.

  He would allow that distance for now. After all, his presence here was unexpected. It probably felt as though she’d been ambushed. To be truthful, he was shocked upon arriving at Settleton the day before and learning Lauren would also be attending the house party.

  The past year and a half had been brutal. His own father’s death and the steps taken to rebuild the family fortune had drained him. Not to mention the guilt he’d suffered when Lauren discovered the foundation of their relationship.

  He had hated hiding it from her. During their brief engagement, he debated telling Lauren the truth. He wanted to tell her how he went along with his father’s wishes in the beginning for the sake of his mother. Would Lauren understand how desperately the earl wanted to ensure the wellbeing of his loved ones before his death? Even if it meant deceiving the one chosen as his bride?

  Did she have any idea how frantic her own father was to protect his only child?

  Lauren’s musical laughter drifted from the opposite end of the table. She appeared vastly amused by something Lord Gregory Sanderson just said. She leaned toward him until the pink silk of her gown brushed his arm.

  Theodore’s hand clenched around the crystal goblet of wine. For a brief moment, he wanted to stalk down there, punch the other man in the mouth, and carry Lauren Georgianna Kendall out of the room. Preferably tossed over his shoulder.

  “You are in danger of crushing that goblet, Hawthorne,” Penelope murmured.

  Theodore’s gaze snapped to their hostess. She raised her own glass in a subtle toast, and he forced his fingers to relax.

  “My apologies,” he said with a faint smile.

  “Is it too late to beg forgiveness for my part in this bizarre espionage?” Penelope’s eyebrow rose slightly. “I would not blame you if you were angry with me. Lauren certainly is.”

  “No need. Whatever the reason, I’m glad she and I are here together. I hope to rectify matters between us… if she will allow me to do so.”

  “Lauren has always been stubborn.” Penelope took a sip of her wine. “Even as a child, she stood her ground when we played games and someone bent the rules or cheated, and heaven help the person who thought they could make her do something she did not want to do. She has the constitution of a mule.”

  From the opposite side of the room, Penelope regarded Lauren for a long moment then admitted slowly, “It was both of your mothers’ idea that I invite the two of you here. They are determined to see you together for your own good. I only agreed I would extend the invitation. You’ll understand that I can take no further part in deceiving my cousin.”

  “I found it puzzling I received an invite,” Theodore acknowledged.

  “Did you hesitate in accepting?”

  “No. Nor am I surprised my mother is involved in the plotting,” he replied dryly. “She adores Lauren and fears, unless I marry her, any hope for grandchildren may be lost forever.”

  “You came, Hawthorne, hoping she would be here, and so she is. It is up to you now.” Penelope nodded in Lauren’s direction. “You have two weeks to change my cousin’s mind.”

  “And I intend to do just that.”

  “How, precisely?”

  Theodore flashed Penelope a wide grin. “With an ungodly amount of mistletoe.” He did not mention he carried a bit of the greenery within his inner coat pocket. A good plan of action meant being prepared at all times. Especially with his surprisingly independent fiancée.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a private matter between Lauren and myself. The only favor I ask of you is making sure the stuff is hung everywhere whilst we are here. You will not tell her of her mother’s subterfuge.”

  Penelope looked unsure before nodding her agreement. “As you wish, Hawthorne.”

  “Thank you, Penelope. Every time Lauren turns a corner, I want a reason to kiss her, and the mistletoe will provide that until she is fully mine.”

  When Lauren retired for the evening, Theodore made his excuses as well. He followed her from the East Drawing Room, where the others remained playing whist. Her frown of exasperation was ignored.

  “Your persistence continues,” she said when he fell into step alongside her.

  “Just making up for lost months.”

  “Hmm.”

  “How is your mother?” Theodore asked diplomatically. “Well, I hope?”

  “She is. I hope yours is the same?” Her response was polite, as he expected.

  “It seems both ladies are doing better than we could have possibly imagined.” Theodore sighed, thoughtfully rubbing his chin as Lauren drew up short in the grand foyer.

  Gripping the newel cap of the staircase, Lauren half turned. “What do you mean?”

  “It is of no matter.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Lauren said, her eyes searching his, but Theodore merely shook his head and cupped his palm over Lauren’s elbow, holding her in place.

  With a crooked smile, he pointed above her head, drawing attention to greenery attached to the elaborately carved casing above the staircase. Lauren’s eyes widened as he pulled her closer. “Now, you will give me a truth. Would it be so terrible, Lauren? Being my wife?”

  “Theo…”

  “Give me a truth.” He gripped tighter, preventing her escape.

  “I don’t know.” Lauren’s voice shook a little. “Had our fathers not been involved, I would have been very happy as your wife. Before. But now, I don’t know.”

  Theodore grit his teeth at the display of her stubborn nature. “If you cannot answer honestly, then I’ll have a kiss instead.”

  Lauren tensed, no doubt expecting a repeat of their passionate interlude in the library, but Theodore merely raised her hand to his lips. A soft kiss was pressed to the palm of her hand.

  She stared at him in shock as he released her.

  “Remember my words well, Lauren. A kiss, a truth, or a favor. At the very least, I’ll have one of the three.”

  Chapter 4

  Lauren rolled over, propping her arm under a pillow, and watched Anne bustle about the room. It was barely nine o’clock in the morning. Pity she could not sleep any later, especially after tossing and turning all night.

  “The hot chocolate is ready, milady,” the maid said. “Will you want it by the fire, or shall I bring it to you in be
d?”

  “In bed,” Lauren replied, sitting up. “It’s too cold to get up just yet.”

  “That it is,” Anne agreed with a laugh. She handed a delicate cup to Lauren, then continued readying the bath set up before the fire.

  By the time Lauren finished her hot chocolate, the last bit of steaming water was added to the slipper tub. With a reluctant sigh, she threw back the coverlet and slid from the bed, her toes curling upon contact with the cold floor.

  Anne took her nightrail, placing it neatly over a chair before helping her into the tub. Sinking into the steamy water with a sigh, Lauren grinned at her maid.

  “I might stay here all day.”

  “Not once that water begins to chill, milady. You’ll jump out fast as a cat when that happens. I’ll be back in a bit to help you dress and arrange your hair, but I’m off to check on Mr. Ollie. He’s still feeling poorly after riding on top of that coach, the stubborn thing.”

  “Take your time, Anne. If Ollie is in need of anything, please let the housekeeper know. A few days of rest would certainly benefit him, and you as well.” Lauren tilted her head. “In fact, other than helping me with gowns that button up the back, I see no reason for you to attend me with such diligence.”

  “Oh, milady. Arrange your own hair? Dress yourself, too? What sort of lady’s maid would I be if I allowed that?”

  “The sort who deserves a day or two for herself. Truly, Anne, it will please me to give you that. Plus, you can look in on Ollie. I’m certain he will want you near.”

  Anne appeared unconvinced but hopeful. “I don’t know, milady. Are you sure?”

  Lauren smiled. “Of course. Go on now. Take your time and come back when you are ready.”

  “Oh, Lady Lauren! You are too good to me.” A huge grin broke across Anne’s face. “Thank you.”

  Anne exited in a flurry of skirts while Lauren chuckled and relaxed back against the edge of the tub.