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

by Anna Campbell

  Theodore’s brows snapped together as Lauren stood silent.

  Emma stepped forward. She was a quiet thing, very pretty and possessing a warm smile. “Do say yes. It seems like such fun, but we need more ladies if we are to do things properly.”

  “You’re just who we need,” Lord Jenkins chimed in.

  “Yes, just who we need.” Sanderson glanced at the mistletoe in Theodore’s hands, and a faint scowl darkened his face.

  A heavy silence permeated the salon as Sanderson poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bar service.

  “What if I should join your silly child’s game?” Theodore stalked toward Sanderson until he’d placed himself between the young lord and Lauren. “Would it upset your delicate ratio of men to women?”

  Sanderson’s eyes widened before he regained his composure. “Of course not, Hawthorne. We would, of course, enlist another lady to join the fun.” He tilted his glass toward Theodore with a smile. “Lady Melanie indicated interest if you decided to play. We would be evenly matched in that case.”

  Lauren stiffened. She had no intention of playing anything with that woman involved, but if Theodore wanted to run around the mansion hiding in cupboards and darkened corners hoping a lady might grope him, then he was welcome to it.

  “Sounds intriguing,” Theodore drawled, rocking on his heels. A satisfied expression flitted across his features as his gaze slid to Lauren, gaging her reaction to his next statement. “Perhaps it’s best you do go along, Lauren. Lady Emma has obviously never played this game and doesn’t realize the damage to her reputation when the wrong participant finds her.”

  Lady Emma frowned. “I can take care of myself, my lord, but it would be lovely if you and Lady Lauren joined us.”

  Theodore waved a hand at the girl without bothering a glance at her. “Of course, you can take care of yourself. I did not mean to imply otherwise.”

  Giving the girl a pointed look, Lauren tried conveying the level of concern she instantly felt. “Such games can be rather outrageous, Lady Emma. Do you have anyone else you can partner with?”

  “I see no harm in playing alone,” the girl returned stubbornly.

  Theodore’s winter blue eyes narrowed on Lauren. “What do you say then, Lauren? Shall we?”

  Lauren lifted an eyebrow. She wasn’t so naïve as to mistake Theodore’s secret intent. He wanted to find her alone… somewhere he could continue this assault on her heart unimpeded. He’d declared warfare, and oddly enough, she was eager to reengage in battle.

  “Yes, we shall.” Lauren nearly laughed out loud at the surprise in Theodore’s eyes. Her words twisted to fit their situation, reminding him he’d concealed the truth for so long. “I’ve no skill with this particular game, but maybe I’ll be as good at hiding as some of the expert players.”

  They gathered with approximately eight others in the library. Melanie was there, and Lauren gritted her teeth when the lady’s eyes lit up with pleasure to see Theodore. It went against everything in her nature, but she sidled closer to him. Glancing down at her, he simply arched a brow, quirked a knowing smile, and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

  As the rules of the game were explained, amidst much giggling and excited conversations, Theodore leaned down and whispered in Lauren’s ear.

  “Go directly to your room. I shall meet you there.”

  When she stiffened in silent protest, Lauren felt Theodore’s grin even though she couldn’t see it. His breath was responsible for the chills racing up and down her spine.

  “Do you really want Sanderson to find you?” he inquired softly. “Now, you will go to your room, won’t you?”

  She nodded, casting her eyes downward when she noticed Melanie staring at the two of them.

  “You will send your maid to Lady Penelope with a message. You’ve developed a sudden headache and decided to rest for the afternoon,” he instructed further, and Lauren nodded again.

  Theodore moved away, hands clasped behind his back, silently waiting until Sanderson finished explaining how things would go.

  “I’m afraid my aversion to parlor games prohibits me from participating after all,” Theodore tsked softly. “Forgive me if my absence throws the ratio into chaos.”

  The women murmured in disappointment. Melanie’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, focused on Lauren and Theodore.

  “It will still be great fun, I think!” Emma exclaimed, clapping her hands.

  “Of course, we wish you would reconsider, Hawthorne, but your feelings on the matter are noted.” Sanderson was almost gleeful. “While it is little more than a nursery game, there’s something to be said for the thrill of the hunt.”

  Lauren frowned at Sanderson’s choice of words, discomforted at the thought of being pursued through the halls of her cousin’s home. Her gaze caught and held with Theodore’s for a brief instance. The bright gleam of excitement she saw in the blue depths sent anticipation zinging through her veins. There was no doubt, if the game were conducted on his terms, he’d show no hesitation in hunting her down.

  “I’ll leave you to it. For what it is worth, if bets were placed on the outcome of this… hunt… my money would most certainly be placed on Lady Emma Whitestone. She seems a most formidable opponent, for all her inexperience.” Theodore smiled at the young woman as others tittered and nudged each other. “I do believe she will route you all.”

  Bowing at the waist to the collective group, he turned to Lauren. Lifting her hand, he pressed a soft kiss upon it, his expression promising much more once they were alone. “I wish you luck in the games and hope I find myself seated beside you at supper tonight. Until then, Lady Lauren.”

  The game began in earnest.

  Lord Sanderson insisted on being the first seeker. The hungry look he wore each time his eyes passed over Lauren was disturbing. That look sent her scurrying through the corridors to the safety of her room the moment his back turned and the count started. Never mind the rules stating private spaces could not be utilized as hiding nooks.

  Anne was there, preparing the gown Lauren would wear for supper.

  “Good afternoon, milady.” Anne’s smile was distracted as she smoothed wrinkles from the dark ivory silk. “Is everything all right?”

  “Nothing but a headache, Anne. You can put the gown away. I think I’ll have a tray sent up for my supper.” In her own ears, Lauren thought she stuttered over the words, but Anne seemed not to notice. “Would you please tell Lady Settleton I won’t be down?”

  “Certainly. I’ll have a pot of tea sent up right now, too. It might help.”

  “Some brandy as well, if possible.”

  “I’ll have Ollie deliver it, Lady Lauren.”

  “Thank you, Anne. I’m so glad he is improved. After the brandy and tea are delivered, you may take the rest of the evening for yourself. I’ll ring for supper when I’m hungry.”

  Before long, a pot of tea and a decanter of brandy were delivered to Lauren’s room. Ollie ducked his head, discomforted to have his employer inquiring over his health. He was still quite pale, but his cheeks bloomed pink whenever his eye caught Anne’s eye. Their mutual affection was readily apparent and had only strengthened as a result of his sickness. Upon assuring Lauren he was nearly back to normal, he excused himself, and Anne rushed to complete her duties.

  After helping her mistress into a pale pink nightdress with a matching robe and pulling the pins from Lauren’s hair so it released in a waterfall of richly hued brown silk, Anne departed.

  Moving to the fireplace, Lauren sipped her tea. She was understandably nervous, waiting for Theodore’s arrival. It had been nearly forty-five minutes since she left the library under the guise of playing hide and seek. Perhaps he had changed his mind. Perhaps he’d only been toying with her.

  Perhaps he was detained by Melanie, or someone she had not recognized as a rival. Someone like Lady Emma. She was quite lovely, and Theodore made that rather curious remark about her winning the game. Maybe he was interested in her
…

  Oh, such nonsense! Lauren chided herself. Theodore was single-minded in his pursuit. How could she believe he might abandon her in favor of another?

  Finishing the tea, she set the cup down, glancing at the decanter of brandy. She requested it for Theodore on a whim, but quite honestly, a sip might help calm her nerves.

  Calm my nerves for what purpose? What might Theodore do that’s not already been done?

  The answer to that was sobering. There was much the man could do. Much she secretly longed to experience under his hand. Recalling his scandalous words, the husky lilt of his voice while informing her just where he would place his mouth on her body, sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the lingering chill in the room.

  A slight noise by the door alerted Lauren that she was no longer alone. Taking a deep breath, she twisted about and found Theodore had entered the room unnoticed.

  The earl leaned against the closed door, shoulders flush against its surface, arms folded across his chest. One leg casually crossed before the other with just the toe of a boot touching the hardwood floor. He was the epitome of the sophisticated lord, his dark clothing blending with the shadows of a dreary, winter day and the softly lit room.

  “Hawthorne.” The tiniest crack appeared in her voice, splintering in the air between them. She swallowed, her hands clenching into fists. Nerves were getting the better of her.

  “My love,” he replied so softly Lauren strained to hear his words. Her heart thumped wildly when she realized what he’d said, and the truth of that simple statement was overwhelmingly stunning.

  He did love her. Madly. Completely. Unquestionably. After rejecting him for months, humiliating him with a broken engagement, and forcing him to face almost certain financial ruination, Theodore Hawthorne still loved her in spite of it all. Lauren’s eyes burned with sudden tears, tears that were blinked away as quickly as they formed.

  For a long moment, they merely stared at one another, a moment when an unspoken vow was made—and accepted.

  Eyes glittering with triumphant satisfaction, Theodore pushed off from the door. With one hand, he turned the lock until there was an unmistakable click. His coat was removed, tossed carelessly over the upholstered arm of a nearby chair. All the while, his eyes never strayed from Lauren’s, causing her stomach to swoop and dive as if a flock of wrens had invaded her body and taken up residency.

  The chiseled lines of his mouth quirked in that cynical half-smile she’d become addicted to, a lock of dark hair tumbling across his brow in a riot of chaos her fingers ached to smooth. He seemed larger in the soft glow of the firelight, even with the lines of his body melting into the shadows. But she wasn’t afraid. No, it surely wasn’t fear that made her tremble while he stalked her like a lion pursuing its chosen mate.

  Once he reached her, Lauren swayed, dizzy with want, with need, and with confusion. How could she surrender to him so easily? So quickly?

  She had the answer when his hand lightly threaded through her hair, fingers rubbing the glossy strands as if judging the most luxuriant of fabric. She thought he might pull her immediately to him. Wrap an arm around her and begin kissing her, but she was wrong. He merely caressed the long tresses, winding it about his fingers as one would a spool of ribbon. Trapping her when, secretly, she possessed no desire to escape.

  Theodore gave an experimental but gentle tug, a half-smile lifting his lips when Lauren moaned in surprise. Her head lolled with his touch; the muscles of her neck suddenly lax as her senses clouded with pleasure.

  “For so long, I’ve wondered what your hair might look like, unbound like this,” he murmured. “It’s stunning. So soft. So fluid. It flows like a river of dark honey.”

  In direct contrast to the abrupt relaxation overtaking her body, Lauren’s heart turned helplessly over on itself. Twirled, twisted, and tangled until every nerve ending she possessed was aching and reaching for him. Her hand slid over his corded forearm, fingers contorting in a desperate grasp she hoped would ground her. Why was she suddenly breathless? As though the strings of a corset had been tightened to the point of pain and no amount of air could find its way into her lungs.

  She was floating away in a dreamy world, and all that mattered was this man’s worship. His adoration. His attention. She wanted to be his everything. Forever.

  “Easy, my sweet darling. Easy, now.” Theodore’s voice was a mix of tender amusement and arousal. Cupping her jaw in one large hand, he gently forced Lauren to meet his gaze, his eyes darkening to an indigo blue that enthralled her. She couldn’t look away. She didn’t wish to.

  His fingers moved to her throat, stroking the slender column almost reverently, tracing the lines of it as she swallowed in reflex. “I’ve so much pleasure to give you. So much to show you,” he whispered, his mouth brushing her ear, tickling it with warmth. “But first, take a breath. That’s it. And another. Good girl. Can’t have you fainting before I even begin.”

  Chapter 12

  God help me, what manner of devilish torture is this? How am I to keep from ravishing her when she’s dressed like this?

  Theodore stared down at her, grateful that her eyes were momentarily closed so he could drink his fill of the delectable sight she presented. The nightclothes, while not overtly sensuous, were crafted with an eye toward wicked purity. The soft, pale pink of innocence contrasted sharply with the nearly sheer muslin fabric. He never expected finding her dressed in such a manner, much less in a way giving him undeniable access to her slender body.

  His blood pounded in his ears. Christ, he could see her nipples through the material. They were just a shade darker than the blush-hued muslin.

  He knew what they tasted like, how they felt under his tongue. Sweeter than the first raindrops of spring. Softer than the innermost petals of his garden’s first rose.

  “Lauren, why are you dressed so?”

  Her eyes lifted slowly as if doing so was a struggle. “Your instructions were clear. To say I have retired for the evening.”

  “Are all your nightclothes designed in such a manner?”

  Her brows knitted together. Glancing down, she appeared befuddled by her attire. “How strange.”

  Theodore lifted her chin with a forefinger, holding her gaze. “What is that, my love?”

  Something sad flashed in the silvery depths of Lauren’s eyes. “This was part of my wedding trousseau. It must have been packed by mistake.”

  Her wedding trousseau. Theodore felt his muscles tighten in response. Had their wedding gone as planned, he would have seen Lauren in gowns even more revealing since consulting with the seamstress himself. He would have demanded a private showing of every single article before stripping the last one from her body and tossing her onto their marital bed. They would have enjoyed the pleasures found there for the rest of their lives together. Night after night.

  If he could convince her their engagement was still very much a reality, there was still hope for his fantasy to come true.

  “It is very lovely, and you are a vision in it,” he said softly, hoping she would not become melancholy with the reminder of their botched nuptials. Especially when he was working so desperately at amending the situation.

  Lauren met his gaze unflinchingly. “Thank you, Theo.” But when she resisted his increasingly tight embrace, he let her go. Her fingers twisted together, a nervous habit.

  “Would you care for a brandy? I had some brought up.” Her nod toward a table by the fireplace drew Theodore’s attention to a tray with a decanter and one glass.

  “Yes, but I will pour.” Theodore smiled. “One for you, then perhaps a bit more for me.”

  Only when he pressed the glass into her hand did he realize her body was trembling. Indeed, nearly invisible tremors racked her. Was she frightened of him? Did she regret allowing him entrance to her room? Did she think he might pounce on her and take with no regard for her feelings on the matter?

  Frowning, he waited patiently until she swallowed the liquor, cho
king on the fiery stuff. It trickled out of the corner of her mouth, and she wiped the droplets away with the back of her hand. Another dram was poured, and she drank that down without question, heedful of its burn the second time. The little shivers she exhibited gradually eased away as he so carefully watched her.

  He then poured himself a glass, draining it before gathering her into his arms once more. Her body felt more relaxed against him, less tense, but her eyes were still clear as she gazed up at him. The last thing he wanted was an intoxicated fiancée, but clearly, his motivation in giving her the brandy was to help ease her apprehension. It seemed to have worked.

  “What is the matter, love?” Theodore’s tone held a soothing quality.

  “You would have seen me in this nightdress months ago had our marriage taken place as planned. We would be husband and wife right now.” Her voice was small and troubled.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “That’s true. I regret not seeing you in it sooner. Do you think it is merely coincidence this garment was included in your belongings? Or that I am here at your cousin’s? We have been pushed together once more, darling. For the right reasons this time.”

  Lauren’s brow knit together as she attempted to make sense of his words. “But we’re not married. This is wrong.”

  His hands caressed her shoulders then moved so her jaw was cradled in his palms, his fingers meshing in the silky wealth of her hair. “Nothing about us is wrong, do you understand?” he declared fiercely. “I love you, Lauren, so don’t dare tell me this is wrong.”

  The next instant, his mouth crashed down on hers. Not violently or even in punishment, but certainly with a bit of frustration. He wanted her. He wanted her badly. He wanted her to accept the fact their lives were meant to entwine.