The Twelve Nights of Christmas_A Regency Novella

by Nina Mason

  The details came back in flashes. A crack as loud as a lightning strike … the ice giving way under her skates … plunging into water so cold she couldn’t breathe. She came up, shivering and ice-encrusted. She made her way to the edge and held on. Rollo was there within moments. He threw her his scarf, which he’d looped at the end. She put her arms through the loop as he’d instructed and then …

  She must have passed out at that point, because she remembered nothing more. Even so, it wasn’t difficult to guess what happened from that point on.

  And where was he now? Surely, he’d not left her here on her own. She searched the shadows of the room, starting when something brushed against her. Something smooth and warm. Looking to see what it was, she found Rollo sleeping beside her. A peek under the blanket told her he was in a similar state of undress.

  Her first thoughts were born of alarm. Had he …? No, surely not. For he had far too much honor and decency to take advantage of a helpless woman. Still, she was unkeen on the idea of him stripping her naked while she was completely at his mercy. He might be too chivalrous to take liberties, but she doubted he was above feasting his eyes to his heart’s content. Not that she would hold it against him.

  How could she when she would do the same if their roles were reversed?

  And, come to think of it, they were just now. Well, well, well. As the saying went, what was sauce for the goose was also sauce for the gander—and a good, long gander was precisely what she had in mind.

  A wicked thrill threaded through her as she studied his pose. He lay on his back with one arm hooked behind his head and his legs open, one bent and one straight. A better position she could not have requested to suit her purposes.

  Slowly and with great care, she drew the blanket off his body. She’d never seen him naked before—or any grown man, for that matter. As she made a study of his anatomy, she experienced the same pull on her heart, the same quickening in her loins, and the same yearning in her soul she’d felt for him for as long as she could remember.

  Even when they were children, she’d felt a connection with him she’d never felt with any other boy.

  Desire sparked when her gaze came to rest on the proud pole of flesh rising from the junction between his thighs. Lord bless her, but what a strange and magnificent thing to behold was the aroused male organ!

  Overpowering temptation prompted her to reach for his manhood, but Christian conscience drew back her hand before she made contact. Had she no shame? Had she no decency? She must take care not to forget she would be another man’s wife, another man’s property, in less than forty-eight hours.

  Unless she openly defied her parents, of course.

  Tempted as she was, she had no wish to add dishonoring her parents to the sins already staining her soul. And fornication would be another, if she did not take care to check her wantonness.

  But oh, how she yearned to commit both of those evils! It would be so easy, too. Not on her conscience, perhaps, but in terms of accomplishment. She was already here, already naked. All she need do now was stay a few more hours.

  Could she muster the courage to do it? Could she sin against God and her parents to be with the man she loved?

  You would have little to say on the subject if I made you my captive.

  Lord, how she wanted him to take the decision out of her hands. But he would never do that, would he? He’d said it himself. He was too much of a gentleman to hold a woman against her will.

  God help her, but she still loved him so dearly, still desired him so greatly, and still resented how much she’d suffered during his long and silent absence. What had happened to his letters? Who had kept them from her? It had to have been one or both of her parents … or possibly Frank … or even Anna, who perhaps had gained her confidence to work against her.

  The thought sent a chill down her spine. Had she misplaced her trust in the one person to whom she’d confided her secrets?

  Though she could not know if Anna was involved, this much she did ascertain: Whoever stole his letters cheated her out of the happiness that should have been hers. Rollo was and always would be her One True Love, and the thought of being parted from him forever … well, it was quite simply too wretched to entertain!

  Yes, it was in her power to alter her course, but she still lacked the courage to turn her back on the life she’d always known. If she married Rollo, they would be ostracized by more than her parents. He was a social outcast and, as his wife, she would be shunned as well. To have any kind of life, they would have to leave Stow-on-the-Wold forever.

  She wasn’t sure she could handle that, even with Rollo by her side. Yes, she would have a husband she deeply loved and desired, but would her passion for him last through the years? Her parents said not. They insisted her feelings for Rollo would cool upon closer acquaintance, whereas her feelings for Frank might grow. Were they right? She thought not, though how could she be sure?

  Because she could not be, either choice posed a risk.

  Frank was not a bad man, nor did she dislike him. She simply didn’t love or desire him. Nor did she want to. Frank had a mistress, which lack of love made an advantage. If she came to care, she might demand he give his lover up. If he refused, as she suspected he would, they would be always at cross-purposes, which would make for a miserable existence.

  The odds of that happening, of course, were extremely slim. It seemed far more likely she would come to resent Frank rather than grow fonder of him. Yes, they’d been childhood playmates, but how well did she really know him? Not well at all, truth be told.

  They rarely talked of anything important or intimate, and his kisses, when he gave them, were always guarded. Given the tepidity of her feelings, she did not mind his reserve, but she often felt like a precious doll he’d locked inside a glass case to protect her from handling. His mistress, meanwhile, was the less-valuable and, she suspected, better-loved toy he amused himself with more regularly.

  Or, did he see his future bride not as a doll to protect, but as a prize to flaunt? A gleaming silver cup to signify his triumph over Rollo. For what better way to destroy a lifelong rival than by stealing the woman he loved?

  Affront rose within her. If that was indeed Frank’s intent, she wanted no part of it. She would not be anyone’s trophy—especially in a game meant to destroy the man who held her heart.

  Then, there were her parents’ misdeeds to consider. They had manipulated her into marrying the man of their choosing. Worse yet, they had convinced her, through guilt and threats, that, instead of being honorable, remaining true to Rollo was evidence of her selfishness and ingratitude.

  Given their transgressions, would dividing herself from them be such a terrible sacrifice?

  No, it would not.

  And yet, giving up Rollo would be.

  How could she have been so blind not to see all of this sooner? Yes, Rollo had tried to open her eyes, but she wouldn’t listen. Lord, what a fool she’d been. A blind, stupid, trusting idiot. Her true love had not come back too late; he’d come back just in time to spring her from the trap set by those who only pretended to love her.

  Only Rollo truly cared for her. She could see that now. And she loved him, too—and always, always would.

  Eager as she was to wake him and tell him what she’d decided, she left him sleeping and went to the window. Peering out, she saw no sign of approaching dawn. She wondered again about the hour. Did Rollo still wear his grandfather’s watch on his fob?

  She scanned the room in quest of his trousers. Finding them draped over the back of a chair, she went over to check. To her joy, he did have the watch, which told her it was just before midnight.

  A still, small voice whispered in her mind: There’s still time to go home if you’re not absolutely sure.

  She returned the watch to his fob pocket and went back to the window. Her heart was as full as the moon in the sky. She was sure, yet she still felt afraid. If she spent the night at Hollywell Abbey, there were sure to b
e repercussions beyond a short-lived scandal.

  Nevertheless, she was now determined to marry the man she loved. She would spend the night and, in the morning, they could run away to Scotland. She could buy new clothes along the way or once they got to Gretna Green, so there was no real reason to return to Winterberry Park and risk tipping her parents off to their scheme.

  They might try to stop her, and a few gowns and pieces of jewelry were not worth the risk.

  Now fully committed to the plan, she returned to where Rollo lay sleeping, quietly reclined beside him, and softly set her head on his chest. Under her ear, his ribcage rose and fell and his heart beat out a steady rhythm. As she laid there, her naked body nestled against his, the manly pong of his skin began to work on her like an aphrodisiac.

  She was ready for him to wake up, but rather than use words, she ran her hand down his body to his erection and brushed her fingers lightly over the tip. He stirred beneath her as she’d hoped he would.

  “What are you doing?” he asked groggily.

  “Playing with your penis,” she replied with a smile.

  He coughed, jostling her head. “Any special reason?”

  “No,” she said. “Just the usual one.”

  “I take it you’re feeling better?”

  “Much.” She swept her fingers over his cockhead. “Thank you for saving me, by the way.”

  He cleared his throat. “I hope you’ll forgive my methods, but it’s the way we dealt with hypothermia in the army.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said. “You only did what any friend would do under similar circumstances.”

  He made no reply and, in the expectant silence to follow, she ran her fingers down the length of his shaft, across his scrotum, and back up to the crown. She did this repeatedly while listening to the gradual quickening of his breathing and heartrate. Her gentle stroking was definitely making him more excited and, oddly, was heightening her own desire as well.

  “What are you doing?” he asked again.

  She smirked and, in the guttering amber firelight, she watched her hand moving up and down his cockstand. “Is that not obvious to you?”

  He swallowed. “Yes, but … I should like to know your reason.”

  “Must I have a reason to make love to my future husband?”

  He stopped breathing and his heart began to race. “Do you truly mean that?”

  “I do.” She pushed up on her elbow and turned to face him for the first time since he’d awakened. “I did some soul-searching … while you were sleeping … and came to see you were right. I was tricked into accepting Frank.”

  “I see,” he said, “and what about your parents?”

  “What about them?”

  “Have you ceased to care about becoming estranged from them?”

  “What they have done has already destroyed our relationship,” she said with fire and ice in her heart. “So what they may do to punish my insubordination is of little consequence anymore.”

  He laughed without mirth. “And all of this you decided in the hour or so I closed my eyes?”

  “I decided much more in the time I had. Though, for the rest of the plan to work, I must have your agreement.”

  After explaining what she had in mind, she said, “Are you amenable to what I’ve proposed?”

  “I’m not merely amenable, Sweet Pea.” His eyes were as warm as the fire. “I’m positively ecstatic.”

  “Good.” Bending over him, she pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Now, can I worship your body with my own?”

  He stroked her cheek. “Only if you take my heart and soul with it.”

  She smiled at him. “I thought I already possessed your heart and soul, as you possess mine. Have I been operating under a misapprehension all this time?”

  “Not at all, my love. You have apprehended my feelings most accurately.”

  * * * *

  Happier than he’d been since he left Stow-on-the-Wold, Rollo took a moment to study her in the firelight. She was so beautiful, even with her hair hanging down in tangled strands. Her eyes were so blue and so lovely with their sweeping golden lashes. The desire burning in them made it clear she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  Not that finding her hand on his cock when he awoke had not apprised him already. “Come here,” he said, inviting, not commanding.

  She moved to his side and set her hand on his chest before sliding it up and around to the base of his skull. Bringing her face close to his, she twined her fingers in the curls at his nape. He ached to kiss her, to touch her, to roll her over and make mad, passionate love to her, but for now he was content to merely savor her closeness, the warmth of her body, and the idea that she was finally his. Not only at this moment, but for the rest of his life.

  “Where will we live after we elope?” she asked, partly breaking the spell.

  “How would you feel about Derbyshire?”

  “I’d feel fine about it—more than fine, actually—though what made you suggest Derbyshire in particular?”

  “Well, it just so happens I have a house there.” He smiled at her. “A rather grand one, with a full staff of servants, an admirable stable, and a park of close to a hundred acres.”

  “It sounds lovely, but how did you come by such a prime piece of property?” She set her forehead to his, so their noses were touching. “And why have you never mentioned it before?”

  “To answer your first question, I inherited it from my uncle, who bequeathed me all his earthly possessions.” He lifted his chin to kiss her mouth. “And to answer your second, I saw no point in bringing up Hartwell Hall until you’d consented to marry me.”

  “It sounds perfect.” Though he could not see the smile on her lips, he could see joy shining in her eyes.

  “Its perfection wants only in comparison to yours, my love.”

  She took his lower lip between hers and proceeded to nip, tug, and lick with slow and seductive sensuality. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her tightly against him, relishing the feel of her pillowy breasts and silken skin against the solid wall of his chest. Moving her whole mouth over his, she flicked her tongue against his cupid’s bow. Taking it as a sign she wanted to deepen the kiss, he opened for her. Her tongue rushed in, sliding against his in a sumptuous meeting of tastebuds.

  When she finally pulled back from the kiss, her lips swollen from the friction, she said, “I believe we shall live very happily together.”

  His gaze flickered up from those lips, which he longed to taste again, to her mesmerizing eyes. “I believe you are correct, my love.”

  He kept his answer short and succinct because he had no desire to converse. He only wanted to make her irretrievably his. Pulling her to him, he kissed her open-mouthed, his tongue reaching deep to stroke, swirl, and savor her intoxicating flavor. She pulled his hair hard enough to hurt, but it was a good kind of pain. The kind that threw tinder on the blaze between his thighs.

  Unfortunately, the fire keeping them from freezing to death was not so easily stoked. Rolling them over so he was on top, he tore his mouth from hers and took a moment to catch his breath before saying, “I need to attend to the fire … before it goes out.”

  He got up, instantly missing the warmth of her body, and went to the hearth. Taking up the fire iron, he gave the smoldering fragments of wood a hard poke, taking care to avoid being burned by the sparks. As he placed another two logs on the grate, he heard the twitter of laughter behind him.

  “Lord, what a sight you are, standing there in the firelight with your cock jutting out like a flagpole.”

  And Lord, what a sight she was, stretched out on the rug with all her tantalizing assets on display. As he ran his gaze over her, he took his cock in his hand and flashed her a devilish smile. “All the better to ruin you with, my dear.”

  She arched a flaxen eyebrow. “Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

  He laughed and suggestively flicked his tongue against his upper lip. “I’d rather put my mouth
somewhere else, if that is agreeable to you.”

  The look she gave him made his nipples tingle and his cock throb with torturous need. “I find your counter-proposal most agreeable, my love. Most agreeable indeed.”

  Chapter Nine

  Penelope’s heart fluttered as Rollo stalked her across the room like a panther preparing to pounce upon a doe. How long she had waited for this moment, alternatively dreaming of its splendors and despairing of its denial. And now it was here.

  Would giving herself to him be as glorious as she’d always imagined?

  She trembled with longing as her eyes feasted on every delicious inch of his unclad physique. His beautiful face, broad shoulders, powerful arms, sculpted torso, narrow hips, and thrusting erection. He was Adonis and Priapus blended together. He was temptation personified.

  She could not resist him, even if she wanted to. Fortunately, she had no wish to deny him. Not even a little.

  The room was suddenly warmer, almost sweltering, but whether the heat was due to the rekindling fire or her flaming desire, she couldn’t say with certainty. She only knew her body was on fire with love and longing. She wanted him, all of him, just as she always had, even the times she said otherwise.

  He reached for her, cupping her cheek, tilting her head, gazing into her eyes with such longing and tenderness it nearly made her weep tears of joy. She still found it hard to believe he was here or that she was here, naked with him, ready to surrender her maidenhood, reputation, and lifelong home.

  Would she end up like Susan Morrison? At the moment, she couldn’t care less.

  “What are you thinking?” He ran his knuckles along the line of her jaw, leaving honeyed heat in their wake.

  “The way you look at me makes me feel …” She trailed off, uncertain of her next words.

  He leaned down to press a kiss to the spot on her neck where her pulse raced. “How does it make you feel, Sweat Pea?”