A Christmas Bride

by Hope Ramsay

  “Oh, don’t worry about us, Willow,” Leslie said. “We’ll be out of here in no time. You go on. We’re fine.”

  Willow had no other choice, so she stepped through the door, but before she followed the deputy out of the jail, she turned toward her cellmates. “Solidarity, ladies,” she said, making a fist.

  “Right on,” said Alice. Susan waved vaguely.

  It was a short walk to the main squad room, where she found David waiting for her. He looked very lawyerish in his dark suit, white shirt, and striped tie. Had he paid her bail? Or had he talked her out of jail?

  Why was he here at all?

  Didn’t he realize the mass arrest had been orchestrated by Stanthorp and that smarmy Commissioner Cummins? Mom had told her that Cummins was planning to challenge David in the primary election next spring. The big public debate over the park was sure to be an issue now. He’d do so much better staying far, far away from her.

  But he hadn’t stayed away, had he? He’d come. And he’d bailed her out.

  The cobwebs that had been gathering around her heart since Corbin’s betrayal shook loose. David was a rich, powerful, smart man, but he wasn’t at all like Corbin. Not in the least.

  “David,” she said in a voice suddenly choked with emotion. “You rescued me.”

  A little smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t think I’d let you spend the night in jail, did you?”

  She didn’t know what she thought. But she took a running start and threw herself right into his arms.

  Like any prince worth his salt, he caught her. And then he thoroughly kissed her. He didn’t even seem to care that the whole Shenandoah Falls police force—all four of them—were looking on with interest.

  Chapter 14

  Oh yeah, this was better. Much, much better. He probably wouldn’t have kissed her here in the main squad room with Chief LaRue and his deputies looking on, but, hey, she started it.

  And he was not about to stop it. Oh, no. Not when she threw her arms around his neck like that. Not when she opened her mouth and let him in. Not when their tongues touched, unleashing a conflagration of lust that had been building for days. Maybe even weeks.

  He put his hand on the small of her back and pulled her as close as he could. Her soft round curves seemed to fit against him perfectly as he pressed her close, his hands exploring her backbone.

  The blood that was left in his brain pounded with his heartbeat. The rest went south. He was ready to strip her naked right there until…

  “Geez, you guys, get a room,” Chief LaRue said, and somehow the words managed to pierce David’s sex-fogged brain.

  He came up for air with an inarticulate sound only to find the chief standing there with his big arms crossed over his big belly and a look of utter disgust on his face.

  Willow turned and gave him a brilliant smile. “Sorry, Chief. I was just happy to see him. I’m not cut out for a life of crime.”

  The chief was impervious to her charms. “Glad to hear it. Now, if you’d be kind enough to leave the premises, it would make my day.”

  “Uh, about Mom?”

  “She’s in the county lockup. I’m keeping her there overnight.” He scowled.

  “Are you charging her?” David asked.

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “You can’t hold—”

  “Son, you may be a Lyndon, but I’m tired to death of Linda Petersen. She’s a troublemaker and a royal pain in my backside. Maybe if she spent the night in the county lockup, she’d quit making mountains out of molehills.”

  “You think Dusty losing his land is a molehill?” David asked, suddenly deeply annoyed at Paul LaRue, who was a decent man most of the time.

  “Well, I, uh—”

  Willow tugged on David’s arm. “Don’t argue with him, okay? Mom can take care of herself. And spending a night in jail will probably make her day.” She smiled at the chief.

  He scowled back. “You think?” he asked.

  She nodded. “If you keep her overnight, she’ll just make a bigger mountain out of this molehill. You know?”

  The chief sighed. “Thanks for that free advice. Now get out of here, both of you.” He turned his back on them, and Willow took David’s hand in hers. Her fingers, long, slender, slightly cool, felt perfect wrapped around his palm. She pulled him away from the chief into the elevator lobby, where she hit the down button.

  “He can’t hold her without charging her,” David said. “It’s not legal.”

  Willow put the fingers of her free hand over his lips. He had to stifle the urge to suck on them. “We have a choice,” she said, her green eyes going serious. “We can get all legal and go fight the injustice of it all. Or…” She let the word draw out.

  The elevator came with a ding. She pulled him into it. “Or I could hit the stop button.”

  He laughed. “Are you suggesting elevator sex in the county building?”

  She gave him a wicked smile. “Maybe.” She turned, her finger hovering over the stop button.

  He pulled her back. “I don’t want elevator sex, Willow.”

  Her smile faded. “Oh?”

  He ran his hand over her hair. The texture was erotic as hell. “I have other plans for this evening.”

  Her eyes got wide and kind of sad. “Oh?”

  “You see, Natalie is at Uncle Jamie’s. Poppy is off with her bridge club. And that means…” He paused dramatically as the elevator doors opened. “The inn is deserted.”

  “Oh?”

  He pulled her from the elevator, then turned her to face him, with his hands on her shoulders. “I want you.”

  “Oh.” She seemed to be stuck on that one word.

  “I do. I know we’re both kind of hung up on the fact that Shelly and I were together. But Shelly’s gone—”

  Damn, he didn’t want to talk about Shelly, but maybe they had to talk about her before either of them could move on.

  She touched his hair. He wanted to press into that touch. “David, I loved Shelly like a sister. You loved Shelly as your wife. Why don’t we just leave it there? We both miss her. But she’s not ever coming back, and you have a whole life ahead of you.”

  “I loved her with all my heart. But it doesn’t change the way I want you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “I do. And believe me, I’m not looking for anything permanent. With anyone. But if you wanted to go back to the inn and make use of the Churchill room, I wouldn’t stop you.”

  * * *

  They held hands as they entered the Churchill room. It was sort of romantic.

  Willow stepped on that thought. There was nothing romantic about this hookup, even if the high four-poster bed with its feather comforter was possibly the most romantic spot for a tryst that Willow could imagine.

  But he’d been clear. His words were unmistakable in their meaning. He wanted her. He wanted to take the first step of leaving Shelly behind. That’s all this was about. And maybe she could help him take that step. He needed to let go.

  So they weren’t a forever kind of the thing. Just for now. And that was probably enough.

  He switched on the bedside lamp. It cast a warm glow over the red walls and sparked in the golden threads on the bed hangings.

  He turned, loosening his tie, the movement so incredibly male, the moment so strangely intimate. She’d known David for decades, and yet this intimacy was something new.

  He tossed his tie on the back of the wing chair and stepped toward her, the light flashing in his dark eyes. When he reached her, he didn’t immediately pull her into an embrace. Instead he swept his gaze over her, his dark eyes growing darker by the minute.

  “You are stunning,” he said under his breath as he stepped forward and unbuttoned the last two buttons on her T-shirt. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

  He pressed his fingers to the skin at her clavicle, the touch sending shivers through her as he moved his hand, featherlight, up her throat until he captured her
head in his palm.

  He pulled her into a kiss that was at first almost tender, but grew into something else again. His lips, teeth, tongue demanded something of her, and she gave it up willingly.

  A deep, deep hunger roiled in her belly as she threaded her hands through his hair, as his stubble rasped over her cheeks, as the hard muscles of his body pressed up against her.

  His mouth moved away from hers as he licked and nipped and kissed his way to the hollow of her neck. And when he found that spot right below her ear, her body went frantic.

  This wasn’t enough. His mouth was talented, but he was moving way too slow. Was he trying to be tender? Was he trying to turn this into something it wasn’t?

  She didn’t know the answer to those questions. She just knew that she wanted so much more than tenderness. She wanted to be possessed.

  She pressed into him, running her hands under the shoulders of his jacket, until he lost the garment on the Persian rug. Then she attacked the buttons of his shirt as she let him work his magic on her mouth and jaw and neck.

  Before she could get the shirt off him, he made a move on her breast, and she had to stop for a moment to enjoy his touch. The man knew what he was doing.

  She needed more. So she pushed his hands away and pulled the T-shirt over her head. She didn’t play coy. She unhooked the back fastener of her bra as well.

  If he wanted to play, she was going to give him unfettered access.

  He went back to work with his fingers and his mouth, while she managed to get all the buttons on his shirt undone. The shirt hit the floor, but he was still wearing a T-shirt.

  Damn.

  “Take that off,” she commanded.

  His mouth twitched. “Yes, ma’am. Anything else?” he murmured.

  She glanced down at his suit pants.

  His smile widened as he unbuckled his belt. He lost the pants, boxers, dress shoes, and socks in a real hot hurry.

  “Your turn,” he said, standing there looking glorious and fully aroused.

  She stripped. He watched. His gaze made her skin ache until he stepped forward and embraced her, chest to breast, hip to hip, sex to sex.

  Yes. That’s what she needed. His touch. Everywhere.

  They managed to make it into the bed, tossing throw pillows in every direction, kicking the down comforter aside. She rolled onto her back and pulled him close.

  This. His weight, the warmth of his body, the featherlight touch of his breath. And, finally, when she could stand it no longer, the long, hard length of him.

  Filling her. Taking her. Possessing her.

  * * *

  David watched the sky turn pale, predawn gray. Willow nestled against him, warm, safe, sexy even in sleep. The scent of her enveloped him as he listened to her deep breathing. He wanted this moment to last forever.

  But the sun would be up soon, and there were things that needed doing. He didn’t have to check his watch to know that it was a little before seven. On a normal Wednesday, this would be the time he’d begin the process of prying Natalie out of her bed. Like her mother, his daughter was most definitely not a morning person.

  Shelly. The thought intruded on this quiet moment.

  He waited for the guilt, but it didn’t come. Had he moved on?

  Maybe.

  He eased away from Willow, propped his head, and watched her sleep. She was stunning and hot, and he’d loved making love to her. He wanted to do it again. Being with her made him feel free, unfettered, light, alive. He didn’t know how, but she’d worked a change in him. She was his saving grace.

  Last night, when they’d been making love and he’d looked deep into her eyes, he’d seen a reflection of himself that blew him away. She saw him as some kind of hero. In her arms, he was transformed into a braver man than the one who had loved Shelly. A kinder man. A truer man.

  All because Willow believed he could be these things. She’d as much as said it last night after the lovemaking, in those moments when people whisper things that they often forget the morning after.

  But he wasn’t going to forget. Not ever. He was going to work at being that better man. First he’d make her breakfast. Then he’d call in sick and spend the day helping her decorate Eagle Hill Manor like it was Santa Claus’s house. And tonight he’d figure out some way to share her bed again.

  He eased from the bed, found his pants, and headed down to the kitchen. He started some coffee and had just cracked a couple of eggs when the kitchen door opened. Poppy was the only person who used the kitchen door on a regular basis because her bedroom was at the back of the house and the door gave her a private entrance.

  He looked up as she entered the room. She wore the same clothing she’d been wearing last night when she’d left for her bridge club. She looked rosy-cheeked, which could be the result of the chilly temperature outside or something else altogether.

  She stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze sweeping across his unshaved face, naked chest, and shoeless state. He’d obviously not walked from the caretaker’s cottage.

  They stared at each other for a long moment before the corner of Poppy’s mouth turned up just slightly. “Well, I didn’t expect to have company in my walk of shame.”

  His face grew hot. Here was the guilt he’d been waiting for. Finally.

  Damn. What could he possibly say to Shelly’s mother? He didn’t know where to start. So, coward that he was, he turned back to whipping up the eggs and asked, “You want some breakfast?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve already had some. Walter is an early riser.” She took several steps into the room and stood there hesitating, as if she was waiting for his explanation. It occurred to him that he could demand an explanation of his own, but he had no desire to do that. Any idiot could see that she and Walter had a little romance going. He was happy for her.

  She finally spoke. “David, it’s fine. Really. I’m not in the least upset. In fact, I’ve been hoping this would happen.”

  He looked up. “Hoping for what?”

  She smiled. “For you and Willow. Dear boy, you need to move on. So do I. It’s not easy losing a spouse. I haven’t said it before, but I was very happy when you took off your wedding band.”

  He nodded, tears suddenly filling his eyes. Damn. He looked down again. “Thanks. I…” He ran out of words.

  “I know. You don’t have to say anything. I understand. I really do.” She put the paper on the stainless-steel counter. “I also know what a private man you are, and I’m afraid that this affair you’ve started with Willow has become common knowledge.”

  He looked up again, just as she shoved the paper across the counter. “Take a look at the front page.”

  He looked. His gut clenched. There was Willow being led off in handcuffs big as life on the front page above the fold. Below it was a second photo of that moment in the police station when Willow had thrown herself into his arms. Someone in the SFPD had caught them in the act. The photograph was sharp and clear and there could be no doubt that David was enjoying the hell out of the kiss Willow was laying on him.

  The main headline read: PROTESTERS DISRUPT HEARING, which was to be expected, but the subhead said, CONGRESSIONAL HOPEFUL OPPOSES PARK, THEN KISSES TROUBLEMAKER.

  * * *

  Willow opened her eyes to find pale winter sunlight edging the gold and red curtains of the Churchill Suite. For an instant, in that time between waking and sleeping, a bone-deep happiness filled her. A new day had dawned. It was time to get up and live it to the fullest. A little morning sex would definitely get the day started right.

  She took a deep breath, filled with David’s unmistakable scent, and reached for him.

  He was gone.

  She closed her eyes. What an idiot. Of course he’d run.

  She remembered the words she’d whispered to him in the immediate afterglow last night. Stuff about how he was sort of a hero for rescuing her from jail, representing Dusty for nothing, and standing up for Jeff. “You better watch out,” she’d teased. “Y
our bah humbug is slipping.” Yeah, that’s what she’d said. It was almost the truth, because she’d already started thinking about him as a hero. That’s how beautiful and moving the sex had been.

  Right, Willow, nothing like leading with your heart and then following with your chin. He might be her hero, but she was wise enough to know that a happily-ever-after with Prince David just wasn’t in the cards. In the real world, commoners like her never got the royalty on a permanent basis.

  The best they could hope for was a tumble in the hay. The rain had fallen on her hayride, but she wasn’t complaining. A night of love in the Churchill Suite was more than all right. It was a fantasy come true—with the emphasis on the word “fantasy.”

  She checked her watch. It was almost seven thirty. She should get up and shower. There was a ton of work to do today. The manor had to be decorated for Christmas, and the bride and her bridesmaids were scheduled for final fittings today at A Stitch in Time.

  With the wedding only ten days away, there were so many wedding details to nail down that she didn’t have time to get all emotional about her fling with David. She would tuck the memory away and savor it.

  She had just pushed herself up in the bed when the door opened. She snatched up the sheet and said “eek,” just as David strolled in bearing a big tray filled with something that looked like coffee and breakfast.

  In his shirtless state, with beard shadowing his jaw and his hair all tousled, he looked like one of those guys in the local fireman’s calendar. Forget breakfast and one-time flings. She wanted to eat him. Plus her heart surrendered when she saw the tray he carried. He hadn’t run away from the things she’d said last night.

  “Hi,” he said, his ears an adorable shade of red. He stood there with the morning sun lighting him up like a Greek god.

  “Hi,” she said, completely unable to hide the smile that tugged her lips.

  “You look stunning.”

  Her turn to blush. She ran her hands through her hair. “I’m sure I look well used.”

  “Yeah, you do. That’s part of the attraction.” He came forward and put the tray on the bed. Then he leaned in and kissed her. Thoroughly.