Seduce Me By Christmas

by Deborah Raleigh

  His own hands were busy wreaking havoc as they moved over her trembling body, as if seeking to memorize each line and curve.

  “I cannot think clearly enough to be afraid,” she muttered, her voice thick with need.

  “Then we are well suited,” he groaned, yanking off his robe to reveal the powerful beauty of his naked body. “I have not had a coherent thought since the moment you lured me into your cottage.”

  “I did not lure you,” she denied, sucking in a shocked breath as his mouth trailed a path of kisses down her stomach, the brush of his lips inflaming her senses and creating a strange dampness between her legs.

  Sarah, you are lost, she acknowledged, easily allowing him to spread her legs so he could explore a path over her hip and down her inner thigh.

  And more frightening, she did not have the sense to care.

  She wanted to shiver as his body burrowed between her parted legs. She wanted her heart lodged in her throat as his warm breath brushed over her sensitive skin. She wanted to feel her lower muscles clench in sweet anticipation.

  “Lovely, Sarah,” he moaned softly, his fingers gripping her hips. “You lured me as surely as a siren.”

  She stirred restlessly beneath his tender caresses, needing something more.

  “I did nothing but allow you into my home,” she inanely argued, her mind incapable of rational thought.

  “Now you will never be rid of me,” he murmured, gently parting her folds to stroke his tongue into her damp heat.

  Sarah’s soft cry echoed through the room as her fingers yanked at his hair. He laughed softly, continuing his intimate caress, his hands shifting to hold her legs open as her hips lifted off the mattress.

  Good…heavens.

  She had never dreamed that she would ever allow a man to touch her with such intimacy, or that far from being shocked by his bold caresses, she would be terrified he might halt.

  Sanity was for tomorrow.

  For tonight, she intended to grasp this fleeting moment of passion.

  As if sensing she had accustomed herself to his touch, Raoul shifted his head just enough to discover her center of pleasure. Gently he suckled and stroked the tender nub, his hands holding her hips steady as she writhed beneath the delectable assault.

  “Mr. Charlebois,” she gasped, then without warning her entire body stiffened, and with a rasping cry she reached her climax.

  Lost in the bliss that quaked through her, Sarah was barely aware of Raoul pressing himself upward. Not until his lips brushed over her parted lips and his hips settled between her legs.

  Sarah lifted her oddly heavy lashes to discover Raoul poised above her, his expression tight, a slash of color staining his cheekbones.

  “Sarah, you must be certain…”

  “I am certain,” she interrupted, her heart turning over at the painful uncertainty that shimmered in his eyes. The mere fact that he was concerned she might have regrets only steadied her conviction that this was right. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, urging his head downward. “Quite certain.”

  His teeth ground together, his breath rasping loudly through the air.

  “So be it, ma belle,” he gritted, tilting his hips until the tip of his erection pressed against her moist opening. “We shall both put our future in the hands of destiny.”

  She might have wondered at his mysterious words if the sensation of his cock slowly pressing into her had not stolen her every thought.

  Instinctively, her nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, her heart halting as she felt herself being stretched to the point of near pain.

  “Mr. Charlebois,” she breathed.

  He gave a choked laugh, his shoulders trembling beneath her fingers at the effort of holding his passion in check.

  “Do you not think you could bring yourself to call me Raoul, ma belle?”

  Even if she desired to comply with his request, Sarah found her throat closing as he pressed ever deeper, her tightness clamping about his erection with astonishing pleasure. Oh…yes. Despite the burning sensation, there was a growing pleasure as he slowly, carefully began to rock his hips.

  Breathless, Sarah savored the feel of him moving inside her, her gaze mesmerized by his golden beauty in the smoldering firelight.

  Perhaps he was a god, she fuzzily accepted. Apollo come down from Mount Olympus to pleasure this willing mortal.

  With a groan, Raoul buried his face in her hair and greedily inhaled her scent.

  “Nothing has ever felt so good,” he whispered in her ear. “Never.”

  Her arms wrapped about him, holding on tight as he reached down to tease her back to full arousal. Her eyes squeezed shut, her legs wrapping around his hips as his pace quickened.

  With astonishing speed, the tension once again built within her, spreading like warm honey from the center of her body to the very tips of her toes.

  Lifting himself onto his hands, Raoul thrust ever deeper, his lips covering hers in a kiss of sheer possession as they shattered together in searing pleasure.

  Chapter 14

  Wrapping Sarah tightly in his arms, Raoul tugged the rumpled blankets over their naked bodies and buried his face in her hair.

  He breathed deeply her womanly spice, savoring the utter contentment that flowed through his body. He was accustomed to finding pleasure in a woman’s arms, even amusement, on occasion. But this sense of sated peace was a new experience. And as heady as the finest bottle of brandy.

  It was also nothing less than a miracle, considering that the past hour had forever altered his life.

  No, that was not precisely true.

  He had known the moment he had left the Lodge to travel to Chester that his decision would be irrevocable. No gentleman, not even a bastard, would deliberately seek out a proper maiden with the firm intention of seducing her without knowing the cost.

  Still, it did seem that he should feel a measure of unease at the realization that his future was now eternally bound to this woman, rather than this giddy sense of self-satisfaction.

  It was little wonder that both Fredrick and Ian had laughed when he assured them that he was immune to fate.

  Feeling Sarah stir in his arms, Raoul pulled back far enough to study her face, his heart slamming against his ribs.

  He did not think he would ever become accustomed to her dark, striking beauty.

  “I begin to believe there is a Father Christmas after all,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down the length of her jaw.

  She blinked in confusion. “Father Christmas?”

  He slowly smiled. Cocooned in the soft feather bed, with only the fire to light the small chamber, Raoul felt as if they were completely alone in the world.

  It was a sensation he could happily hold on to for an eternity.

  “You are the finest present a man could ever hope to receive.”

  Her lashes fluttered downward, hiding her expressive eyes. “Hardly an original present for you.”

  Raoul gently outlined her lips, refusing to be goaded. “Now that is where you are wrong, ma belle. I cannot claim your innocence, but I can assure you that you are the most original woman I have ever encountered. And what passed between us…” He paused, surprised to discover a nervous flutter in the center of his gut. “It has altered my life.”

  Her gaze snapped upward. “Mr. Charlebois.”

  “Raoul.”

  She licked her lips, a pulse at the base of her throat beating at a frantic pace.

  “I…”

  “Yes?”

  “I hope you are not considering anything foolish.”

  His brows lowered, easily sensing this was not going as he had planned. Of course, that was hardly an unusual sensation in his dealings with this woman.

  “I seem to be doing that with increasing frequency since coming to Cheshire,” he said dryly. “So perhaps you should be more specific as to which foolishness you are referring to.”

  Her wariness only deepened. “What happened between us was as much m
y choice as yours.”

  His fingers shifted to trail through the raven curls that were spread across the pillow. The texture was soft and silky beneath his touch. Much like her creamy skin.

  A ready heat tingled through his body, hardening his muscles.

  “Actually, I would say that neither of us had a choice,” he husked. “It was inevitable from the moment I caught sight of you.” His lips twisted. “Of course, there are those who might point out that I did my best to nudge destiny in the proper direction.”

  She shook her head, her hands lifting to press against his chest.

  “My point is that this changes nothing.”

  Raoul’s jaw tightened as he warred against his rising temper. Was the woman being deliberately obtuse? He had just taken her innocence. Did she think him the sort of cad who seduced virgins and then walked away?

  “On the contrary, Miss Sarah Jefferson. This changes everything.” He deliberately paused. “For the both of us.”

  “No.” Genuine panic flared through her dark eyes. “Do not.”

  “Sarah…”

  “Please,” she pleaded, her voice thick. “I do not want any changes.”

  “You believe we can ignore what has happened between us?” he growled, frustrated.

  “I did not say we must ignore one another…”

  “Good, because I can assure you that is an impossible task.”

  Her expression settled in stubborn lines. “But, once I return home, I must consider the boys. This can be nothing more than a brief interlude.”

  “Interlude?”

  “Yes.”

  Raoul glared down at her for a long moment. He wanted to growl and snap and demand. He wanted to force her to accept that she had effectively sealed her fate the moment she had entered his bed.

  Unfortunately, he was beginning to know this woman too well.

  She was not yet prepared to accept the truth, and the least hint that he was attempting to compel her would only make her dig in her heels so deep, he would never get them unstuck.

  Not that he had any intention of conceding defeat, he grimly acknowledged.

  In truth, he was more convinced than ever that this woman was destined to be his wife.

  The mother of his children.

  Strangely aroused by the mere thought of this woman heavy with his child, Raoul lowered his head, trailing his lips down the curve of her neck.

  Matters might not be proceeding along the simple path he had expected, but he did not doubt his ultimate success.

  And there was no reason he could not enjoy the journey.

  Thoroughly.

  Nuzzling a path of kisses down her collarbone, he shifted his hand to cup her breast, his thumb teasing the nipple to a hard bud.

  “Then it seems we must make the most of our”—he smiled as she moaned in pleasure—“interlude.”

  December 19

  Chester

  If Raoul hoped that Sarah would come to her senses by morning, he was doomed to disappointment.

  After a short but fierce battle of wills, in which Sarah had refused every reasonable request for him to see her home in the comfort of his carriage, he had been forced to watch her walk from the inn with nothing more satisfying than a brief kiss.

  Thwarted but resolute, Raoul had settled for hiring one of the inn’s grooms to follow the stagecoach at a discreet distance, ensuring that she made it to her cottage without incident, and kept her damnable pride intact.

  Then deciding that he might as well take advantage of his presence in Chester, he sought out a local solicitor, ignoring the gentleman’s suspicions as he concluded his business. Once he had the papers he sought, he collected his carriage for the cold journey to Wallingford.

  He reached the village in good time, but it took longer than he expected to conclude his dealings, and ignoring his biting need to be near Sarah, he forced himself to remain at the small inn rather than daring the icy lanes in the dark.

  He was not about to risk his neck now that he could actually envision a future that was filled with possibility.

  The delay, however, did nothing for his temper that was already rubbed raw by Sarah’s panicked flight from Chester.

  Leaving the carriage in the care of Pickens, Raoul entered the Lodge by a side door that led directly to the library. A wry smile touched his lips as he caught sight of Nico seated beside the fire, a decanter of brandy situated on a table beside him.

  His loyal servant knew him well enough to suspect he would prefer to slip into the house unnoted by Mrs. Dent, or her giggling daughter.

  “So the prodigal son returns,” Nico drawled, pouring a glass of brandy before rising to his feet and crossing to press it into Raoul’s hand. “I trust your journey was successful?”

  Raoul drained the glass in one swallow, sighing as the fiery liquid spread through his veins.

  “Not nearly so successful as it should have been,” he muttered, setting aside the glass to remove his outer garments. “Do you know, there was a time when I actually believed I understood women?”

  Nico snorted. “Which only proves you are a fool. There is no man who can claim to comprehend the workings of the female mind.”

  Raoul was far from comforted. “There are those more stubborn than others.”

  Nico paused, his dark, lean features unreadable. “You would never respect a woman who did not have a mind of her own, and the ability to stand up to your will. You comprehend better than most the emptiness of blind devotion.”

  The man was correct, of course.

  Over the years, Raoul had grown increasingly disenchanted with those women who were so anxious to please him that they became no more than pretty accessories that dangled from his arm.

  Still, there was a vast difference between blind devotion and bloody single-minded obstinacy.

  “I have no worry of that.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “The woman nearly ran screaming from the room when I attempted to discuss a future together.”

  “Future.” Nico scowled. “Together?”

  “Yes.” Raoul met his companion’s gaze without apology. “Whether she is willing to admit it or not.”

  Nico muttered a curse, glaring toward the nearby window. “I should never have allowed you to leave London. Too much fresh air would rattle the wits of any man.”

  “My wits may be rattled, but I know what I want.” A blaze of pleasure warmed his heart as he recalled holding a sleeping Sarah in his arms. “And what I want is Miss Jefferson.”

  “You have known other women, many far more sophisticated than Miss Jefferson. Why her?”

  “I am not entirely certain. I only know that the thought of a future without her is unacceptable.”

  “What if she will not have you?”

  Raoul did not hesitate. “Then I will remain here until I convince her.”

  Nico tossed his hands up in defeat. “Fresh air. There is nothing more dangerous.”

  With a chuckle, Raoul strolled toward the fire, stirring a log with the tip of his boot.

  “Did you keep a watch on my father?”

  “Of course.”

  “Was there anything of interest?”

  Nico joined him beside the fireplace, the flames dancing over his ruthless features.

  “He appears to have dug in like a frightened badger. From all accounts, he rarely leaves his study unless the brandy decanter runs empty, while Lady Merriot refuses to budge from her bed.”

  Raoul nodded with grim satisfaction. He was petty enough to enjoy the thought of his father cowering in his study, terrified his bastard son was on the precipice of ruining his life.

  He was not, however, stupid.

  Lord Merriot might be shallow and self-absorbed, but he was also a powerful peer of the realm who had already proven his wiliness to sink to any depths to destroy Raoul.

  “That does not make him any less dangerous.”

  “No,” Nico readily agreed, his expression somber. “A rabid dog will eventually
bite.”

  “Which makes it all the more imperative I discover the truth.”

  “Perhaps these will assist you.” Reaching beneath his plain woolen coat, Nico pulled out two folded sheets of parchment from his pocket.

  “From London?” Raoul demanded, reaching to pluck the messages from his companion’s fingers.

  “One arrived yesterday, the other this morning.”

  “Ah.” Raoul unfolded the first, swiftly reading through the neatly printed words. “Fredrick has discovered the shop owned by my former nurse. Francine’s Fashionable Accessories in Pall Mall.”

  “Did he speak with her?”

  Raoul read on, his brows drawing together in resignation. “From what he could discover, the woman claims to have come straight from Paris with no mention of ever having been in Cheshire. She also denies any knowledge of Lord Merriot. Fredrick was reluctant to press her for fear she might become suspicious.” He shook his head. “Mon Dieu. I shall have to travel to London to speak with her myself.”

  “Or you could send me.”

  Raoul lifted his head to meet his companion’s dark, lethal gaze. He grimaced at the thought of loosening the one-time cutthroat on a hapless old woman.

  “It is not that I do not trust your ability to question Francine, I only hesitate at your methods.”

  Nico smiled, unperturbed by Raoul’s reluctance. “You fear I may put her on the rack?”

  “Your tactics are usually more subtle, although no less dangerous. She is no good to me if she decides to bolt, or dies of heart failure.”

  “You can trust me, my friend.”

  Raoul slowly nodded, unable to deny the temptation to send Nico in his stead.

  Nico would have no need to confront Francine directly to discover whatever information he desired. His connection in the underworld ensured he had eyes and ears in the most unlikely places.

  Besides, the mere thought of leaving Sarah…

  He clenched his jaw against the sharp pain that clenched his heart.

  “I would never doubt you, Nico,” he forced himself to mutter. “But this task is mine.”

  “Is that not why you hire servants?” Nico smoothly demanded. “To take care of such tasks?”