Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset

by Samantha Holt

  He tossed back the last of the brandy, and went back to bed. His dreams, which began with Sarina’s crying face, somehow ended with warm green eyes.

  OLIVIA, OVER THE NEXT few weeks, discovered herself to be unable to stop thinking about that kiss on her hand. Not because having her hand kissed was unusual, but because of the way that this particular kiss had made her feel. The more she reviewed it in her mind, the more conscious she became of the fact that she had not, ever before in her life, felt the way that she had, when Professor Greenidge had kissed her hand.

  Accepting that fact led to a plethora of disturbing thoughts and conclusions. For a start – what other previously unknown sensations might exist? And might those be as pleasant as this one? Most importantly of all, why did this one man create those sensations in her?

  Drummond had never, not once, made her feel like that. She pushed the tangle away for later consideration, and went back to her research, which, of course, made her think of Professor Greenidge more. She was, she thought, behaving like a green girl, infatuated with the first handsome man she had met. But why? She was more sensible than that, wasn’t she?

  And nothing could come of it – she needed to focus on getting Sterling married, somehow. Which she was failing to do, rather significantly.

  The Balls they had been to recently, she had been distracted, always looking around, hoping to see Professor Greenidge, and she had, quite a few times, turned from a conversation to see Sterling dancing with that scandalous Lady Duckington. Each time, she mentally chastised herself, and made a point of introducing him to another eligible girl, as soon as he left the dance floor.

  Twice, Professor Greenidge was actually present at the Ball, and she spent hours in delightful conversation with him, but the kiss was not repeated, much to her disappointment. Obviously, she had imagined the sensation, imagined the look in his eyes, immediately afterwards. Such foolishness had to stop! Sterling’s future wife had to be found. Conversation with Professor Greenidge was wonderful, but she really should stop hoping for anything more.

  Really, at her age and stage of life, she should know better! But the thoughts persisted.

  Sterling observed her with that slightly amused smile of his, and said nothing, for which she was grateful. At last he now seemed more willing to attend Balls and soirees, which gave her some hope.

  The third time that Professor Greenidge was in attendance at a Ball, after the evening of ‘the kiss’, Olivia steeled herself to ask him when they might meet, in such a way that they could show each other their research. As was becoming usual, they greeted each other, and were soon lost in conversation, with Sterling slipping away once she was distracted. The ballroom was overly warm, for it was now summer, and she fanned herself as he spoke of his latest research.

  His eyes followed the fan for a moment, and then he spoke.

  “It is rather excessively er, er, warm this evening, isn’t it, Lady Hemsbridge? Perhaps we should continue our conversation in the gardens?”

  A frisson of excitement rushed through Olivia.

  “What an excellent idea!”

  He offered her his arm, and they moved through the crowds, and out through the terrace doors. She did not even glance towards the dance floor, where Sterling was engaged in a waltz, with Lady Duckington in his arms.

  Chapter Six

  The gardens were full of flowers, the scents rich and pervasive. A light breeze cooled her as they walked, and Olivia savoured the sensation. Professor Greenidge seemed almost nervous, and she wondered why – surely it could not be anything to do with his research, which he spoke of passionately as usual. Could it be to do with her? That seemed improbable, but...

  They reached a secluded spot, with a carved bench set beneath an arch of roses, and by mutual accord, stopped and sat. The bench was not wide, and their legs brushed where they were made to sit close beside each other. The warmth of him, felt even through all the layers of their clothing, made Olivia flush. She drew out her fan, and fanned herself again a moment. He watched her, his conversation ceasing as he did. She licked her lips, suddenly nervous, and an odd quivering sensation occurred in her stomach.

  Her eyes locked with his and everything else seemed to become strangely distant. In the moonlight, his eyes were deep pools, with just the slightest glint of silver. She shivered, not from cold, but from the sensation of his presence. Dimly, in the back of her mind, she was aware of how truly odd this experience was, how completely outside the scope of anything she had previously felt. She ignored that little analytical observation, and allowed the moment to carry her away.

  Slowly, oh so slowly, he raised his hand, and brought it to cup her cheek. A tingling shock ran through her, and she licked her lips again, the fan falling closed, and dropping, unheeded, to her lap. He leaned closer, closer, until his lips met hers. The kiss was gentle, tentative, yet more exciting than anything she had ever felt. His lips explored hers, the tip of his tongue softly following the curve of her mouth, the heat of his breath a caress on her skin.

  She leant into it, allowing her lips to part, and his tongue continued its exploration. She felt weak, melted by the heat that his touch induced in her body, which reacted in a way that it rarely had before in her life – and certainly never had from just a kiss! Her hands crept up, abandoning the fan, and her cane, to fall as they would, and encircled his neck. Hunger filled her, a desire stronger than she had ever felt before, a need to explore all of these new sensations.

  Minutes passed, and Olivia was lost to sensation, drowning in the kiss, amidst the rich summer garden scents. Finally, they drew apart, each wearing a somewhat stunned expression. Neither spoke, they simply sat, hands fallen back to meet between them, and drank in each other, savouring the moment.

  In the distance, they could faintly hear the music from the ballroom, and the sounds of other people, but those things seemed to have no meaning. After some time, Edward looked away, and the loss of eye contact broke the spell of the moment. Sound returned to normal, and Olivia found herself embarrassed, and completely unsure how to go on. She bent to retrieve the fallen cane, catching the fan as it too slid towards the ground.

  Her hand met Edward’s as he also reached to catch it.

  She closed her hand on the fan, he closed his hand on hers. She stilled, amazed at the sensation that filled her, the warmth spreading from his hand. Tentatively, he smiled. Shaky, she returned the smile. Was this how all of those silly girls felt, when they declared themselves in love?

  “Lady Hemsbridge... I er, er... I hope that you will forgive me for my presumption...”

  Olivia laughed, suddenly struck by how silly it was, that they were both so hesitant.

  “Professor Greenidge... I am of the opinion that there is nothing to forgive.”

  He sighed, his shoulders relaxing a little as tension left him. His hand tightened on hers.

  “Thank you. I... Lady Hemsbridge, might I call on you?”

  Olivia sucked in a breath, amazed at how much his words thrilled her.

  “Why yes, I would be delighted if you did.”

  Again, some tension left him.

  It was almost as if he feared rejection at every word.

  “And, when it suits you, might I offer you a visit to the College of Arms – I suspect that you will enjoy seeing the library there...”

  “Oh! That has been something I have hoped to see, for a long time now.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to it.

  “Then, er, er, I will call on you very soon – we can share our research, and arrange a time to visit the College.”

  She lifted her other hand to gently brush it across his cheek, stunned at her own daring. With this man, something happened – she became a different woman.

  “Thank you, I look forward to it.”

  They went back into the ballroom, and Olivia was in such a happy state, that even the sight of Sterling with Lady Duckington could not dim her pleasure in the evening.

&
nbsp; In the carriage on the way home, she barely spoke to Sterling, so distracted was she. It was as if her lips still tingled with the feel of his kiss. After some time, Sterling spoke, his tone curious.

  “Mother, are you well? You have not remonstrated with me once this evening, about finding a bride.”

  She laughed, light and happy, drawing a startled look from her son.

  “I am quite well – perhaps better than I have been for years.”

  Chapter Seven

  Weeks slipped by, and summer moved towards autumn, with Edward calling on Olivia every few days. They spent many delightful hours deep in research, each amazed at how much the other knew, and at the very different pieces of the puzzle that their research produced, because of their different approaches.

  True to his word, Edward took Olivia to visit the Royal College of Arms, and she was enraptured by the scope of information available. They also began, little by little, to indulge in other entertainments – trips to the theatre, and sedate drives in the park. And, of course, when it could be achieved without others seeing, there were more kisses.

  They did not discuss the kisses, or mention their feelings – words were reserved for research, and the heady joy of having someone else to speak to, who understood their obsessions.

  Olivia was aware, vaguely, that Sterling seemed happier, and also that he was still spending time with Lady Duckington – a scandalous woman who he could never marry - but she struggled to concentrate on the issue of his need to marry, for her time with Edward had come to seem almost more important.

  She sat, late one Autumn afternoon, in her library, staring blankly before her, thinking. Edward had come to call earlier that day, and they had enjoyed adding one final detail to the scroll of a specific family’s genealogy – a detail which they had uncovered together. When he had left, he had held her hand, and bent briefly to kiss her lips, leaving her heated and a little flustered when he departed.

  She was considering those feelings now. When he touched her, her body reacted – there was a heatedness to it, a sensitivity, which she had rarely felt before – perhaps a little in the early days of her marriage, when Drummond’s desire for her body had been a new and exciting thing – but even that had been different. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that what she felt was desire – no more, no less. Physical desire. It still rather shocked her that she should feel such a thing – after all, women were supposed to have less of those desires than men, and were expected to be less interested in such things as they got older.

  Yet here she was, at forty-five, with three grown children, and there was no doubt – she desired Edward Greenidge. The important question was, what was she going to do about it? He obviously wanted to spend time with her, and to kiss her, but he seemed very hesitant to do any more than that, or to discuss it in any way.

  She had been equally hesitant to discuss it – after all, what could she say? How could she ask him about his feelings for her? She was no young thing being courted, it was not for her to demand that he declare his intentions. And, whatever his intentions, perhaps she needed to be sure of her own, before attempting to discuss the matter.

  And she wasn’t sure at all.

  Widows were granted much leeway by society – if she wished to have an affair, so long as she was discreet, everyone would politely pretend that nothing occurred. But was that what she wanted? She had always been one for propriety, for doing the right thing, but now, she was not at all sure what the right thing was, let alone whether that was what she wanted to do!

  Perhaps she would think on it more, would continue to study her own reactions, and would try to draw Edward out about his feelings, his life, apart from research. For, she realised with a start, since the night of that very first kiss to her hand, they had not again spoke of things to do with their personal lives, their past. Their conversations stayed focussed on research, and on things they enjoyed now, and sometimes on the attitudes and behaviour of others around them – but they had not, again, strayed into the deeply personal. For the first time, she wondered why.

  It was a puzzle – and one that she now wanted to solve, for she was beginning to realise that, whatever choice she made, going forward, her feelings for Edward Greenidge were very far from simple friendship indeed.

  EDWARD’S DAYS PASSED in an unending flurry of conflicting emotions. Every day that he spent with Olivia (for that was how he now thought of her, improper as it was) was a delight, his research was progressing far faster than it ever had before, all due to her contributions, and he was enjoying her company in other ways. For the first time in his life, he was going to the theatre, going out for drives for the sake of it, and generally being social as he never had before. In her company, he felt confident, and relaxed. He did not spend every moment expecting to be judged, or to be ignored. To his delight, he had also noticed that, with her, his speech hesitation had lessened, as if the confidence she instilled somehow allowed his throat to pass words forth more easily.

  All words that is, except the ones about how he felt for her. When he had kissed her, at that most recent Ball, kissed her properly, he had been overwhelmed by sensation, by feelings, which he had never experienced before. She had not pushed him away, had, in fact, actively participated in the kiss, pressing herself against him, her lips exploring his, as much as his explored hers. In that instant, he had been aflame, consumed with desire, the like of which he had never felt before. If Sarina had made him feel like that... he pushed the thought aside. That was the past, and could mean nothing to him now.

  But doubt also raged in him. His feelings for Olivia grew more intense all the time, and he felt for her a sensation which he could only describe as pure carnal desire – which he had never truly felt for Sarina with any intensity – in addition to his need to be in her company. He had no idea how to deal with it, how to go on. He could not, no matter how he tried, prevent himself from kissing her. But he would go no further than that.

  For he had no right to expect her to accept more, had no right to be cared for, or given the attentions of a woman, when he had failed so utterly as a man. She was a woman of integrity, well regarded in society – he would not tarnish that. Nor would he attempt to ask about her feelings – for surely, she could not truly care for him. As a widow, society gave her great licence, but he would not wish to be simply a passing affair – a woman like Olivia deserved only the highest regard. He was not worthy of her. So he kept his words to research, and general inanity.

  There was a deeper truth spoken without words when he kissed her, but it was a truth he was in no way ready to truly face. He had spent thirteen years mastering the art of repressing his own needs, desires, and feelings. Out of respect for her, he would continue to do the same. Except... more and more, when he was with her, he found himself wanting to speak, wanting to tell her how much he cared for her, how much her loved everything about her. Love. It was a word his mind skittered away from. It did so this time, as soon as he had thought it. He turned back to his research, attempting to not think of Olivia. Of course, that simply made her image rise in his mind again. Would he ever admit his feelings to her? He did not know, but at this point, he was not even ready to consider trying.

  OLIVIA SETTLED INTO her chair, appreciating the silence around her. Sterling had gone chasing off to the country – something about dealing with an estate manager on one of his estates, who had become derelict in his duty, and was suspected of embezzling funds. She had every confidence that her son would deal with it well. The week that he had been gone so far had been peaceful – she wasn’t lonely, as she once might have been, for Edward Greenidge visited regularly, and she eagerly awaited each time that he called.

  She had even managed to make some morning calls, and get back into the manner of maintaining her genteel gossip network – something that she had been, she realised, rather neglecting, due to her fascination with Edward.

  She had just returned from a call which had yielded a most interes
ting piece of gossip. Lady Duckington’s ancient husband had, it seemed, succumbed to the illness which had kept him away from London for these last few years – he was dead, and soon to be buried. Perhaps being a widow would change Lady Duckington’s behaviour? Olivia, whilst disgusted with the fact that the woman had had so many blatant affairs, could understand why she might have been tempted. Her husband had been, after all, near four times her age when they had married.

  And Olivia was beginning to understand that physical desire might tempt a woman to stray...

  Whether the death of the woman’s husband would cause her to behave better remained to be seen. And, the tiny thought came – at least now she was a widow, Sterling spending so much time with her was not quite so dreadfully improper.

  THEY SAT IN OLIVIA’S library, books and documents scattered across the desk, and a tea tray, the tea long gone cold, abandoned on the side table. She was bent over a huge tome of a book, reading the crabbed hand in which it had been written, at least two centuries before. It was a most interesting treatise on one specific family, and seemed to imply that there was at least one branch of the family that they had not known about before. The light from the high window cast a beam of afternoon sunlight upon her, tinting the grey stands in her hair to gold, and drawing the shape of her face into high relief.

  It took his breath away, just to look at her. Men who believed that women lost their beauty as they aged were obviously blind. Unaware that he did so, he reached out, his fingers stroking gently down the line of her back. The need to touch her was intense. She started slightly, then lifted her head from the book, turning to him, her expression curious.

  He moved closer on the couch, and reached for her, drawing her into his arms. She came to him willingly, her eyes alight with something he wanted to hope for, but did not dare believe. Their lips met, and the world disappeared. They were suspended in the beam of light, as if nothing else existed. He groaned slightly against her lips, deepening the kiss, his hands stroking over her back, caressing her neck and cheek. She made a tiny sound of pleasure, her arms encircling him, her tongue exploring. He could, quite happily, have stayed like that forever. In these moments, he could forget the past, forget his failings, and hope. But of course, such moments could not last. They broke apart, both breathing hard.