Christmas With a Scoundrel

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  And she had no earthly idea why she even cared.

  But she did.

  Very much.

  Michael could not believe he was about to do this. He, Satan’s Physician, was about to bind a beautiful young woman to his side for the rest of their lives. For the rest of her life. God help him, but he was a cad. Or worse. A scoundrel.

  No woman with a choice would want to marry him. He was damaged and defective, and not just physically. He hadn’t even informed Aria about the clocks yet – and she had asked. Repeatedly.

  She deserved so much better than him. She deserved to be loved by her husband and that was the one thing he could not do. Michael could protect her and cherish her. He could be faithful. But he could not love her. He wasn’t certain he could love anyone for he had no idea what love truly was. Then again, did anyone?

  His mother had loved him, Michael supposed, though in her own selfish way. She had loved the attentions of men more, however. His father had loved him, again in his own way. As did Nathaniel, but that was a brotherly sort of love and hardly qualified. No woman loved him, of that he was equally as certain. They loved his body and loved the coin his position with the Bloody Duke brought him, but they did not love him. He was too damaged for a woman to love. Wasn’t that what the whores he had bedded over the years said? That they lay with him simply because he paid them to and that given a choice, they would not? That was why he had been so desperate to know if Aria wished to lie with him because she desired him or because she was grateful.

  In his entire life, no woman had ever wanted Michael as he was and for who he was. But Aria did. Or she said she did. Could he trust in that? Could he trust that she was different than the other women he had known over the years, even the whores who would bed just about any man for coin? Michael sincerely hoped so for he was about to bind Aria to him forever. If he made a mistake, they would both suffer. So best he not make one then, he supposed.

  Michael heard the shuffle of her footsteps before she appeared and he looked up to see Aria looking far lovelier than she had a right to.

  For she was magnificent. And she took his breath away.

  He had no longer thought that possible.

  Aria was still frail and he knew she would remain so for a month or more. However, her skin was flushed a lovely shade of pink and her eyes sparkled with life. Her beautiful mahogany hair had been swept up onto the top of her head and arranged into a cascade of curls that softly caressed the back of her neck.

  Michael took in the full length of her, so he even noticed the scarlet satin slippers peeping out from beneath the hem of the gown trimmed in golden lace. The slippers were trimmed in gold and silver spangles and made the faintest of clicking sounds when she moved, though it was not an unpleasant sound. If ice crystals falling from the sky could have a sound, that might be what they sounded like, faint and shimmering, leaving one wondering if they had actually heard the sound or not.

  And leaving Michael wondering if he was taking leave of his senses. Ice crystals having a sound? Truly? Was he developing a fever, for that sort of foolish sentiment was not at all like him? Instead, he wrenched his mind back to the more practical matters at hand. Such as the way Aria took his breath away and made him want to take her where she stood, hard and fast against the tunnel wall. For the very sight of her did take his breath away – and then some.

  Pearls had been threaded through her hair and diamond and ruby combs secured the tresses in place. The scarlet gown that Agatha had unearthed from the attic did not look a day out of date and clung to Aria’s curves in a most delicious manner – a manner designed to bring Michael’s cock erect with a single glance. The bodice was low-cut and trimmed in gold and silver beads interwoven with bits of shimmering golden thread, offering him a nearly perfect view of her lush, tempting breasts. Breasts that seemed just a bit bigger than they did yesterday.

  God above, how he wanted to bed her. But not yet. If they did not do this soon, he would lose his right to keep her. And that was something he could not abide. He needed to keep her with him – and in his bed – almost as much as he needed to breathe. He had no idea why, but it suddenly became clear to him that his inner thoughts were very much the truth.

  “Aria. Pet. You are breathtaking.” Michael meant every word. He hoped she knew that.

  She blushed a bit more, suddenly shy, though for what reason he had no idea. “Thank you, Michael. I…I hope we have not overdone things. Agatha and Mrs. Lambert were a bit overly enthusiastic about this project.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. You are perfect.” Remembering the weight in his pocket, he cleared his throat. “There is, however, something that I forgot that will, I think, make you even more perfect than you already are. And possibly make you very happy as well.”

  She graced him with a dazzling smile and suddenly, he felt like a green youth again, stumbling and shy around beautiful women. “You? Forget something? I believe you said that you were the king of details.”

  Aria was teasing him. Just as she always did. Something inside of Michael relaxed just then.

  “It was a devil, which you bloody well know, pet, and even the most perfect of us make mistakes.” With slightly shaking hands, he offered her the velvet box he had fished out of his pocket. “For you, Aria.”

  Aria took the box with her own trembling hands. He had no idea why that pleased him but it did. Then her eyes went wide as she opened the box and she let out a tiny gasp. “Oh, Michael! This is exquisite! But I cannot accept this.”

  “Yes, you can.” He took the box from her still-shaking fingers and plucked out a ring – but not just any ring. This was likely one of the most valuable rings in the world, though he had not known that until recently. “This was my mother’s betrothal ring. She was to have worn it the day she wed the man her father had selected for her. She took it with her when she was cast out. I’ve no idea why she didn’t sell it when we needed the coin. Perhaps because it has been in my family for generations or perhaps because she could not bear to part with it in the end. Now? It is yours.” He paused and looked up at Aria, praying that she could not tell how fast his heart was pounding.

  Or how worried he was that she would reject both him and the ring.

  “Michael, I…” For a moment, he thought Aria did mean to refuse him but then she held out her hand. He slipped the sparkling bauble onto the ring finger of her left hand, thankful that she was still trembling so that she would not notice that he was trembling as well. “I am honored. Thank you.”

  He tightened his grip on her hand. “The emerald was once part of a larger stone known as the Eye of Axum. It was broken apart during the Crusades, or so I am told, and fashioned into smaller stones. One of the newly cut, smaller stones was given to my mother’s family as thanks for their assistance in financing the expeditions to search for the Holy Grail.”

  Aria’s fingers clenched tightly in his grip. “This is hardly a small stone.”

  Michael smiled. Leave it to Aria to point out the obvious. “Though I know little of my mother’s family, the one thing I do know is that subtlety was not something they embraced, which I suspect is why this was always referred to as a ‘small’ stone. They had the emerald fashioned into a ring with twenty smaller diamonds around the larger stone, one diamond for each expedition they financed.”

  “Are you certain you wish for me to have this?” She bit her lip. “This is extremely extravagant. Too extravagant for a sugar plantation owner’s daughter.”

  Michael smiled at her, a bit humbled at her hesitation. “The ring was designed to be the betrothal ring for the wife of the first-born son of each generation of the de Rossi family. I might be a bastard, Aria, but I still hold that position within the de Rossi family, even if my sisters refuse to acknowledge me. After all, there was never another male heir.” He cleared his throat, surprisingly a bit choked up when he thought of his family. “This ring is my birthright, one of the few I still am able to claim. I give the ring then, to you, th
e woman who will soon be my wife. The wife of the first-born de Rossi son.”

  “Then I am honored beyond words,” Aria whispered as he brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. “I adore it, Michael. Thank you.”

  In the dim light of the tunnel, the magnificent ring glittered with an inner fire. Michael had never imagined that he might gift this ring to a woman, instead thinking that he might pass it on to Nathaniel someday, for his brother was more likely to wed than Michael himself. Even though Nathaniel was not a de Rossi, he was still of Michael’s blood which was close enough to suit. However, the betrothal ring seemed to look right on Aria’s finger, much the way she felt right in Michael’s arms. As if she had been fashioned just for him.

  Ah, he was turning into a sentimental fool as his years advanced. That must be his problem. He did not suffer from a fever; he was merely growing old. He was also rather certain that looking at him now, one might assume he was in love with Aria, but Michael knew better. Love was for other men. Not him.

  “Shall we, my lady?” Michael offered Aria his arm. He nodded toward the doors that led upward into the small church on Thornfield’s grounds. “I am certain the dawn is not far off. We need to be wed by the time the sun is in the sky. After that? I cannot say when your cousin will arrive and I need to make certain that you are properly wed and the marriage consummated. That is a risk I’ve no wish to take, even though your innocence is long gone.”

  Michael wanted to believe that Aria was happy as she gazed up at him with damp eyes. More than anything he wanted to believe. “Then lead the way, Doctor. For I cannot wait to become your wife.”

  It was a lie and a pretty one at that, but Michael didn’t care. It was precisely what he needed to hear just then. He simply didn’t know how Aria had guessed. Though he was thankful she had.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Do you want to go upstairs, pet?” Looking around the large formal dining room where the wedding breakfast had been spread out, Michael found that despite being awake the better part of the night and not eating when offered sustenance, he really had no desire for food just then. He did, however, have a desire for his wife.

  His wife.

  Lady Arabella Persephone Whitmore was now Mrs. Arabella Persephone Longford.

  She was his. All of the legal documents securely tucked away in the hidden part of his dungeon said so – just in case. Yet in many ways, everything still felt like a bit of a dream. That included the wedding.

  Foregoing some traditions, less than six hours ago, Michael and Aria had walked through the ancient tunnel system and emerged into the even more ancient chapel where flickering white candles danced and red roses from his hothouse decorated almost every available surface. His staff had made up the entirety of the witnesses, some of them – mostly the women – sniffling and crying for reasons he could not understand. Others, - in this case mostly men – beamed at him as if he was the luckiest man in the world, which he very well might have been.

  The air was redolent with the scent of the roses and the fragrance of lemons. The pews had been draped in scarlet silk and even more greenery, though where his staff had procured the greens at that hour of the dark morning was something of a mystery to him still. The brass fittings gleamed in the candlelight, and the chill had been chased from the air by portable braziers that had been brought in from the hothouse.

  The scene had been nothing short of magical, the perfect setting for a wedding. Just as he had requested. He should have known that his staff would not let him down with such an important task set before them.

  Then, in the soft and almost seductive light well before the dawn broke, Michael and Aria had walked down the aisle together and stood in front of Mr. Wells. With the power vested in him by the church, and with all appropriate paperwork procured, Aria and Michael been pronounced man and wife with little fanfare – but an enormous amount of kissing.

  So much kissing that Mr. Wells had taken it upon himself to pronounce the marriage well and truly consummated and signed the documents with a flourish. Those same documents, along with all of the settlements Michael’s man of affairs had drawn up overnight, had quickly been spirited away for safe-keeping. Just in case. For Michael had no doubt that once Felton Bowles learned that Aria was now forever beyond his reach – and he would learn that very soon, most likely – he would not be a happy man.

  A second copy of the documents had been sent off to London via a man on horseback who had departed via the heavily wooded side of Thornfield Grange before dawn. Just in case. This was his future. His and Aria’s and Michael was not about to take any chances.

  Eventually, as the dim winter sun rose in the cloudy sky, Michael and Aria had emerged from the chapel and along with Thornfield’s staff, they had indulged in a sumptuous wedding breakfast. That had been three hours ago and finally, the fatigue of the long day that had come before coupled with the endless night was catching up with him. Michael knew they both, Aria in particular, needed her rest, for there was to be dancing that night to celebrate the wedding as well. The party would only include his staff – now their staff – but it didn’t matter. Dancing was dancing and Michael did not wish for Aria to take ill again because she was ignoring her health during her recovery.

  “Are you asking me if I want you to take me to bed? Or are you asking me if I wish to sleep?” Aria smiled up at him and she seemed happy enough to now officially be wed to him. To be his wife. Michael hoped she was. He hoped this was not an act.

  “Both. Neither. Either one.” Michael stroked the back of Aria’s neck. “Whatever you like, pet. This is your wedding day.”

  “As it is yours,” she countered softly, her eyes shining. “Therefore, I think…”

  Aria never had the opportunity to finish that thought for, as expected, Michael heard a great commotion in the outer hallway. Felton Bowles and his men had arrived. They were earlier than Michael had anticipated and he was suddenly grateful for the haste he had put into his wedding to Aria.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Bowles all but screeched as he charged into the room, his four henchmen trailing behind. Thankfully, Michael’s staff was well prepared and he noted a few of the more eager ex-military men drawing their weapons discreetly. “You lied to me! You had her all along and you lied to me! Worse, you defiled my cousin, making her all but useless to me! God help you, for I shall see you at the gallows for this!”

  Leaning back in his chair, Michael crossed his arms over his chest, shifting to his side a bit as he did so that his facial scars might be more visible. “I regret to inform you, sir, that your cousin is now my wife. She no longer belongs to you. Rather, she belongs to me.” He prayed that Aria did not hit him for that statement for she was looking rather angry as she glared at him from her seat beside him. “And yes, I did know who she was that day in the forest. However, she had no wish to see you or follow your orders. Thus, I followed her wishes and kept her presence here a secret until we decided that our passions for each other were so great that a wedding was the only acceptable choice for our future.”

  “I do not care what some piece of paper says! She is mine still! I gave her no permission to wed, especially to the likes of you! She will wed where I demand it!” Bowles stalked forward, his eyes glittering.

  “As the ink is already dry on the marriage license, my good man, you really have no say in the matter. It is all rather legal. And proper. Not to mention consummated.” Michael took a long drink from his wine goblet before he gave in to the urge to crush this man’s throat. It would be easy to do for he knew precisely where to apply pressure.

  From somewhere behind Bowels, another, decidedly feminine voice arose. “What is this I hear of my niece already being wed? Surely that cannot be correct, for my beloved Aria was in mourning until a month ago.”

  “I was not in mourning. I was being held a prisoner in my own home!” Michael should have known that when confronted by her aunt, Aria would not be quiet. Or still. “I have no idea what you have been t
old, Aunt Tilly, but I can assure you that all of it is nothing more than lies.”

  From behind Aria’s cousin, a short and rather stout-looking woman emerged. Clad from head to toe in deep purple and bedecked with garish feathers, she rather looked like a squat aubergine. Her silvery hair that had likely once been blonde was piled high beneath a ridiculously double feathered hat and her eyes were just cloudy enough to indicate that she had already imbibed in a tipple that morning. Though her face appeared kind enough, there was also a ruddiness about her that spoke to her love of drink.

  Michael was certain most people would simply assume the woman was flushed, but as a physician, he knew better.

  “I hardly think that your cousin would lie about you despairing over the passing of your parents, my darling girl.” Tilly Gravesend frowned. “In fact, I am certain of it.”

  Beside him, Aria crossed her arms over her chest. Michael noted the way Bowles’ eyes were immediately drawn to her breasts. “Just as I am certain that he has already plied you with drink this morning, Auntie, until you agreed with whatever this libertine has to say.”

  The older woman flushed, her guilt clear. “It was only a little nip here and there.”

  Aria narrowed her eyes. “Let me clarify things for you, Aunt Tilly. Yes, I was heartbroken over my parents’ deaths. I loved them and they were the only family I had. However, I have mourned them and since moved on with my life. I was preparing to return to the West Indies to my sugar plantation when my scoundrel of a cousin discovered that the sugar plantation was not his, as it was not entailed. Rather, it was mine. In his greed, he decided that he would not be satisfied with merely the viscountcy and all of the trappings that came with it. He wanted the plantation as well and knew that I would not willingly hand it over to him. So he fired my staff and made a prisoner at Millstone, my every moved watched. He made me a prisoner.”