Timeless Christmas Romance

by Laurel O'Donnell et al.

  He eased away and pushed her chemise up, and, lifting her bottom, she helped him, then mewled in delight as his hand found her breast, the nipple taut and aching.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, lowering his head and rubbing his cheek appreciatively over her sensitized flesh. The texture of his slightly stubbled chin grazed her nipple, the repetitive movement sending shafts of sensual excitement to every inch of her.

  But to one place in particular, between her legs, which tingled with a hint of wonders yet to come.

  “I want to take this slowly,” Fitz said, sitting up and straddling her. “I want to look at you.”

  And she wanted to look at him—this wasn’t fair. She pulled her chemise down to cover her breasts, saying, “I demand you take off your shirt. I want to see what I’m getting in exchange for the loss of my virginity, and my reputation.”

  “I’m not sure you’re in a position to bargain.” He gave her a lopsided smile, then squeezed his knees together, imprisoning her. “But I hate to refuse a lady.” Seizing the hem of his shirt, he stripped it off and threw it down, then ran a hand over his hair.

  Right now, Cesca didn’t give a damn what his hair looked like. His body was—quite simply—magnificent. The tingle between her legs increased to a pulse.

  Not only his muscular torso, but his erection was exposed to her view. The latter looked surprisingly large. She gulped, intimidated by the sight.

  “Seen enough?” He smirked at her.

  “Very impressive, thank you.” Her voice had never sounded so husky.

  “Any more demands, my lady, before we continue?”

  “It felt nice when you touched me here.” Shyly, she brushed a hand over her breast.

  His lips parted in a feral grin, and the next thing she knew, he’d dragged her chemise over her head, trapping her arms in its sleeves. Now she was completely helpless, as he pinned her down with one hand, and explored her breasts with the other. When he caught a nipple between finger and thumb and squeezed gently, she moaned. Then he moistened the rosy tip with his tongue, making it feel even tighter.

  “Oh, I like that. Oh, please,” she begged. There had to be more—it felt like every single inch of her body was waiting impatiently for… something.

  When he took her nipple into his mouth and suckled, a wave of deep pleasure rolled over her, pooling in her womb. She squeezed her legs together, increasing the intensity of feeling, and felt Fitz smile against her breast.

  “I want to touch you!” she complained. Did his fire-gilded, athletic body feel as splendid as it looked?

  “Not yet.” He applied his knowing tongue and lips to the other breast, teasing and tormenting until she bucked beneath him, arching her back and rising to meet him in voiceless demand.

  Suddenly, her chemise was gone, and her hands were free. She tangled them in his hair, dragging his head up to taste his lips again, and for the next few moments, she lost herself in the heady ecstasy of his soul-searing kiss.

  His phallus, stiff with masculine potency, rubbed against her belly. She was ready to receive him, to become his lover. All thoughts of propriety were gone, burned away in the sensual blaze of the moment. His back was silk-covered steel beneath her exploring hands—firm, smooth and strong. Such a waste, to hide all this glory under clothing! When they were married, she would insist he sleep naked.

  He changed his position, ran a line of kisses down her breast and abdomen, then gently pushed her knees apart. As he settled himself in the gap created, she felt exposed, suddenly fearful and vulnerable. Would he hurt her? Would it matter if he did?

  She almost fainted in shock when his tongue found the engorged folds of flesh between her legs, and gently laved them. A shudder rocked through her, and she writhed in delight as he licked at a small nub of flesh right at the root of her femininity. Her hands thrust into his hair, not wanting him to stop, but he moved up her body to pay homage to her breasts once more.

  Then he looked at her, his eyes dark with promise. “I hope you’re ready for me,” he rasped. “Because my need for you is killing me.”

  It was more a command than a question, and her only answer was to reach toward his erection. When her fingers made contact, it jerked with a life all its own. Its hardness puzzled her, but so did its softness—she’d no idea such satin skin could be found anywhere on a man.

  His breath hitched in his throat, then he chuckled. “You look irresistible. All woman, full of curiosity and lust. But if you continue to explore me so boldly, my willpower, as I’ve already told you, will be weaker than thistledown.”

  Disappointed, she moved her hand to his arm, reveling in the flexing of its sinews as he repositioned himself, with his erection resting at the sensitized entrance to her body. He pressed against her, and she bit her lip against the pain, but it was over in an instant, and he was inside her.

  He moved gently at first, sliding in and out on a cushion of moisture, but thrusting increasingly deeper until he was fully within her. She sucked in a sharp breath.

  He stilled, his brow furrowed. “Shall I stop? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The discomfort of penetration was already receding, overwhelmed by the darts of pleasure shooting through her. She shook her head emphatically and dug her nails into the skin of his back. Her nerves leaped to life, her body tensed with concentration as he drove in again, further this time, claiming all of her. Shifting to rest his weight on his elbows, he freed his hands to tease her nipples, adding to the growing gamut of sensations that had taken her over.

  They found a rhythm—he plunging deep, she rearing up to meet him, legs spread wide, open and inviting, rocking like a ship on a storm-tossed sea. She gripped him, released him, eking out every fragment of feeling from their joining, while he surged into her with intense concentration.

  Suddenly her feelings peaked in a maelstrom of ecstasy, and she fell apart, crying out her delight, clutching him in a feverish grip as he heaved, and moaned, and found his own pleasure.

  He rested gently on top of her still-thrumming body, warming her as she tried to catch her breath, waiting for her heartbeat to steady. Then he nibbled at her earlobe, his hot breath ruffling her hair.

  “I’ve just had a taste of heaven,” he whispered. “Thank you, my love.”

  He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him, so they lay face-to-face. He was still inside her, still a part of her, just as she now felt a part of him. No matter how long it took, no matter what battles they must fight, they had to be together. Bliss was a state rarely come by, and she’d no intention of settling for just a single night of it.

  “Fitz—” she began.

  “Ssh,” he said, suddenly throwing the bedclothes over their naked bodies. “There’s someone at the door.”

  She clutched at him in mute horror, but it was too late for either of them to conceal themselves. There was the ominous sound of a key turning in the lock, and then the room was illuminated by a flickering lantern, held aloft in a slender female hand.

  Alicia.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fitz was out of bed in an instant, flipping the coverlet over Cesca, and hurriedly tucking a sheet around his waist.

  The die was cast. There was no way on God’s earth Alicia would want to marry him now. How she’d love playing the part of the heartbroken, discarded lady-love! But he and Cesca would be too far away to care.

  Thank heaven!

  Alicia’s jaw dropped as she looked firstly at him, then at the bed. “Well, I don't know how you managed this when I was the one with the key.” She narrowed her eyes at him, her voice ominously calm as she added, "Unless you were already here, Fitz.”

  “I was. Now get out and give us our privacy.” He indicated the door.

  “Oh, no.” She rubbed her hands together. “I see I have to modify my plans. But I don’t have to abandon them.”

  A knot of alarm twisted in his gut. What plans?

  He took a step toward the door. “I’ve cooperated long enough.�
� He looked down at her. “You’ve manipulated everyone into believing I ought to marry you, knowing damn well the pressure I’d be under from both our fathers. But everything’s different now. Cesca has given me a taste of what love should be, what I always dreamed it would be. There is no place for you in my life.”

  Alicia’s head went back, then thrust forward like a striking snake. “Do you genuinely think you can put me aside in favor of her?”

  “As you can see,” he said, spreading his hands, “I’ve compromised Cesca. We have to be wed, for the sake of both her reputation—and mine. Just go.” He folded his arms and nodded toward the passageway.

  Feeling movement next to him, he turned and saw that Cesca had pulled on her chemise and now stood at his side, staring defiantly at her sister.

  “Fitz is right,” she said. “You ruined six months of our lives because of your selfish delusions. It’s high time you grew up, Alicia, and recognized the truth.”

  Alicia uttered a mirthless laugh. “The truth is that this changes nothing.”

  Cesca’s fingers sought his, and he grasped her hand. Whatever nasty little scheme Alicia had come up with now, he and Cesca would face it together. He smiled at his darling and slid an arm around her slender waist. With her at his side, he could cope with anything.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I mean that I, too, am no longer a virgin,” said Alicia, her lip curling into a sneer. "And I shall swear that you're the one who stole my innocence. Everyone will believe me because they already think we're engaged. You'll be forced to marry me."

  Cesca stiffened in Fitz’s embrace, gasping in shock. He felt the color rise in his cheeks, and ground out angrily, “What do you mean? Are you saying you’ve lain with a man?”

  “I had to—I couldn’t let you put me aside like some unwanted plaything. I intend to be the mistress of both Fernley and Beaulieu—and my children will inherit both. And Cesca, no one’s going to want you, now Fitz has ruined you. You’ll have to bleed out your days caring for Papa in his dotage—if he’ll even take you back after the shame you’ve brought on him.”

  Fitz shook his head, the blood thundering in his ears. He could barely believe the words issuing like drops of venom from Alicia’s mouth.

  “When? Who? What man dared to take you to his bed, when you’re under my protection?”

  He prayed she was lying, and yet… And yet Alicia was expert at getting what she desired.

  He rubbed a hand across his forehead. Did he truly want the man’s name? Would he be expected to call some blackguard out, and risk his life over a woman he didn’t even want?

  “It was brought home to me last night that Cesca’s reappearance could spoil everything,” she said. “So, I came up with a plan to get you back. I asked Captain Brandt to deflower me, and he duly obliged.”

  “Brandt?” The name stuck in his throat. “You just asked him to bed you, and he said yes? A man you met for the first time last night?”

  “Oh, but we’ve talked a great deal. You wouldn’t have noticed—too busy making calf eyes at Cesca or scowling at her when she danced with someone else. If I get with child by Brandt, I'll say it's yours. Who's to prove it isn't, without creating a scandal? I'm sure neither your father nor mine would want that."

  “There’s not a decent bone in that man’s body,” he said grimly. “I wish I’d killed him when I had the chance. But why did you choose him, of all people? There were plenty of other officers at the ball.”

  “Because he’s unmarried, so there are no complications there. And he dislikes you excessively, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  A muscle worked in Fitz’s jaw. He was going to have to deal decisively with Brandt, and fast. But right now, he and Cesca were at a disadvantage. Alicia needed to leave and give him time to think.

  “So, let me understand you,” he said. “You still want me to marry you, and if you bear Brandt’s bastard, you expect me to give it my name? I’m beginning to think you’re mad. Be in no doubt—I’m going to marry Cesca. And not just to ensure that if she gets with child, it’ll be born in wedlock. I love her. I always have.”

  “Very touching. But no one’s going to listen, because everyone thinks you’re engaged to me. And even if you can convince Papa that you lay with Cesca and not with me tonight, he’ll never let her marry, because he likes her waiting on him. Now, I’m chilled to the bone, so I’m going back to my room.”

  She clicked up the latch and opened the door, letting in a draught that made the candle flames flicker. “Here,” she said, flinging something at Fitz that he caught one-handed. It was the key.

  She looked at Cesca, adding, “I release you from the forfeit I demanded after winning at snapdragon. You can leave this so-called haunted room if you want or stay here with Fitz—it’s all one to me. But don’t expect me to part with my sovereigns now. Our wager is off.”

  Cesca wriggled out of Fitz’s grip, seized the key and flew to the door, thrusting it shut on Alicia, and locking it. Then she turned to him, saying defiantly, “I’ll never let her win. We’ll think of something to beat her, won’t we?”

  He tried to make some sense of this new crisis but was too deeply angry to think straight. It would be shameful and degrading, but he needed to have a painfully frank discussion with Mr. Heathcote and inform him both his daughters were no longer chaste. And then he'd have to confess to being the guilty party in Cesca's case.

  “Of course, we will, my darling.” Forcing a smile, he held out his arms and welcomed his love into his embrace, kissing the top of her head as she rested her cheek on his chest. “As Napoleon’s now back in captivity, I’ll resign my commission, and devote my time to finding a way. Never fear, for we will prevail.”

  And he hoped with all his heart that he spoke the truth.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was a difficult morning for all of them.

  Cesca had to hide her dislike of Alicia, Fitz's knuckles whitened every time Brandt smirked at him, and the other revelers were all over-tired, and very worried about whether or not they'd be able to get home safely once their carriage was fixed.

  The recent snow lay as yet un-melted and was now crusted with ice. The going would be treacherous. But with a team of four surefooted horses, Fitz’s vehicle could just about manage it. There were, after all, no hills to negotiate between the Oddfellows Inn and Fernley Place.

  “We have to try,” Fitz whispered to Cesca as he helped her into his carriage. “If I have to wait another day to ask your father for your hand, I’ll be like a keg of gunpowder in a lightning storm.”

  She smiled. She was feeling no less tense herself but was determined not to let Alicia see she was troubled. "I suppose if we founder, we can just turn about and come back here,” she whispered back. Taking her place next to Alicia, Cesca turned her back on her sister and stared out the window. Though the sun was bright, it offered no warmth, and she shivered in apprehension.

  It was barely possible to make out the edges of the road—snow had drifted right to the tops of the hedges, and in some places, covered them. She shot Fitz an anxious look as he settled down opposite, but he just smiled at her, filling her with delicious heat from head to toe.

  “I’m certain we will be in no difficulty, ladies,” he assured them. “My coachman is very experienced. All the same, you might be wise to hang onto the straps for the duration of the journey.”

  "It was most unkind of you not to offer a seat to Captain Brandt,” Alicia grumbled. “Captain Blakeley's carriage is nowhere near as reliable as this one. We'd only be taking Brandt a little bit out of his way, and he could have stayed at Fernley until the next stagecoach is due."

  Fitz’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was firm as he said, “I’m no fool, Alicia, whatever you think. I’d never be so stupid as to let you spend any more time with your co-conspirator, a man who hates me. You’ve lost. You may as well accept it.”

  “We’ll see,” snapped Alicia, glaring first at
him, then at Cesca.

  Cesca favored her sister with a look of mild surprise. "Am I right in thinking you've developed a tendre for the captain? If so, then all's well and good—you won't object to Papa making him marry you."

  “Marry a captain, when I could have a viscount? You haven’t won yet, Francesca, no matter what you might think.”

  Before she could respond, Cesca heard a shout up ahead, and the carriage slowed. Moments later, the window darkened, and a man on horseback was leaning down and touching his hat to them.

  Letting down the sash, Fitz frowned up at the interloper, who was carrying a leather tube slung over his shoulder.

  "I beg your pardon ladies, sir," the man said. "But I thought I recognized the carriage, and now I see from the crest I'm right, and this is one of the Beaulieu coaches. Would you be Viscount Lonsdale, sir? Also going by the title Major Fitzmaurice?"

  “I am.”

  "I've a letter for you, sir. The lady was most particular you get it before the regimental reunion at the Assembly Rooms. My apologies, but my horse threw a shoe, and you’d gone before I arrived—I’ve been after you ever since."

  Handing Fitz a folded paper, the messenger doffed his hat and removed himself, allowing the dazzling snow-reflected light to enter the carriage once more.

  Cesca chewed her lip. Fitz had a letter from a lady? What lady?

  Suddenly all her happy certainties were overshadowed by fear. Who was this new player about to take to the stage? Was it another plot of Alicia’s? And why was Fitz looking so uneasy?

  Chapter Twenty

  As Fitz ordered the coachman to continue their journey, he could feel two pairs of eyes boring into him. They might well be curious—just as he was himself. The only lady he could think of who might be writing to him would be his great aunt Lady Widbrook, possibly enquiring after Cesca’s whereabouts, since she was supposed to be staying with her. But when he looked at the address, the writing was wholly unfamiliar.