The Christmas Countess

by Adrienne Basso

  Slowly, he reclined against the headboard, taking her with him. She wore a pretty white lace night rail, conservative and modest and the sight of it set fire to his blood.

  “We need to get rid of this,” he decided, tugging on the hem of the garment.

  She cleared her throat. He took that as an agreement. One swift pull and the gown sailed over her head, leaving her naked. Cameron almost growled with excitement. She had beautiful skin. Creamy, white and smooth. He could have feasted on it for days.

  Instead, Cameron placed his mouth over hers. Feather light he traced the edges of her moist lips until they parted willingly, allowing him inside. She arched forward in response. He could feel her nipples tightening, her breath hitching with excitement.

  “Dearest Rebecca,” he muttered, as he bent his head. “You smell so good. Like a sinful woman. My woman.”

  He nuzzled her naked breasts. Drawing a stiff bud into his mouth, he suckled her gently, then more strongly as she began to writhe against him. She threaded her fingers through his hair and held him close. His muscles tightened with anticipation at her wanton invitation, his cock grew harder.

  The wants and needs so wonderfully satisfied last night came back to Cameron with a vengeance; stronger, more intense since he now knew what heaven he could find within the softness of her body.

  “I want you to stay with me tonight,” she whispered.

  “I want that too,” he admitted.

  He removed his robe. She reached up and placed a curious hand on his chest. Her fingers sifted through the swirl of hair, then moved down to his flat belly. Cameron‘s heart thundered as her questing fingers moved lower, his erect penis straining toward her hand.

  She closed her fist around his. Ohhh, clever girl. That was just what he needed. Rebecca stroked him firmly and an excited groan fell from his lips. She brushed the pad of her thumb slowly over the slit in the head and he shuddered. Dazed, he allowed her to pleasure him a few moments longer, bucking into her grip. But then suddenly he pulled away, afraid he would disgrace himself and spurt all over her hand.

  Turning the tables, Cameron stroked his palm down across her belly, then cupped the center of her womanhood. She hissed, her eyes turning frantic with need as she arched herself into his hands. He felt her wetness start. It excited him terribly.

  Running his forefinger up and down the tender folds, he searched for the delicate hidden pearl. She undulated her hips and cried out the instant he found it. Grinning, he increased the pressure, sliding his middle finger inside the wet, hot sheath. That brought another cry.

  Whimpering, Rebecca pressed her length against him. The feel of her soft, full breasts and taut, hard nipples rubbing so provocatively along his heated flesh made Cameron a bit crazed.

  Trying to regain some measure of control, Cameron gazed at her face. Her features were almost severe in the glow of candlelight, her passion extreme, intense. He could see how much she hungered for this intimacy and pleasure they shared, but there was more.

  Deep in her eyes was a yearning, a plea, so open and raw it humbled him. Cameron knew the pain of her past had left her withdrawn and guarded, which made the uninhibited giving she was bestowing upon him now all the more poignant.

  Slipping his fingers from her warmth, he turned her on her back and settled himself between her splayed thighs. Propping himself on the weight of his forearms, Cameron positioned the head of his erect penis against her opening and with one powerful thrust, seated himself to the hilt.

  She gasped loudly. The pleasure surrounded him, sweet and thick, but Cameron held himself perfectly still, gritting his teeth as her body tightened around him.

  He took a deep, shuddering breath, and slowly pulled himself back before surging forward. The earlier urgency he had felt so strongly now flowed into tenderness as each delectable sensation engulfed him. He tamped down the raw edges of his desire and watched her closely, alert to her senses, needing to assure himself she was feeling every inch of him.

  Lost in the passion, Rebecca‘s eyes were glazed with arousal, her breathing unsteady, her face a mask of concentration.

  “Do you like that?” he asked, his voice hoarse, his muscles shaking with the effort to keep his passion under control.

  “Cameron,” she whispered, shifting her body forward, taking him another inch deeper inside her body.

  He pulled his hips back and started pumping harder, more urgently, dragging a low, keening moan of pleasure from her throat. Her body yielded completely as he slid himself in and out of her tight, wet sheath. As the intensity increased, he still tried to go as slowly as possible, to allow the pleasure to build.

  But Rebecca was not of the same mind. She bucked beneath him and he sank heavily between her thighs. Every thought and emotion was swamped in a rush of desire.

  “Tell me when you are going to come,” he demanded, moving a hand down to where they were joined.

  “Soon,” she moaned. “Now.”

  He pressed his mouth to hers, catching her scream, filling it into his lungs. He could feel her inner muscles squeezing his penis tightly, then a rush of wet warmth engulfed him as her body shuddered in climax.

  With supreme effort he managed to hold back his own release. It made him feel powerful, though he knew control was a mere illusion. He was so near to the edge, so close himself. Still he held back, allowing her to set the rhythm.

  There were a few lingering shudders wracking her body before Rebecca sagged against the mattress. Cameron waited but a moment, giving her a few seconds to catch her breath. Then wrapping his arms tightly around her, he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.

  Contact between them was broken for a second as she moved to the side and his penis slipped out of her. Grunting with distress, Cameron repositioned Rebecca atop him, spread her legs over his hips, then thrust himself back inside. Back where he belonged.

  “Cameron?”

  Her voice was confused, unsure.

  “It‘s fine.” To prove his point, Cameron lifted his hips. He heard her indrawn gasp and smiled. Damn, she was amazing. He stroked her deeply with his penis again, lifting himself higher this time.

  “Lord, that‘s wicked.” Rebecca inhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath.

  “Now you do it,” he urged in a seductive voice.

  Her expression curious, Rebecca pushed herself experimentally forward. He slid deeper. Cameron clenched his eyes shut. Maybe this wasn‘t the best position to prolong their pleasure. A few more thrusts like that and he‘d erupt.

  Gripping the headboard behind him with both hands, Cameron shifted his legs, relinquishing some control. Rebecca leaned forward and the heavy mass of her glorious honey-colored hair moved like silken fire over his bare chest.

  “I‘ve never been a particularly skilled equestrian, my lord,” she purred in his ear. “Then again, I have not had the privilege of mounting so fine a stallion.”

  Her sultry banter made him nuts. He shoved himself against her and she grunted, driving herself down hard. He nearly exploded, yet he held back, his mind and body yearning to savor each exquisite sensation.

  She increased the pace. Cameron could feel her tremble, could feel his own skin heat even more as the pleasure built higher. His hands reached up to thumb her nipples. She shrieked and threw back her head. He was losing control. He could feel the excitement overtaking him, driving him harder and faster.

  He thrust twice more and then he started to come, so furiously, so intently he had no time to think, no time to consider. All he could do was savor the magnificent pleasure that encompassed his entire being as his body convulsed.

  Long minutes passed as he slowly, gradually drifted back to himself. He knew he should have withdrawn before allowing himself to spill his seed. It was unwise to risk the chance of getting her pregnant. But he was too damn relaxed, too completely satisfied to let that rattle him.

  “That was incredible,” Cameron declared when he was once again able to speak.

  “I
t does seem as if we are improving with practice, my lord,” she retorted smugly.

  “Cameron,” he whispered as he buried his lips in the warm hollow of her throat. “You called me by my name before. Please, do so again.”

  She moved her hands to rest against his damp chest. “Cameron,” she whispered with a seductive smile.

  He enfolded her in his arms and held her against his heart. They stayed that way for a long time. Every now and then Cameron would lean down and brush a kiss on her face or shoulder, almost to assure himself that she was real, that this was not a dream or a fantasy.

  Exhausted and sated, they both gradually drifted to the edge of sleep. He awoke a few hours later, his body hard and primed and ready to take her again. But he knew he could not—‘twas far too risky to stay so long in Rebecca‘s bed, however much he craved it.

  “Don‘t leave,” she whispered drowsily, placing her hand over his, clinging to it tightly as he slid out of the bed.

  “I must,” he muttered against her hair. “Time for you to go back to sleep.”

  He nuzzled her neck until her head fell back against the soft pillow, then waited until her breathing once again grew steady and he knew sleep had claimed her. Then he quit the room.

  The light of dawn had begun to break as he left the chamber. Cameron wondered idly what he would possibly say if he met anyone in the hall. Fortunately there was no one.

  The fire in the grate of his bedchamber had burned low, the room had an uncomfortable chill. Grimacing, Cameron slipped between the sheets of his cold bed. No longer feeling tired, he gazed around the room.

  Spacious and comfortable, the chamber had a distinctly masculine feel to it. He had commissioned a redecoration of the master suites in all of his homes after Christina died, unable to bear the familiarity and memories they evoked.

  The resulting bedchamber at Windmere was his favorite. Done in dark brown tones and accented with burgundy drapes and coverlets, it had always provided a warm refuge, a place to unwind and relax. Yet tonight it felt different. Tonight it was cold and empty and lonely.

  Cameron could not help but contrast it with the peace and tranquility of Rebecca‘s bedchamber, the prevailing atmosphere of seclusion and delight. Achieved no doubt because she was inside.

  He stared broodingly at the dwindling fire, allowing his mind to open. He was in love with Rebecca Tremaine. There, he had admitted it.

  The realization had struck him earlier as he watched her sleep. While staring at her peaceful beauty he had felt his heart swell with emotion, had been engulfed with a yearning, twisting feeling deep in his gut that started with extreme happiness and plummeted to abject misery in a matter of seconds.

  Extreme happiness because he had not believed that he would ever be so fortunate as to find a woman he could care about so completely and misery because he knew there was nothing more devastating than unrequited love. Was there anything more humiliating than to lay your feelings bare and not see those same feelings reflected back at you?

  He had spoken of marriage and Rebecca had rejected the notion. Not a promising start. But he had done it badly, without revealing his feelings, without pledging his love and devotion.

  Did he have the courage to try again? Rebecca cared for him, of that he was certain, or else she would never have made love with him, never have given herself to him so completely. But sex was not love, liking someone was not love, enjoying someone‘s company was not love. And he knew that Rebecca would not settle for anything less than solid, lasting, all-consuming love in her life, just as he demanded the same.

  The last of the fire sputtered and died, but Cameron made no move to put any fuel on the few remaining sparks. He let the room grow colder, let his thoughts consider all that had happened. And for the first time in many years, the earl questioned what he wanted for himself, how he truly wanted to live out the remainder of his days.

  The answer was not long in coming. He wanted Rebecca. And damn, he was going to have her!

  Chapter 18

  “Are you enjoying our little celebration, my lord?” Vicar Hargrave asked. “I think the ladies have out-done themselves concocting so many luscious treats for everyone.”

  Cameron pulled his gaze away from Rebecca, who stood with several of the other women on the far side of the room, and smiled at the young clergyman and his wife.

  “It is a fine party,” the earl answered. “And an excellent way to celebrate the success of this evening‘s play. I must commend you on all your hard work, Mrs. Hargrave, and congratulate you on doing such a wonderful job. It was a most…uhm…interesting interpretation of the nativity.”

  “You are far too kind.” Mrs. Hargrave blushed prettily. “I confess to being greatly relieved it is over. Things did not turn out precisely as I had planned.”

  “Come now, my dear, you heard the earl,” the vicar said kindly as he patted the top of his wife‘s hand. “It was a splendid play.”

  “Hardly.” Mrs. Hargrave took a sip of her drink, wrinkling her nose after she swallowed. “I thought I might faint when young Jamie Bragg forgot his lines and stood staring out at the audience, his jaw hanging.”

  “I barely noticed,” Cameron lied.

  “Really?” She tilted her head and speared him with a quelling look, surprising him utterly. Mrs. Hargrave was usually such a deferential female. “And were you equally unaware when Penelope Morton started sneezing uncontrollably and was unable to sing her solo?”

  “Unfortunately, an overabundance of straw can have that effect on some individuals,” Cameron replied. “But it made the manger look most authentic.”

  Mrs. Hargrave‘s brow rose. She took another sip of her drink and Cameron realized her glass was filled with wassail. He concluded she was a woman unused to drinking spirits, which explained her uncharacteristically bold attitude.

  “You are trying to spare my feelings. That is most gallant of you, Lord Hampton,” Mrs. Hargrave said, one hand pressed dramatically to her heart. She closed her eyes, then opened one and peered at him. “I suppose you also took no notice of how I wrongly cued the wise men to enter before the angels?”

  Cameron struggled to hide a smile. She was a pretty woman, open, honest and very forthcoming in her slightly inebriated state. The earl was enjoying the conversation far more than he should, especially given the anxious glances the vicar was sending to his wife. Cameron supposed being around Rebecca for the past few weeks had given him a greater appreciation of opinionated women.

  “The sudden appearance of the wise men before the shepherds and the angels caused but a moment of confusion,” he said. “But it was quickly set to rights. Surely you heard all the applause at the end of the performance?”

  Mrs. Hargrave sighed. “I did, indeed. Thankfully the audience was filled with the families and friends of our budding thespians. I shudder to think what might have happened if that were not the case.”

  “Oh, my dearest, you are exaggerating.” Vicar Hargrave‘s eyes clouded with puzzlement. Clearly he did not know what to make of his wife‘s odd behavior.

  Cameron was about to quietly suggest Mrs. Hargrave refrain from partaking of any additional wassail, but changed his mind. It was Christmas Eve. After all her hard work she deserved a celebration.

  “I am very proud of you, Mrs. Hargrave,” Cameron stated formally. “I just hope your husband appreciates what a great asset you are to his career.”

  The vicar smiled, his attention caught by the statement, precisely as the earl intended. “I do indeed know what a treasure I have in my wife,” Reverend Hargrave said sincerely.

  “Good. After the delight of tonight‘s performance, be assured I shall look forward to next year‘s Christmas pageant with even greater enthusiasm,” Cameron added.

  The vicar‘s smile broadened. Mrs. Hargrave‘s eyes popped open. She stared at him in wordless shock.

  Time for me to circulate among the other guests , Cameron decided.

  The earl spotted Rebecca engaged in an earnest d
iscussion with Marion but a few feet away. Their conversation ended the moment he joined them, leading him to suspect he was most likely the topic.

  “Ah, there is Richard,” Marion said. “He‘s standing beneath some greenery that looks suspiciously like mistletoe.”

  “‘Tis holly,” Cameron insisted, without turning his head, for he had previously searched the room for mistletoe or a kissing ball and to his disappointment had found none.

  Marion shrugged. “No matter. I shall tell my husband it is mistletoe and insist he kiss me.”

  She scampered off.

  “I was just congratulating Mrs. Hargrave on this evening‘s performance,” Cameron told Rebecca.

  “Poor dear, she was in quite a state earlier, but she seems to have forgotten some of the more glaring mistakes,” Rebecca said.

  “Actually, I don‘t think she has,” Cameron remarked, remembering their conversation. “But I believe the wassail is helping her forget the few mishaps.”

  “One can hardly expect perfection when working with children.” Rebecca took a small sip of her drink.

  Cameron noted it was different from Mrs. Hargrave‘s. Too bad. Apparently Rebecca had opted for a nonalcoholic beverage this evening.

  “I tried to reassure Mrs. Hargrave that everyone thought it was a splendid effort,” he said. “Honestly, if not for the amusing mistakes, what would we have to talk about?”

  “Cameron!” Rebecca drew her brows together. “I certainly hope you did not say that to Mrs. Hargrave.”

  “Of course not.” The earl smiled, too pleased over the fact that Rebecca had just called him Cameron while out in public, in a very crowded room, to take offense at the scolding. “I did however fail to mention to Mrs. Hargrave what I thought was by far the best part of the play.”

  “Lily‘s presence on the stage?” The two lines creasing Rebecca‘s forehead disappeared as she smiled. “She did appoint herself well tonight. I‘m sure you were very proud.”