An Improper Christmas

by Amy Rose Bennett

  Sweet Lord, Lily Godwin was irresistible. Joshua drew in a deep breath. His cock hardened. “I’m honored you trust me with such an undertaking,” he murmured thickly. He found the hem of her skirts again and slid his hand along her stocking clad calf, up to her slender thigh. “And if pleasure is what you seek, I will do my best to deliver it to you.”

  She lounged back against the leather seat and her luscious mouth curved into another smile that set his blood pounding. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”

  * * *

  Lily closed her eyes as Joshua’s hand crept up her leg and toyed with the ribbon garter just above her knee. As his fingers ran up and down her inner thigh, raising goose bumps, he kissed her—her mouth, her neck, her breasts. Panting, her need spiraling once more, she parted her legs and gripped his hand in an attempt to guide him to her sex. But he wouldn’t play; he simply transferred his torturous attentions to her other thigh and she whimpered in frustration.

  She felt his mouth curve in a smile against her collarbone. “All in good time, sweet Lily. All in good time.”

  “It’s Christmas. I’d say a good time is now.” She twisted her hips a little and his hand slid closer to her mound. He was so close ...

  His fingertips feathered through her curls and she gasped. Raising his head, he grinned wickedly. “Well, since you’ve offered such a convincing argument ...”

  At last ... Joshua slid one long finger along the seam between her feminine folds. She was wet with want. Desperate for his touch. She arched and when his fingertip grazed the delicate bud at the top of her sex she gave a cry of joy. Oh, yes. This is what I need. What I want. Exactly this.

  Joshua returned to her folds then spread her dew upwards; his finger circled and flickered over the throbbing, oh-so-sensitive nub again and again. He claimed her mouth and his hot tongue slid and twined with hers, mimicking the erotic movement of his fingers. Grasping his shoulders, grinding herself mindlessly against his hand, Lily gave herself over to the sensations consuming her. The exquisite, coiling tension. The pulsating heat. She climbed higher and higher until she didn’t think she could take any more. And then Joshua whispered, “Come for me, Lily,” and at last she broke apart. Scintillating pleasure washed through her and she cried out Joshua’s name as she was carried away on a tide of bliss.

  When the ripples of satisfaction began to recede, Joshua gathered her close so her head rested against his chest. Her limbs were heavy. She could barely keep her eyes open. She snuggled against him as he draped a blanket over them both. His lips brushed her temple.

  Her Christmas Day had started out dark and desolate. But as she drifted off to sleep, nestled in Lord Nash’s arms, Lily rather suspected it might be wonderful after all.

  Chapter 4

  Chiltern Abbey, Buckinghamshire

  When Lily awoke, she discovered she was still cradled in Lord Nash’s strong arms, her head upon his rock-hard chest as he sprawled across the bench seat of the carriage. It took her another few seconds to realize his coach was drawing to a halt. Raising her head, she blinked and squinted out of the window at the dark gray afternoon. It was snowing heavily and the light was fading, but through the whirling flurries, she could just discern an imposing residence of soft gold stone. It appeared to consist of several stories; the windows were tall and the portico was flanked by ornate, fluted columns. A short flight of stairs led up to an enormous double door of gleaming black wood adorned with an elaborate wreath of holly and ivy.

  “Welcome to Chiltern Abbey, Miss Godwin.”

  Lily sat up and pushed her snarled hair from her eyes. “My goodness. How beautiful.”

  “Yes. I agree.” But Lord Nash wasn’t looking at his grand manor house, he was looking at her with an amused twinkle in his blue eyes. And that’s when Lily remembered she hadn’t refastened her riding ensemble.

  She gasped and clutched at the front of her jacket, just as a footman appeared beside the carriage window. Lord Nash immediately jerked the curtain across.

  “Give me a minute, Carter,” he called through the door. “And make sure Mr. Grieves has a decent fire going in the library, the drawing room, and my rooms.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Lord Nash gave her a swift kiss then helped her to fix her clothing. She frantically tried to smooth her hair so she wouldn’t look so disheveled; the hasty knot she’d pulled it into before dawn had completely collapsed so it was largely a hopeless enterprise. “What on earth will your staff think of me?” she said with a sigh as she pulled on her gloves and picked up her hat and satchel.

  Lord Nash gave her a reassuring smile. “Most will believe what I tell them—that you are a genteel young lady with an impeccable reputation whom I rescued from a snowstorm. And those who don’t, can be trusted to hold their tongues.”

  Lily nodded; she would be gone from here very soon so she supposed it really didn’t matter in the end. As Lord Nash handed her down from the carriage, she had to hold onto her skirts; the teeth of a vicious wind tore at her hair and clothes and flung snow into her eyes; it was hard to see more than a few feet ahead.

  Heads down, they hurried across the snow covered drive to the stairs and into the welcoming warmth of Chiltern Abbey’s hall; a liveried footman closed the door and then a portly gray-haired gentleman who was obviously the butler, stepped across the black and white tiled floor and bowed.

  “Merry Christmas, my lord,” he said in a deep baritone. “It is very good to see you’ve arrived home safely given the appalling weather.”

  “Thank you, Grieves,” Lord Nash replied as he shrugged off his greatcoat and passed it to the footman. “And Merry Christmas to you too.”

  The butler’s gaze slid to Lily and he gave another bow. “You have brought a guest, my lord.”

  “Oh, no. Not really,” began Lily. “I shan’t be here long—”

  “What?” Lord Nash frowned down at her as he tugged off his gloves. “Miss Godwin, you aren’t seriously thinking of heading to London tonight in this weather are you? The roads will be impassable before long. We barely made it here.”

  Grieves nodded. “Yes, indeed, my lord. I do believe the road to London is cut already.”

  Oh, heavens. Lily swallowed nervously and glanced at Lord Nash. A furious blush stormed across her cheeks and her pulse quickened as she recalled what they’d done in his carriage. If she couldn’t leave, she’d have to stay here all night, with the viscount. Alone. And who knew where that would lead?

  Straight to his bedroom. How could it not? Lord Nash had introduced her to pleasure and she’d be hard pressed not to want more of the same.

  She didn’t know whether to be appalled or thrilled by the fluttering anticipation in her belly.

  “Miss Godwin?” Lord Nash prompted in a low voice meant only for her. His gaze had softened and Lily had the feeling he was a little anxious she might try to bolt. “You will stay here won’t you? The storm has worsened. It’s much too dangerous to travel any farther today.”

  Lily nodded. The man spoke perfect sense. “Very well,” she conceded. “I’ll stay.”

  “Excellent.” Lord Nash turned to the butler. “Grieves. Have Mrs. Larkin escort Miss Godwin to one of the guest rooms. And then we’ll have dinner at the usual time.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  “Mrs. Larkin is the housekeeper,” Lord Nash explained. “Do ask her for whatever you need. And then, perhaps you’d like to join me in the drawing room at seven o’clock, just before dinner? I can send for tea or, I have a very good Spanish sherry you might like to try.”

  “Of course. I shall see you then,” Lily replied with a smile, although she rather suspected Lord Nash would be offering her something more exciting than tea and sherry in due course. And despite the dictates of decorum, she knew it would be hard to say no.

  * * *

  Several hours later, as the longcase clock in the hall struck seven o’clock, Lily set forth from her lavishly appointed bedchamber in search of the drawing room.
A chambermaid who appeared to be unnecessarily adjusting silk cushions on a gilt-legged armchair outside her room, looked up at her as she closed the door.

  “May I help you, miss?” the young girl asked after dropping a brief curtsy.

  “Yes.” Lily was not prone to bouts of self-consciousness but she blushed. Even though she’d washed her face, changed her chemise and stockings, and had arranged her hair into another neat knot, she still wore her travel-stained riding habit so it wasn’t surprising that she would be an object of interest. Most proper young ladies of the ton would have brought a surfeit of clothes with them and at least a servant or two. And a chaperone. Nevertheless, she lifted her chin and added, “I would like directions to the drawing room.”

  “I shall take you if you like, miss.”

  Lily inclined her head. “Thank you.”

  Ignoring the curious backward glances of the maid, Lily followed her down the oak-paneled hallway, the plush red carpet absorbing their footfalls. Chiltern Abbey was huge and very handsome—even grander than Horwood House. Indeed her uncle and aunt’s residence, Swallowfield Hall, seemed positively ramshackle in comparison.

  Between the towering casement windows swathed in yards of dusky rose, sage green, and gold damask stood marble busts, fine chairs, and potted palms. Paintings of men and women, who were undoubtedly Lord Nash’s ancestors, graced the gold flocked wallpaper above the polished paneling. As they descended the wide staircase to the lower floor, Lily marveled at the exquisite Yuletide decorations: the abundance of fat white candles that brightened the otherwise dismal evening and the garlands of holly, ivy, and Christmas roses that had been wrapped about the balustrades and festooned over the doorways. There was even a great ball of mistletoe suspended from a chandelier in the main hall.

  Even though Lord Nash had not planned to spend Christmas here, he’d spared no expense when it came to decking his home in a manner befitting the season.

  The maid showed her through a gleaming set of paneled oak doors into an elegantly appointed drawing room. Lord Nash, who’d been negligently sprawling in a dark green leather wingchair before the blazing fire, immediately put aside his drink—Lily thought it might be brandy—and rose to his feet.

  “Miss Godwin,” he said with a smile. “I trust your guest chamber is satisfactory?”

  “Why yes. Thank you. It is ... quite lovely.” Lily pressed her lips together to stop herself blathering. Seeing Lord Nash again—it was still hard to think of him as Joshua, despite all that had transpired on the journey here—was playing havoc with her pulse and her ability to string words together. He’d changed from his traveling garb into soft fawn breeches, shiny black Hussar boots, a burgundy satin waistcoat, and a dark blue tailcoat. From the folds of his stylishly messy cravat winked a blue sapphire. As she’d come to expect, his light brown hair was tousled as if he’d just raked his fingers through it.

  Lord Nash glanced past her to the maid. “That will be all, Deborah. Please close the door on your way out.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Now, what can I offer you in the way of refreshment, Miss Godwin? Or may I call you Lily again? Now that we are alone.”

  She approached the arrangement of chairs on the richly hued Turkish rug before the fire. “Lily would be quite fine. And to answer your first question, perhaps a small sherry?”

  Lord Nash flashed a charming smile. “Perfect then, Lily. Won’t you take a seat?”

  Lily chose the wingchair opposite the one Lord Nash had vacated and watched him as he poured a small measure of golden sherry from a crystal decanter into a delicate twist-stemmed glass. Indeed the glass looked tiny in his long, well-shaped fingers as he carried it to her. When she took it with a murmured thanks, those wonderful masculine fingers brushed hers, and she blushed as she recalled how they felt caressing her breasts ... and her sex.

  Good Lord, she really shouldn’t study Lord Nash’s hands.

  She looked up and the viscount was smiling at her from his chair. Was he thinking about their tryst in the carriage too? Her gaze fell to his mouth and her face grew even hotter. That mouth ... that tongue. The things he could do ... She licked her bottom lip and Lord Nash’s smile grew wider.

  “Here’s to you, Lily. I wish you a joyous Christmas this year and every year,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast.

  “Thank you,” she said, lifting her own glass. “And I wish the same for you.”

  They touched glasses and Lily took a small sip of her sherry. It was delicious and no doubt just the thing to take the edge of her nerves. But she mustn’t have too much. She still believed her inhibitions had fled because she’d had too much claret at lunch. Not that she’d regretted the experience. It had been the most amazing—perhaps profound—experience she’d ever had ... and that was the problem. If she went further with Lord Nash, she was at risk of becoming entirely addicted to him. And that would be foolish indeed, considering the type of man he was.

  She took another sip of her sherry. Yes, if she were to continue their dalliance tonight, she must be of the understanding it was just a one night only affair. A fling without emotional attachment. It would be an indulgent Christmas gift to herself that might help to mend her dented confidence and bruised heart. Nothing more.

  * * *

  “Cook sends her sincerest apologies, my lord,” announced Grieves as he waved several footmen into the dining room. They each bore a large silver tray with a domed platter. “She wasn’t expecting you back so soon so she hasn’t been able to produce the usual array of Christmas dinner dishes.”

  “I’m sure it will be wonderful,” replied Joshua. “And besides, there are only two of us this evening.” The footmen placed the platters on the polished mahogany table and removed the silver domes revealing a succulent feast; there was crisp roast duck served with cherry sauce, a dish of roast potatoes and buttered green beans, and another tray containing crystal dishes of gooseberry syllabub dressed with sugared red rose petals from the hot house. Joshua had asked for everything to be served at once; he didn’t want their dinner to be interrupted by the constant comings and goings of the servants.

  He wanted to get to know Miss Lily Godwin and having her all to himself was the best way to do that.

  Once the door had closed, and they were alone, Joshua rose and played servant, carving the duck before offering Lily each of the savory dishes in turn. The flickering candlelight played over her features and he was struck anew by her ethereal beauty—with her coppery locks slipping free of the knot at the back of her head, and her satin smooth cheeks glowing with a soft pink blush, she was as lovely and delicate as one of the pale Christmas roses in the floral and evergreen arrangement near her glass of Champagne.

  It only reaffirmed in his mind that Hardwick was indeed a prat of the highest order.

  When he took his seat, Lily asked him about his sister, Horatia. “I imagine she’s spending the Yuletide season with her new husband, Lord Lovell.”

  “Yes, she is. They will be ensconced at Waverly Park until Twelfth Night. I was due to visit them for the New Year after my sojourn at Horwood House.” Joshua sliced off a piece of his duck and chewed it thoughtfully. Although Lily had caught his eye during the Season proper, he wasn’t exactly sure how close she was to Horatia. Horatia could be quite capricious and Lily seemed almost too sweet to have been one of her bosom friends. “Do you correspond with my sister? Although I am aware she’s never been particularly fond of writing letters. At least to her older brother.”

  Lily put down her fork and knife. “I’m afraid your sister and I only had a casual acquaintance this past Season, my lord.”

  “You mean, Joshua.”

  “Yes.” Lily’s smile lit her eyes. “Joshua.” She took a sip of Champagne then added, “She is most vivacious. Whereas I ... I can be quite the country mouse.”

  Joshua raised an eyebrow. “A country mouse? I cannot agree with your assessment, Lily. You dazzle the eye.”

  She blushed prettily and it
suddenly occurred to him that she might not be used to such compliments from men.

  “Thank you,” she said. “That is most kind of you considering I’m wearing a rumpled riding habit at your dinner table.”

  Joshua would have liked to quip that she was welcome to discard it but he didn’t want to make her feel awkward. Instead he said, “You look nothing but lovely, Lily. A true lily of the field. And believe me, if Horatia had left any of her clothes behind, I would have asked Mrs. Larkin to show them to you, and you would have been more than welcome to have your pick.”

  Lily placed one of her elegant hands at her throat. “Oh, I assure you, I never expected anything like that, my ... I mean, Joshua. You’ve been nothing but kindness itself from the very beginning. And astute. You were so very right about the weather. I would not have made it very far on my own.”

  Joshua inclined his head and sliced through another portion of his duck. How terrible it was that Lily had felt compelled to flee Horwood House. It made him wonder about her relationship with her uncle and aunt. He washed down his mouthful of duck with a good swig of claret and decided he wanted to know more about Lily’s family and her upbringing.

  “You mentioned your uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Dunmere, would not have been happy if you’d taken their carriage this morning.” He caught Lily’s gaze. “I hope you’ll forgive my prying questions, but did they know you were leaving? ... And why?”

  Lily pressed her fine white teeth into the soft flesh of her plump lower lip and looked away. Her fingers trembled as she picked up her Champagne glass and took a sip. He was a heel to have asked her such a thing but he really did want to learn more about this beautiful young woman.

  “My aunt knew about Humphrey’s betrayal,” she said at length. “We—she and I—spoke about it last night.”