by Anthology
“Delightful.” She ran her fingers though his hair, tugging on it, sending him into a spell of desire.
He slowly laid her on the bed, covering her with his body, and both cursing and adoring every stitch of fabric concealing her body; cursing it because it was a barrier, adoring it because it kept something precious hidden, something that would only belong to him.
“I can wait,” he murmured against her lips, his body denying his words.
“I know.” She arched into him.
“I will.” His voice was a coarse undertone, his body humming with a desire almost too powerful to think around.
“Which is one of the many reasons I’m marrying you. Because you would wait.” She placed her fingers over his heart.
“I would,” he affirmed, studying her beauty. ”I will… but only just.” He grinned wickedly then captured her mouth in a promising kiss, lacing his tongue with hers, binding his very soul into the kiss. His hands ran up her petite frame, glorying in the curves, the shape, and committing it to memory, exploring his soon-to-be wife. She gasped as his lips left hers and trailed down her jaw, to the sensitive spot below her ear, and down her neck to the soft rise of her breast, then back up, covering every inch with his touch, his brand.
His.
No one else’s.
She arched, gasped, pulled him in tight, yet he forced a control he didn’t want to have, all because it as a matter of honor.
A matter of respect.
A promise, because if he could control himself with her — the one who owned him body and soul — no other temptation would come close.
“Lucas.” Her voice caressed his name, almost breaking his control. Her skin was soft and fragrant, making him heady with the scent of rose water. Yet just when he wanted, needed, more of her, he drew away.
Because as much as he wanted her body, he wouldn’t settle for just one part of her. He wanted every part. Gently he rolled beside her, pulling her into the lee of his body. He gloried in the way her skin was flushed by his affection, the way her heart beat pounded with the desire he had awakened within her. She shifted so that she faced him, and reaching up, she caressed his face, tracing his jaw line, and placing a kiss to his lips.
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“This.” She laced her fingers through his.
And they talked, and as she spoke, he studied her expressions, memorized the way her eyes would light up. Her laughter was musical, and it always seemed there was a hint of mischief in her expression. A thousand nuances he discovered, glimpsed through different lenses, all flooded his world.
And all too soon, morning dawned, and with a final kiss, he slipped out of her room and into his own.
For the last time.
And once they were married, every last shred of control he had was going to be set free.
IT WAS MAGICAL. There was no other word for it. When Lucas had knocked on her door, she thought she knew what was going to happen.
Yet again, he shocked her — in the most endearing way possible.
Because it would have been natural for her to give herself to him, after all, they were to be married.
But to be married wasn’t the same as truly being married. Few men would consider that small detail as important.
Yet he had.
After he left, she fell into a sweet sleep, only to be awoken by another knock on the door.
“Meredith!” Sara’s voice called to her.”Wake up!”
Slowly, thorough the fog of sleep, Meredith stretched and rose from bed, padding to the door. “Yes?”
“I need you to start getting ready now.” Sara barged into her room, immediately throwing open the doors of her wardrobe and pulling out the gown she selected for her wedding dress. “The wedding is in a few hours, if you still plan for it to take place today.” Sara called out, turning slightly to face her sister. “Mother’s quite taken with the idea of presenting you as Lord and Lady Ashbury. Don’t ask me why, but either way, we don’t want to disappoint Mother, now do we? Besides, a footman has already secured the local vicar and you’ll be officially married in a small, intimate ceremony at eleven in the morning. “
“What does Lucas say?” Meredith tried to process all that Sara was trying to say.
“He’s apparently already up and dressed, which to say, is more than you.”
“Call the maid.” Meredith snapped to attention, pulling in her focus. Lucas was ready? That was all she needed to hear.
“I already called her. She’ll be here in just a few moments,” Sara replied, then paused and regarded her sister carefully. “Are you sure about all this? I mean… honestly Meredith, it seems quick.”
“Sara…” Meredith approached her sister, clasping her hand once she got close enough. “I am quite sure. Completely certain. I’m not marrying a stranger, which is not uncommon among the ton. I’ve known Lucas since I can remember. I’ve spent more time with him than most of my friends back in London—”
“But you liked your friends, you hated Lucas.”
“Lucas… is as honorable and charming as he is annoying and irritating.” Meredith laughed.
“I can believe that,” Sara confessed, aiming her stare at the floor.
“I have no hesitation. Rather, I find I’m… impatient. I love him. I think a part of me always did, which was why it was so easy for me to constantly be a war with him.” She shrugged. “Attention was attention.”
“Dear heavens, please tell me you haven’t said that. His ego will grow to mammoth proportions.” Sara rolled her eyes.
“Not in as many words. I know who I’m marrying.” She winked. “And that is the truth of it, Sara. I know Lucas. I know his likes, dislikes, I know everything about him.”
“That’s true.” Sara nodded. “As long as you’re sure, I can make an effort to like him.”
“How noble of you,” Meredith teased with a soft laugh.
“What’s noble of me is waking you up before mother gets here and takes over.”
With that, Lady Bright strolled into the room like a general on a mission. “Ladies, we have work to do.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NEVER HAD LUCAS BEEN so nervous. And apparently it showed.
“Damn it all, Lucas. If you don’t stop pacing I’m going to go bloody mad,” Hugh whispered as the vicar cleared his throat.
“I’m not pacing.”
“You’re pacing,” Jack replied.
“She’ll be here in a moment. She wasn’t given much time.” Hugh yawned.
“I pray Louisa is as much of a threat to your peace of mind as Meredith is to mine.”
Hugh gave him a dark look. Just then, the doors to the small family chapel within the Wingham estate creaked open. Light shot through the stained glass windows and focused a rosy glow on Meredith as she walked into the room. Her gown was a soft pink, with a fur cape just about her shoulders, highlighting the creamy hue of her skin.
Skin he knew the flavor of. Skin that would soon be all that was between them.
As if sensing his thoughts, the vicar cleared his throat again.
Meredith strode towards him, her parents seated to the side, beside his and waiting patiently. Yet his gaze was drawn to her; his bride.
“Meredith,” he whispered her name, a litany in his very soul.
“Lucas.” Her tone was sweet like honey.
The vicar opened in prayer, and with an efficiency Lucas truly appreciated — led them through the short ceremony.
“Before God and man, I now pronounce you man and wife. Please kiss your—”
Before the vicar finished, Lucas had Meredith in his arms, tasting her kiss. The wait was over, and before God and everyone, she was finally his.
As he reluctantly pulled his lips away, he watched as the most beautiful smile spread over her features, and he knew that whenever he remembered their wedding, he’d remember that smile.
“Mother, there is not a wedding breakfast because we are having the ce
lebration this evening, correct?” he asked, never once taking his eyes from his mother.
“Well, no but—”
“Brilliant.” Without a moment to lose, he swept her into his arms and walked down the aisle. “If you’ll excuse us.” He heard his father’s laughter and his mother’s quiet gasp, probably echoed by his new mother-in-law — but he didn’t care. He was already out the door.
All but running down the hall.
Silencing her protests with well-placed kisses.
“But the stairs—”
“Are of no consequence,” he finished as he ascended the flight that brought them to his wing, and with a quick flick of his wrist, opened the door that led to his room, slammed it shut behind him.
“Finally.” He strode to the bed, laid her down, and met her mouth in a frenzy of impatient passion. ”I love your dress, I’ll love it more on the floor,” he whispered, tugging at the strings holding her fur pelisse over her creamy shoulders. Once that was removed, he pushed aside the neckline of her dress and kissed her bare shoulder. His body shuddered with need.
“I’m not the only one with clothes,” Meredith reminded him, as her warm hands slid under his coat and caressed his back through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Damn and blast.” He swore then rose up from the bed and started to remove the offending clothing.
“Slower,” she whispered from the bed, freezing him in the middle of his rapid disrobing.
He swallowed and forced himself to slow down, watching as her eyes took him in. Her posture relaxing on the bed, she smiled as he slowly removed his jacket, then his shirt. He loved how her mouth parted slightly at the sight of his bare chest. Her gaze was like a touch, erotic, and completing.
“Your turn.” He held out a hand to her, and she rose.
“I’m afraid I’ll need more assistance than you.” She gave him her back, and while he undid the buttons on her gown, she slowly removed pins, allowing her tempting locks to flow down, teasing him with their texture and fragrance.
“Are you emotionally attached to this dress?” His voice was strained as he fumbled with the last few buttons.
“Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder, an impish gleam in her eyes.
“Surely you jest.”
“Indeed, I do not.” She hitched a shoulder, then stilled, as if waiting patiently.
Cursing in his head, he undid the last few buttons and made quick work of unlacing her corset, thankful it didn’t have buttons as well.
Soon — yet not soon enough — her dress was exactly where it needed to be, on the floor.
“Turn around,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.
She slowly spun, her hands covering her chest, her eyes wide with wonder. His gaze drank her in, placing his hands over hers, she slowly removed her hands, leaving him covering her, and with trembling hands, she removed the last of his clothing, till finally, there was nothing that could come between them.
He moved his hands, caressing her body, taking in her perfect form. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, filled with reverence and awe. “So perfect.” He couldn’t take it any longer, his eyes had only fed the addiction that she was becoming to his body, and with no longer any need for control, it simply snapped.
Pulling her into his arms, he fused their mouths together in a hot kiss. He lifted her into his arms, and laid her on the bed, joining her, heating her, completing her.
Completing him.
Passion exploded, and for the first time in his life, he understood the aspect of making love, rather than having sex.
It was a joining of souls, rather than simply an act of the body.
It was a completion of two lives becoming one, rather than taking selfish pleasure.
It was the beginning of a life together.
And as his wife lay languid in his arms, he held his most precious treasure.
And to think it all started with a blasted war.
The hags.
The stags.
Once sworn enemies, now the greatest alliance, born of love.
Meredith reached up and caressed his face with love and wonder and newly awakened passion thick in her gaze; he decided that the king and queen of the Frost Ball would, indeed, be very late.
CHRISTMAS KISSES
By Nadine Millard
CHAPTER ONE
“I’VE SAID IT BEFORE and I shall say it again; this is a bad, nay, a terrible idea.” Louisa Bright warned her older sister Meredith, and younger sister Sara as their carriage trundled through the Surrey countryside.
Although they had spent the last two weeks strategizing and preparing themselves for war against the ridiculously handsome but excessively annoying Mayford brothers, Louisa hadn’t forgotten the last time they’d all been together three years ago.
Though she tried not to dwell overlong on it, she distinctly remembered the fire, the soot which took weeks to wash from her hair, the worms, the dirt… The list of the Mayford brothers’ crimes against the Bright sisters was long and revolting.
If she were inclined to being fair, she would admit that the list of their crimes against the bothersome brothers was just as long and probably as bad. But, regardless of it being Christmastide, and therefore the season of good will, she wasn’t inclined to be fair, and so her mood remained foul and her temper remained hot. She would continue trying to get her sisters to back out of this house party that the Duchess of Ashbury was hosting for her horrible sons until they arrived at Wingham, and into the depths of Hades.
“We know, Louisa, you think it a horrid idea.” Sara, the youngest, and possibly the most devilish of the three, drawled in a tone that said she was sick of hearing about it. “But we’re going, so the best thing to do is arm yourself, and prepare for battle.”
The glint in Sara’s eyes was mirrored in Meredith’s, and, Louisa, although she had her reasons for dreading this visit, felt the stirrings of excitement. The Mayfair brothers were worthy adversaries, true. But the Bright sisters would prevail, as they always did.
Now, if she could just forget that three years ago it had been Hugh Mayford who’d delivered her very first kiss — and her very first taste of heartbreak — she could concentrate on enjoying finally winning the war that had raged between the two sets of siblings since they’d been in leading strings. Her sisters, oblivious to her secret shame, assumed that what she felt was the usual anger and disgust they all felt at the mere mention of the Mayford name. And Louisa would never tell them otherwise.
The carriage finally pulled up outside Wingham, a colossal building that was almost the same size as the egos of its occupants.
Meredith stepped out first, Louisa following to stand to her left, Sara to her right.
“Ready?” whispered Meredith.
No, I’m dashed well not ready to see Hugh Mayford again.
“Yes,” was the answer she gave.
It was one house party and one Christmas. How much could possibly happen in such a short space of time?
“DID YOU HEAR THAT?” Jackson Mayford, youngest son of the Duke of Ashbury, whispered to Hugh just as he was preparing to let a mouse loose under the coverlet of what was to be one of the Bright sister’s beds for the duration of the party.
Briefly, Hugh had considered whether at nine and twenty he was a little long in the tooth for such behavior, but then his mind would throw up images of some of the Bright sisters’ finest moments; ink in their tea cups, fires in their drawing room — though they cried innocence on that one — and his resolve would firm. This would end when they were victorious and not a moment sooner.
Both he and Jack had decided that to strike first was to strike best. Putting the little termagants on the back foot would gain them some much needed ground for the next couple of weeks.
Now, however, Jackson had raised the alarm, and Hugh listened intently. If Mother was to find out what they were doing she would have their heads.
Sure enough, there was the distinct sound of people approach
ing.
Hugh slammed the lid back onto the jar and looked wildly around the room. There’s no way both he and his brother would fit their taller than average bodies under the bed, and they couldn’t go out the door if people were approaching it.
The doorknob rattled slightly, and without another moment’s hesitation, Hugh grabbed Jackson by the scruff and hauled him into the water closet.
Half a second later, the door opened and the room was suddenly filled with excited chatter as the hags entered the chamber. The sound was a cacophony of giggles and shrieks and it was all Hugh could do to stop himself from bellowing at them to be quiet. He had, perhaps, over-imbibed with the brandy last night.
He glared through the gap in the water closet, wondering if time had changed the appearance of the hags at all when suddenly, the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen stepped into his view.
Hugh’s heart just about stopped beating in his chest.
That couldn’t be Louisa Bright, could it? He quickly scanned the other people in the room; the taller, coolly beautiful blond was definitely Meredith Bright, the other one, with the impish smile and large eyes sparkling with mischief was surely the younger one.
That left Louisa.
He looked again.
The vision that walked through the door had stunning, golden blonde hair swept away from the most breathtakingly beautiful face he’d ever seen.
He remembered Louisa Bright from three years ago. She’d been a pretty thing, even if he felt at the time that the devil himself had spawned her. It was doubtful that time had changed her personality, but good God, time had been very kind to her looks.
Hugh’s mouth went dry and his heart, strangely, began to pound.
What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never before been so affected by the mere sight of a lady. Especially one he despised.
He suddenly thought back to three years ago, when he’d kissed her. He’d dragged her out to the gardens to get to the bottom of her recent machination. When he’d gone to the village that morning, he had been besieged by every single woman in the county, it had seemed. He quite literally hadn’t been able to walk from one place to the next without them throwing themselves at him. Some of them pretending to faint, some of them pretending to trip, most of them being forward enough to almost bring him to blush, until he ended up with a trail of them, hanging on to each of his limbs and some other body parts that would have caused his mother to have an apoplexy. Hugh and his brothers had always garnered plenty of female attention being titled, wealthy, and, he thought, rather smugly, not too bad to look at. But this! This had been something else.
