Christmastide With His Countess

by Ellie St. Clair

  “Oxford! Don’t tell me I finally have the chance to meet your beautiful wife?”

  “Wimbledon!” Hunter’s face stretched into a wide, genuine grin as a tall, handsome man strode over to the pair of them, reaching out an arm to greet her husband.

  “I can see why he kept you hidden away,” said Lord Wimbledon with a wink. “He was afraid someone like me might attempt to steal you.”

  “Try as you might, Wimbledon,” Hunter said good-naturedly, though he sent his friend a look of warning. “But you have no chance, I’m afraid.”

  Wimbledon winked at Scarlett, promised to sit next to her at dinner, and was on his way to flirt with the next women he found.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, darling?” Hunter asked her as someone handed her a glass of champagne.

  “I am, actually,” she said, her eyes widening in surprise as she turned to look at him. “Certainly, there are those who choose to talk to us to determine the current status of our relationship, but there are some genuine souls here who seem to truly want to know me.”

  “How could they not?” he asked with a smile. “You are the most beautiful woman in the room.”

  “I doubt that,” she said with a laugh.

  “It’s true,” he said. “I know it is, even though I have hardly been able to look at another woman with you on my arm.”

  Her smile sent warmth shooting through his veins, right to his heart, and he vowed to spend the rest of his life ensuring that it remained on her face.

  It seemed his promise would soon be put to the test, as he saw Scarlett’s face fell into a frown, and he followed her gaze to the entrance of the room. Madeline. What were she and Jeremy doing here? He had thought they were to remain in the country until the spring.

  The couple said not a word, but simply nodded to them as they walked by. Please let this go well, Hunter thought, as he stole another look at Scarlett. Have them leave us alone.

  It was not to be, however, as after dinner Madeline walked directly their way.

  “Lady Oxford, may I have a word?”

  Why Madeline Lancaster wanted to speak with her, Scarlett had no idea, but she nodded, looking at Hunter to assure him all would be well. He helped her over to the settee in the corner of the drawing room, which was somewhat secluded from the remainder of the guests.

  “I apologize for accosting you,” Lady Raymond said once they were alone, though Hunter stood against a pillar a ways away watching them. “It is simply … I was a beast, Lady Oxford,” she said, hanging her head and completely taking Scarlett off guard.

  “What?” Scarlett asked, wondering if she had heard her correctly.

  “I said things to you that were not at all appropriate, no matter the state of your relationship. My own marriage … well, it’s not a particularly close one. And it’s true I had always had something of a tendre for Hunter, and I didn’t think the two of you were very … attached. In fact, rumor was you hated him and forced him away from you and back to London.”

  Scarlett swallowed hard as the guilt rushed through her once more, for the woman was, in fact, correct regarding her previous actions.

  “Anyway, it seems … well, it seems I was entirely mistaken. One only has to watch the two of you for but a moment to see how wonderfully well you get on, how much you love one another. I hope for you the very best, and I promise to never come between you, nor say anything to suggest I will again.”

  “I—” Scarlett was so taken aback for a moment that she didn’t know what to say. “Th-thank you Lady Raymond. I admit that I was rather insulted by your words at Christmas, though I suppose I was as upset as much by my own behavior that would lead you to your assumptions as I was angry at you for saying such a thing. As we are neighbors, however, and each close with Lavinia, I would suggest we put it behind us.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad,” said Lady Raymond, taking her hands. “And now, sadly, this may be our last words for the night as my character is that of Maud Mute.”

  Her expression was so distressed that Scarlett nearly laughed, but she choked it back as Lady Raymond didn’t seem to find the humor in it.

  “Very well, Lady Raymond,” she said. “We will be returning to the country very soon, so I am sure we will see you there.”

  “Both of you?” she asked, her eyes raised.

  “Both of us,” Scarlett confirmed with a smile, which Lady Raymond simply returned knowingly and walked away.

  It wasn’t long after the Twelfth Night cake had been served and the revelries began in earnest that Hunter leaned down to murmur in Scarlett’s ear, a thrill coursing through her when she felt his breath tickle her neck.

  “Are you feeling well?” he asked, and she looked at him with surprise, nodding. “Of course. I would tell you if I wasn’t.”

  “I think…” he cleared his throat, “that perhaps you need a moment away from the crowd, to relax if you will.”

  “No, I don’t— oh!” she finally noticed the gleam in his eyes, filled with meaning as he looked suggestively down at her, and her pulse began to pound. “I suppose I am feeling a tad unwell, my lord, and I believe I must take a moment to compose myself,” she said, slightly louder, grinning up at him wickedly. He rolled his eyes, apparently not entirely impressed by her acting skills, but he took her arm in his once more and led her out of the room. Scarlett felt like running through the long corridor, but with her limp, their progress was much slower. Hunter looked within a few doorways before finally finding one that was to his liking.

  “Why this room?” she asked as he led her into the drawing room, where the fire in the hearth warmly greeted them.

  “It has a lock,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “And it’s empty.”

  “You mean the other rooms…”

  “It’s a night of celebration,” he said with a shrug and a grin, and Scarlett was momentarily shocked. “Though,” he continued. “We may be the only married couple to find ourselves ensconced together in one of the Totnes’ drawing rooms.”

  “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” she said, stepping closer to him, her fingers fisting in his shirt. That was all he seemed to need to swoop down on her, his lips descending on hers as though he had been starved of her for days — which, she supposed he was, as they hadn’t made love since her fall.

  Their hands were everywhere as they explored one another as though they were strangers, a rush descending upon them in a new setting, in costumes, in a place where someone could walk in on them at any moment. And yet, despite all of the differences from their previous times together, what mattered most — Hunter, her husband — remained constant. Scarlett could sense how carefully he handled her, the lightness of his hands causing all of her nerves to jump on edge, bumps to rise on her skin. She wasn’t sure if it was the roaring fire or Hunter’s ministrations, but she felt flushed all over, from her head to her toes. Her hair, arranged according to her character, already cascaded around her shoulders, and Hunter took full advantage of that fact, weaving his fingers into it, digging them into her scalp as he took her lips in his, tasting, teasing, promising more to come.

  “Hunter,” she gasped.

  He broke away from her to murmur, “That is Samuel Strutt to you, my love,” causing her to laugh, and a thrill coursed through her at the thought that this man would be teasing her for the rest of her life.

  It was worth it, to be with him, by his side at all times. It was worth it to leave her home for a time, and, more than she could have ever thought possible, it was worth it to risk her heart. For if one didn't give it at all, there really was nothing to lose, and that was the greatest tragedy of all.

  Could a man possibly be any luckier?

  The frigid woman he had thought he married those months ago had entirely disappeared, melted away by the fire that was truly Scarlett. She kissed him now with more passion than he would have thought possible for any woman to hold within her, and the restraint of holding himself back, to keep from aggravating her injuries, was killing hi
m.

  Hunter slowed down for a moment, bringing his hands to Scarlett’s back, grateful to find that this costume dress was laced down the back. With one swift motion, he had the ties undone, and the gown slipped easily from her shoulders, where it had been just hanging on. The sleeves dipped down the satiny skin of her arms, the round tops of her breasts peeking out from above her chemise.

  He groaned as he brushed his fingers against their cushiony tops, wanting more — needing more. As much as he yearned to completely undress her, in the recesses of his mind he knew how much difficulty it would cause if his wife had to hurriedly redress. Instead, he picked up Scarlett as gently as he could and laid her on the chesterfield which bracketed the fireplace. He slid his hands up her legs, the garters of her stockings causing him a thrill as he navigated his way through the folds of her gown.

  “What are you doing?” she breathed.

  “Do not worry so much about that,” he murmured. “Simply enjoy.”

  For once, she listened to him, as he found her small nub of pleasure and began to stroke it, first with his fingers, and then with his mouth. He made love to her, taking great pleasure in her groans and cries of delight, until she was kicking at him, calling his name.

  “Hunter, I can’t … I can’t take it any longer. I want to feel you — please?”

  He could certainly comply with that request.

  “Well,” he said, quickly unfastening the fall of his trousers, sending them to the floor as he leaned over her, “since you asked so nicely.”

  And in nearly one motion he sheathed himself within her, groaning at the feel of her, tight and wet. He gripped her firm bottom in both hands, moving in and out of her slowly, not wanting to jostle her, to cause pain to her ribs.

  “Scarlett,” he groaned, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in her, but knowing he had to be as tender as possible.

  “Faster,” she said, urging him on, and when he kept himself in control, she began to move against him, impatient that he wouldn’t comply.

  “Stop, you’ll hurt yourself,” he said, bringing his hands to her hips, which seemed so small under his long fingers, but he began to do as she asked, thrusting quicker, in and out. He brought his thumb back to her most sensitive place, and the moment he touched her she cried out his name, convulsing around him, sending him over the edge himself, as he poured himself into her with a bellow.

  He collapsed over her, keeping his weight on his elbows, which framed her head.

  “My God, Scarlett,” he said, trying to bring his breathing back under control. “You never cease to amaze me.”

  “Me?” she said with a startled laugh. “You did all of the work!”

  “Yes,” he said with a half grin of self-satisfaction. “I suppose I did.”

  He sat up, bringing her with him, and despite her protestations that she could dress, he helped her to fasten and straighten her gown, to rearrange her hair.

  “How do I look?” she asked.

  “Stunning,” he said sincerely, and while she laughed at him, he could see the gratitude in her eyes.

  “Well, my love,” he asked. “How has London met with your expectations so far?”

  “It has been altogether lovely,” she said. “Better than anything I could have ever imagined.”

  “And your memories now?”

  “Of the most wonderful Twelfth Night I could have asked for, and a husband I didn’t know was waiting for me.”

  At the earnest look in her eyes, in the midst of her imperfect yet, at the same time, so utterly perfect face, Hunter dropped his forehead to hers. “I shall always be faithful to you. Forever and always,” he promised.

  “And I to you. I love you, Hunter Tannon.”

  “And I you, Scarlett Tannon.”

  Epilogue

  December 24, 1814

  “Spicer?” Scarlett called. “Would you mind fetching the library stairs?”

  “Not at all, my lady,” said her husband’s valet with a quick grin. Scarlett didn’t miss the wink he sent in the direction of her maid, who was now his wife. How wonderfully it had turned out for them, she thought wistfully.

  Once Spicer had returned to Oak Hall, Scarlett took the mistletoe ball in hand, ready to hang it in the same place as last year.

  “Do you suppose, Marion, it’s silly to want to decorate as similar to what we did previously?” she asked her maid.

  “Not at all, my lady,” Marion replied. “Tradition is important.”

  “You are right,” said Scarlett with a nod. “And we are beginning new traditions.” She was two steps up when Hunter came charging into the room.

  “What do you think you are doing?” he burst out, and for a moment, Scarlett stopped in shock. Was he really protesting the Christmas decorations once again this year?

  “Hanging the mistletoe,” she said, but before she even knew what was happening, he had picked her up and placed her on the floor, plucking the bough from her hand.

  “Please do not continually try to kill yourself decorating this house,” he said, shaking his head, and Scarlett chuckled as he leaned up to hang the bough on the hook in the doorframe. “Now,” he continued, stepping off the ladder. “We must ensure this mistletoe has been hung correctly.”

  “Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “And how do you propose to do that?”

  “If you’ll take a step this way,” he took her arm and led her two paces forward. “We shall now see.”

  Scarlett looked up, saw the bough overhead, and smiled at Hunter, but soon her lips were otherwise occupied, by his moving over hers. If it wasn’t for the fact they were surrounded by servants, she didn’t know where the kiss might lead, but soon Hunter broke away, with a promise of “tonight,” in her ear as he slipped away. He didn’t go far, however, simply to the corner, where greenery was piled, ready to adorn the household.

  “Well,” he said, “we better get to work if we’d like to complete the entire house by this evening.”

  Scarlett grinned. It seemed the man who had previously despaired of Christmas had had a change of heart.

  “What special gift would you like for Christmas this year?”

  “Do not tell me you haven’t already prepared it?” she asked, and he grinned at her, teasing.

  “I suppose I would simply like to know how close I am to what you truly want,” he said, and she smiled at him. “You have already given me all I could ask for,” she said. “The opportunity and the freedom to help others when I please. I appreciate what you have done more than you know.”

  “You are the one with unsurpassed talent and generosity,” he said, and Scarlett’s cheeks warmed as she turned away from his unwanted yet admirable praise.

  The next hour flew by so fast that Scarlett was shocked when one of the maids entered the room, calling to her. “My lady? You asked me to inform you when Holly awoke.”

  Scarlett practically ran from the room, up to the nursery, with Hunter following close behind her. Would she ever tire of this, of holding her daughter in her arms? She took the baby from the nursemaid and held her close, sinking into the rocking chair, inhaling the sweet fresh scent of her child.

  Holly had been born three months before, and Hunter called her his Christmas gift, as that was when their love began, resulting in their child. Scarlett looked at him now, as he crouched next to her chair, and they shared a smile of contentment over all the joys they shared together.

  Scarlett closed her eyes for a moment as she thought of how painful her life could have been if she had kept Hunter frozen away from her forever. Instead, they now shared a life of joy, of warmth, and of love. So unlike her parents’ own unhappy marriage, although Scarlett’s mother had been overcome with happiness at Holly’s birth. That reminded her…

  “Oh, Hunter?” she said, hating to break this moment, but needing to tell him before she forgot. “My, uh, parents may come to visit, but just for a day or so. My mother desperately wanted to come spend time with Holly, and my father insiste
d as well…”

  She trailed off at his look of horror. “My parents are coming as well,” he said with a bit of a strangled noise, and despite her share of his dismay, she had to laugh at the expression on his face.

  “Oh dear,” she said, biting her lip. “This could make for an interesting Christmas.”

  “It could indeed,” he said, nodding his head slowly. “But this year, my love, there is nothing, and no one, that can detract from our love, nor our trust in one another.”

  “I agree,” she said, smiling at him and holding Holly close. “Whatever comes our way — jealous ladies, snowstorms, or even meddling parents — we will face them together.”

  “So we shall,” he said, leaning in to place a quick kiss on her lips, before kissing Holly’s forehead.

  “Happy Christmas, my love.”

  “Happy Christmas.”

  THE DUKE SHE WISHED FOR

  HAPPILY EVER AFTER BOOK 1

  PREVIEW

  Go back to the beginning and read the story of Tabitha and Nicholas…

  Chapter 1

  The creak of the shop’s front door opening floated through the heavy curtains that separated Tabitha’s workshop from the sales floor. She tensed over the silk ribbon she was attempting to fashion into a flower shape and waited for the sound of her stepsister Frances to greet whoever had just walked into the Blackmore Milliner shop.