by Jenna Jaxon
No help there. Mr. Pace could be counted on to do the earl’s bidding down to the letter, the dirty dish. But her cousin’s treachery cut deepest. “Eric, I insist you return me to your mother this instant.”
“Mother will be coming along shortly, cuz. She—and the rest of the company—will have a splendid view of you and Somersby enjoying a little pre-wedding indulgence.” He snickered, holding his hand before his face, but she heard the disgusting, high-pitched laugh.
“They will do no such thing.” Jenny drew herself up to her full five foot, six inches. Not tall enough to carry the day with the others, but sufficient to make Eric bite off his laugh. He’d always been a bit of a coward. Well, she’d see if he had backbone enough to stop her from leaving. “I am going to find Aunt Arabella, Eric. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll escort me to her this instant.”
“I’m afraid he can’t do that, Miss Crowley.” Somersby strode forward. “Or shall I call you Jenny, now?” He took her arm in a vise-like grip. “You don’t mind if I call you Jenny, do you, my dear?”
“I do indeed, Lord Somersby.” She pulled at her arm, but his cruel fingers only sank deeper into her flesh. She’d have an ugly bruise there tomorrow. “I have not given you leave to do so, and never will.” She shot a piercing glare at him. “You can wager your fortune on that if you like. But you will refer to me only as Miss Crowley.”
Somersby smirked and dragged her closer. “I hope you show as much spirit on our wedding night, my dear. I will be so looking forward to being alone with you then, sweet Jenny.” He leaned forward, his mouth mere inches from hers.
Jenny drew her free arm behind her and slapped him full on his cheek.
The blow cracked like a bough breaking and his head snapped to the right.
The group clustered beside the Christmas tree gasped in unison.
Somersby shook his head, but didn’t let go of her arm. When he straightened, her handprint flaming on his cheek, his blue eyes were cold and hard as the ice in the pond. “I will make sure you regret that bit of insolence. Quid pro quo, my dear. Quid pro quo.” He propelled her down the hall toward the huge tree they had decorated only yesterday.
She dragged her feet, anything to slow her progress, but the slick stone floor gave no purchase to the leather soles of her kid slippers. Neither could she pry her arm from his grasp. The man was as strong as a draft horse. If she screamed it would surely bring people running, but who knew what he might do once he had an audience? Fear rippled through her. He would get his way, compromise her in front of her aunt, her uncle, and the guests. Then she’d be tied to the fiend all the rest of her life.
A sob tore from her throat. Where was Alec? Why had he not come to rescue her? She panted, all the air in the cool hall seeming to vanish.
Somersby leered, a triumphant twist to his lips making his handsome face suddenly grotesque.
He was not to be endured.
Fear receded as anger flooded through her. By God, she’d fight him with any weapon she could devise, just so long as it kept her from the man’s clutches.
They had reached the mistletoe ball, positioned strategically in front of the tree.
Somersby swung her around, into his arms. He pushed a stray lock of her hair out of her eyes. “Don’t worry, my dear. You’ll enjoy being my countess, for a while at least. After you give me an heir or two, I likely won’t bother you much, unless you take my fancy.” He bent his head to whisper in her ear, “There are plenty of beds in England into which I have been invited. I shan’t be lonely, although you may be.”
Sickened by this picture of their marriage, Jenny renewed her struggles. “You wretch,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “You don’t want to be my husband. Why are you doing this?”
He chuckled and pressed her so close he crushed her breasts against his chest. “A wager, of course, my dear. When I wrote to my father, just after the party began, I happened to mention your name and he became very interested. My mother had died when I was born, so my father was looking for a new wife when your mother had her come out season. He was very taken with her, and offered for her but was refused. Instead, she married a man a bit plump in the pockets, but without a title, when she could have been a marchioness.”
Jenny’s head whirled. Her mother’s choice had come back to haunt her once again.
“So to get a bit of long delayed revenge, my father set a wager that I couldn’t become betrothed to you before the end of the house party. If I do, he’ll provide me with my own racing stable come the spring.” Somersby’s smile was genuine this time.
“Racing stables?” Jenny’s jaw dropped. “You’d ruin me for a stable of horses?” The man was a lunatic.
“I’d have done it for one good Arabian stallion.” Somersby snorted and his companions laughed.
Jenny’s anger swelled until red spots danced before her eyes. She meant less to him than a single horse. Well, she’d see to it that he didn’t even get that out of the bargain.
Somersby caught Eric’s attention and jerked his head toward the corridor that led to the ballroom. “Are they coming?”
Her cousin disappeared and returned quickly, shaking his head. “No one in sight.”
Somersby wrapped his arms more firmly around her. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to practice a bit before they come.” He laughed and lowered his head.
She could feel the heat of his body seeping through her gown, his hot breath on her neck as she wrenched her face away from him. She’d foil this devil’s plans and make him regret he’d ever heard the name of Jenny Crowley.
Carefully, she sagged against the earl, positioning herself as Alec had taught her and Margaret years before. A precaution, he said, when Margaret had been allowed to attend a ball at the house of their cousin. Surreptitiously, she nudged her knee between his legs. Then, with every ounce of power, she jerked it up, connecting quite forcefully with Somersby’s nether regions.
“Ahhhh!” Somersby screeched and doubled over. Then he snapped back and fell to the stone floor, the back of his head kissing the cold gray stones with a meaty “thwack.”
Jenny turned in time to see Alec shaking his hand, a satisfied grin on his face.
“The only one you’re going to practice kissing with is me.” He took her in his arms and pulled her close.
Her heart raced as he drew nearer, so near she could see the dark rim around the blue iris of his eyes. So beautiful. So eager.
Suddenly eager herself, she grabbed his head and pulled his lips onto hers. They were incredibly soft, and warmer than she’d expected. Or perhaps the warmth came from within. Her body flushed, heat erupting all over until she thought she’d melt into a puddle that would scorch the stone floor of the Great Hall. She sighed and settled farther into his arms.
He cupped her head in his hands and tilted their heads until their lips melded, as though they had become one.
Oh, but this was glorious. She never wanted their kiss to end. Their first kiss. When he tried to break away, she clung to him, pressing him more firmly to her, frantic to keep the connection that sent sparks showering behind her closed eyelids.
At last, starved for air, she released him and stood back, panting and smiling like a very ninny.
Alec’s mouth gaped open, his eyes wide and staring. “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”
Her body trembled as happiness overwhelmed her and she laughed into his incredulous face. “From you, just now, silly. I followed your lead.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you two are already betrothed,” Aunt Arabella broke into her cocoon of bliss. “If not, you certainly would be now.”
Jenny gazed around, at once aware of all the guests gathered in the glittering candlelight, staring at her and Alec. As one, they began to laugh and applaud, the sound swelling as she blushed furiously. She didn’t know where to look, and finally settled for Alec’s face, suddenly seeing his puffy eye ringed in black.
“Alec, what happened to you?” Sh
e raised her hand to touch the swelling at the corner of his eye but he stopped her.
“An earlier altercation with the earl. Nothing that won’t mend I assure you.” He glared as Lord Brimmel and Mr. Pace grabbed Somersby by the head and heels and carted him off, presumably to his chamber.
Turning his attention back to her, Alec kissed her hand and secured the other one. “I suppose we are truly betrothed now.” He nodded to the company, beginning to break into groups with their heads together, a hum of conversation ringing the room. Aunt Arabella and Uncle Marbury were talking sternly to Eric, who had the look of a schoolboy caught with his breeches down.
With a furtive look over his shoulder, Alec led her to the foyer where they had talked the day before. “Do you mind terribly, Jenny?” His gaze searched her face. “I know we agreed you would get your Season so you could choose on your own husband.” He looked down at the floor and dropped her hands. “I have to own to you that my father sent me here to try to get you to marry me. He’d borrowed money on the expectation of our marriage and sent me to make things right.”
Jenny stilled, her world on the verge of collapse. Had she been duped again?
“At first I didn’t want anything to do with his scheme,” Alec continued, clasping his hands behind his back. “I wanted to help you find your one true love. But when your affection seemed to fix on Somersby, I thought I’d go mad. The man is such a scoundrel. I did everything within my power to keep you two apart. And then, as the party went on, I found more and more I wanted you to choose me.”
Heart beating so hard she thought she might faint, Jenny shook her head and took his hand. “I don’t mind our betrothal, Alec.” A small smile grew until it must reach the corners of her eyes. “Although I was so glad to be kissing you under the mistletoe and not Lord Somersby, I confess I don’t remember it much at all.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing at his downcast look. Lord, he always hated to be teased. “Do you think you might show me again how it’s done?”
His face lit up and he laughed, pulling her close against him until their noses touched. “It would by my utmost pleasure.” He caressed her lips, stealing little kisses all across them before whispering, “I suspect we’ll do even better without the audience.”
Heart soaring, Jenny lifted her lips to his. “Then by all means, my love, let’s find out.”
Epilogue
“Merry Christmas, my dears.” Jenny smiled, looking around the table at her family gathered together once again to celebrate the Christmas season. Much had changed during the past year, although thankfully some things had remained the same.
Her parents beamed at her from the end of the table. Sir John and Lady Isley, seated beside them talked animatedly about their proposed trip to visit Margaret in the New Year. Even Great-Aunt Henrietta had accepted their invitation to Christmas luncheon, although she grumbled about having to give up tea with her friends. Still, the old woman looked happier than Jenny ever remembered seeing her. Well, she’d gotten her way, as usual, but somehow Jenny couldn’t begrudge it to her this time.
She fretted again that neither her Aunt Arabella nor Celinda had been able to attend today’s festivities. Along with her regrets, her aunt had sent a package that contained the gold and blue angel from the Christmas tree. Her note had read, “For you and your dear husband to start your own Christmas traditions.” The sweet angel now sat in pride of place on the mantle, presiding over the festivities. She’d vowed next year they’d have a tree for it to sit atop.
Celinda had sent a letter with a detailed explanation of why she could not travel to Hampshire for Christmas. Her friend’s life this year had been every bit as hectic as her own and even though they corresponded regularly, she still longed to see her and compare the happenings that had changed both their lives.
As Jenny passed plates of trifle down the table she caught her mother’s eye and gave her a broad smile. She and Mama had become closer during the past year, even though they’d not seen each other every day as they had before Jenny’s marriage. With all the sudden changes in her life, she’d needed her mother’s guidance more than ever.
The last plate was handed to her and she turned to her husband, who smiled at her with his lopsided grin. “Will you begin, Alec?”
“With pleasure, my love.” He stood and picked up his glass of wine. “Will everyone raise their glass?” His gaze met hers and a thrill shot through her. As it always did when they looked at one another. “On this first Christmas in our home, Jenny and I—”
“And George,” Jenny added hastily. “You won’t forget to include your son in the festivities, will you my dear?”
“Perish the thought.” Alec laughed and gestured upstairs to the nursery where three-month-old George Alexander Isley slept peacefully at last. “He is the most important member of the family. At least at two o’clock in the morning.” His eyes twinkled at her and her heart missed a beat.
Despite their hasty wedding, marriage and their son had proved the greatest blessings to them this year.
“So Jenny, George, and I want to wish you all the happiness we share, and the merriest of Christmases.”
Jenny looked around, holding her breath, but there were no great revelations at the dinner table this afternoon, thank goodness. Although all had turned out well last year, she preferred a Christmas like this one, with family gathered around, peace and joy making it the best season of all.
“We do not have a great Christmas tree as we did last year,” Alec continued, “but I have decided to continue one tradition from Aunt Arabella’s party.” He strode over to Jenny, who looked up at him, suddenly wary. Alec had a mischievous air about him, a sure sign he’d planned something.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” he said, pulling a sprig of mistletoe from behind his back.
“Alec!” The man was incorrigible, and incredibly dear.
He lifted it over her head and leaned down to kiss her eager, laughing lips. “A kiss beneath the mistletoe for luck.”
Yes, Christmas was indeed the season for love.
THE END
About the Author
Jenna Jaxon is a multi-published author of historical and contemporary romance. She has been reading and writing historical romance since she was a teenager. A romantic herself, she has always loved a dark side to the genre, a twist, suspense, a surprise. She tries to incorporate all of these elements into her own stories. She lives in Virginia with her family and a small menagerie of pets. When not reading or writing, she indulges her passion for the theatre, working with local theatres as a director. She often feels she is directing her characters on their own private stage.
Jenna is a PAN member of Romance Writers of America as well as President of Chesapeake Romance Writers, her local chapter of RWA. Her debut novel, Only Scandal Will Do, is the first in her House of Pleasure series, set in Georgian London. Only Marriage Will Do, the second book in the series, released in June 2015 from Kensington. She is currently working on the third book, Only a Mistress Will Do. Her medieval serial novel, Time Enough to Love: Betrothal, Betrayal, and Beleaguered, is a Romeo & Juliet-esque tale, set at the time of the Black Death. The companion short story, Beloveds, released in June 2015.
She is currently working on a Regency series, A Handful of Hearts, of which A Kiss Beneath the Mistletoe is the prequel.
Jenna has equated her writing to an addiction to chocolate because once she starts she just can’t stop.
Connect with her online:
Blog: Jenna’s Journal
Twitter: @Jenna_Jaxon
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Jenna-Jaxon/146857578723570
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4960704.Jenna_Jaxon
More Works by this Author
The House of Pleasure series
Only Scandal Will Do
Only Marriage Will Do
Time Enough to Love series
Betrothal
Betrayal
Beleaguered
Crashing Through Time
(in the anthology Crashing into Love)
All Wrapped Up
(an anthology of short Christmas tales)
