The Christmas Visit: Comfort and JoyLove at First StepA Christmas Secret

by Moore, Margaret

  The mealy porridge served here did not compare with the hearty one served at his keep, but ’twould have to do. The food here would not vary much in substance or amount until the feasting days of the anniversary of Our Lord’s Birth and the twelve nights after it. For now, the serving girl familiar with his ways placed a bowl of porridge, a jar of honey and a jug of cream before him. The steward brought out a small skin of uisge beatha, whisky, to him and he mixed it into the steaming porridge. Soon it smelled much more appetizing than the original did. He ignored Orrick’s glare and spooned several mouthfuls in before stopping.

  “No answers yet.”

  “She spent the night in your chambers, Gavin. What did you do?”

  “The usual things a man does with a woman in the night.” He could not help himself. Orrick was such a pleasure to goad into a reaction and this one was not long in coming.

  “Blast you,” he whispered harshly. “Tell me what you learned.”

  Gavin smiled at Orrick’s displeasure and could not resist drawing this out a bit more. “We bathed and we slept.”

  “Expect a challenge as soon as the weather clears, friend.”

  “Orrick, if your words did not say otherwise, I would swear I hear jealousy in your voice.”

  Orrick exhaled loudly and sat back in his chair. “Not jealousy, Gavin. Concern at a wrong done to an innocent.”

  Orrick had always been too soft when it came to his people. He coddled them and treated them as though they were much more than simply his property. Gavin had never quite understood it until Orrick had explained it as his application of the Scottish clan system on his English estate. Clan was about more than property and lands, it was about family and belonging. Orrick gave his villeins a sense of belonging, even though his authority was clear and never challenged.

  “We bathed and slept and no more than that. Truly.”

  “Do not use her, Gavin. I did not ask you for help to play her falsely.”

  “She has proclaimed herself a whore. If she is not one, then, as her lord and master, forbid her to play that role.”

  “I tried that. It did not work.” Orrick’s tone was sullen.

  “What did she do?” Gavin recognized the same stubborn streak in Elizabeth that had gotten him in trouble many, many times.

  “She refused food. She told me quite boldly that she would earn her way and not be beholden to anyone.”

  “Did you not offer her work in your hall? Or in your laundry? Or your kitchens?”

  Gavin thought that those places would be a good place if a woman could work but had no skills.

  “She asked if we had a harlot in the village and when I said not, she said that was how she earned her living in the past.”

  “So, where is the problem, Orrick? I think you make too much of this.” The tightening in his gut told Gavin that there was something more here. How did you help someone who did not want help?

  “Discover her secrets so I can let this go.”

  “I told you I would. You act like an old woman instead of the Orrick I knew.”

  His friend said nothing, but clapped him on the back and left him to his food. Gavin turned back to his still-hot porridge and contemplated his methods.

  He had had her off balance—she fully expected to be bedded when he called for a bath. And when she bent over him, spreading the soap on his flesh with a thorough but soft touch, his body had reacted as it should. ’Twould be no hardship to lay her on the bed and take her. And take her again.

  ’Twas more important to his task to build her trust and so he’d ignored his body’s demands and forced himself to sleep next to her.

  Although he did not admit it to Orrick, he was certain that she had not been raised a whore. There was a moment or two during the night when a look of fear or uncertainty entered her eyes and when she seemed to be convincing herself of what she needed to do. And it did not come easily to her.

  So, why then did she force herself to do this when Orrick had offered her a different way? What loss had she suffered that made her seek her own way in this world, especially since the world was an unkind place for most everyone?

  Gavin looked out over the hall to see if she was serving the tables. He’d awakened to find her still deeply asleep and he had hesitated to wake her. ’Twas obvious she had enjoyed the bath. The sound of her sigh as she slipped beneath the water had weakened his resolve not to touch her and he found the excuse he needed when he spied the bucket of rinse water. And the enjoyment in her eyes as he wrapped her in the drying cloth made his mouth water.

  She was no whore, but she was an enticing woman who made him feel desires he had ignored for a very long time. That alone made her a danger to his well-established life.

  So tonight he would summon her again and build more trust before asking his questions. He almost felt guilty over how easy this would be….

  Almost.

  Chapter Three

  His chamber was ready. Servants had brought him a selection of foods, some hot, some cold, some plain and some more elaborate. They all had one thing in common—they were temptations for his use. In the middle of winter, food tended to become plain and monotonous. With the lord’s permission and the cook’s help, Gavin had planned a feast for Elizabeth. When all was ready, he sent a servant to summon her. Her knock came just a few minutes later.

  “You called for me, my lord?”

  Her voice was quiet and she stood just outside the door. He waved her in and walked over to close the door behind her. Her eyes resembled a deer surrounded in the forest by hunters with no escape route left to it. She surveyed the room, from corner to corner, past the bed and back to him.

  “I asked for a meal and they sent up enough to feed several people. I know you served the meal in the hall and did not eat yet, so I thought you might join me.”

  “I could not, my lord,” she said with a curtsy. “I take my meals in the kitchen after my duties are done.” He could see she was gauging her distance to the door and his position there.

  “Your duties are done for tonight, Elizabeth. Orrick said I could have you now.”

  He purposely chose the words to make her think his intent was physical. And from the way her breathing changed and her eyes widened, he had been successful. His own erection spoke of his success, too.

  She lowered her head and curtsied once more. “As you wish, my lord.”

  “I am not your lord. Call me Gavin.”

  She looked up, startled by his familiarity and shook her head. “I could not do that, my lord.”

  “In Scotland, we do not fall back on such formality as you do here. My given name is what my retainers, my family and even my enemies call me. Surely, you are brave enough to use it.”

  Elizabeth looked torn over what to do, but then she nodded her answer. “I cannot join you for this meal. ’Twould be unseemly.”

  “Ah, you cannot join me to eat, but you could share my bed if ’twas my wish? Is that what you are telling me?”

  She did not answer him and he wondered if she was thinking on the absurdity of it. Well, there was more than one way to get closer to her.

  “’Tis a fine idea, lass. Get on the bed, then.”

  He pointed to the bed and watched as, with an air of resignation, she crossed the room to it. As she had done last night, she climbed on it from the side farthest from the door and waited. When he did not move, she began to loosen the ties on her gown.

  “Nay, not yet,” he said. “You may not be hungry, but I am.”

  Gavin saw the surprised look on her face, but ignored it to sit by the table. He thought about facing away from her for a moment, however he decided to face the hearth so he could still watch her expressions. Her reactions began as soon as he tore the leg off a capon and bit into it. The juicy meat was hot and seasoned and he ate it with gusto.

  Her mouth tightened and a frown crossed her brow, but she said not a word. Gavin increased the pressure on her by choosing another chunk of meat from the platter befor
e him and putting it in his mouth. Chewing for a moment, he washed it down with a mouthful of Margaret’s special ale.

  The silence was broken by the noisy rumbling of a stomach—and it wasn’t his. His amused gaze met her embarrassed one and he fought to keep the threatening smile from his face. He lost the battle and broke out laughing.

  “I told you to eat,” he said, holding out a chunk of steaming bread. “There is plenty for both of us.”

  He watched the battle raging within her. Her hunger was obvious from the rumblings of her belly; the ravenous light in her eyes intensified as she followed his every move. When it looked as though she would continue to resist his efforts, he chose another piece of roasted beef and took it to her. Sitting down beside her on the rope-strung mattress, he held it out in front of her mouth, urging without words that she take it from his fingers.

  Gavin knew the moment he had won this battle, for she tilted her head slightly and lifted her mouth to his hand. In spite of knowing it was only a way for him to gain control, he discovered that he was not immune to her after all. The touch of her lips on his fingers as she finally accepted the food jolted him from head to toe, mostly in between. He could not move his hand away even after she took the meat and began chewing it.

  Shaking himself free of her spell, he returned to the table and brought his goblet back to her. As she finished chewing, he lifted it to her lips and tilted it for her to drink. In his inexcusable haste, he let some of the ale spill over. He watched as it trickled down from her mouth, onto her neck and then under the thin layer of the chemise under her gown. His mouth hungered to follow it, so he did.

  He nipped and licked the path of the spill, his tongue feeling the pounding of her pulse under the delicate skin of her neck, the tense panting that began as he moved lower and the heat of her skin as he tasted his way down toward her breasts. He grew hard and he shifted to accommodate himself in his breeches. But when she drew back, he accepted the message and moved away.

  She was afraid of him.

  Did she fear him as a man, as a Scots warrior? Or was it something else? Did she fear that he would discover her secrets, her weaknesses, and use them against her? Gavin slid from the bed and went to the table, sitting and eating more from the platters of food before him. He would bide his time.

  Mayhap not.

  He took a few more bites of meat and mouthfuls of ale before speaking again. Elizabeth sat as still as stone on the bed where he’d left her. Only her eyes moved, fastened onto his every gesture. She was like no whore he’d ever met.

  “Are you afeard of me, lass?”

  The emotions flitted across her face—a fierce frown on her brow, a tightening of those lips he wanted to claim. Even her breathing had not slowed. He saw the struggle within her as she attempted to answer his question and the challenge within it.

  “I know many Sassenachs that are afraid of us. Scots warriors are known for our ferocity and…”

  Her laughter surprised and interrupted him. This was an unexpected turn.

  “You must not know the true nature of the Scots if you can laugh at my words.”

  The sound of it echoed through the chamber and he wanted to drink it from her lips. Her face changed as she laughed and all the tension was released. She looked years younger when a smile graced her. How many years did she have?

  “My grandmam told me the true nature of Scottish men, my lord. They like their whisky strong, their nights of drinking it long, and their women to ignore it.” Elizabeth smiled again, but the way her eyes looked off in the distance told him she was remembering something…someone from her past. “Change the drink and that describes most men of any origin.”

  Something within him was insulted at first, but he realized that her lot in life had shown her only that part of men. The laughter burst out from him and he did not try to restrain it. She had spunk, when she wasn’t trying to be so plain. Gavin looked at her once more and realized this truth—she was a beautiful woman hiding it in a work gown and kerchief.

  “Is that all you know of men?” He probed for more than the knowledge he’d received already.

  Elizabeth sat up straighter on the bed and rearranged her gown so she could sit cross-legged. He watched her struggle with an answer.

  “I know much of men, my lord. Their actions, their desires.” Her eyes flashed at the mention of desires, yet her look was not one of wanting but of loathing.

  “And what of women’s desires? What know you of them?”

  Her chin lifted and regret and loss entered her expressive eyes. Did she know how much she gave away with simply a glance? “Women have no desires, my lord. At least not for more than a safe place to live.”

  Gavin was saddened by her words—they struck deeply within him, for in his experience women lived life to the fullest. He knew that his late wife met him match for match in her appetites for living and loving. How empty had Elizabeth’s existence been that she believed this and would rather be a whore to men’s desires than have her own? He watched her gather her control around herself and he knew that another direct question would be deflected. What had she told him? Her grandmam knew the Scots?

  “Was your grandmam Scottish herself?”

  “Aye, my lord. But from the Borders, not the Highlands like you.”

  “Did you live with her? Or she with you?” he probed, suspecting that her relative was a safe subject. Gavin chose to turn his attentions back to his food as though this were unimportant chatter.

  “I was only a girl when she died, my lord,” Elizabeth said. A soft smile crossed her face. “I remember many of her sayings.”

  “All about men?” He lifted a chunk of bread and tore off a piece with his teeth,

  “Nay, she had wisdom about many things. Mostly I remember her songs.”

  “Come, lass. Share the food with me.” He tried once more to get her to the table.

  Her stomach betrayed her hunger again and Elizabeth decided that eating with him would be the least of the dangers he offered. She tugged on the laces of her chemise and slid off the bed, accepting his invitation. She had had no chance to eat an evening meal yet and, as he’d said, there was more than enough for both of them. She sat on a stool on the opposite side of the table from him and waited.

  “Dinna be shy,” he said with a brogue she had noticed only once before. He pushed a few of the platters closer to her and even poured her a mug of ale.

  Making up her mind to enjoy the wondrous meal before her, she chose a variety of the dishes and went about eating them. Licking her lips, she marveled at the assortment, especially in the middle of winter when the food in the hall did not include such choices.

  “You must have bribed the cook to get such a feast,” she said.

  “I did,” he answered with no hint of guile or guilt.

  “Why? Surely the meal in the hall was filling enough?” The gravy of a meat pasty leaked down her chin and when she looked for a napkin to catch it, she found his beneath her chin. With his hand wiping her lips. She must learn to let go of the past and simply use her sleeve. Elizabeth waited on his answer and was not certain he would give one. His eyes turned serious and then heated, and she began to fear his response.

  “For you, lass. To entice you into my chambers.”

  With a sense of resolution, she understood this now. He was paying for her services. There was nothing else to it. Somehow it was easier now that she knew, and she began the process within her mind and soul to try to detach herself from the act that would happen soon.

  “I will lie with you if you desire it, my lord,” she said. Pointing to the table covered with food, she continued, “You do not need to go to this extent and effort. As my lord Orrick’s guest, I could not accept payment from you anyway.”

  He surprised her then, pounding his fists on the table, making his goblet and her mug shake and wobble. His face flushed red and she saw his expression turn hard. How had she insulted him? What could she do to assuage his anger?

 
“I do desire it and I have been foolish to delay my pleasure. ’Tis past time to bed you.”

  His words were exactly the opposite of ones he’d spoken last night. ’Twas only a matter of time with men before taking their pleasure overcame any hesitation or other distractions. He was proving to be the same as the others who had come before him and would come after in her bed. Elizabeth could understand that, but she could not explain the deep sense of sadness within her at the realization.

  He stood and came around the table toward her. As she rose to meet him, she worked to find the calm place inside her where she could hide until this was over. His kiss, when it came, was not the overpowering one she expected, but a soft touch on her lips. It was devastating.

  He wrapped his arms around her and half-walked, half-carried her to the bed, and she found herself sinking into the softness of the mattress and covered with the hard planes of his body. His lips never lifted from her and the kiss deepened until she felt the heat of him pouring into her. He tasted and savored and touched. His mouth devoured hers and his hands began to explore her body.

  As she had before, she pulled back and relaxed her body, letting him have his way. She was hardly aware of it when he lifted her skirts and loosened her chemise to gain access to her flesh. She focused on the roughness of the skin of his fingers and not on where they touched. She closed her eyes and let her thighs fall open, allowing him to enter her.

  Elizabeth’s thoughts wandered as she heard his moans and as he moved within her. ’Twould not be long now for he was nearing his climax. Soon, it would be over and she would clean herself of any signs of this joining and find her pallet for the night. His insistent voice broke into her reverie.

  “Elizabeth? Look at me, lass.” His voice was thick with his passion and she opened her eyes. She struggled to gather her thoughts and look at his face above hers. She realized he was still hard within her.

  “My lord?” she asked, wondering why he called her name.