Christmas Delights

by Heather Hiestand

  He nodded thoughtfully and chewed on his shortbread. “Maybe they were angels, come to reassure her. My mother used to claim angels came from Heaven in the shape of birds.”

  “I’ve never heard that before.”

  “No? Well, we aren’t from the same part of the country. Maybe it was some local superstition my mother picked up.”

  “You used to make mechanical birds,” Victoria ventured. “Don’t you think it would be lovely for Penelope to have a white stork? Such beautiful birds. Would you allow me to commission one? Or even two, since that is what we saw?”

  “No,” Lewis said, setting down his cup with a china-upon-china clink. “I don’t make birds anymore.”

  “I’ll pay exceedingly well,” Victoria said. “I know they aren’t as lucrative as your horseless carriages, but I’ll make up the cost. It would mean so much to her, I really do believe that. All of a sudden she was a child again. I want her to keep that feeling.”

  “I understand that, but I still won’t do it. I made them in a chapter of my life that has closed.” His voice went raspy. He picked up his peppermint stick and bit off the end.

  “Not even for me?” she wheedled.

  He shook his head. “Not even for you, Victoria.”

  “This can’t be your final word on the subject.”

  He coughed. “It can, believe me.”

  She stared at him, feeling mulish. “You aren’t feeling well. Perhaps you shall reconsider in the morning.”

  “If I am not amenable to a request made by a woman who has just plied me with sweets, and has been involved in saving my life, I can assure you I will not be reconsidering in the morning.”

  “Stubborn,” she muttered.

  He smiled. “Very. Now why don’t you come sit next to me and share those chocolate-scented lips? I’ve nearly come back from the dead, you know, and I could use a little human comfort.”

  “Eddy will be back.”

  “I’ll just lift up your skirts,” he suggested. “You can ride me.”

  “Lewis!”

  “Victoria.” He arched a brow.

  “My stays wouldn’t allow for that,” she said, her cheeks pinkening with the knowledge that she genuinely regretted saying no to him. “Besides, it might make you wheeze. You shouldn’t exert yourself.”

  He ran his tongue over his lower lip, then touched the tip to the corner of his mouth. Victoria stopped breathing, overwhelmed by the sensuality of his gesture.

  “You’d have to help me undress, then undress again. They won’t be gone that long.”

  “Lock the door,” he commanded.

  “Very well,” she agreed, unable to think of a reason not to.

  CHAPTER 15

  Victoria’s skirts swished around her legs as she went to lock the door. Lewis watched her full hips sway sensuously and wondered if she felt every movement against the weight of the fabric, the way her stays pressed into her breasts, still gloriously plump and heavy despite her efforts to reduce.

  He loved those breasts; her hips, too. The rest of her might be slim and athletic, but she was round in all the right places. He knew he’d feel as excited by her body even if she lost the delicate shape she had now. It didn’t matter, as long as she never lost her innate sensuousness.

  Even though he’d rejected a future with her, she still was eager to play. After his brush with death, he didn’t seem to be able to stay away from her. He needed her, needed that warm, soft flesh underneath him, needed to be inside her heated depths.

  She turned around, her back against the door, and began to unbutton her dress. At least it was not so ornate that she could not remove it herself. The placket down the front opened and she let the soft, green-trimmed black wool drift down her shoulders almost dreamily until the garment pooled at her feet.

  He pulled himself to the edge of the bed and gestured for her to come to him. In a long nightshirt and socks, he felt silly, exposed, but the way she looked at him, that naked hunger, made him not care.

  With an engineer’s precision, he worked her out of her corset cover and stays, staring into her eyes every moment he could. She took a deep breath when she was free of the confining device, then smiled.

  “Now I can bend.”

  He reached under her petticoats and picked up one of her knees, placing her foot between his legs. She breathed steadily as he undid the laces, then pulled off her shoe. He captured her gaze as he repeated the maneuver with her other leg. His fingers roamed up her stocking until he found the garter. She exhaled as he pulled down the warm winter wool.

  “I’m going to take you wearing all of these petticoats.” He grinned. “They will bell around us and keep us warm. Even if someone unlocked the door and came in, they wouldn’t be able to see what was happening underneath.”

  “Don’t you want to touch me?” She blinked.

  He pulled down the second stocking. “Oh, my hands will be under your skirts, holding your hips tightly while I thrust deep inside your honey.”

  Her lips parted. “Oh.”

  He untied the ribbon on her chemise. The linen fell down her shoulders, exposing the tops of her breasts. “I can’t wait. I have to have you on top of me.”

  They slid over the covers until he had his back against the head of the bed again. Her scent surrounded him, a mix of snow and coconut-scented hair. He pulled her over his lap until he was nestled between her legs, then pressed one hand between her thighs while he nuzzled her breasts. Her soft dark curls tickling his forehead added to the sensation of being surrounded by the perfume of her body. She was warm, swollen, and damp against his fingers.

  “Move your hips,” he said.

  Her gaze was soft and unfocused as she complied. She slid against him, growing hotter, wetter. Then her eyes closed. “Lewis,” she said, his name a low keen that made his cock throb.

  He pulled up her skirts and looked at her hips moving against his fingers, her glistening hair and sweetly pink flesh. She gasped as he put two fingers inside her.

  “Too rough; sorry,” he apologized.

  “No, more,” she begged. “I need more. Oh, Lewis. It feels so good.”

  “I can make it even better.” He pulled her chin to him, parted her lips in a deep kiss, then grabbed her bottom and positioned her over his cock.

  Meaning to help her stretch to accommodate his throbbing length, he settled her gently. But she had other ideas and pushed down hard, sheathing him in one fluid motion.

  He groaned, nearly losing control. “What you do to me, woman.”

  He felt her smile against his mouth. “The same you do to me, sweetheart.”

  She rocked against him, her hands never stopping as they roamed over his shoulders, pectorals, chest, and arms. He kept his hands on her bottom, urging her into every thrust, taking her mouth with hot, openmouthed kisses. All too soon, he felt himself losing control. Her tight sheath, the silky damp inside of it, was more than he could resist.

  He came hard, his forehead falling to her shoulder. She shuddered and called out his name, then her body relaxed limply against his. He’d given her the same pleasure she’d given him. The thought made him smile, but mostly he wanted to sleep.

  He turned on his side, still inside her, and lay back on the bed. The pillows had shifted enough to cradle their heads.

  She blew hair out of her eyes and smiled sleepily at him. “I shouldn’t fall asleep here or you’ll be forced to make a declaration to my father.”

  Alarm gave him the strength to lift his head. “You should go.”

  “What?” Confusion darkened her features.

  His heart rate, which had slowed a little, picked up speed again. “I’m not going to spend my life under your father’s thumb, Victoria. I’ve worked too hard for my independence.”

  “We made love again. Surely that means something to you.” Her lower lip trembled.

  “House-party antics,” he said dismissively, hating himself for it. But she could not have expectations of him, not while she
insisted on following her father’s plan for her life. “I appreciate our lovemaking very much. You’ve brightened my holidays tremendously.”

  She pushed against his shoulder painfully, using him as an anchor as she sat up. “I don’t believe you’re this cold, Lewis. I can’t believe the man I’m in love with could be like this.”

  “Believe what you will, but the future your father envisions for you will not include me.” He coughed spasmodically.

  “Oh, for the love of God,” she muttered, reaching for a cold pot of tea and pouring him a few ounces.

  He was so surprised at her blasphemy that he found it hard to swallow. “Look,” he rasped after a first sip of much-too-strong, very cold tea. “My cousin Rose has asked me to speak to your father on her behalf. I will do that.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Rose is young.” He lay back against the pillow, feeling utterly exhausted by the day. “She might give your father a son. It would dilute your inheritance, but—”

  “I don’t want for anything. My husband left me decently provided for,” she muttered. “And she’s not that young. We’re the same age.”

  “Good. Then it shouldn’t matter to you if my conversation has some effect.”

  “You are talking about things that might happen in the future, far from now. My father wants his business succession settled. I want to be with you, Lewis!”

  “You knew how I felt. Do not make me responsible for your expectations.”

  She sniffed and looked away. “He is not a bad man.”

  “Obviously I would not consider him for my cousin, who is as close to me as a sister, if I thought he was. But a man treats a wife differently than a son by marriage. I like my independence too well.”

  “Better than anything.”

  They stared at each other. She broke the gaze first and ground her teeth together until he could hear the clicking.

  “You need to help me redress.”

  “Of course,” he said, hating that she’d lost that relaxed, sleepy look she’d had after they made love. But she was correct; he did like his independence more than anything else. It was too hard won. “I will find you a towel first.”

  She glared at him. “I can find my own.” Somewhat unsteadily, she made her way to the dressing room. Water and towels had been left on top of a cabinet there.

  By the time she returned, he had her corset ready. She had already retied the ribbon around the neck of her chemise and straightened her two petticoats. He made quick work of the corset, then helped her with the rest of her garments.

  “You should go back to sleep. I will get your fire going again.”

  “I’m quite warm now.” He smiled at her, but she didn’t return it. For all her wantonness with him and her seeking after other men who might marry her, he wondered if she was not as secure in her sensuality as she seemed. “Would your father be kind to Rose, do you think?”

  “I’m sure he’ll treat her like a queen, especially if she bears him a son,” Victoria said with an edge of sourness he’d never heard from her before.

  “I am sorry you do not think that would satisfy him.”

  “I’m in no hurry to remarry, but he wants me settled. I’ve already lost time starting my own family.”

  “Are you so eager to be a mother? I admire how kind you’ve been to Penelope.” He was disgusted with himself as he realized admiring a woman’s maternal qualities was all but an announcement that he thought her worthy of being his partner in marriage.

  “I think I finally understand her. I was unsure of my abilities to manage her when I first came to Pevensey-Sur-Mer. If nothing else, I feel more confident.” She sighed. “I must, as her mother will be no help.”

  “I expect she’ll be sent to school.”

  “I won’t let that happen. It’s not a good place for a girl like her, to be in a stern environment away from anyone who loves her.”

  “I expect you are correct about that.” He felt the back of his throat tickle again and knew he should rest.

  She waited for a moment, but when he didn’t speak again, she seemed to come to some decision. “Good-bye, Lewis. I look forward to finding out how your conversation with my father goes.”

  Before he could find words, she was gone. He leaned wearily against the pillows, wishing he had the strength to think through every possible outcome of the decisions he might make about her, and his cousin, but he fell asleep before he’d satisfied himself with even one hypothesis. Except this: If Rose married Rupert Courtnay, he would never be entirely free of Victoria. He would see her on holidays, with her husband, the children she would have. Would he be jealous of that husband? The answer, unfortunately, was yes. Yet that could change nothing.

  Victoria was sorting through her wardrobe with the aid of Lady Florence’s maid late the next morning when a knock came at the door. She felt tired and out of sorts. Thoughts of Lewis and the difficult choices she faced had kept her up late, especially as she had left his bed in the late afternoon and found herself seated next to John at dinner. He had been affectionate and charming. She liked him too much not to respond, even though she felt only friendship for him.

  She nodded to the maid, who went to open the door. A moment later, the woman returned, followed by Rose, who held a basket covered in a snowy white cloth. Rose had a shy, somewhat downcast smile on her pale, pretty face. She offered the basket to Victoria.

  “Thank you,” Victoria said, surprised by the gift. “Have you been to see Lewis?”

  “Not yet, but we received word from the earl about what happened. How dreadful.” Rose crossed her arms and hugged herself. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you to witness.”

  “Terrifying,” Victoria admitted. “I looked in on him this morning. He was still abed, but he has more color in his face and he only coughed once.” She left out the rest of the story.

  “My entire family is praying that his lungs remain unaffected,” Rose said. “I brought you a bit of sunshine in thanks for your help yesterday.”

  “Sunshine?” Victoria pulled back the cloth, embroidered with a large gold R, and found a selection of jars. She pulled out one, then another, to see a colorful assortment of jams.

  “Our housekeeper is a wizard with fruit. I’ve never tasted better. I thought you could take them back to Liverpool with you when you return home.”

  “Thank you.” They stared at each other. Rose seemed to be balancing on the balls of her feet, ready to flee or leap, depending on what she said.

  Victoria cleared her throat. “I understand you have expressed some interest in my father. I’m sure Lewis will attempt to play matchmaker when he is well again.”

  “What is your opinion?” Rose folded her hands together. Her shoulders were high, her neck sinewy and tense.

  “I don’t know,” Victoria said. “I haven’t thought about it very much.”

  Rose stepped closer. “I know it is bold of me to ask, but has your father ever mentioned me?”

  “He keeps close counsel. It is difficult to know what he is thinking. Just because he has not spoken of you to me . . . well, it does not mean anything.” She set the heavy basket on the floor.

  “I see.” Rose swallowed hard. “I will leave you to your project. Enjoy the jams.”

  Victoria realized she was being rude for no other reason than her pain over Lewis. “Thank you, but you needn’t go. I’m simply checking my gowns for any damage. My hems get so muddy, and then I can’t see what needs repair.”

  “I have excellent eyesight,” Rose ventured. “I can help.”

  “That would be lovely, thank you.” She handed Rose a dress, and they worked in near silence for a time, checking for frayed hems.

  Eventually, Rose asked, “Are you enjoying the house party? Has it worked out the way you planned?”

  “In some ways,” Victoria said, though she wasn’t about to explain that her main goal in coming here had been to lose her virginity. “It has given
me some measure of clarity about my life moving forward.”

  “I understand you’ve learned the truth about your aunt,” Rose said sympathetically.

  Victoria nodded. “At least I understand now. I hope Penelope can face the truth and still thrive.”

  “You’re very good with her,” Rose said. “And then there’s my cousin. You seem to have become close.”

  “Not close enough.” Victoria held a cloak up to the light to see if a stain she thought she had observed was real.

  “Can’t you bring him up to snuff?” Rose ran her fingers along the inside of a hem, looking for broken stitches.

  “He claims he will never work for anyone again and believes my father would attempt to put him directly under his thumb.”

  “He had some dreadful rows with my father, who has a choleric temperament, to say the least. Lewis is very mild, but even he had his fur ruffled.”

  “I expect it was painful to be refused your sister’s hand in marriage.” She said the words casually, but she was desperate to learn more about the gossip.

  Rose shook her head. “That never would have happened. He was only trying to help Alys stay in London. They were no closer than any of us.”

  Victoria wasn’t sure Rose was correct, but it was fascinating to hear another perspective. “I believe he cares for me a little, but not enough.”

  “If you want to remarry soon, you’ll have to work fast. The house party is almost over,” Rose said.

  “As you are attempting to do?”

  They shared a conspiratorial smile. “Exactly. Do you have other prospects?”

  “The Baron of Alix,” Victoria said. “But I was not looking to remarry as quickly as my father might wish.”

  Rose let the hem drop and began to examine the cuffs. “You’ll need to redo these.” She paused. “Do you like the baron? He’s very handsome.”

  “I agree. And pleasant.”

  “If he proposed, would you say yes?”

  Victoria took the dress and decided she agreed about the cuffs. She’d give the mourning gown to the maid to do with as she wished. “He suits my father. A title or a man to run the factories: That is what I am tasked with on the marriage market.”