Kissed at Christmas

by Christina McKnight

  “If you were mine, I would claim you every day.” He slid a finger inside her wetness, and she cried out. Slowly, he plunged in and out, stretching her until she was breathing in rhythm. He added a second finger, and she lifted her mouth to his, kissing him hard. His tongue matched the penetration of his fingers, and she could imagine what it would feel like to have him inside her body.

  She craved the invasion, welcoming it, and he quickened his pace.

  “My God, I want to be inside you,” he said. “And I want you to take me deep, until I can feel your body embracing mine.”

  At his words, she thrust against him, and the sudden motion quaked within her until a fierce tremor caught her core. He moved his fingers again, never stopping until she reached the peak of her need. Marjorie gripped his shoulders, not knowing what was happening as she shattered apart in his arms. The pleasure came over her in waves, and she held on to him in the darkness, unable to stop herself from shuddering.

  For a long time, she held him, as the aftershocks claimed her. He removed his hand from between her legs and helped her straighten her skirts.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She ought to be deeply embarrassed by what they had done, but her body was too satisfied to care.

  He stole another kiss. “I want to marry you, Margery.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers.

  His declaration made her falter, for she didn’t know what to say. After the liberties she had just allowed, certainly he would think she wanted to marry him. And yet, she hesitated, not quite knowing what it was she wanted. He had never spoken of love—only desire.

  “I will speak to your father in the morning,” he said. “With his consent, we can make the right arrangements.”

  She felt a sudden rise of confusion gathering within her. He was already assuming he had her consent—and she had not told him otherwise.

  Before she could say a word, there were footsteps. The door to the passageway was pushed open, and she blinked at the brightness. Her father stood in front of her, and in the background, she saw her cousin Ariadne.

  Lord Banfield glared at them both with fury, and Marjorie couldn’t say a single word. Her own guilt was written upon her face.

  “It looks as if there will be another marriage taking place,” he said. His voice was like hardened iron, leaving no room for an argument.

  “We will discuss it in the morning,” Sir William said, stepping out of the passageway with her hand in his. “But yes, I do intend to wed Marjorie. I believe it would be best to have a small wedding, with only our immediate families attending.”

  “You will get a special license immediately,” her father ordered.

  She felt a numbness gathering hold of her as William and Lord Banfield began voicing plans for a wedding she hadn’t actually agreed to. Once again, her life was being planned for her, and they were giving her no choice. She didn’t want a marriage where she had no voice, where she was told what to do, where to go, and how to live her life.

  “I am going to my room,” she said quietly.

  The two men hardly appeared to notice, but as she reached the door, William spoke up. “Lady Marjorie.”

  She turned and looked back at him, feeling overwhelmed by all of this.

  “It will be all right,” he reassured her. “I will handle everything. You have nothing to fear.”

  Nothing to fear except the loss of her freedom, she thought. At the moment, she could hardly gather any of her thoughts at all. She had been foolish enough to let her body’s desires govern her common sense—and now, she regretted what she’d done.

  From the stern look on his face, she doubted if her father would let her out of the marriage, even if that was what she wanted. A sense of panic doubled up inside her.

  “I will see you in the morning and let you know what we have decided,” he said.

  Of course. They would make all the plans without her. And when it was all over, she would be trapped within marriage, unable to be herself at all.

  Just like before.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, William discussed wedding plans with Lord Banfield. He had never imagined he would find another woman whom he wanted to wed so soon. And yet, the thought of joining his life with Marjorie’s was a welcome one. She was nothing at all like Laurie, and every moment he’d spent with her had been enjoyable.

  “Where is she?” Lord Banfield demanded, when a footman brought them tea. “I told Marjorie to be here an hour ago.”

  The servant only shook his head. “We have not seen her, my lord. Lady Rose said she went out riding.”

  “It’s Christmas morning,” the earl muttered. “She has no reason to be out riding. I should have known she would try to avoid us.”

  Within a few moments, Lady Banfield joined them. The matron had a kindly face, and she sat across from her husband. “Merry Christmas, Sir William. I understand you have offered for Marjorie’s hand.”

  “Merry Christmas,” he bade her. “And yes, Lady Banfield. I would very much like to marry your daughter.”

  “Except that she’s gone off on her own.” The earl sighed. “Marjorie has always been a bit of a wild foal, doing whatever she pleased. I don’t envy you trying to rein her in.”

  At that, Lady Banfield rolled her eyes. “I’m certain she will return soon, Allan. In the meantime, now that the pair of you have made your plans for the license, I should like to speak to Sir William about Marjorie’s…previous fiancé, Viscount Dewbury.”

  William was taken aback by the countess’s remark. Marjorie had said nothing about being engaged before. He waited for her to continue, and Lady Banfield folded her hands in her lap.

  “I suppose you know that my Marjorie is rather reluctant to wed. And after her last suitor, I cannot blame her. Lord Dewbury was quite demanding.”

  His mood tightened as he wondered what she meant by that. Had Dewbury forced Marjorie in any way?

  “Do I need to call him out?” he asked quietly.

  Lady Banfield laughed lightly, as if he were joking. Which he wasn’t. The thought of another man laying a hand upon Marjorie infuriated him. “No, she ended their engagement.”

  “Did he threaten her in any way?” He tried to keep his voice calm, but could not suppress the surge of dark jealousy.

  The countess shook her head. “He was overbearing toward her. Nothing harmful, but he told her which parties they would attend and what she should wear.”

  “And what she could or could not eat,” he predicted, remembering what Marjorie had said about having no freedom at all. The pieces fell into place, and he understood her reluctance to wed. She would not want any man to tell her what to do.

  Lady Banfield paled, but nodded. “Why yes, that’s right. I had no idea Lord Dewbury was attempting to manage her life in such a rigid way.”

  “He was only trying to take care of her,” Banfield interrupted. “Some men want obedient wives.”

  The countess leveled him with a stare. “If you had dared to force me to leave a soiree, in order to change my gown because you did not approve, it would be the very last day we spent in each other’s company, Allan.”

  “He was harmless,” the earl argued.

  “Marjorie didn’t deserve him. And nothing she ever did was good enough to please him.”

  William sat in silence while the pair of them argued. It was beginning to make sense why Marjorie had been so upset about them being caught together. Both he and her father had started to make plans without asking her opinion. They had simply told her what to do and when the wedding would be.

  It was little wonder that she’d fled.

  A sudden fear slid over him, that she might not want to marry him. What if she wanted nothing to do with him and would rather run away than face a marriage?

  Or worst of all, what if she turned her back on him and did not show up at the wedding, just as Laurie had abandoned him? He didn’t want to think of that possibility at
all. He cared about Marjorie…no, he loved her.

  He wanted to spend his days with her, finding ways to make her smile. She deserved a marriage where her thoughts were valued, where he listened to her. And he intended to make that happen.

  “Thank you for telling me about Lord Dewbury,” he said to Lord and Lady Banfield. “I think we should wait on further wedding plans until I talk with Marjorie and see what she wants.”

  The countess’s face softened. “I think that is a very good idea, Sir William.”

  He excused himself, realizing that he needed to find Marjorie and reassure her. This time, he would not make the mistake of telling her what to do. Instead, he wanted this marriage to be her choice.

  It was Christmas morning, and it would indeed be difficult to make the arrangements he wanted. But he had several ideas on how to soften her affections and prove to her that he did care.

  He nearly shook his head at his own idiocy. He had fallen in love with this woman and didn’t want to spend a single day without her. If that meant courting her over the next few weeks until she agreed to marry him, he would do it.

  For he didn’t want this bride to run away.

  Marjorie gave her horse over to one of the grooms and was about to return to the house, when he said, “Lady Marjorie, Sir William asked if you would meet him in the gazebo.”

  She wanted to say no, for she didn’t want to hear of all the wedding plans he and her father had arranged without her.

  “Perhaps another time,” she said.

  But then the groom added, “He’s been waiting for some time now, Lady Marjorie. Well over an hour. And I believe he has a gift for you.”

  She was reluctant to go, but decided that it would not be right to simply abandon William—especially since it was Christmas Day.

  “All right.” She started to walk toward the garden maze, when suddenly she heard the faint lilting sound of a lute. The music nearly made her smile. The Tudor ghost, Benedict, was meddling again.

  When she reached the entrance of the maze, she was surprised to find a small plate with a single tea biscuit on it. What on earth was this? Was it William’s attempt at a Christmas present?

  Marjorie picked up the plate and took a few steps into the maze. A little further on, she saw a second plate with a piece of gingerbread upon it.

  The third plate held sugared almonds, and at that, she began to smile. He was leaving a trail for her to follow, just as she had dropped holly berries during her last visit to the maze. By the time she reached the gazebo, she had a plate filled with all manner of sweets and desserts.

  William was waiting for her, and beside him, she saw a plate of spice cake.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said, rising to his feet.

  “This is a lot of food,” she told William, setting the plate down on the floor of the gazebo. “I never expected you to lure me into the maze with so many desserts.”

  He reached out for her hands, and she went to stand before him. His blue eyes studied her with such yearning, her heart beat faster. “I needed to apologize to you, Marjorie. I hope you’ll hear me out.”

  She didn’t know quite what to say, but waited for him to continue.

  “I never meant to force you into marriage,” he said quietly. “It is, and always has been, your choice whether you want to marry me or not.”

  The sincerity in his voice was reassuring, and she was glad that he was no longer behaving like Lord Dewbury. It seemed as if the invisible chains were breaking apart, and she relaxed in his presence.

  “I never imagined I would want to marry again,” he said. “Especially after Laurie left me. But you are like no woman I’ve ever known. I find that I want to be with you, whether we are playing cards, eating gingerbread, or dueling with forks.”

  The aching of emotion rose up within her, and she felt her eyes filling up with tears. “I want to be with you, too, William.”

  His hands squeezed hers. “But I was wrong to make plans without you. I spoke in haste because I didn’t want to lose you—not because I was trying to take away your choices.” He reached out for the plate of cake. “You said once before that you would marry cake if you could. I am asking if you will marry me instead. And I promise you may enjoy cake every day, if that’s what you want.”

  Her heart lightened at his words, and she broke off a piece of the cake. Instead of eating it, she placed it in his mouth. “Only if I can share it with you, William.”

  He set the cake down and took her in his arms, kissing her hard. “I’m in love with you, Marjorie Hambly. Will you marry me?”

  She tasted the hint of cinnamon upon his lips and wound her arms around his neck. “I will. Because I love you, too.”

  Outside, a few flakes of snow began to drift all around them, and she heard the sweet melody of Benedict’s song. William drew her into his arms, warming her in his embrace. From his pocket, he pulled out a sprig of mistletoe that he’d taken from the Great Hall.

  “I brought this, for I thought it might be needed.” He held it over them, leaning in to kiss the woman he wanted to share his life with.

  Marjorie only laughed and took the mistletoe, tossing it aside. “You’re wrong. We don’t need it at all.” Then she pulled him down into a deep kiss, reminding him of how much he loved this woman.

  And William Crandall decided that Christmas was the best holiday of all.

  About Michelle Willingham

  Bestselling author Michelle Willingham has published over thirty-five romance novels, novellas, and short stories. Currently, she lives in southeastern Virginia with her husband and children and is working on more historical romances.

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  The Castle Keyvnor Collections

  Christmas at Castle Keyvnor

  Charmed at Christmas

  Enchanted at Christmas

  Kissed at Christmas

  Tempted at Christmas

  The Haunting of Castle Keyvnor

  Vexed

  Bedeviled

  Mystified

  Spellbound