Mistletoe Wishes

by Anna Campbell

  “Would you rather I called you Felicity?”

  She shook her head. Did he know he continued to hold her hand? It was odd—nice—sitting in the darkness on Christmas morning and swapping confidences. “No. I…like the way you say Flick.”

  “I like that I have a special name for you.”

  “So do I.” Her fingers tightened on his, and she said a silent prayer for him to stay. Now and forever.

  But it seemed heaven wasn’t listening, because he released her and rose from the bed.

  Despite her resolution to be brave and make no demands, when he was so newly returned home, a hum of distress escaped her.

  “What is it?” Edmund turned and studied her through the winter gloom.

  She wanted to lie, but the unadorned truth emerged. “Don’t go.”

  His laugh was a rumbling undertone. “My dear wife, wild horses wouldn’t drag me away.”

  “Then what are you doing?”

  He shifted toward the fire, presenting a breathtaking view of his naked back and buttocks. Despite favoring his left leg, he moved more freely than he had yesterday. He’d blamed last night’s pain on the long ride in the cold. She hadn’t been sure whether to believe him, or whether he tried to protect her from learning the full extent of his injuries.

  “Because I want to do this right.” Edmund stoked the glowing embers in the hearth, then gave Digby a pat and a murmured word, before placing a couple of logs on the fire.

  The revitalized flames illuminated his noble profile, with its high forehead and arrogant nose and defined jaw. He looked at ease in a way she’d never seen. As if he’d worn a mask of politeness and carefully maintained consideration, but now the mask fell away to reveal the real man.

  Silently, Felicity watched the everyday movements, while her heart crashed into an excited gallop. Beyond those unsatisfying encounters in her bed, they’d never enjoyed the quiet intimacy of sharing a room. Tonight a fragile thread twined them together. She felt married to this man she loved in a way she never had before.

  The air quivered with the promise of pleasure. A rich tide of anticipation washed through her, and she stretched against the rumpled sheets like a cat in the sunlight. She’d never felt like this. So full of love that she was likely to explode into a volley of stars.

  Edmund lit a couple of candles and placed them on the mantel, setting the room aglow. He turned to face her as she pushed upright against the pillows. A man’s body remained in many ways a mystery, although she gloried in the changes from the sleeping Edmund to this awake, fully aroused version. Her fingers clenched in the sheets. She itched to touch him, to explore those hard planes of muscle and bone so different from her soft curves.

  “Shall I fetch my robe?”

  The old, shy Felicity would have hidden her head under the covers by now. Tonight she took her time assessing this man she’d married so long ago. “No.”

  A faint, pleased smile curved his mouth as he returned to lighting candles.

  The frankness of her desire surprised her. She’d always loved Edmund, but never before had her love felt so earthy. A hot weight settled in the base of her belly, craving for his skin against hers, the heated meeting of bodies.

  He paused in his preparations, and their eyes conducted a simmering but silent conversation. Invitation and acceptance. She wanted what was to come more than she wanted to take her next breath. Pray God she wasn’t mistaken, but what she saw in his face told her that he felt the same.

  “Take down your hair,” he said quietly.

  With unsteady hands, she loosened her plait until her hair cloaked her shoulders. Edmund gave another of those heavy exhalations, as if he’d been holding his breath for hours.

  “This is what I dreamed about.” He stepped forward and gripped the carved base of the bed. The candlelight shone on the cruel burns across the back of his hands. “Now take off your nightdress.”

  Felicity swallowed to moisten a dry mouth, even as she moved to obey. With a bit of maneuvering, she tugged the thick flannel nightdress over her head.

  She was blushing. Of course she was. But her eyes were steady as they met his. She rested against the piled pillows and let her hands fall open at her sides.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “You beggar my fantasies.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “You’ll think me a satyr, but so often in the hell of the Peninsula, I pictured you just like this. Army life provides no sweetness, just incessant brute masculinity. But in the few quiet moments, I’d close my eyes and think of the woman waiting for me at home.”

  “I don’t think you’re a satyr at all.” Her heart cramped with love, and stabbing compassion for all he’d sacrificed in the name of duty. “I wish I’d known you thought of me. It would have been a comfort.”

  “Of course I thought of you. Constantly.” His eyes sharpened. “Did you think of me?”

  She didn’t try to hide her surprise and pleasure at his confession. “All the time.”

  “And did you wait?”

  She took a second to understand what he asked; it was so far from the reality of her solitary life these last years. “I’ve had no man but you in my bed, Edmund.” She paused before admitting the dangerous, awkward truth. “I’ve wanted no man but you in my bed.”

  Triumph turned his gray eyes silver. “I hoped. I guessed.”

  He was glad. That must mean something.

  Felicity linked her hands over her bare stomach in an attempt to calm her nerves. She was painfully conscious of her nakedness. How she wished he’d touch her, so she didn’t feel quite so on display. But this might be her only chance to ask the question that had troubled her since he left.

  Her voice emerged as a husky murmur. “I know I really have no right to ask this. The world views a man’s needs as so much more urgent than a woman’s, after all. And it’s so many years. And you made no promises of fidelity before you went away…”

  Edmund’s expression was unreadable. “Yes, I did. When we stood before the altar, I vowed to be faithful.”

  She frowned, trying to make sense of what he said. She couldn’t have heard him right. If she had, surely it must be too good to be true. “You mean—”

  His gaze remained unwavering. “I mean I’ve had no woman in my bed since I left your side.”

  She struggled to contain her relief and happiness. Her husband wasn’t a liar. She knew that. But still his claim pushed the limits of belief. “That must have been difficult.”

  A sardonic grunt of laughter escaped. “Not that difficult. I married you because you’re the only woman I want. I don’t need a substitute.”

  Wide-eyed, she stared at him. However unlikely his story, she found she believed him. Even the part about him wanting her. Every word he spoke radiated sincerity.

  Joy surged, strong enough to wash away old doubts. “I had no idea.”

  One hand made a sweeping gesture. “Why the devil else did you imagine I proposed?”

  She shook her head. “I thought you needed a wife.”

  A faint snort. “So anyone would do, even you?”

  “I come from a good family, and I brought a fat dowry.”

  He frowned. “You do know you’re speaking arrant nonsense, don’t you? You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I took one look at you across that ballroom, and I knew I’d met my destiny.”

  “Oh,” she said breathlessly, desperate to keep her heart from taking wing and flying up into the heavens. None of this was exactly a declaration of love, but she now saw she’d badly miscalculated his emotional stake in this marriage. A trembling hand reached down for the sheet.

  “Don’t.”

  She met eyes ablaze with yearning. No matter how awkward she felt, sitting here without a stitch to cover her, she couldn’t deny him. She left the sheet where it was.

  “So why did you marry me?” he asked.

  Because I loved you so much, I felt likely to perish of it.

  But although t
hey’d done so much to bridge the distance between them, admitting her love remained a step too far. Traces of her old shyness lingered, for all that she sat naked before him.

  “I liked you.” That much she’d dare. “I still do.”

  He arched questioning auburn eyebrows. “That’s a damned lukewarm reason for accepting a fellow.”

  Stupid to blush, when she’d made no secret that she wanted congress with her husband. “You were a catch.”

  He shook his head. “Not good enough. That season, you had a duke’s heir and a marquess after you, not to mention a couple of baronets who could buy and sell me ten times over.”

  She ventured a little more honesty. “You were the only one who made my heart beat faster. And you were always so kind and gentle.”

  He looked horrified. “You make me sound like a dashed milksop.”

  She smiled. “No. There’s strength in your sweetness. You’re the bravest, best man I know. I was a naïve country girl when I accepted you, but I’ve never been sorry about my choice.”

  He shifted as though her praise brought equal pleasure and embarrassment. “While you were smart and lovely, and I couldn’t believe my luck when you said yes. I’ve never regretted my choice either, but you were so pure and untouched, I feared my passion would terrify you.”

  “I’ve always been stronger than you knew.”

  “I see that now. But you trembled in my arms and cried the first time I came to you. And you seemed no more reconciled to my attentions by the time I left.”

  “It was all so…overwhelming.” She was old enough now to see how her reticence had hurt him, broken the trust between them. Blast her shyness and her ignorance. “And I wasn’t sure what you wanted of me.”

  “You didn’t like it?” he asked gently.

  “At first, what you did was so outlandish, I was frightened. By the time you left, I’d started to enjoy our encounters.” She looked down into her lap to avoid his eyes. “I liked that you made me feel I was the center of your world.”

  “You were.” His jaw squared with determination. “You are. You must know that by now. I wonder that you were uncertain of it then.”

  Warmth flowed along her veins, feeding a frail optimism. He wouldn’t say these breathtaking things if he didn’t mean them. “You were always in such a hurry to leave afterward, I was sure I’d done something wrong.”

  “Never.” Guilt darkened his expression. “But what I wanted was so primitive, so all-encompassing, I held back for fear of giving you a disgust for the act. And for me. I couldn’t trust myself not to turn to you again and again. Yet you felt so fragile in my arms, you deserved my care, not my fierceness.”

  Her smile contained a fair dose of remorse, too. “And because you showed me such care, I felt you didn’t care.”

  His hand tightened on the base of the bed until the knuckles shone white. “Never think I don’t care, Flick.”

  She gave a broken laugh. “Edmund, it seems we’re both victims of our good intentions. If I’d known you wanted me, I’d have been braver. At least after the first time.”

  He still looked troubled. “We didn’t know how to talk to one another then.”

  “But we know better now.”

  His expression was austere. “My prayer every night I was away was that I’d live to come back to you.”

  “And mine was that you’d live to come back to me.”

  “We’ve been fools.”

  She shifted against the sheets in a futile attempt to ease the insistent heat between her legs. “We have.”

  A sensual glint entered his eyes. “Do I still make your heart beat faster?”

  She extended one hand toward him. To her surprise, it didn’t tremble. But his admissions tonight had taught her a measure of courage. “Why don’t you come closer and find out?”

  To her regret, he didn’t immediately take up the invitation. “If I touch you now, I won’t be kind. I’ll use you to the limit. I’ve starved for you, and only your complete surrender will satisfy me.”

  Ooh, that sounded so exciting. A wanton thrill rippled through her, and her toes curled against the sheets.

  “Show me,” she whispered. “Show me, before I die of wanting you.”

  Chapter 6

  When he stepped out from behind the base of the bed, Canforth felt the heat of his wife’s gaze on his naked body. As she leaned amongst the pillows, admiration brightened her eyes, and something very much like desire. With a shock, he realized that a frailer version of that desire had always been present. Even from the first, when he’d been too blinded by her virginal delicacy to see.

  He hoped to hell that his rapacious need didn’t kill that precious longing. He’d tried to warn Flick what she invited. Once he was heaving about on top of her, she mightn’t be so encouraging. But now that she was willing and within reach, he could no longer hold back. For God’s sake, he was only human.

  The sight of her threatened what little remained of his precarious control. His eyes devoured her from the top of her ruffled head to her slender bare feet. Damn it, but she was a glorious creature. Slim and graceful. Piquant face under a cascade of mahogany hair. Satiny, white breasts, crowned with beaded nipples, like rubies in the snow.

  He stopped beside the bed and took her hand, his pulses jolting at even such an innocent contact. When he met her shining eyes and read the hunger there, he knew she was ready. He’d always felt like a hulking monster beside her, but tonight they’d unite as naturally as a wave ran up a beach. His attention lingered on the feathery curls at the apex of her thighs, and he thanked heaven for granting him this chance to discover her secrets.

  What he’d learned already left him reeling with surprise. To think, she’d wanted him when they married. Even more wondrous, she wanted him now. And despite time and distance, they’d both stayed true to their marriage vows.

  Flick raised her chin, and the steady courage in her eyes made his heart soar. “I’m not afraid, Edmund.”

  Never had he loved her more. His blood seething with impatience, he kneeled next to her and kissed her. Another of those ravenous, passionate kisses that had turned his dream to fire, before he’d discovered that it was no dream. Flick responded with more of that unpracticed fervor that risked burning him to a cinder. His injured leg protested all this movement, but he ignored it.

  He slid his tongue into her mouth, savoring her rich flavor. A sound of encouragement emerged from deep in her throat, and her hands crept around his neck, pulling the hair at his nape. The sting intensified the fierce sensations assailing him.

  In a fever of need, he kissed Flick all over, tasting the silky skin at her collarbone and inside her elbows, and the delicate pattern of blue veins across her breasts. He nipped and sucked at her nipples, making her cry out and dig her nails into his shoulders. When she undulated against him in unabashed demand, he saw stars. He stroked between her legs, until she moaned and writhed. A gush of feminine arousal rewarded his caresses.

  On a groan, he dragged her under him. Her brown eyes were open and glittering with excitement. He kissed her, torn to the point of torture between building her arousal and seeking his satisfaction. Knowing he had no choice, when he’d wanted her so long and so desperately.

  With a sultry smile, she cupped her hand against his scarred cheek. “Don’t wait another second, Edmund. Not one more second.”

  He sank into another kiss, succulent and hot. His hips jutted forward, and he slid into her body. Controlling the pace of his entry threatened to rip him into a million pieces. By heaven, she was tight. Through the furious blood pounding in his ears, he heard her murmur in discomfort. He paused and sucked in a jagged breath, battling for restraint. When he scraped his teeth along her neck, she shuddered, and her body softened, letting him edge deeper.

  Canforth could hardly endure the pleasure streaking through him. Pleasure mixed with pounding frustration. He burned to plunge inside her, claim her to the core, find his consummation. Only possessing her
would assuage the agonizing absence of the last years.

  “Trust me, Flick,” he muttered. “Let me in.”

  She made an incoherent murmur and tilted to meet him. He kissed her again, advancing into delicious resistance. Sucking in the warm, musky scent of her skin, he buried his head in the crook of her shoulder. Her breath was humid and erratic on his ear, and her arms clasped him closer.

  For an excruciating moment, he lingered to let her adjust to his invasion, before even that delay asked too much. With a guttural groan, he seated himself fully within her.

  She cried out and clenched hard around him. When he raised his head to look at her, her eyes were dark and heavy, and flags of color marked her delicate cheekbones.

  He was a large man, and she was slightly built. When they’d first married, this discrepancy had troubled him, made him fear he’d hurt her if he yielded to his passions. Now it turned out that they were a perfect fit. Flick shifted with voluptuous languor, and Canforth felt the change of angle like a blast of trumpets.

  “Are you all right?” he murmured.

  “I love having you so close to me. Don’t stop.”

  He doubted if he could. Her throbbing heat turned the world to gold. This union was extraordinarily profound. He’d loved her from the first, but he’d never before felt that their souls meshed into one entity, while their bodies entwined in sensual bliss.

  Resting deep inside her, basking in the snug welcome, the horrors of war faded to nothing. At last he was home. He released a shuddering breath and gave himself up to pure pleasure.

  Canforth became preternaturally aware of a host of marvelous physical details. The radiant, sleek heat where they joined. The brush of her nipples against his skin. Her long hair tickling his scarred hands. The way her legs cradled him. The scent of arousal thickening the air.

  Piercing joy filled him, but the transcendent stillness couldn’t last. His body tightened with the need to move, to push forward, to seek the explosive ending to his endless longing. Every muscle tensed in anticipation. He kissed her hard. “Hold on.”