Yuletide Happily Ever Afters; A Merry Little Set Of Regency Romances

by Jenna Jaxon

  Lord Oliver gave Penelope’s hands a meaningful squeeze.

  Penelope drew in a quick breath and opened her mouth. The audience leaned forward in their chairs, their own breath held as they awaited her reply. She reached for Lord Rodrigo, but as she cradled his cheek in her palm and spoke her lines, she didn’t see Lord Oliver. She didn’t see Lady Madeline, or Dinah, or Lady Lavinia and the rest of the audience.

  She saw only Will. “I do love you. You are my one true love, and I will stay with you always.”

  The audience released their collective breath in a sigh, then jumped to their feet and burst into a storm of applause.

  Penelope hardly heard them.

  The players ran down the stage to take their bows. Lord Archer’s guests were rising to their feet, but he didn’t move. Lady Lavinia was saying something to him, her face red with fury, but he wasn’t looking at her. He sat utterly still in the midst of the chaos, his gaze fixed on Penelope, his eyes burning.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It had come down to a standoff between the rogue and the gentleman. Until Will entered his study and met Lady Lavinia’s blazing eyes, he wasn’t sure which of them would triumph.

  She called Penelope a lightskirt. A harlot. A whore. She told him if he truly cared for his sister, he wouldn’t allow her to keep such low company. She said she shouldn’t be surprised a shameless rake would prefer a shameless hussy over a proper lady.

  A proper lady.

  Lady Pristine Proper.

  Damn clever, that name. Will’s lips quirked with a half-smile as he recalled Lady Proper tumbling over the hay bale onto her arse.

  In the end, that half-smile turned out to be the beginning of the end of his courtship of Lady Lavinia. It tipped her over into a raving fury. She declared she wouldn’t spend another night in his house if he didn’t toss the actresses out at once.

  He leaned back against his desk, crossed his arms over his chest, and coolly informed her he found he didn’t fancy proper ladies, after all. Then he told her if she didn’t care to spend another night under his roof, she was welcome to fetch her things and go. She’d marched out the door an hour ago, nose in the air, her face as stiff and cold as stone.

  Since then he’d been sitting in his study, a glass of port in his hand, staring at the fire. The house was dark, quiet. Even his brothers hadn’t dared to approach him tonight.

  His courtship was over. Maddy’s season, as well. The example he’d intended to set his brothers, his claim to being a gentleman…destroyed. And in their place, a cheeky red-headed actress with the sweetest face he’d ever seen.

  He didn’t have a single regret. Penelope was worth everything he’d lost, and more.

  You are my one true love. I will stay with you always.

  She hadn’t been looking at Lord Rodrigo when she said it. She’d been looking straight at Will, and the expression on her lovely face, the fear and hope and vulnerability…

  Had she told him she loved him tonight? Or had she simply been repeating her lines?

  Will had to know.

  He mounted the stairs to her bedchamber slowly. He’d never been nervous around a woman before, but Penelope wasn’t just any woman to him, just as she hadn’t been any actress all those nights he’d watched her at the Pandemonium. Even then, before he’d hardly spoken a word to her, he’d known she was more.

  A vicar’s daughter, an actress, and every inch a lady…

  His lady.

  He paused when he reached her bedchamber, his heart pounding. He listened, but there was no sound from the other side of the door. It was late. Perhaps she’d gone to sleep. He should leave her alone. Surely, he could wait until tomorrow to talk to her? Tomorrow was soon enough to tell her…

  Even as these thoughts drifted through his head he raised his arm and tapped lightly on her door. If she didn’t come at once, he’d go. He’d respect her privacy—

  “Lord Archer?”

  The room behind her was lit only by the moonlight streaming through her window. She hadn’t drawn the curtains, and he imagined her staring out the window at the garden below, the gentle silver glow touching her hair, her face, the curves of her red lips.

  She was biting that lip now, her dark brown eyes anxious. “I’m sorry about the play tonight,” she blurted in a rush. “Tomorrow, before I leave Cliff’s Edge, I’ll beg Lady Lavinia’s pardon, and—”

  “No. That’s not why I came to you tonight. Lady Lavinia, she’s…she’s gone. She left several hours ago. Our courtship is over.”

  Penelope’s face turned white. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry, my lord. I should never have—”

  “No. I—I sent her away.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You sent her away? But what of Lady Madeline’s season, and your brothers—”

  “Hush. It’s all right.” He drew closer and took her shoulders in his hands. “Last night, in the garden, you were trying to tell me something, and I…I understand it now.”

  Her velvety brown eyes flickered. “What do you understand?”

  “Birth, titles, fortune—none of it matters. The only thing that matters is your heart.” Will reached for her and laid his hand flat against the center of her chest. “Your heart, Penelope. It’s good, and pure, and true.”

  He gazed down at her, his own heart swelling in his throat. He half-expected her to push him away, but she didn’t. She drew closer, and without uttering a word, buried her face against his chest.

  A soft groan rose from Will’s throat, and he wrapped his arms around her. He gathered her close against him and pressed his face into the mass of wild red hair that had driven him mad since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.

  “Bring me into your bedchamber, sweetheart,” he whispered. He was desperate to kiss her, but he wouldn’t do it here, in the hallway.

  She raised her head from his chest, and, her gaze on his face, began to back away from him. Will’s heart shuddered in protest, but then she took his hand and led him forward, until they were both inside her bedchamber.

  Will kicked the door closed behind them and swept her into his arms.

  Her lips…

  He dreamed about them, but even his most fevered fantasies paled in comparison to the soft drift of her breath against his mouth, her lips warm and open under his. He kissed her again and again, his mouth gentle but insistent, his hands buried in her hair.

  She whimpered when his tongue prodded gently at the seam of her lips, and the sound made Will weak with love and desire. “Let me inside, Penelope,” he breathed against her lips. “Let me taste your sweet mouth.” He teased at her lower lip with the tip of his tongue until she parted with a sigh, and he slid his tongue inside.

  Warm, sweet, wet …

  Will’s knees nearly buckled at the slick glide of her tongue against his. Tonight, she tasted like a winter garden, like snow and moonlight, and he wanted to say it, to tell her she tasted like every good thing he’d ever had in his life…

  He drew away just far enough so his lips still hovered over hers, and cupped her face in his hands. “You taste like Christmas.”

  Heat crept into his cheeks at how foolish he sounded, but Penelope didn’t seem to mind. She rose to her tiptoes and dropped tiny kisses on his eyelids and nose, then she gave him a smile that made his heart leap in his chest. “What does Christmas taste like?”

  Will’s lips curved in an answering smile. “Hmmm. Let me see.” He leaned over her, took her earlobe between his teeth and bit down gently. She gasped, and hot desire surged through him. “It tastes like…” he nipped and licked his way down her neck, pausing when he reached the hollow of her throat to suck at the sensitive skin there. “Like you.”

  She let out a soft laugh, her chest rising and falling with her panting breaths. “Do I taste like roast venison, then? Wassail? Or Christmas pudding?”

  Will slid his hands down her rib cage, resting them on the delectable curves of her hips. “Sugar plums, gingerbread, raisins—every sweet thing.” He press
ed an open-mouthed kiss against the delicate curve between her shoulder and neck. “I could feast on you all night, and never get enough of you.”

  Her shy gaze met his. “Then stay with me until you’ve had your fill.”

  Will’s breath caught, and his fingers tightened on her hips. His body was desperate for her, every muscle straining, but before he snatched her into his arms and carried her to the bed, he searched her face for any sign of uncertainty. “Is this what you want, Penelope?”

  Her cheeks turned a rosy pink, but she nodded. “I used to watch you, when I was on stage at the Pandemonium. Did you know?”

  Will shook his head. All those nights at the Pandemonium, when he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her, she’d been watching him, too?

  “Every performance, I’d search you out in your box.” She stroked her fingertips down his chest, her face alight with wonder, as if she could hardly believe she was here with him, touching him. “I wanted you even then, and I…I want you now, Will.”

  He went still, savoring the sound of his Christian name on her lips, then without warning, he swept her into his arms.

  She was his, and he couldn’t wait another moment to have her.

  “Oh!” Penelope curled her fingers into his shirt as he carried her to the bed.

  He laid her down gently and stood back to look at her. The pale moonlight caressed her with loving fingers, gilding her face and neck in shades of white and silver. “You look like a moonbeam yourself, in your white night clothes.”

  She rose to her knees in the center of the bed, and kept her gaze on his face as her fingers hovered over the tie on her bed jacket. She loosened it, then slowly drew it down off her shoulders and tossed it aside.

  Underneath she wore only a thin, white cotton chemise.

  Will watched her, his mouth going dry as she reached for the hem and slipped the garment over her head. When she was bared to his gaze she fell back against the pillows, her arms flung wide, and without a shred of self-consciousness, let him look at her.

  She was all curves and smooth pale skin. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in a fiery waterfall, teasing at the red, pouting tips of her breasts. Jesus, he wanted his hands and mouth on every inch of her. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She smiled and held out her arms to him. “Then come to me.”

  There was nothing Will wanted more. He drew his shirt off, tossed it to the floor, then quickly shed his boots and stockings. She watched his hands as he drew down his suspenders, then paused over the buttons of his falls. He was already hard and aching for her, but he’d never experienced anything more erotic than having her eyes on him, trailing over his bare skin.

  He paused, his fingers caressing the buttons. “Do you want me, Penelope?” His voice was a low, guttural growl. “If you do, then say it again.”

  Her chest moved in a trembling sigh. “I do want you, Will. More than anything.”

  He wanted more from her—all she had to give—but tonight, desire triumphed over everything else. Tonight, all he wanted was to love her.

  He tossed his breeches aside and approached the bed. He was desperate to feel her bare, warm skin against his, but as he lay down beside her, he forced himself to go slowly. He brushed his lips against hers, groaning as her eager tongue slipped into his mouth. He nibbled and teased at her, tugging her plump bottom lip into his mouth and sucking it gently.

  She squirmed closer and tangled her fingers in his hair. Will moaned as she scratched her fingernails lightly against the back of his neck. He put some space between their bodies, his heart pounding, before her innocent caresses made him lose control.

  “Will?” She tried to close the distance between them, her brows drawing together anxiously.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart. I just want to touch you. You feel like silk,” he murmured, sliding his hand over her shoulder and down her arm. “I’ve never touched anything as soft as your skin.” He let his palm rest against the curve of her waist, then slid it lower to cradle the gentle swell of her belly. “Does it feel good when I touch you?”

  “Yes.” Her eyelids had gone heavy over her dark eyes.

  Will’s gaze never left her face as he traced his fingertips over her belly, then pressed his other hand against the warm, smooth skin at the center of her chest. “Your heart is beating so quickly, sweetheart.”

  She laughed softly. “It feels like a bird trying to take flight inside my chest.”

  He wanted to kiss her then, and steal that smile from her lips, but he held back, still watching her face as he slid his fingertips under the curve of her breast.

  “Oh.” She shivered a little at his touch, her cheeks reddening.

  “You’re sensitive here.” He could see her arousal in the way she bit her lower lip, her fluttering eyelids, the flush on her chest, and it was driving him mad. Every masculine urge demanded he cover her body with his and slide into her welcoming heat, but once again he held back, panting with the effort to restrain himself.

  His gaze dropped from her face to her chest, a low groan tearing from his throat at the sight of her red nipples. Will dragged his thumb across one, his breath catching as it peaked for him. “Yes. So sensitive, sweetheart.” He cupped her breast in his palm, squeezing gently as he circled her nipple with his thumb.

  “Oh. Oh, Will.” Penelope tipped her head back against the pillow with a breathless moan.

  Will stared, mesmerized, as her pretty nipples turned a deeper red from his caresses, the peaks straining for him. His mouth was watering to taste her, and he couldn’t hold back for another minute.

  He leaned over her and took a nipple into his mouth. He teased it with the tip of his tongue, licking her, then pulled harder at the stiff nub, sucking it between his lips.

  Penelope gasped, and her fingernails sank into his back. “Will, please…”

  That sweet plea undid him, and he could no longer deny her. He held her gently against the bed as he tasted her other nipple, then moved over her, bracing himself on his arms to protect her from his weight. She tensed a little when she felt his hard cock pressing against her thigh, and his gaze shot to her face. She’d thrown an arm above her head, and she was biting her lip again.

  “Penelope?” He touched her chin and turned her face toward his. “How many lovers have you had before me?”

  Her eyes met his. “One.”

  Will ran his thumb across her cheek, tenderness welling inside him. “You don’t need to be nervous. I’ll be so careful, so gentle with you. You trust me, don’t you?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  He kissed her then, his mouth moving gently over hers until passion overwhelmed them, and they were tasting each other deeplystraining to get closer. Will worked her slowly, caressing her with his hands and his mouth until she was whimpering, and he was one kiss away from disgracing himself.

  He reached between her legs, rubbing her in slow steady circles until her desire slicked his fingers, and she was arching her back, pleading for him. Not until then did he open her legs and slide his hips between them, positioning his stiff cock at her entrance. “You’re mine now, Penelope. Do you understand? You’re mine.”

  She cradled his face in her palms, her eyes searching his. “Yes, Will. Only yours.”

  He shifted his hips against hers and slid inside. She gasped softly as he filled her, and Will paused, shaking with the effort to keep still, and let her adjust to the press of his body into hers, the swell of him inside her.

  He remained still, his forehead resting against hers, until she made a low, pleading sound in her throat, and arched against him. Only then did he move. As he stroked deeper inside her, he took her lips in a lingering kiss.

  Will had chased pleasure with other women before her, but he’d never felt the tenderness he did now as he thrust slowly inside Penelope. His breath caught and his back bowed with the pleasure of being surrounded by her snug h
eat, but afterwards—after she’d shattered around him and he’d come to his own shuddering release, it wasn’t the pleasure he remembered.

  It was her eyes. The warmth in those dark brown depths, the trust there.

  The love…

  He gathered her tightly against his chest. As they drifted off to sleep he thought of the dark, endless beauty of her eyes, the tenderness in them when she’d gazed up at him. No woman had ever looked at him that way before, as if he…

  As if he were a miracle.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Something was wrapped around Penelope, holding her down.

  Was she caught up in the bed clothes again? More than once since she arrived at Cliff’s Edge she’d woken to find the sheets twisted around her limbs, and the heavy coverlet thrown over her head.

  But this wasn’t the coverlet. No, this was a warm, breathing thing, with a long, hard body and a reassuring heartbeat thumping a steady rhythm in her ear.

  Penelope raised her head and stole a peek at Will. He was asleep, his long lashes resting on his cheeks, his hair a tangled mass of golden-brown waves. She let out a dreamy sigh and gave into the urge to brush those tousled locks aside.

  She traced his cheekbones with light fingertips, unable to resist touching him. He had the most beautiful face she’d ever seen, and his body…well, he didn’t look like any of the other aristocratic gentlemen who came to the Pandemonium.

  Strong arms, a hard, muscled chest, taut belly, and…

  Penelope carefully dragged the coverlet down his chest and over his flat belly. She glanced at his face, but his eyes were still closed, his chest moving in slow, deep breaths.

  It’s just a tiny peek. I won’t touch anything…

  She slid the coverlet a little lower, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and inched it down over his hips—