Letters at Christmas (Entangled Scandalous)

by Lin, Amber

  Geoffrey’s glance was sharp. “I’ve trusted you here.”

  Hale met his gaze levelly. Neither of them were saints. Geoffrey’d had Catherine under this roof plenty a time. If he wanted to call Hale out for the same thing, so be it.

  After a tense moment, Geoffrey blew out a breath. “I suppose your wedding should be sooner rather than later, then.”

  Hale pulled the special license from his pocket. “This should be fast enough.”

  Geoffrey examined it with surprise. “You were confident.”

  More like desperate. So desperate he’d almost bungled things with Sidony, but thankfully she was forgiving. She was, as Geoffrey had once said, sensitive—but in the best and most admirable of ways. He narrowed his eyes at his friend, who clearly saw more than he let on.

  “Do you ever plan on telling me what happened when your parents passed away?” Hale asked.

  To his shock, Geoffrey answered. With a clear gaze, he said, “No, but I think you understand now. How just seeing certain things can change a man. Or be the making of one.”

  Yes, Hale understood. He hadn’t wanted to taint Sidony with his tale so he’d omitted the gruesome details—but they were the important ones. The absolute shock as he’d watched a man slip overboard, as if he were just a drop in the ocean. Hale still heard his scream mingling with the waves and the wind. Hale’s desolation when his cat Bailey was missing too, another body on the growing pile. The dread when he’d assumed command, realizing that more men would surely die, and it would be his responsibility, his fault.

  At eighteen years old and in love, he’d thought he was a man. He’d been wrong. All that had changed in a matter of hours, when all his childish promises turned to ash in the face of impossible odds. The only way he could win Sidony was to accept certain death, to give up that youthful, hopeful part of himself.

  He leaned forward. “How does one move on? How does one keep living?”

  “I’m the wrong person to ask. You’ve said yourself, I’m not the same.” He stared at the snowy white windows. “But if I had to guess, I’d say it’s this. Spending time with family.”

  “At Christmas,” Hale added, thinking of Sidony’s delight when she’d seen the sleighs. In town there were barely any signs of the holiday season. He’d disembarked to find everyone with their head down against the cold, expressions brittle. Only out in the country he’d seen the celebrations. Only here he’d found Sidony and her joy with the trappings of yuletide.

  “And in the care of a good woman.” Geoffrey seemed to be on the same line of thought. “Don’t be afraid to lean on Sidony. She’s stronger than she looks.”

  “Well, she looks quite strong.”

  “I regret I wasn’t there for her when she was younger, and that our parents weren’t either, but she’s grown up well despite that.”

  Though she still felt the pain of abandonment acutely. Hale had known that before he left, but he truly felt it now, as if their hearts were already linked, as if any discomfort to her bled into his body. In which case, he thought wryly, he’d better marry her without delay, so he could begin making her happy. Although that wasn’t strictly true. She didn’t need anything from him but his presence, his devotion. He was the one who needed her.

  He gazed at the black cat reclining in a wedge of sunlight streaming onto the pine floor. That was him, he realized, basking in her joy. Soaking up her love. The past three years had proven one thing: he could survive without her. But mere survival was goddamned bleak. He wanted to laugh and to love. He wanted a home. And most of all, he wanted Sidony.

  …

  Sidony couldn’t sleep. Restlessly, she kicked off the bed linens. The chilly winter air burned her overheated skin. She slid out of bed and crossed the frozen floorboards to the equally cold bench at the window.

  Only three days ago, she’d sat here, waiting for Hale, watching. This time the window remained closed against the weather. Ribbons on the glass distorted the ornate patterns formed in the frost. In a matter of hours, a pale morning sun would pierce the barrier and melt away the crystalline armor.

  Just in time for her wedding.

  Her heart thumped a question she couldn’t even voice, much less answer. This was normal, nervousness before her wedding. She knew that. Although it felt less like worry and more like anticipation. Three days of it, since his return. No, longer. Three years of it. An eternity.

  The vicar in Colne had examined the special license with suspicion. She supposed he’d never seen one in the small parish of hand-weavers and sheepherders. Most would drive to Gretna Green if their situation were urgent. The few landowners with enough clout to secure a special license would probably prefer a fancy London wedding anyhow.

  Not her. True, the hills of Lancashire would always be special to her—a touchstone. The place where her brother had raised her. Where she’d fallen in love with Hale. But she wanted to explore the world, as well. He promised to take her to the continent for their wedding trip…with no return date. France, first of all. Then Italy.

  Then—who knew?

  The familiar creak of floorboards brought a smile to her lips. Oh, yes. Hale would know. He had been to farther reaching places than Italy. Places he wouldn’t take her because they were too dangerous. Well, she could be very persuasive.

  She met him in the center of the bedchamber. “You couldn’t stay away one night?” she asked, teasing.

  His head was dark, bending to her ear. “No more waiting. I’d miss you too much.”

  She sighed in relief as his warm body pulled flush against her. Being apart from him sucked away her breath, like a cold, surging wind across her face. But with him, she felt warm and safe enclosed in strong arms and given the means to fly.

  His experience over the past three years had surely been a nightmare. She knew he’d only skimmed the surface with what he’d told her. He’d lived it once for her. She would never make him live it again.

  “It won’t bother you,” she asked anxiously, “to be on a ship again?”

  “It won’t be the same type of ship, nor the same routes.”

  “Still, if the sea is a dark place for you…”

  “It’s not the sea that gave me nightmares. It was not having you in my arms.” His breath hitched. “I shut myself off from feeling anything, from hurting or hoping. I half expected you to have been married when I returned, and I thought… I felt that I deserved that. It was a type of madness. I can’t say that I’m fully healed, but I know I’m much better with you.”

  She placed her hand on his chest, reveling in the steady thump beneath his skin. “I can be happy in London. If that’s where you want to be, I’ll stand beside you.”

  “You’ll be with me there, and here in the country—and we’ll travel the world. There’s so much I want to show you. Even the wondrous things I saw, I couldn’t enjoy without you to share them with. You won’t suffer for anything, Sidony. I won’t allow it.”

  She grinned. “You’ve grown accustomed to giving commands, Captain.”

  “And are you accustomed to following them?”

  “Maybe with practice,” she whispered with a quirk of her lips.

  He laid her down on the bed and loomed over her, scaring her, exciting her. Shadows covered him, and she saw only the glint of his eyes, a flash of snow over dark terrain. She startled as his lips met hers, though it felt as natural as kissing him back, as sighing in pleasure, as pulling him closer. His body covered her like a warm, breathing blanket. His tongue stroked hers in an urgent message of need and possession. He had changed while he’d been gone, in ways that would never reverse. He’d become fierce and demanding—and she preferred him this way. The boy she’d loved had become a hardened man. And had she become a softened woman, one who could nurture as well as play?

  She slipped her fingers beneath his nightshirt, probing, seeking. He shuddered at her touch, pushing his body against her in an ancient rhythm. Her fingers closed around hot velvet flesh, and he groaned into h
er mouth.

  “Sidony, wait.”

  “No more waiting,” she murmured, stroking him firmly. “I’d miss you too much.”

  He abandoned his objections and tore the nightshirt over his head. With force, he tugged her night rail up, until her breasts were bared to the moonlight and his glittering gaze.

  His eyes met hers. “You will obey me,” he murmured.

  Though she knew she could demur, she nodded shyly. “Always.”

  “Touch yourself. Make your breasts flushed and ready for me.”

  Slowly, she cupped her breasts and massaged them gently. She felt awkward and ungainly, trying to mimic the smooth, hungry caresses he gave her. When she pinched the hardened tips lightly, he grunted. He hooked two fingers beneath her chin and tilted her head up. Only then did she realize she’d been watching herself.

  She looked at him, feeling lost and listless. “I can’t— I don’t know—”

  “Shhh. Trust me.” His thumb brushed her lips. On the second swipe, she slid her tongue out and tasted him. “Sidony. I wanted to make this last.”

  Need burned through her body, streaks of pleasure driving her to the brink. But just there—holding steady. She could go no further without him. “Please.”

  Unyielding hands spread her legs apart. He kneeled between them. “Have to make you ready,” he muttered, and she tilted her hips up, ready to receive his fingers, his touch. He bent his head, his hungry gaze fixated on her private thatch of hair. Spreading her apart, he leaned forward—and she shut her eyes against the pleasure of his lips and tongue. Her entire body shuddered with an intensity bordering on pain. Needful sounds escaped her lips.

  “Definitely a house in the country,” he said, lifting his head. “Our own, and far away from neighbors. Until then, you’ll have to stay quiet.”

  He returned to his erotic task, sending shivers up her spine, and hoarse, muffled sounds from her throat. Emboldened by his earlier command, she touched her breasts, flicking and twisting at the tips, adding heat of her own. His pace quickened, and her hips surged upward, wanting more, her inner muscles clenching around nothing. In one smooth motion, he levered up and pushed inside her. She gasped at the thick intrusion, grateful and burning for him. He thrust into her quickly, again and again; her mouth parted in shock and ecstasy, until her muscles tightened around his, and he cried out her name over and over, and spilled his seed deep in her body.

  He rocked in the aftermath, drawing out the final ripples of her sated flesh. His kiss was leisurely, licking every secret corner of her mouth and inviting her to do the same. The friction of his tongue against hers made her hips rock up.

  He gasped a laugh and pulled away. “Have another one, do you?”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant—he couldn’t mean—but then he did. He slid two fingers into her wet channel, deep, until he found a certain place. She sobbed softly, and he took the sounds into his mouth, sealing his lips to hers. He made quick work of her pleasure, pushing her unerringly to a peak, where she shattered into a thousand snowflakes, falling, drifting to the ground.

  He scooped her limp body close beneath the covers, holding her while she shivered. In their embrace she found the irresistible mingling of her old friend and the dashing stranger who’d returned. He had been around the world, but she’d found the man she’d been watching for through her window.

  A familiar tune teased her ear, whistling and faint, wind slipping between the glass panes and wooden sash box. O tidings of comfort and joy, Comfort and joy. The comfort of their original friendship, and the joy of their future together, husband and wife.

  “Sleep now,” he murmured, “and I’ll stay with you ’til morning. I’ll stay with you every night after that, ’til every morning.”

  And he did, waking her in the small hours, taking her over and over again, eager and demanding even when he’d already won her.

  The wedding was attended by all the townspeople of Colne who had watched Sidony grow to womanhood. Seeing their smiles over her happiness, she realized she’d had friends all along, many more than she’d known.

  A man who looked better suited to the deck of a pirate’s ship arrived by saddle to stand up for Hale. Two other tanned, rough-looking gentlemen came down from London and sat in the back of the church on the groom’s side. Business partners, Hale told her.

  But oddly, neither the colorful guests nor the rushed preparation for the wedding seemed to stir up scandal in a town usually desperate for gossip.

  “We always knew you two would marry,” the vicar’s wife said simply.

  Sidony had known it, too, deep in her heart where it mattered most; she’d always been waiting for him. Even when things had looked hopeless, even when, year after year, no letter had arrived, she would sigh and look up at the stars and imagine he was looking there, too, thinking of her. All she’d needed was a little faith.

  And, well, the cat had helped.

  True to his word, Hale never left her. He continued to wake her with kisses each morning, in their townhouse in London or traveling the world. He continued to hold her each night, over their years of happiness, writing new letters with his tongue, whispering his words of love and hope in the dark. She returned his passion with equal fervor, finding adventure just where she’d always wanted to—in the strong, tender arms of the man she loved.

  About the Author

  Amber Lin writes edgy romance with damaged hearts, redemptive love, and a steamy ever after. RT Book Reviews called her debut novel, Giving It Up, “truly extraordinary.” Amber married her high school sweetheart, gave birth to a kid who’s smarter than she is, and spends her nights writing down her dirty thoughts. In other words, life is good. See what’s new at Amber’s website or say hi on twitter.

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