Unexpected Christmas
Jean Hart Stewart
At first glance Caro may look like a simple school teacher, but a painful past gives her a wary edge. When a fierce snowstorm strands her with the all too handsome Lord Sebastian Trantern, caution is swept away by heavy winds of passion. Caro surrenders her body but the secrets within her heart mean that nothing can ever come of their fledgling relationship.
Sebastian isn’t willing to let three blissful days be all he will ever have of Caro. He must convince her that they can find happiness, even if she doesn’t think it’s possible—and Christmas might give him the perfect opportunity to do so.
A Romantica® erotic Regency-era historical romance from Ellora’s Cave
Unexpected Christmas
Jean Hart Stewart
Dedication
To my late husband, whose constant encouragement and love are with me daily.
Chapter One
She peered out the window of the hired carriage and chewed on the finger of one ragged glove. She’d have it in shreds soon if she didn’t stop her fretting.
The storm was growing worse, now so violent that the snow beat against the isinglass window. The wind buffeted the carriage and she shivered, huddling under her inadequate cloak, wondering how the poor coachman was faring in such an exposed position.
Snow fell relentlessly, sheets of white, daunting in its intensity. Caro was beginning to wonder if they’d reach Bath and the school that night. Perhaps she should have started a day earlier but she’d never imagined such a storm. Christmas might be only three weeks away but the weather had been deceptively mild up to now.
She should have taken December’s uncertain weather into account. Heaven knows it hadn’t been pleasure keeping her from starting out earlier. Her aunts’ delight at seeing her almost made her boredom worthwhile. They were both darlings but they had no idea of the difficulties their favorite niece struggled with and she didn’t intend to tell them. She’d listened to their small village chatter with patience. She assured them over and over she was lucky to have her teaching job at Miss Adam’s Academy for Select Girls, and how she loved it.
Caro wouldn’t think of confessing that actually she hated every minute of it but without it she truly didn’t know what she’d do.
She gave up trying to keep the window clear enough to see anything but the pelting snow and leaned back against the barely padded squabs of the hired coach. She hadn’t dared travel on the public coach. It would expose her to too much familiarity with the other occupants, and also reveal her precarious financial situation if anyone connected to the academy happened to see her. The cost of this wretched carriage had taken her last savings.
Trying not to worry, she settled back. Surely the storm would not continue much longer. The coach she’d engaged was drawn by rather ugly horses but at least they looked strong.
She took one last look out the window. The cold moon, drifting through an unfeeling sky, shone dimly through the still-heavily falling snow. Suppressing a quiver of fright she resolved not to count her money again. She knew well how little she had. Being forced to spend a night at an inn would beggar her.
The coach jerked to a halt and the driver jumped down from his perch to come speak to her. Snow coating his beard and his moustache, he shook his head. Even his heavy eyebrows were frosted.
“Miss, we will have to stop soon. My horses can’t go much farther, pulling against these heavy drifts. There’s an inn coming up ahead and I’m going to pull in there.”
“Please, sir, I’m most concerned about reaching my destination. Is there no chance of continuing?”
She hated the pleading tone in her voice, knowing all the while it did no good. The driver shook his head.
“I’m sorry, miss, but it will be much worse if we get stuck in a drift and freeze to death. I’m pulling in.”
His decisive statement told Caroline there was no use arguing. She shut her eyes. Pray heaven it was not an expensive inn.
* * * * *
Her worries escalated to a different dimension at her first sight of the inn. Small, dilapidated and almost forlorn, it looked like a place needing rescue itself. As they drew nearer she saw the stable to the rear of the inn was quite small, and she could hear the noise blasting from the taproom. The patronage must be local and hadn’t minded trudging through the heavy drifts now stacking against the sides of the buildings.
At least the bedrooms would be small and hopefully affordable. A sudden thought paled her distressed face. What if there were no available bedrooms?
Her driver helped her down and then turned back to his horses. She flexed her straight, stiff shoulders and opened the door to the inn.
A roar of boisterous voices greeted her, buffeting her back for an instant. Trying not to look too horrified, she looked around for the innkeeper. Evidently he was also the tender of the bar, as he pushed himself around two loud red-faced yokels to come stand in front of her.
He was barely civil as he looked her up and down. Caro flushed. She knew he’d find nothing impressive in her serviceable bonnet and wrap. She must look like a servant to him. Still she was not prepared for his sneering comment.
“Go back from wherever you came from, girl. I don’t need your kind coming in and exciting the bunch of louts in here. If you value your safety, just go. I’ll not try to protect you if you come any farther.”
Dismayed, Caro stood silent. What would she do if he refused her shelter? Go sleep in the carriage and perhaps freeze to death?
A deep voice sounded from a gentleman who’d turned at the foot of the stairs.
“But I will protect her, landlord. She’s a friend of my sister’s. I’d be obliged if you treat her as the lady she is.”
She could not imagine how she’d missed him, even though he’d been in the shadows. He was so very big. Tall, with broad shoulders that his five-caped greatcoat emphasized. It hung unbuttoned and she could see a coat of deep red and a glimpse of a silvery vest. He was holding a beaver hat in one hand and she guessed there were many doors he’d have trouble clearing if he wore it. Probably quite a few even bareheaded. His hair was dark, worn on the long side, and looked wonderfully thick and soft. Clear-cut features and penetrating eyes, though it was too dark to see the color.
Just as she was about to disclaim any acquaintance she realized he was trying to help. For her benefit or his? This was a member of the aristocracy, she had no doubt, so surely she’d be of no interest to him. As handsome and rich as he was, he had only to cock an eyebrow to have any girl he wanted.
But then she was available and probably a place like this had few barmaids. At least not clean ones. She hesitated, unsure what to do. If she didn’t let him help her, who would?
He suddenly moved and took her arm. Turning to the innkeeper, he spoke in an aristocratic tone.
“Please have a room prepared immediately. I will see her safely to it while you ready a tray for her dinner to be served in her room.”
The innkeeper was practically wringing his hands.
“My lord, we only have two bedrooms. You have one and a young man on the way back to Oxford has the other. Even he gives up his room, this lady’s coachman will have to keep going. The stable is full.”
The gentleman’s voice grew even icier. “She will have to stay here until the storm lets up. You inform the coachman he must continue to wherever he can find room. I’ll take care of the young gentleman. Where is he now?”
“In the bar, sir. He’s just a young sprig but I think he has some rank in the world.”
“Miss Manchester can wait in my room while I deal with the fellow. In the meantime, set his baggage in the hall. Miss Manchester will be in the room waiting for her meal. Do
not keep her waiting overlong.”
Without another word he took her elbow in a tight grip and guided her to the stairs and up to the next floor. A frisson shook her when he touched her arm and she raised startled eyes to his stern profile. He made no sign of noticing her reaction and, blushing, she went with him. If not meekly, still with brain whirling as she considered what to do.
What choice did she have?
At least if he ravished her it would be better than one of the drunken oafs downstairs. She had no illusions the innkeeper would lift an eyebrow to save her. Rape would be marginally better than freezing inside the coach.
At least she thought it would be.
She shivered from head to toe as her companion halted before a door. She was so very tired. So many worries had worn her down. She could see nothing but a dreary life ahead. She had no hope left and she’d not slept soundly for weeks.
All she wanted to do was sleep.
Maybe she could even sleep through being ravished if he was not too rough.
Alarmed at his unexpected companion’s pallor, Sebastian pulled her inside the room he’d secured for himself and pushed her onto a straight chair. Not that there was anything more comfortable in the room. Well, there was one shabby armchair but it would swallow her, slight as she was. She was exhausted. No way could she go on to an uncertain destination.
“Stay there. This is my room but I want to check the other one. If it’s smaller I’ll move my things next door.”
He paused, searching her expression and recognizing the fear she was trying to suppress, let out a mild oath and kneeled before her.
“See here, miss whatever you real name is, I’m not about to defile you. That’s what I’m trying to save you from.”
Her pallor had quite frightened him. He pushed her head to her knees and held her there until she started to struggle. He kept her bent over until she suddenly kicked out at him, catching him hard on one shin.
“You little spitfire! Behave.”
He let her free, smiling a little at his aching shin. He need not worry about her having enough spirit to see this miserable night through.
“Now don’t move or I’ll not be responsible for your safety. I’m going to deal with the young gentleman who has the room next door. I promise you, if you try to leave this room you’ll be one sorry young lady. If those louts below don’t punish you, I will.”
He strode to the door and then turned back.
“Lock the door behind me.”
He left, although part of his senses stayed back in the room.
Those gorgeous eyes. Widened no doubt by fright but of an unusual blue-purple and framed by luxurious lashes. Her eyes alone would cause any male not in his grave to want to grab her to him. It was a glimpse of those eyes that had induced his uncharacteristic gallantry.
A gallantry he hoped he didn’t regret. He’d see she had a place to sleep and then tomorrow they’d each go their own way, so he need have no qualms about repercussions.
She was merely a female in need of protection. What kind of female he didn’t yet know, nor would he. It was a damn nuisance to be caught in this travesty of an inn. All because he’d developed a migraine and grabbed the first chance he’d seen to rest his pounding head. He regretted he’d insisted on driving his curricle from London to his manor in the Cotswolds. The curricle was not the best of carriages in a snowstorm.
Definitely not the wisest decision he’d ever made. At least he’d sent his valet off with Trujax and Suleiman to find a better stabling for his horses and hopefully for Bates. He’d been up all night the night before and thought he’d take what rest his migraine would allow. He grinned at the thought of the pretty brunette who’d kept him up, and smiled at the double meaning.
He hadn’t made good decisions lately.
Or had he? What had happened to his migraine?
* * * * *
As he’d expected, the young sprig of nobility who’d rented the second bedroom was only too glad to make a sizeable profit on giving up his room. Sebastian fixed his stare on him even as he handed over the amount they’d agreed on.
“If I find you wagering this with these oafs, I’ll feel obligated to rescue you. I won’t be gentle with you if it comes to that. I’d advise you to get your things and go find a quiet spot to sleep. I’ll be most upset do you not.”
Evidently Sebastian’s bearing and impeccable appearance impressed the young man more than his glower, as he looked at Sebastian with almost hero worship.
“I say. You’re a cool one, aren’t you? Whom do I have the honor of addressing?”
Sebastian snorted with a grin that would have alerted any of his acquaintances. Sebastian did not often reach the end of his fabled aplomb but when he did everyone in the vicinity scattered.
“I’m Trantern, the Earl of Stanford. I do not care to know your name. You’re an idiotic nodcock if you do anything but try to grab some sleep and get out of this damnable excuse for an inn. Now go to the stables where the hay will keep you halfway warm. I do not expect to see you come morning.”
The young man nodded, his eyes filled with admiration as he watched Sebastian stride away. Lord above, he’d never seen such well-fitting clothes. Was it Weston or had Stanford found a different tailor? Was it significant he wore only one ring, and that one not jeweled but his signet? Perhaps he should cut down on his own jewelry a little.
What a lucky happenstance to actually meet the renowned lord. Tales of his amorous exploits could easily be believed when one looked at that magnificent physique. With a happy sigh, he grabbed the blankets the lord had handed him and made his blissful way to the stables. What a tale he’d have to tell when he got back to Oxford.
How his mates would envy him.
Stanford, by god.
Sebastian made his weary way back to the second floor. The little mouse was sitting exactly where he’d left her. Prepared to blast her for not locking the door, he instead found himself looking almost fondly at her still straight spine, although her head was against the chair back and she was sound asleep.
Blast it to hell, she must have been more than exhausted to sleep in such a position. Her horrible hat had fallen from her head and lay on the floor. Mesmerized, he stared at her golden tresses, bound tightly and pinned into a knot at the top of her head. Dear lord above, he’d never seen such a glorious color. There must a good deal of it, according to the size of the bun. He’d already seen her splendid eyes.
Feeling his penis stiffen and expand, he stopped himself from stroking that tempting hair. This was ridiculous. He didn’t even know her name. One thing he did know, she was no lightskirt he could spend the night with and then pay off and leave. Her face had a purity he could not mistake.
With a sigh, he turned down the covers of the bed, picked her up and placed her on it. Her eyes fluttered open but he pulled the blankets up around her. He kissed her forehead lightly and saw her plunge deep into slumber again. He took the key and left, locking her in.
He’d hear her soon enough when she woke and panicked at being imprisoned. He couldn’t take a chance some oaf might try the door and be delighted he could attack the new young lady. With a smile, he went to his own room, stripped off his boots and outer garments and climbed into the pitifully short bed. Not nearly long enough for his large frame but he’d slept in worse during the war. The war, where his father had assured he’d been nothing but a courier. He’d managed to get in a little fighting but not as much as he’d wished. With a wondering thought as to how the Iron Duke was faring after Waterloo, he drowsed a little. Wellington had been dreadfully sorrowed by the heavy losses of his men, to the point of worrying all his friends.
As one whose own life had also changed with that epic battle, he knew well how the duke felt. They both had been obliged to go home to duties they hated. If his father ever allowed him any real authority in running the estates he might feel differently.
Suppressing his unwelcome thoughts, he determined to go to sleep. Unfor
tunately, his brain didn’t cooperate. It was quite a while before his restless mind let him relax. Thoughts of war and wondering about the girl next door alternated, as he silently cursed the double-damned tavern.
* * * * *
Sebastian wakened with a smile when he heard the clamor he’d expected. A very imperious voice came from next door.
“Somebody let me out of here before I shout the very roof off this disreputable inn.”
He leisurely yawned, grinned, got to his feet and wrapped his robe around him. Going to the hall, he quietly unlocked the door and let loose a termagant spitting insults.
“You…you beast. You claim you’ll protect me and then lock me in my room. Doubtless you meant to let yourself in whenever it pleased you.”
Sebastian was taken back not by her flailing fists, which he barely felt on his muscled chest, but by the beauty of an enraged female with flashing violet eyes and blonde hair loosened by sleep and trailing down her back and breasts. Good god, it flowed to her waist. Even in her ridiculous and shabby gown her figure was enough to rouse a statue into admiration. Not to mention the loveliness of a face now animated, flushed and so kissable he actually started to lower his head.
Good god, what was he doing? She was right, he’d said he’d protect her. Suddenly that seemed like a promise he might well regret.
Trying not to stare at the heaving of her rounded breasts, he assumed as bored a tone as he could manage.
“I did not want to waken you after you tried the bed and fell soundly asleep. Locking you in was the only way to protect you without staying in the room all night with you. Perhaps you would have preferred that?”
As she quieted, her large eyes fixed on him made him take a step forward. Good god, how had this girl hidden her beauty so successfully? He could lay her on the bed and take her in an instant, if he’d not recognized what he’d suspected since his first look at her cloak-draped figure. She was a lady, come upon hard times, but born and raised a lady.
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