My Yuletide Earl: A Wallflower’s Christmas Wish

by Andresen, Tammy

  Which was odd. He normally waited for females to come to him, he didn’t go chasing after them, considering the way they’d taste. It must be his absolute boredom in that tiny little village. He and his friends had been on their way to a debaucherous house party when this snowstorm had halted their progress. Now, they appeared stuck for some measure of time. He raised his glass to his lips, taking another deep swallow. He had nothing better to do.

  He generally avoided such hamlets of wholesomeness. They reminded him of his past and the life he’d left behind when he’d become the earl. The life he’d gone through great pains to avoid again.

  Precisely why he should stay away from the likes of Lady Holly. She was an unmarried woman of the peerage, and the sort he never touched. Not anymore.

  He grimaced, raising his glass to his lips again, even as his stomach rumbled. But he never took a swallow. Crossing the square yet again in her same red wool dress was none other than Lady Holly. She picked her way through the snow and then disappeared into the baker’s shop. Likely, she was replacing the loaf of bread with which she’d assaulted him.

  Damn, that had actually been fun. He’d always liked a strong woman. If he went out now, would she abuse him with more baked goods? He grinned at the idea, standing from the table. He swayed a bit on his feet. Two pints would do that to a man who was hung over and his stomach was empty.

  With nothing better to do and truly curious, he made his way outside, stationing himself at the corner of the baker’s shop. Peeking in the window, he watched her reach into her change purse and pull out several coins. She held a small cloth that she’d clearly used to wrap several cookies and he watched her leave the shop.

  Stopping just outside, she pulled off one of her gloves and unwrapped the cloth to pick up one of the small cookies in the bundle. He watched, unable to look away, as delicate fingers raised the cookie to that plump mouth, her lips wrapping about the little dessert as her eyes fluttered closed.

  She chewed slowly, savoring every bite and then, heaven help him, her tongue darted out and swept across her lips to capture any invisible crumbs. She still had half a tiny cookie in her hand but, with a frown, she began to wrap the confection back up.

  It surely was the ale, but he pushed off the wall and started for her. “Stop,” he said before he could think the word through.

  Her green gaze flew to his, her eyes growing wide. “You.”

  “Me,” he answered, stepping up next to her.

  “I thought we agreed never to see one another again.” Her chin lifted as she looked him in the eye, her green gaze lighting with a challenge.

  He shrugged. “I don’t think so. You said you didn’t want to see me ever again. I find I quite enjoy looking at you.”

  He watched the color bloom in her face, varying shades of pink and red. “You’re dreadful. You know that?”

  “I’ve been told,” he answered, and gently placed a hand under her elbow, guiding her away from the shop and over to a bench that could barely be seen in the snow. “Still. I have a question for you and I simply won’t be able to sleep tonight if you don’t answer it.”

  She narrowed her gaze, studying him before she finally asked. “What is it?”

  “Why…” They’d reached a lovely cluster of pine trees, their branches covered in snow and he stopped. Parting the branches, he pulled her in between the trees. The evergreens created a private little hideaway, obscuring the square and giving them some small amount of privacy. “Did you only eat half of your cookie?”

  Her eyes widened as her mouth formed a little O. Then she pressed her lips together again. “That’s none of your concern.”

  Checking to make certain no one was watching, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You aren’t afraid of growing too soft, are you?” Women did not like the word fat and even after drinks, he had the sense not to use it.

  She drew in a sharp breath. “That is none of your—”

  But he didn’t let her finish. “Because I want you to know that I got a feel for your delightful curves and I don’t think it’s possible for you to eat too many cookies. In fact, I want to see you eat that cookie right now.”

  Her face had gone from red to pale as she stared up at him. “Are you drunk?”

  He flicked his gaze toward the sky, considering her words. “Most probably.” Then he looked down at her again. “You’re an innocent lady. How do you know about drunks?”

  “My father is an earl and drunk most of the time,” she answered. “And I’ve found the best medicine for him is to sleep it off, which is what you should do, my lord. I should not be here.”

  She was undoubtedly right. And bossy. But somehow, it had become terribly important to him that she know she was the sort of woman who should eat lots of cookies. “What kind is it?”

  “I’m sorry?” she shifted, her eyebrows scrunching together.

  In response, he pulled off a glove with one quick jerk and slipped open the little cloth she held in her other hand. There at the top was a small, lightly browned cookie smelling of sweet vanilla. “Shortbread.”

  Then he lifted the partial cookie from her hand and brought the confection to her lips. At first, she did nothing but then slowly, ever so cautiously, she opened her mouth and he placed the rest of her cookie between her teeth. The pale pink of her lips so enticing as they touched his fingertips. His insides rumbled with desire at the touch.

  Chapter Three

  Holly gasped in a breath, as his bare fingertips touched her lips. They were warm and strong, the touch stealing her breath. Why was she allowing him to do this? One silly thought about gaining experience had spiraled out of control.

  But as his fingertip traced the curve of her bottom lip, an ache throbbed between her thighs. The cookie was melting on her tongue, warm and sweet, its subtle hints of vanilla deliciously simple.

  With his other hand, he traced the curve of her spine, his mouth dropping close to her ear. Holly grabbed his forearm, meaning to push him away, but as his light touch sent shock waves through her, she found herself gripping him tightly to remain steady. “You’re dreadful,” she whispered, attempting to stop the blood pounding in her ears. So much for utilizing the devil. He was manipulating her like a puppet.

  He breathed out, his warm breath moving the tiniest hairs on her neck and sending a shiver down her back. “Absolutely awful,” he said in reply. Suddenly, his hand flicked open the part in her cloak and settled on her waist. “So small,” he murmured. “You should eat another cookie.”

  Holly let out a small harrumph, though the words were actually quite pleasing. “I’ll have you know that I have no problem eating cookies. No matter how many I consume I don’t seem to change measurements.” The muscles under her fingers flexed and her body tingled with awareness. “I only saved the cookie because I like to eat them throughout the day, savor them in little moments…” She stopped, worried she was somehow revealing too much. The more he knew her, the more power he seemed to have over her.

  He made a guttural noise deep in his throat and she had to clamp her lips closed to keep from groaning in response. Why was that deep male sound so exciting? His breath tickled her ear. “You like to draw out your pleasure,” he said, his teeth clenched.

  Holly gave the tiniest nod. “It’s always better that way.” No wonder people gave into sin. This…this was like music or a dance, drawing her in so that she couldn’t stop no matter how much she thought she should.

  He leaned back sending disappointment humming through her thoughts but rather than pull away, he reached for her still ungloved hand, his own bare fingers brushing hers. “Can I try one of these shortbread cookies?”

  She nodded, assuming he would take one for himself. He looked down at her, and she stared back, nearly hypnotized. But his hand didn’t move from hers. Instead, he guided her fingers over the cookie. She found herself pinching one between her thumb and forefinger as he raised her hand and brought it to his lips.

  She stopped breath
ing as her fingertips touched his mouth, but that ache between her thighs pulsed in the naughtiest way. He took the cookie into his mouth but didn’t stop there. As he chewed, he sucked her finger in as well, the velvety texture of his tongue pressing against the sensitive pad. Dear merciful saints, she was in so much trouble. She should have told him to leave her be from the first, but somehow, he’d captured her with his words about cookies, and his praise, and the feel of his strong hand on her elbow.

  “Delicious,” he said, finally releasing her finger. “Tell me. If I kissed you right now, would you taste so sweet?”

  Holly blinked as he laced his fingers through hers, the cold air making her now wet fingertip tingle. “I don’t know. I’ve never kissed myself before.”

  He leaned closer, his nose touching hers. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

  She swallowed. Her mouth opened to answer and then she closed it again. Did she tell him the truth or lie? What she should do is run but her feet were positively planted to the ground. The snow had become a paste, rooting her to the spot. “I have not.”

  “Oh, that is wonderful,” he murmured so low that she’d wondered if he’d actually said the words. “I never before considered what it would be like to touch someone who had never been touched by another. It’s like new snow when you get to put the very first footprints through the untouched surface. So satisfying.”

  He was leaning closer, his mouth drawing near to hers. Her chest was fluttering up and down as her body ached to know what he might feel like. “You like walking through virgin snow?”

  “Indeed,” he answered, his lips so close she could feel the vibration of the single word. But through the sweet vanilla of the cookie she caught the stale scent of ale. This wasn’t him. This morning he’d been surly and rude. This man was altered by alcohol, she reminded herself, and men did all sorts of awful things that they likely wouldn’t remember or even if they did remember, they’d regret.

  She pulled back, turning her face away. “I make all my decisions with a clear head. It ensures that I don’t regret them later.”

  He let out a sound of dissent. “Fair enough,” he answered but he didn’t let her go.

  She tugged, trying to remove herself from his grasp. “I told you earlier that I thought you were the devil. I don’t intend to allow such a man to coerce me into a terrible decision.”

  His hand tightened on her back and then suddenly, he let her go. “Kissing me isn’t a terrible decision, my sweet. In fact, it would be a most excellent education for you, but I’m going to allow you to slip through my fingers this time.” Then he reached up and touched her face. “Do you want to know why?”

  She shook her head, attempting to say no. The more time she was with this man, the more difficult he was to resist.

  But he gave her a devilish smile, his thumb sweeping across her cheek. “Because I also like to delay my pleasure.” Then he turned and left her standing in the grove of pines.

  * * *

  What the bloody hell was wrong with him?

  Jack stomped back to the inn, intent upon drinking himself into oblivion. She was an earl’s daughter and an innocent. And him? He’d just launched a full-scale seduction.

  He stopped outside the door of the inn. Well, it hadn’t been that serious. They’d not even kissed. If he’d gone all the way, her soft curves would have been underneath him… He forced his mind to stop, letting out a groan of frustration. He’d never had such a strong response to a woman. At least not in the last five years.

  Jack had been born the first son of the second son of the Earl of Tidemore. Which made him exactly nothing. Without even so much as a courtesy title, he’d been raised on a small estate, with a small bit of land, expecting nothing more than to take it over upon his father’s death.

  While his cousin, Winston, was raised to be earl in a manner that ruthlessly instilled all the responsibility that entailed, Jack had grown up…happy. His parents had lived in a small village, not unlike this, conveniently located at the foot of the Tidemore country holdings. He’d grown-up alongside Winston, always knowing that his cousin would eventually take over the earldom.

  That was until a plague had ravaged their small hamlet. When it finally loosened its grip, he’d lost his mother, father, uncle, and cousin all in one chop of an axe. Thrust into a role he’d never imagined, and grieving with his whole heart, he’d attempted to take up the reins.

  He shook his head, trying to loosen the grip of these thoughts. As a younger child, he’d considered Winston the lucky one, he’d never considered the weight of the burden his cousin had carried. Until that burden had landed directly on Jack’s shoulders. And the very first lesson had been dealt by a girl so much like Holly that if made his teeth ache, just thinking about it.

  He yanked open the door and stepped into the warmth of the inn, crossing the room to stand in front of the fire roaring in the hearth. Another good reason he should stay away from Holly. He knew how this story ended.

  The innkeeper walked by and Jack raised his hand. “I’ll take another pint.”

  The man gave a nod. “Of course, my lord. Have a seat and I’ll be right out.”

  He stared at the table, impatient with the idea of sitting down and getting comfortable. He wanted to chase after Holly again. He wanted to leave this place and never come back. Perhaps he should find a nice widow and work out whatever had crawled under his skin.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  He looked up to see his friend, Nick, the Marquess of Merriweather, had joined him at the fire. “What do you mean?”

  Nick quirked one side of his mouth. “You look like you just drank sour milk.”

  Jack studied his friend. Nick’s hair was disheveled as though he’d run his fingers through it several times, his shirt wrinkled, his face drawn into deeper lines than normal. “Me? You look like you’ve been dragged behind horses.”

  Nick let out a small laugh. “You look like you’ve been tied in a sack and tossed in the lake.”

  Drowning? That was a rather apt description of how he felt right at this moment. “Do you want to sit? The innkeeper’s bringing more ale.”

  Nick gave a stiff nod. “I could use a bit of food too. When was the last time we ate?”

  Jack shrugged. It was a damned good question and maybe, with a little more food and a little less alcohol, he could sift through why he’d just attempted to kiss a perfectly innocent female. “Have you ever known me to chase a woman?”

  Nick slid into a chair and stretched out his legs. “Never. You always sit back and wait for one to start fluttering about you.”

  “Exactly,” he grunted, scrubbing his face.

  Nick leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Is there a particular reason you don’t?”

  Jack stared across the room into the fire. “I chased a woman once. Fancied myself in love. It didn’t work out.”

  Nick didn’t respond and several seconds passed. “I understand that. More than I can say.”

  Jack’s head snapped up as he stared at his friend. Did he understand? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask. But then he might have to share as well, and sharing feelings was another thing that Jack never did. So instead, he sat back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. “That’s why it’s so much better to live your life alone. No commitments, no ties. Just you and your fancies.”

  The inn keeper returned, placing two pints in front of them.

  “And ale,” Nick added with a grin. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  Jack stared at his glass, not sure he wanted to drink it. Somehow, the idea of only him, only ale, seemed hollow and empty.

  “Breakfast will be right out, my lords,” the innkeeper said over his shoulder as he hustled back to the kitchen at the same time a taller, slender version of the woman who’d tormented him all morning appeared in the doorway. She was pretty enough and yet she only served to remind him that he preferred his women soft and their hair curly
. The two chits no doubt were related. Cousins—perhaps even sisters.

  “I’ve brought the pie my aunt promised.” With her gaze fixed on Nick, Jack felt as though he might as well be invisible when he glanced between the two of them.

  She practically tiptoed into the room before placing the cloth-covered dish onto the nearest table. “Lord Blitzencreek was at our home, but I’m sure you know that by now.”

  “Blitzencreek?” Nick frowned.

  “Your friend,” She answered, confusing Jack further.

  Nick stilled but then nodded. “Ah, yes. He’s found his way back to us.”

  The young woman fluttered her hands for a moment and then stared down at the floor. “Good day, then.” With one last look at Nick, she departed as quickly as she’d arrived.

  Nick’s gaze followed her out of the inn. He stared at the door long after she’d gone. Finally, his gaze returned to Jack’s. “You’ll have to eat without me.” Nick pushed to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  What the hell? Jack shook his head, but then left alone, eyed the pie. Not vanilla cakes, but one didn’t get everything they wanted.

  But one did usually get what one needed, and right now he needed food.

  Perhaps hunger was making his thoughts edgy and restless. A full stomach and a nice beer and he’d be all sorted out. But his mouth settled into a frown. What should he do next if he wasn’t?

  Chapter Four

  Holly stepped into the house, pressing her back to the door. What had she just done? What had she allowed him to do?

  The Earl of Tidemore was a plague upon all of womankind. Her fingers pressed to her cheeks. That did not explain why she’d stood there and allowed him to press a cookie into her mouth. Why she’d fed him?

  Her breath caught. She’d done it because while she knew he was a rogue, he was an interesting one to be certain. And because she’d assumed she had something to learn from him.