Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

  Giles sat beside her, and she shuffled over a little. "No you did not. You would have kissed me back, married me instead of offering to Lady Rackliffe. You may have missed our friendship, but you were merely missing a woman you saw more like your sister than anything of a deeper, emotional level."

  "I never saw you as a sister, and I do want you. It may have taken me ten years to say the words, but I'm saying them now."

  "You need to halt your silly declaration." Sarah went to stand, and he pulled her back down on the window seat beside him.

  "It's not trivial, it's true. Our kiss last evening was proof of how much I want you, surely you felt what can be between us. Give me a chance."

  Sarah swallowed, her heart and mind a firestorm of debate. Of course, she felt what they could have, from the tips of her ears to the ends of her toes she'd felt the fire that had coursed through her blood at his touch. If she gave him a chance to court her, what did that mean? Would it lead anywhere? She had thought him truthful and honorable during her first Season, and how wrong she had been then. There was just as much chance now that he was fooling her yet again, playing her like the instruments that sat about them.

  Even so, the flash of determination in his eyes gave her pause. Perhaps Giles was sincere, and this Christmas, she may get what her heart truly longed for.

  Was she brave enough to risk her heart a second time? "Very well," she said, pulling her hand free from his. "I will give you a chance to prove you are sincere, Lord Gordan, but mark my words, this is your final time. I will not be gifting another."

  His wicked smile somersaulted butterflies in her stomach, and she had a moment of panic at what she'd unleashed. "I will not need any more chances, Sarah. I will not make the same mistake twice."

  Chapter 5

  The following day Sarah's attention was fixated on Giles as he spoke with her sister-in-law, Molly before the hearth in the front parlor. The snow had continued to fall, forcing Molly, as the hostess, to come up with varied and fun ways to pass the time inside.

  They played card games, billiards, charades, and danced. Even so, how Giles would woo her to his favor was something Sarah was looking forward to.

  No matter what she had said to his face, she had missed her old friend, and the fun they used to have. She looked forward to seeing this other side that only the privileged few managed to observe—his seductive, courting side.

  Whatever would he do to convince her his heart was hers to steer?

  "You're grinning like a fool. What are you up to, Sarah?"

  She started at the sound of her brother's voice, jumping back a little to stop spilling her mulled wine on her light-green gown. "Nothing at all. Why would I be up to anything?"

  "Because you are, and I know it."

  Sarah chuckled, not wanting anyone, least of all her brother, to know that she was getting reacquainted with Giles. The last thing she needed was to become the latest tidbit of gossip for London’s ton. They had used their family enough for that.

  "It is Christmas, Hugh. Everyone is more jovial at this time of year," she said, leaning up and kissing his cheek. How different it was to last year's Christmas where she had spent it alone here at the Abbey. Henry having decided to stay in town instead of returning home. He should have come home, had he done so he may not have died only a few weeks into the new year.

  Her Christmas luncheon had been a sad affair, with only herself at the table, the memory of chewing her food while tears streamed down her face was not one recollection she wished to keep.

  "Sarah?" Hugh said, taking her hand and pulling her close. "What happened to your smile?"

  She rallied, squeezing his hand, and smiling for good effect. Her isolation was not Hugh's fault, and he did not need the guilt plaguing him over her sad life up to the point of his return.

  He was here now, she was happy, and as much as she did not wish to be bombarded with Londoners for the Christmas season, she was glad the house was at least full, with lots of laughter and fun. No worries of the guests behaving inappropriately or trying to persuade her to a rendezvous.

  Of course, except for Giles, but a stolen kiss or two between two people who were courting wasn't so very bad.

  "All is well, brother. I'm just so very happy you're home. I have missed you at this time of year."

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I missed you too. Promise me we shall never spend another Christmas apart."

  "I can promise you that," she said, smiling. Her brother was called to another group of guests, and Sarah let him go. This afternoon Molly had organized a snowman competition, if the snow stopped falling that was. Sarah was looking forward to winning and going outside. They had spent too many days indoors as it was.

  A tinkling sounded, and Sarah turned to see Molly calling everyone's attention with a small, golden bell.

  "The snow has eased, and so I think that if we're to have this snowman building competition, we should do so now. So please, everyone, go and change into your warmest coats and boots and meet me and His Grace on the terrace where we shall notify you of your teammate."

  Sarah did as she was bade, and within the hour, everyone assembled before the terrace doors. Over her green morning gown she had thrown on a fur jacket and scarf, and kid-leather gloves. Sturdy leather boots and a hat finished off her outfit.

  "There will be a prize, of course," Molly continued. "Ten pounds and the honor of opening the Christmas ball with a waltz with a partner of your choice. As to whom you will be building your snowman with, the following guests, please team up."

  Sarah listened as Molly named the guests. Those who were married were kept together while those unattached were paired.

  "Lady Sarah Farley and Lord Gordan, please pair up."

  Sarah shivered at the thought of being near him again and turned to seek him out. A hand slid across her back and down her arm. His fingers clasped hers, placing her hand on his arm.

  She shot him a glance, having not known he was so near.

  "Your muff is most complimentary."

  Heat suffused her cheeks, and she stared at him, nonplussed. "From the tone of your voice, I cannot help but think you're saying something inappropriate, my lord."

  His wicked grin undid her stoic sensibilities and proved her point. "That's because I am being immodest."

  Sarah shook her head, turned back to her sister-in-law, and listened to the other guests still being paired. At the announcement that Lady Rackliffe was matched with the eligible earl, Lord Ambrose, Sarah took in her reaction. The earl had entered society the same year as them. He was a handsome gentleman and kind, and his pleasure at being paired with Lady Rackliffe was obvious.

  Her displeasure, too, was most evident.

  "We only have a limited time, a half hour at most before we need to return indoors, so I wish you well and good luck on your snowmen."

  Two footmen opened the terrace doors and let the guests file outside. Sarah waited for the rush to subside before stepping outdoors. Chilly air made her catch her breath, and she pulled her scarf higher about her neck to stop the chill. Giles was beside her, his long greatcoat and highly polished riding boots made him appear taller than normal, wider across the shoulders and altogether too handsome in his beaver hat and leather gloves.

  Sarah rallied her thoughts away from his handsome self and concentrated on the task at hand. "We must win this," she said, piling snow together into a ball. "I will not lose this competition, especially at my own home."

  "And I shall not let you lose, Lady Sarah."

  They worked together, piling snow up and up, rounding off the snowman's belly before moving on to his head. Some of the guests had already finished, their smaller men in no way grand enough to win, while others seemed too keen to rush and not compact the snow well enough, leaving it to crumble when the head was positioned.

  Not theirs, however. Their snowman was strong, almost half Sarah's height and better than anyone else's she was sure.

  "You will have to mak
e yours bigger, Lady Sarah, if you wish to beat me," Lady Rackliffe shouted, laughing at her own words.

  Sarah growled at the sight of her ladyship's tall snowman, compact and just as good as theirs. "Go and fetch some sticks for his arms and nose. I'll collect the stones for his eyes and mouth."

  Giles nodded, running off to do her bidding. For a moment, she lost herself watching him trudge through the snow. Was the man destined to look perfect in any life situation he found himself? He was taller than most men she knew, and always, in her opinion, the most handsome. The thought that he wanted her above anyone else left her breathless, her heart pounding like it had the night she kissed him. With his golden locks, and devilish, wicked mouth he'd intoxicated her from the moment she'd first set eyes on him at the susceptible age of fourteen.

  A snowball flew past, and the resulting scream when the snowball found its mark reminded her of her task. She ran over to a nearby garden, searched as best she could under the dormant rose bushes for small rocks. Finding only a few small pebbles, she ran back to the snowman, placing them on his mouth and face. Molly called out that they only had ten minutes left, and Sarah took stock of the other entrants they were up against.

  Lord Ambrose took off his scarf and wrapped it about the snowman, and Sarah frowned. They would have to do something similar if they wanted to win. Giles returned with his sticks, thin ones that suited the arms and nose well.

  Sarah stepped up next to Giles and slid the scarf from his neck. A lazy, tempting smile tweaked his lips as he stood there, allowing her to de-clothe him. Her skin prickled in awareness before she rose on her toes and, holding his shoulders for support, slipped his hat off as well.

  "You're awfully close, my lady. Are you trying to tempt me out here in the freezing air? Because it's warming my blood to no end."

  Unable not to, she chuckled, shaking her head at his words. It wasn’t any wonder women fell at this rogue’s feet. He was amusing and wicked and reminded her of the fun-loving young man who had enchanted her all those years ago.

  "If you kissed me out here before everyone, you would have to marry me."

  He wiggled his brows, and she smiled. "Is that so very bad? I could think of worse fates."

  Lady Rackliffe caught her attention by taking the jacket off Lord Ambrose as well, telling him without question that it must be so for them to win.

  Giles heard her ladyship's words and cringed. "Please tell me I'm not going to have to part with my coat as well, my lady. I do believe winning at that cost is too high."

  He turned back, and she sighed, agreeing with his lordship even though she would have taken his jacket should he have offered.

  "Very well, I will not disrobe you entirely."

  Giles watched her for a moment, his eyes full of mirth. He was so very good-looking. How fortunate he was to be blessed with such angelic features that left a woman's heart to flutter.

  Molly called time, and her sister-in-law and brother walked about the group of snowmen before declaring Lady Rackliffe the winner.

  Her ladyship jumped in glee, clapping her hands and laughing at the announcement before coming over to Sarah and Giles. Sarah took in the sway of her ladyship’s hips, her overly bright smile, and knew it for what it was. She was determined to make Lord Gordan hers once more. The heavy-lidded gaze that promised whatever Giles wanted was clear for all to see.

  "Lord Gordan, I must ask if you would be willing to open the Christmas ball with me. It has been so very long since we waltzed together. Too long," she whispered for only Giles to hear. Sarah heard her words too, the idea of anyone in Giles's arms but herself making her temper soar.

  Giles looked about those who strolled past, heading back indoors before meeting Sarah's eyes. He stuttered his answer, and Sarah took pity on him. "I'm sure Lord Gordan would be honored, my lady. Shall we return inside? It is starting to get quite brisk outdoors."

  Sarah turned without seeing if they followed, but she could hear the crunch of their shoes in the snow that told her they did. Sarah ground her teeth, having wanted to dance the waltz with Giles herself.

  She continued through the drawing room, determined to find their butler, who would be acting as the major-domo for the ball. This year, the St. Albans Christmas ball would have two waltzes, not one.

  Chapter 6

  Giles escaped the house party later that afternoon. He stepped out the servant's back door, pulling his greatcoat closed, the brisk, afternoon air as cold as an arctic blast. He started toward the stables with quickened steps, noting the stable doors were closed. He let himself inside via a smaller side door, grateful to be out of the inclement weather.

  The air inside the stables was a lot warmer, the building so well made that not a cold draft or freezing drop of rain penetrated the space.

  A cooing and light, feminine chatter caught his attention, and frowning, he moved forward along the stalls, looking into each one to see who was there. Warmth speared through his blood at the sight of Sarah brushing her mount, her hands running along the flank of the sixteen-hand chestnut after each stroke of her brush.

  The sight of her hands stroking the animal's flesh should not tempt him, but it did. From the moment she'd kissed him in London all those years ago, he'd thought of little else. Every woman he'd ever bedded, flirted with at entertainments, sated his lust with, all bore a striking resemblance to Sarah, and he knew the reason why.

  He'd wanted her above everyone else from the moment their lips had touched.

  His father, a proud and strict gentleman, would not allow his courtship of her due to her being Lord Hugh Farley's sibling. He'd been told in terms that brooked little argument that Lady Sarah was not suitable for the Gordan family, no matter her rank, and for him to look elsewhere unless he wanted to live life penniless.

  He should have called his father's bluff, tested him on his words, and offered to Sarah anyway. He may have become poor as a result, but there was one thing his father could not take from him, and that was the title he would eventually inherit. Sarah herself was not without funds. They would have survived. A foolish mistake and one he would regret always.

  Giles leaned over the stable door, content to watch her coo to her horse and enjoy her solitary time away. He wished he'd stood up to his father and told him that the rumors against Hugh were unfounded and possibly untrue, which they were proven to be in the end. That Lady Sarah was innocent of any slight.

  That his sire had persuaded him to offer to Edith, now Lady Rackliffe, and he had, was an action that even he would find hard to excuse.

  When Sarah had kissed him, but a day after his betrothal, he'd been so livid, not at Sarah, but himself for choosing the wrong woman. He'd lashed out, punished Sarah with words that had been untrue. Hurt the one woman he had wanted simply because he could not change the error of his ways.

  He did not deserve her now, not after making her wait all this time, but he could not leave her be. A fire burned in his soul, and it was only Sarah who could extinguish it.

  He wanted her.

  Giles cleared his throat. "We missed you after luncheon. I did not know that you were hiding out here in the stables, or I would have joined you sooner."

  Sarah walked about the back of her horse, pushing the mare across a little so she could brush the opposite side. "You should know that I often escape out here. The staff has been allowed the day to join their families for the festive season, and so I'm checking on the horses instead. They'll be back later this evening, but I needed to brush Opie in any case."

  Giles watched her work the brush over the horse’s back, the mare calm, her head lowered and her eyes barely open. "You're putting your horse to sleep."

  Sarah chuckled, and the sound did odd things to him. He wanted to hear her laugh, her jovial voice, for the rest of his life. If he could persuade her to love him as he hoped she once had, their lives could be perfect.

  "She relishes a good brush." Sarah slipped under the horse's neck, coming to stand before him. "What are you
doing out here, my lord? I thought you would be too busy with Lady Rackliffe following you about every minute of every day to escape to the stables."

  Was that jealousy he heard in her tone? He narrowed his eyes, shrugging. "Lady Rackliffe is happily situated indoors. I wanted to find you."

  Sarah reached over the wooden door, sliding the lock across to let herself out. "Her ladyship will be most unhappy to have lost the company of her preferred."

  "I'm not her preferred."

  She laughed again. This time, he did not miss her mocking tone. "Oh, yes, you are. She's quite determined to secure you. However will you evade her charms? From what I remember, you were quite taken with them once before."

  Giles helped her shut the stable door before bolting it closed. "That was a long time ago. She's not whom I want."

  A light blush stole across her cheeks before she stepped around him, evading his eyes and his company. Giles followed her to the back of the stables to where a large pile of hay was stacked and strewn over the floor.

  She turned, lifting her chin and once again was a duke's daughter, proud and confident. "What are you doing out in the stables, my lord? Are you going to help me give the horses some feed, or did you come out to go for a ride? I do not want to hold you up in any way."

  He had intended going for a ride, but the idea was no longer so tempting. Not with Sarah keeping him company. "I will help, most gladly." Giles helped her load biscuits of hay for each horse, check their water and stalls for any steaming piles. After filling the last of the horse's water, he turned to find Sarah sitting on the hay, watching him, her eyes bright with amusement.

  "You're laughing at me, why is that?" he asked, washing his hands in a small bowl, before striding over to her.