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

by Collette Cameron

  "Oh, yes," she sighed. "You have no notion of how long I've wanted you this way."

  He inwardly cursed all the missed opportunities, the years they were not together so. He'd wanted Sarah for as long as he could remember, and from this day forward, he would not be separated from her again.

  Nothing would deny him her hand.

  "Marry me." Giles kissed his way down her chest to her stomach, paying homage to the little freckle that sat beside her naval. He went farther, running his hand down the inside of her leg before touching the wet heat between her thighs.

  He felt her start at his touch, and he looked up along her body, meeting the question in her hooded gaze.

  "Lie back. I want to show you what we can have."

  She bit her lip, sending desire straight to his cock. He pushed down his own needs, promising himself his turn would come. Soon, she would be his, and they would be one.

  Giles kissed the inside of her thigh, breathing deep the sweet, musky scent of her mons. She undulated beneath him, and he held her legs apart, wanting to see her wet, pink lips that were his to enjoy.

  He licked her swollen nubbin, and she gasped, her hands no longer pushing at his shoulders, but wrapping into his hair, holding him in place.

  A dark, hungry need tore through him. He licked along her cunny, kissing and lathing her honeyed flesh to a fever. He made sure to stroke and frustrate her nubbin, running his thumb between her lips and tantalizing her where they would soon be joined.

  She mewled, gasping with each of his tongue's strokes. His balls tightened, his cock heavy and erect, his release taunting deep in his gut.

  "Yes, Giles. Ohhh, please, more."

  He'd give her as much as she liked. He slipped one finger into her scorching heat. Her body tightened, contracted about him, and it took all of his self-control not to wrench up, placing his aching cock at her entrance and take her.

  Soon. Soon, they would be one.

  She lifted her bottom off the bed, undulating against his mouth, and he knew she was close. Without fear or shame, she rode his face, took pleasure from him, and never would his life be the same.

  He would marry the woman beneath him. From this day forward, he could not live without her. How he had survived all the years was beyond him.

  He kissed her fully, lathing her to a writhing frenzied, begging lover before he suckled on her clitoris, and she gasped, moaning as her release spiraled through her.

  An overwhelming sense of power thrummed through his veins as he milked her of her pleasure. With ragged breath, and only when he was sure she was satisfied, did he move.

  He came up over her, wrapping her legs about his hips. She watched him, her eyes pools of satiated desire and expectation. A small quirk tilted her lips. He placed himself at her entrance, meeting her eyes.

  Sarah reached up, wrapping her arms about his neck, and he thrust into her, taking her virginity, and finally, they were one.

  Lady Sarah Farley was his.

  Sarah had thought Giles taking her would hurt. How very wrong she was. After his wickedly clever mouth had brought her to such pleasure that even now she could not catch her breath, his intrusion into her body only brought more pleasure.

  With each thrust, it teased, thrummed, and reignited the climax she had just experienced.

  She wanted him deeper, harder, faster. With a wantonness that she did not know she possessed, she spread her legs wider, hooked them higher on his back, and gave herself over to him.

  To pleasure.

  "Sarah," he gasped against her lips. "I've wanted you for so long."

  "And I you." She held him against her, needing him to take her. To give her the soul-shattering pleasure he'd just bestowed. Once would never be enough. She needed more. Now.

  "Take me," she panted. He did not disappoint. He thrust hard and deep. The sound of their flesh meeting, of creating pleasure echoed throughout the room and was music to her ears.

  He kissed her, and she took the opportunity to run her hands down his back. Sweat-slicked skin met her fingers as she ran them down the taut, flexing muscles beside his spine. His bottom thrust against her and she clasped him there, enjoying the feel of him within her, taking her.

  She would never get enough of this man.

  The pleasure his mouth wrought teased her yet again, and she rose to meet his every move, and then she was there, spiraling out of control. Pleasure rocked through her, more pronounced, coarser, and overwhelming her soul.

  "Giles," she cried.

  He moaned, taking her, their bodies a burst of needs and wants, of receiving and giving.

  "Sarah," he panted against her lips, kissing her softly. "Please tell me you will marry me now?"

  She grinned, snuggling into the crook of his arm when he rolled to his side, pulling her up against him. She lay one leg over him, idly playing with his chest, which rose and fell in quick pants.

  "Yes," she said, looking up and meeting his gaze. "I will marry you." And finally, he would be hers. Always.

  Chapter 12

  Sarah stuck her head out into the darkened passage just before dawn, glancing up and down to ensure no one was about. The servants would be up soon, and if she were to sneak back to her bedroom without being seen, now was her chance.

  She turned, taking one last glimpse of Giles as he slept in the bed they'd shared. He lay on his back, his arm sprawled out over her pillow where she'd rested. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and regretfully, she turned, slipping into the hall and closing the door behind her, taking care not to make any loud noises.

  "Good morning, sister."

  Sarah squealed, slapping a hand over her mouth before she woke any of the other guests. Footsteps sounded in the room she'd just emerged from, and the door wrenched open.

  Giles stood at the threshold, hastily tied breeches his only attire, his chest, one she'd never tire of looking upon flexing with each breath. The moonlight from the window at the end of the hall, the only illuminating light.

  "What is wrong?" Giles's words faded at the sight of Hugh glaring at them both.

  Her brother pushed Sarah out the way and, with a sickening crunch, his fist connected with Giles's nose.

  Sarah gasped, watched as Giles flayed backward before he fell with a crashing thud on the floor. Sarah kneeled at Giles' side, checking him as best she could. He pinched the bridge of his nose, blood seeped between his fingers and onto his lips, staining his teeth. He held up a hand, stilling her brother from doing any more damage.

  "I suppose I deserved your wrath, but I'll not be hit a second time," Giles said, letting Sarah help him to stand.

  Hugh shut the door to the bedroom, enclosing all three of them in the room. "What the hell do you think you're doing with my sister?"

  Hugh glared at them both, his eyes wild with temper. Never had Sarah seen Hugh so incensed and shame threaded through her that she'd caused him such distress. If this were to get out to the other guests what she had done with Giles, the scandal would be all the ton would talk of next Season. Marriage or not.

  That Hugh had asked her not to cause a scandal was the veriest dishonor.

  "I asked Sarah to marry me, and she has agreed. I would never touch her had she said no."

  Sarah raised her brow, unsure that was true. She was certain that if she wished it, she could have seduced Giles before last night.

  "Is this true, Sarah?" her brother asked, pinning her to her spot, the anger and disappointment shimmering in his eyes, eliminating any ire she felt at being caught. At receiving a thorough set down from her brother over her conduct.

  "Giles has asked for me to be his wife, and I want that in return." She met Giles's gaze, her heart taking a little leap at the warmth and adoration she read in his blue orbs.

  "How long have you been behaving in this manner?" Her brother shook his head. "I should have guessed yesterday when I caught you both upstairs, looking as guilty as you do now."

  "Excuse me, Hugh, but I'm not a child. I'm eight and
twenty and quite capable of making my own decisions."

  Her brother pointed his finger at her nose. "You can make decisions, Sarah, but this one is what I specifically asked you not to."

  "No one needs to know. You're the only person who has seen me this morning. If we leave now, announce the betrothal in the morning, all will be well."

  Hugh glared at them both, his balled fists flexing at his sides. "I ought to call you out, Gordan." His jaw clenched, and he took a deep breath. "But I suppose since you're to be my brother-in-law by choice not by my decree, I shall let you live."

  Sarah sighed, and Giles reached over to take her hand. She stared at the blood that marked his chest and face. Sarah moved over to the pitcher of water and bowl in his room, poured some water and rinsed out a washcloth.

  "Here," she said, handing it to Giles. He gave her his thanks and set it against his nose, wincing a little as he did so.

  "I'm sorry you had to find out about Sarah and me in this way, Hugh, but I love her. I want her to be my wife. I promise that later today, I was coming to ask you for your permission to make her my wife."

  Hugh rubbed a hand through his hair, the dark circles under his eyes telling Sarah her brother was weary.

  "We are sorry, Hugh. Please don't be angry. I want this time to be a happy one." It had been so very long since she'd been so content.

  He stared at them both without a word before he nodded, once. "Very well. I give you my consent, and I do wish you both very happy. You can be married as soon as we can gain a special license." Her brother met her gaze, some of the anger dispelling from his dark orbs. "Congratulations, Sarah."

  She went into his arms, holding him tight. "Thank you, Hugh, for being so understanding."

  "Yes, well," he said, relenting and pulling her tight in his arms. "You may not have gone about this the way that I asked, but it is done now. All will be well, I'm sure." He set her back and started for the door. He paused, turning to watch them both. "Come, Sarah. I will escort you to your room."

  Sarah met Giles's eyes, and he nodded, winking at her. She smiled, bidding him goodbye, her words but a whisper, and followed her brother from the room.

  He didn't say anything to her as they made their way back to her room. He opened her bedroom door, pushing it wide. "In you go, dear sister. Do not let me catch you out and about the house again. Not until you're a married woman. Do I make myself clear?"

  She swallowed her retort, wanting to remind him that he wasn't so very well-behaved when Molly was in Rome. Sarah was privy to how they came together, so her brother's high-handedness was a little galling.

  Even so, she would do as he bade because, in the end, she would marry Giles. The sacrifice would be worth the wait. "Perfectly clear, brother. I shall do as you ask."

  He watched until the door to her room closed. Once more alone, she ran over to her bed, slipping under the soft sheets and heavy blankets. She smiled, contentment thrumming through her veins. She was engaged to Giles, Marquess Gordan. Excitement somersaulted her stomach, and the day could not start soon enough. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops that they would be married. Her husband and she his wife.

  How well that sounded to her ears. A dream that finally came true.

  Chapter 13

  Before dinner the same day, Sarah sat beside Giles in the drawing room, an overwhelming sense of happiness consuming her as her brother announced that she and Giles were engaged.

  Congratulations sounded loud in the room. An array of guests came up to them to wish them very happy.

  Sarah laughed, thanked each one in turn. Giles pulled her into his side, watching her with an expression that made her stomach twist into delicious knots. "I hope you're happy, my lady?" he asked, his eyes dark pools of an emotion she hoped would be voiced again soon. She wanted to hear him say that he loved her as much as she had always loved him.

  "So happy," she said, meaning it more than anything she'd ever said before in her life.

  Dinner that evening was a boisterous, excitable evening. Everyone seemed to be in a rush to speak, drink wine, celebrate the Christmas season, and Sarah and Giles's betrothal, which only added to the celebrations.

  The after-dinner drinks were no different. Sarah sat on a settee watching as Molly and Hugh toasted her and Giles yet again, her brother's wide smile and laughing eyes telling all in attendance how very pleased he was for his sister. Even if this morning, he'd been so very mad.

  Sarah caught the eye of Lady Rackliffe, who excused herself from her small social circle and strolled over to Sarah.

  The forthcoming conversation, as awkward as it would be, had to be had. Lady Rackliffe was, after all, once betrothed to Giles. No doubt, the woman would, at the very least, have to remind Sarah that she was asked first, no matter what the outcome had been for them both.

  "Lady Sarah, may I say how very happy I am for you and Lord Gordan? You shall be very happy, I'm sure," she said, sitting next to her and sipping her wine.

  "Thank you, my lady. That is very kind of you to say." Sarah almost rolled her eyes at the banality of their conversation. Even so, she did not wish to extend their little tête-a-tête any more than she had to. They had never been friends in the past. Certainly, Lady Rackliffe thought herself above most within society, even within her own circle of friends.

  "I must say the news of your betrothal to Giles has shocked me. I did not even know there was anything representing affection between you both. From knowing Giles all these years, how he lived his life in London, I'm surprised you accepted him so quickly."

  Sarah stiffened her back, refusing to let this woman's words deflate her agreeable mood. "Lord Gordan," she said, reminding Lady Rackliffe that she no longer had the right to use his given name. She threw that away the moment she threw his lordship over for Lord Rackliffe. "He is an honorable man. I have little concern about his life before me. I think him the best of men and one who'll make me extremely happy."

  The idea of days and nights in his company, to wake up in his arms, have his children, sent a thrill through her she'd not felt since the moment she closed the space between them and kissed him on a moonlit terrace in London ten years before.

  Lady Rackliffe's mouth pinched into a displeased line. "Oh, I'm sure he will not stray, my dear. But," she said, biting her lip, "it does seem odd that his morals would allow this change of heart. You know why, do you not, he never offered for your hand during your first Season. Why no one offered."

  Sarah was not sure she wanted to know, certainly not from this viperous, gossiping snake.

  "I do not know, no." Nor did she wish to be privy to the details. What was in the past as far as she was concerned needed to stay there. If she were to endure the ton and re-enter society, she had to be able to let go of their wrongdoing to her brother and move forward without hate in her heart.

  Lady Rackliffe chuckled a high-pitched cackle that made her ears hurt. "The scandal, of course," she whispered, making sure no one else could hear. "Giles's father was friends with your late mama. He did not approve of the scandal Lord Hugh had bestowed on the family. Of course, even knowing the truth as we do now that it was the duke, and oldest brother Henry who was at fault, the late Lord Gordan did not know that.

  “He saw his good friend, the duchess heartbroken that her son had acted in such a way and refused to counter a friendship between Giles and Hugh. Had demanded Giles remove himself from your family and cease all contact. Of course, he did. Giles was always a good son to his parents. He set off to London, courted me, and asked for my hand before the first week of the Season had ended."

  Sarah swallowed past the lump in her throat at Lady Rackliffe's words. Was this true? Had Giles thrown them aside like trash to appease his father? She took a sip of wine, needing at that very moment more fortification than this. A hard whiskey or brandy would do very well to dull the ache in her chest.

  "You are mistaken, my lady. Giles would not have forgone a lifelong friendship with my family regarding a scand
al that was of the duke's making."

  Lady Rackliffe shrugged, smirking. "Well, did he visit Lord Farley when he lived in Rome? Did Lord Gordan travel down to Kent and visit you here at the Abbey? I think the fact that he did not is proof enough, no?"

  Sarah fought to breathe. She looked up and met the contemplative stare of Giles. Not wanting to confront him here, she threw him a wobbly smile. He grinned back at her, and her heart broke in her chest.

  He'd believed the lie? Had towed his father's line and thrown them out with the scandal. Had ceased his friendship with Hugh and her due to not wishing to dirty his name by the association.

  How could he have done such a thing? She and Hugh were innocent of the crime. Certainly, she had nothing to do with what her mother and elder brother had concocted to hide.

  All the years she never saw or heard from him came rushing back, the pain his absence had caused in her heart. The past week with him here at the Abbey, she had allowed him to make her forget his wrongdoing.

  She was a fool to have let his pretty face and words trick her into disregarding the truth that now having been told was blatantly obvious.

  "Lord Gordan was busy elsewhere, that is all." It was all Sarah could say in defense of Lady Rackliffe's words. What else could she say at hearing such a devastating truth about the man she had agreed to marry?

  "I know that you held a tendre for Giles during our first Season, and you must know that I did not mean to steal him from you. Our family was not going through a troubled time as your own, and the late marquess thought I was the better match for Giles. He agreed, of course, and offered for my hand. I hope you weren't too heartbroken, my dear, for look at you now. You have won him in the end."

  Lady Rackliffe's tone was lathed with sarcasm and hate, each word dripping with scorn. Sarah met her ladyship's gaze, her own narrowing in inspection.