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

by Collette Cameron

  “It is not down to me whether I dance or not,” she reminded her father quietly. “I have to wait to be asked, and if that does not occur…”

  “You could make yourself a little presentable,” he replied, a touch of distress in his voice. “Really, Anne, you put so little effort into your appearance these days.”

  Anne took a deep breath, giving herself time to control her impulse to speak harshly to a gentleman who only wished her to be happy, albeit in a very specific way. She would not be getting married anytime soon, and the sooner he learned to accept that, the happier her father would be.

  She always was impulsive. That side of her nature had landed her in trouble before, but even after rescuing herself from it – or being rescued – she could not help but be impulsive.

  “Father, there are many young and eligible ladies here tonight,” she said, forgetting to lower her voice, “and the gentlemen here will likely as not ask them to dance, not me. I am bored, Father. Why do I not just return to – ”

  “Ahem,” came a voice behind them.

  Anne and her father whirled around, Anne’s cheeks red. If she had had any idea she was being overheard, she would never have spoken so, but as it was, she need not have concerned herself.

  The woman who had interrupted them was seated behind them, a serious young lady with a book on her knee. Her spectacles were pushed to the end of her nose, and she had a stern look on her face.

  Anne relaxed. This was not a woman who would spread gossip about the scandalous thing which Sir Thomas’ daughter dared to speak.

  “I do apologise,” the young lady said quietly. “I did not intend to overhear you, but as I do not enjoy dancing whatsoever, I found a nook for myself and therefore did hear you. Miss Mariah Wynn.”

  Anne curtsied, and as her father bowed, he said, “Sir Thomas Marsh and his daughter, Anne. Are you any relation to Edward, Viscount Wynn?”

  Miss Wynn’s face distorted for the briefest of moments that Anne thought if she had blinked at the same time, she would have missed it. There was a story there.

  “My adoptive brother,” Miss Wynn said stiffly. “Miss Marsh, there is a small library down the corridor. Turn left, along until a right turn and then fourth door on the right. All are welcome to visit, and I can personally recommend it.”

  Relief washed over Anne. At least, a respite from this tiresome ball.

  “I forbid you from going,” Sir Thomas said quietly, able to see his daughter’s thoughts immediately.

  Anne smiled wanly. “Do you remember what happened the last time you attempted to forbid me from doing something?”

  Her father hesitated, and then nodded.

  “Thank you, Miss Wynn,” Anne began, but she had already disappeared back into her book.

  Squeezing her father’s arm and reassuring him that she would not return to their rooms too late, Anne carefully navigated her way around the dancers in the centre of the room, and slipped through the door into the quiet corridor behind.

  It was cool and calm, precisely what she needed. Turning left, she tried to remember Miss Wynn’s instructions. Was it a right turn and third door on the left, or a left turn and third door on the right?

  After meandering down a corridor that looked exactly the same as any others, Anne opened a door and gasped.

  There was no library in this room. On the contrary, it was a bed chamber – and inside it was Maxim, half naked.

  Maxim looked up at the intrusion and could not help but smile. What did Miss Anne Marsh think she was doing, walking into a gentleman’s bed chamber – and at St. James’ Court, too!

  The gossips of society would have a field day if they caught her.

  There was no embarrassment. Maxim had travelled on the road too long to be interested about who saw him in only his breeches, and he had nothing to be ashamed of.

  Anne, on the other hand, looked absolutely mortified.

  “Come on in, Miss Marsh,” he said in a low voice.

  It was a joke, really. He knew enough that any self-respecting English lady would never allow herself to be found in such a compromising position.

  Joke or not, Anne stepped forward and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as though for support.

  “Make yourself at home,” he said, before turning to look back at the two shirts laid out on the bed he was choosing between.

  It was only when he turned his back that self-consciousness rose over him. It was not that he minded being looked at, exactly, but it was more that he knew that she, Miss Anne Marsh, was the one doing the looking.

  Did she like what she saw?

  Maxim pushed the thought away. He could not think like that. Still, her presence felt right, not intrusive at all. As though she should have been there the whole time.

  Glancing around, Anne’s cheeks were pink but she was clearly determined not to allow her embarrassment to overwhelm her, and his respect for her grew.

  “I feel strange needing to ask this question,” he said nonchalantly, picking up one of the shirts to inspect it, “but what is a respectable lady like yourself doing in here, Annika?”

  She gasped. “What – why do you call me that?”

  Maxim shrugged, picking up the second shirt. “‘Tis a common enough version of Anne from my country. You do not like it?”

  “No, it is not that, it’s…that is what my family calls me.”

  Heat grew in Maxim’s stomach as he considered the shirts. “Well, now I know that, I shall always call you by such a name. But that does not answer my question.”

  “I thought it was a library,” she said, her voice a little unsure.

  “A library?” Maxim repeated. “Well, I suppose you can read something in here if you wish, but you might find other things more to your liking.”

  He turned away, berating himself for allowing his tongue to get the better of him. What did he think he was doing? He could not allow Annika to get the wrong idea.

  He compared the two shirts to the two cravats also laid out on his bed, and tried to focus on getting dressed.

  How did she have such an effect on him? He could feel his body getting ready for her, desperate for her touch, as though she was the one who was barely dressed. The wild thought took flight, his imagination serving up delectable images of Annika, dressed in nothing but a –

  “Do you not have a valet for that?”

  Maxim jumped. She was much closer than he realized. “I had to leave all my servants behind in Russia, I am afraid.”

  Annika moved to the left so she appeared in his line of sight. Her face was curious. “Why did you have to leave Russia?”

  He swallowed. Ignoring the question completely, he said instead, “You will have to tell me which you think works best.”

  She hesitated, but to Maxim’s surprise moved closer, her cheeks still a little pink. Every second was an internal battle not to reach out and touch her.

  Here they stood: both of them beside the bed, her cheeks pink, and his torso utterly naked. Just one swift movement, and they could both be on the bed.

  “This shirt,” she said, a little breathlessly, “and the blue cravat.”

  Maxim could not help but smile. He had the same effect on her that she had on him, then.

  If only she was a servant girl, he could put a little silver in her palm and enjoy her – but she was a gentlewoman, and he should treat her that way, or he would get them both in trouble.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to instruct her to leave before someone caught them, but then she spoke.

  “Why, what medals!” Her eyes had caught sight of the trio of medals by the side of his bed. “Are they all yours?”

  Maxim’s smile was forced. Telling her this would be strange, crossing some line. He had not told anyone else the meaning of those medals – but Annika was different, somehow.

  “The very left was my father’s,” he said gruffly. “The central one, my brother’s. He…died last year. And the very right, my own. Earned through
battle, though I will not say who with for this is an English court with English sensibilities. Just pieces of metal, really.”

  He had thought his emotions had been forced down well, but one look at Annika told him he had not hidden his feelings as well as he thought.

  “You miss them,” she said simply. “And your country, and your home, I think.”

  Maxim nodded, not trusting his voice. Clearing his throat with a cough, he said, “Perhaps I am just here for a pension from the Regent. Perhaps I am no Czar at all.”

  Annika smiled. “Perhaps.”

  Her fingers reached out for the medals at the same time as his and the moment was electric. Something connected them more deeply than any other connection he had ever experienced. It was like nothing he had ever experienced.

  Maxim’s eyes met hers, and he read in those eyes everything he needed to know. Acting on impulse, knowing he may regret it in the morning, he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.

  She had not expected it and she almost gasped in his mouth – but instead of resisting, as he had expected, she moved into his arms and wove her fingers in his hair.

  Maxim’s body came truly alive for the first time in months. Her lips on his, his arms around her, the passion they shared – Annika was eager for him, for his kiss, and it was incredible.

  Who knows what would have happened if at that moment, the door had not opened and a footman had entered.

  Chapter 4

  “I have invited you here,” Sir Thomas said in a menacing voice, pacing up and down before them, “for a discussion about – ”

  “We know why,” Anne said heavily, rolling her eyes. “A footman saw us, he told another footman, he told several ladies maids, they told their mistresses, one of them told – ”

  “Thank you, Anne,” her father said sternly.

  Anne glared. If only she had thought to change her gown into something a little more comfortable. The court gown was heavy, studded with pearls, and restricted her breathing. If she had known they would still be discussing this three hours later…

  The grandfather clock in the corner of the room struck midnight, and each chime seemed to force its way into her head as though the hammer was hitting her. The room was hot, too hot, and they just seemed to be having the same conversation over and over again.

  “I think we should sleep on this,” she said aloud. “It is late. We can discuss this again in the morning, when – ”

  “I am not letting you out of my sight until this is resolved,” her father said fiercely, a finger pointing at Maxim.

  Maxim looked at the finger politely but made no other move. Sir Thomas lowered his finger slowly, coughed, and continued pacing.

  The heat of embarrassment rolled over Anne and she could not ignore it – but wasn’t this what she deserved? Had she not brought this upon herself, by allowing herself to be found in such a position?

  The memory of Maxim’s arms around her, his lips on hers, the desire they had shared…

  It was madness! What had she been thinking? Kissing a man, a man who was half naked, to boot, in his own bed chamber – and while the rest of the court was at a ball mere yards down the corridor?

  She was fortunate it was only a footman, and not someone far more important who had discovered them.

  It was the sort of stupid mistake that young girls in their first Season made; blinded by the bright lights of town, easily led by gentlemen who knew exactly what they were doing…

  But she was not young. She had experienced plenty of Seasons, and only once allowed herself to be overtaken by her emotions.

  Anne caught Maxim’s eye and her cheeks flamed. It was intoxicating, to think of the kiss – but she must not. She must control herself.

  “Anne!”

  She jumped, looking at her father who was glaring.

  “This may not be serious to you, but it is of great import to me.”

  Anne sat up a little straighter in her chair. “I know, Father,” she said wearily, “but I am tired.”

  She could not help but look over at Maxim once again, and saw to her surprise that he looked not only as awake as he had done three hours ago, but utterly relaxed. Leaning back in his chair, there was no sign of tension or stress across his handsome face.

  How could he stand it? Having to sit here like naughty school children, as though they had done something wrong – but then, they had done.

  Anne swallowed. She had to remember that she was in the wrong here. She had allowed herself to be swept away by emotions she did not really understand, and now she was having to pay the price for that.

  When she looked up again, Maxim was smiling. “Look, Sir Thomas, you must understand that this sort of occurrence is not the first time – ”

  “Really?” Sir Thomas’ face became, if possible, even more thunderous as he resumed his pacing. “How many other ladies have you – ”

  “ – here at court,” Maxim continued, without any increase of frustration in his voice. “And it happens to people in my position all the time. I will not cast aspersions on anyone in this royal family or others, but believe me, it is not unheard of.”

  His hand reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his pocketbook. It was full of five pound notes.

  Anne closed her eyes in horror, but when she opened them, the offending items were still visible.

  “Put that away,” she hissed. “Maxim!”

  He stared, utter confusion on his face. It was clear he had no comprehension of the offence his act had just given.

  Sir Thomas sat down in a chair heavily. “My dear boy, you think that’s what this is all about? Money?”

  For the first time in their conversation together, Maxim looked uncomfortable. “Sir, where I come from, it is money that is required to alleviate any hint of dishonour. It is money that resolves the upset between two families – I meant no disrespect.”

  “Well, that is not how things work here, in England,” Sir Thomas snapped. “Here, ‘tis honour and honour alone that can resolve situations – and honour is the only thing that will rectify this terrible error in judgement on you both.”

  It was at that moment that Anne realised what her father was suggested. “No.”

  “‘Tis the only way!”

  “But it was only…” Her cheeks flushed as she tried to say calmly, “Father, it was only a kiss. Just one, and if the footman had not entered the room, no one would be any the wiser.”

  “If the footman had not entered the room, I dread to think would have occurred,” her father snapped.

  Shame filled Anne’s heart as she dropped her gaze. She would not have permitted anyone to speak to her like that, but after everything that had happened, her father had that right.

  “What are you talking about?” Maxim’s voice was calm, almost curious.

  Anne took a deep breath. “My father,” she said, “is thinking of marriage.”

  Maxim looked between her and her father. “Well, you are a little old, Sir Thomas, but I will think about it.”

  His laughter was cut shortly abruptly by the glare from both Marshes.

  “A marriage, even just one for convenience, is the only way to repair Anne’s reputation,” Sir Thomas said heavily. “The only way.”

  Anne opened her mouth to argue, but then closed it again. She could think of no other solution, and it was embarrassing to think that at the age of nine and twenty, she had thrown away any chances of independent life because of a kiss.

  But, what a kiss…

  “Anne’s name will be ruined by breakfast time,” Sir Thomas said, a little harshly. “It will not take long for that footman to tell a few people, and they will tell a few, and before you know it all the gossips in London will know. It will be over for her.”

  “And for Meredith.” Anne was surprised to find she had spoken aloud, but as she caught her father’s eye, she knew he had considered it too. “She would never make a match with such scandal in the family.”

  Sir Thomas sig
hed. “It is not a question of if, but when. There will be a scandal, Annika, but what we need to decide is what we can do to reduce the size of the scandal.”

  But they had forgotten someone.

  “Excuse me,” said Maxim hotly, staring at the pair of them, “but I think you are forgetting something! I am a Czar, and I should be marrying a princess of another realm!”

  Fierce irritation rose up in Anne’s stomach, despite her own frustration with her father’s suggestion. Did he not believe her to be good enough for him? A gentleman who says he deserves a throne in a country hundreds of miles away, a tale that no one believed?

  “Whether you are a Czar in Russia or not, you are no one here,” said Sir Thomas cuttingly. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but here you have no title, no nobility, no wealth, no rank. If anything, you should be grateful to receive the hand of an English gentlewoman.”

  “I am not a cow at the meat market, ready to be parcelled off to the highest bidder!” Anne glared at her father, and at Maxim for good measure. “You have no need to marry me, sir, and I quite understand why you do not wish to.”

  Maxim opened his mouth and then closed it again. The words he had been about to say now seemed hollow, empty. And why?

  Because a small part of him but one that was growing with every minute, did wish to marry Anne.

  It was madness! He was a Czar, he should be approached by kings offering the hands of their daughters. Instead, he had this baronet almost beg him to take his daughter off his hands.

  It did not make sense, but neither did the fact that his body had reacted so strongly when he had kissed her. And what a kiss: wild, and wonderful, and incomparable to any other kiss he had stolen over the years.

  True, marriage could not have been further from his mind when he had arrived at St. James’ Court, but he had other pressures to consider. Would a marriage with an English woman be the perfect opportunity to distract the gossipers from digging into his supposed past?

  His gaze lifted from his hands to Anne, who pinked slightly under his gaze. She was certainly no consolation prize. Her beauty grew each time he beheld her, and if that kiss were anything to go by, their lovemaking would be spectacular.