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

by Collette Cameron

  “Thank Mrs Allen for the excellent meal, it was quite restorative after the long day.” Kitty rested her attention to Robert. “If you will forgive me, I will retire and leave you to your port.”

  “I will follow you shortly, Katherine.”

  Now Kitty was waiting, Robert’s final words revolving in her head. She had dismissed Spillers after being helped out of her evening dress and was left anxiously pacing in some frivolous lace concoction that Aunt Emmie had insisted on purchasing and packing for her. It was, however, hardly practical for this time of year, and Kitty had covered it with a wrapper. Her dark hair had been brushed out to a glossy shine and tied back with a ribbon. Did Robert intend to visit her for their talk as he had proposed in the carriage? If he did, what were his expectations? Would he insist on their wedding night? Did she want him to?

  Kitty recognised that her runaway thoughts were getting the better of her like they had on the ride over, and she forced a steadying breath. She would not mar this day further with ill-timed animosity. Shame flayed her when she remembered her bitter emotional outburst, but the strain of the day had taken its toll until she had snapped. How their hasty marriage had come about could not be changed, but she wanted to be a good wife to Robert, a wife he deserved, so he had no complaint that she had been foisted upon him. Their marriage would succeed or fail now, based on their own actions going forward.

  A light tap at the connecting door startled her out of her maudlin mood.

  “Come in.”

  Robert appeared in the doorway, clothed in a crimson dressing gown, and she swallowed at the sight of his bare feet poking out from beneath the hem. Somehow, without his clothes he appeared bigger, his presence more pronounced, though she was mystified how he managed it. He lingered at the threshold, appearing unsure as to the next step he should take. “Are you too tired to talk, Katherine?”

  Bless him, he was offering her a reprieve, and she was severely tempted to take it, but they needed to find some even footing. “No, I’m not too tired, Robert.”

  He gave a clipped nod. “Good.”

  He then disappeared from the doorway, and Kitty heard him moving about in the background. Her courage wavered. Perhaps he had changed his mind? Her worry proved ill-founded as he reappeared with a tray carrying a pair of glasses and a steaming jug.

  “Would you like a glass of spiced cider?” Robert’s lips twisted wryly. “Mrs Mellor’s own recipe. She insisted it was just the ticket to help calm nervous ladies, whatever she meant by those dubious words. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “I would love one, thank you.” Kitty laughed, tickled by the ridiculous image of Robert being waylaid by a snip of a woman and unsure how to disentangle himself.

  She drifted to the sofa in front of the fire, tucking her feet under her body, and waited for him to join her. He offered her a glass, and the delicate spices teased her senses.

  “There we go,” he said, taking the seat next to her.

  She nervously tapped her fingertips against the glass.

  Robert took a sip and hummed in appreciation. “Actually, that is rather good.”

  “I apologise for my words earlier in the carriage, it wasn’t very well done by me.”

  “You were overwrought. A common occurrence in brides, so I’ve been told. Wedding jitters, I believe they are called—”

  Kitty snorted, interrupting him mid-flow. “More like a lack of sleep playing havoc with my temper and you bore the brunt of it.”

  He captured her hand. “You were worried about your future, and after our prior skirmishes, I cannot blame you.”

  Katherine opened her mouth to interject. The blame was as much hers as it was his, but Robert forestalled her by holding up his hand.

  “No, allow me to say my piece. I know that this marriage did not come about how you would wish it.”

  Katherine didn’t even come anywhere close to stifling a wince. No, she knew he didn’t desire the marriage.

  “But I promise you, you will never want for anything, and I will strive to be a good husband.”

  Robert fulfilling his duty was never in doubt. She was sure he would be the most indulgent of husbands, and she would have everything but his affection, his love. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she reached for the cider to wash it away. The warmth slid down her throat and bloomed in her belly, and she had a little more. Sweet with a hint of tartness, it really was very good.

  “I will not press you for my conjugal rights until you are ready,” he rushed out and drained the last of his cider.

  Kitty was dumbfounded, but the overriding emotion was disappointment. She wanted Robert. To be his wife in truth, and if he could fulfil his duty, she could do hers.

  “I’m sure you are very tired. I will leave you now.”

  “Robert, wait.” Kitty placed her hand on her sleeve to halt him as he made to stand, and the flesh jumped at her touch. Fustian! She was nervous, her fingers were cold and shaky. But it was good nerves, mingled with anticipation, swirling throughout her like eddies. “I want to be a good wife to you, too. I’m no cowering schoolroom miss, and though—”

  She was babbling and cursed her wayward tongue, but Robert’s rapt attention encouraged her to go on.

  “I want us to start our marriage the right way and have good memories of our wedding day.”

  “Are you sure, Katherine?” he asked huskily, his thumb rubbing over the delicate skin of her knuckles. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  Kitty stopped dancing around the truth and seized it with both hands. “I’m sure. We are married and we desire each other, and if nothing else we can have this, just for us.”

  “Very well.” He broke contact and poured another glass of cider, frowning.

  An energy Kitty struggled to identify throbbed from him. She fidgeted, the doubts circling her, shouting louder and louder. Didn’t he want her after all? She didn’t know what to do. This was so different from last time, where they had been swept away by the exuberance of youthful passion.

  “Robert, I-I haven’t…that is, I don’t know what to do next.”

  Warmth entered his eyes, turning them into molten pools, and he cupped her elbows, running his hands up her arms, leaving a trail of goosepimples in their wake.

  “It’s all right, Kitten.” He paused by the bed and held out his hand.

  Kitty gulped. The very large big bed. He was still offering her a way out. She followed his actions, finishing the last of her cider, and stood, the softness of her nightclothes brushing against her leg, allowing that warm happy glow to fill her up. In a beautiful moment of absolute trust, she placed her hand in his. Robert drew her unresistingly into the shelter of his body. Kitty’s gaze was fixed on the dark chest hair peeking out of the top of his dressing gown. Robert’s physicality had never caused her to fear. What scared her was what happened when the passion burnt off and there were only ashes left. And she became an unwanted inconvenience.

  Her heart clenched. Tolerated.

  A finger curled under her chin and tilted her chin upwards, and she found Robert studying her intently.

  “Where did you go?”

  She wasn’t ready to share her thoughts yet, to lay herself bare to him, so she pretended to misunderstand his meaning. “I’m right in front of you?”

  Robert raised his brows, and Kitty fought the urge to squirm.

  “Hmmm, is that right? You’re hiding from me, Katherine.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t like it.”

  He lightly grasped the edge of her nightrail, giving it a light tug. “I want to see all of you. Will you let me, Katherine?”

  There was absolutely no mistaking his meaning, but there was something more than the face-value interpretation of the words. Her heart rate increased, but she found her courage and placed her palm over the patch of bare skin on his upper chest.

  Robert’s nostrils flared, and his embrace tightened. A thrill trilled through her at her power as a woman, and if there was ever any doubt of Robe
rt’s desire for her, it was cast out at the feel of his arousal pressing into her stomach.

  The knowledge made her bold, and she quipped, “Only if I can see you in return.”

  Robert let out a bark of laughter. “You only have to ask, my dear.”

  Kitty forced herself not to react to the endearment. He meant to be kind, and she pasted on a smile. The fabric was pushed from his broad shoulders and slid sensuously from his body to pool at his feet, and Kitty forgot how to breathe. He was all lean muscle and sinew. Patches of skin that were bronzed had been kissed by the sun and paled at specific junctures where clothing would usually lie. She kept her eyes trained on his face, not looking below his waist.

  Robert cocked his head, and Kitty understood his silent question. The wrapper fell away, and her ears echoed with Robert’s sharp inhalation. Her fingers trembling, she reached for the edge of her gown. Oh, for goodness sake, one would think this was the first time experiencing the marriage act. But where before lay ignorance, now she knew, and somehow, that made their action more deliberate. No, meaningful. She knew exactly what it would mean to welcome Robert into her bed. In a decided motion, she tore it off over her head, hissing as the cold air danced upon her exposed flesh. His large hands cupped her shoulders, hot to the touch. They moved over her flanks, his strong, dexterous fingers tracing trails of fire, and her nipples hardened to aching points that begged to be touched.

  Robert’s eyes devoured her hungrily. “I can’t tell you how much I have longed for this, Kitty,” he murmured, and his hands grasped her derriere.

  Wanton desire shot through her, her knees threatening to give way.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her, different to before. What had been hard and frenzied was now… Kitty’s mind scrambled for a word. Coaxing. He pulled back slightly, and there was barely a gap between them.

  “I can practically hear the cogs turning in that busy mind of yours, Kitty.” His words teased her lips. “Stop thinking and just feel. Kiss me, Kitten.”

  Kitty stood on her tiptoes and fused her mouth to his and, duelling with his tongue, she moaned into his mouth. His hand reached out to take the weight of her bosom, and he flicked his thumbs over the overly sensitised nipple, the other over her hip, lightly brushing between her thighs. He stroked, and his fingers slid between her damp folds, readying her for possession. Kitty inhaled sharply. Her legs gave, and they tumbled back onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.

  Robert rose on his arms above her, their differences becoming more pronounced. They were hip to hip and chest to chest. Her body was soft and curved while Robert’s was hard with sharp angles, the crisp hair covering his body rasping against her skin. He made her feel delicate and feminine. With great care, he entered her, and Kitty braced herself for the piercing pain. She blinked. There was none—not this time.

  Robert shuddered, caging her body with heated flesh, and held still. She frowned, so still in fact, she worried he had forgotten the next step. Experimentally, she wiggled, becoming used to the feel of his body.

  Robert released a tortured groan. “Gods, Kitten, are you determined to unman me?”

  Kitty froze, mortified. “I’m…I’m sorry,” she stuttered and tried to shift away from him.

  His eyes widened, and in a blink of an eye, he clamped her hips. “No, not like that, sweetheart. You feel good, too good.” Desperation coloured his words and broke through her hurt pride. “I want this to be good for you, too.”

  A deep blush covered his cheekbones. His words touched her, and little sparks of hope stirred. Kitty ruthlessly pushed them aside. There was no need to overthink this. Tonight was theirs. She pressed a searing kiss to his lips, her hands tangling in his hair. “Then show me how it can be good.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. She hadn’t thought her nose particularly kissable before. But he didn’t stop there, he kissed a heated trail. Her cheeks, her throat, and over her breast, breaking off only long enough to torment a lone nipple with his teeth and tongue.

  Kitty groaned, and her hips surged upwards.

  The sensations dimmed, and she breathed heavily. “Do that again.”

  “Do what?” Robert asked, pure devilry dancing in his eyes. “Do this?”

  He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and her eyes drifted shut, flickers of pleasure arrowing straight to her lower belly.

  He slanted her a calculating look and whispered in her ear, “Or this?”

  Robert’s hips drew back, and Kitty opened her mouth to protest when he surged back and drove all cognisant thought from her mind. She curled her fingers into his shoulders.

  “Both,” she gasped.

  He grinned down at her, a smudge of white in the darkness. “As my lady commands.”

  A haze descended, and the bliss built in a crescendo of sensual moans. Fears and doubts were flung away, and nothing existed beyond reaching the pinnacle that lay elusively out of reach. Both of them strained, reaching for the same goal. Robert’s hand drifted to where their bodies were joined, the pad of his thumb snaking over a small button of flesh.

  Kitty’s body snapped taut, her legs encircling his waist, pulling him closer. She kneaded his shoulders and muscles and threw her hips up against him.

  “Let go, Kitten,” Robert urged through gritted teeth, thrusting faster.

  Her body was tightening, climbing higher and higher.

  Robert’s thumb moved with frantic urgency. “Now, Kitty!”

  Her back bowed, and the dam broke. She screamed her climax into the hollow of his shoulder, the release verging on pain, pleasure running through her, rampant like a wildfire. Every muscle in her body clenched tight, and she clung to him in the eye of the storm.

  A husky groan signalled his climax, and he went rigid above her. They collapsed, replete and spent in a tangle of exhausted limbs.

  By gradual degrees, awareness settled over Kitty, a hand slowly stroking her flank, and the lean masculine body stretched out the length of her back. She couldn’t move a muscle.

  “And so I bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate, conformable as other household Kates.”

  Kitty frowned, puzzling over his words, and then turned over in his arms to face him. His eyes were closed, his countenance relaxed, but the corners of his mouth kicked upwards, practically radiating masculine satisfaction.

  “Did you just call me a shrew?” she huffed, recognising the mangled quote from Shakespeare.

  A rich, masculine chuckle reverberated in his chest, and something in her belly flipped at the sound.

  “I wouldn’t dare.” Robert leaned down, and she arched to receive his kiss and hummed with pleasure.

  He brushed the chaotic mane of hair off her face, the tender motion warming her. “I want you to be happy, Katherine.” His eyes burnt with vulnerability. Their rediscovered intimacy thrummed between them like it was a living, breathing thing. “Do you think you can be happy in our marriage?”

  A cold chill washed over her, and she chose her next words very carefully. “I think that we have as much chance of making our marriage a success as anyone else.” To have a successful marriage, all they needed was mutual respect and liking, and if they were fortunate, desire and affection.

  Kitty settled back into her pillow. Love never came into the equation, and she would be foolish to wish for more.

  Chapter 9

  Kitty slowly stirred from her slumber. It was a warm and comfortable nest, and she was drifting between that delicious limbo of awareness and sleep. She rolled, her hand searching for Robert only to be met by cold, empty air. Then reality crashed back in. She and Robert had settled into a polite routine, and apart from mealtimes, their paths rarely crossed until he came to her at night, and that emptiness gnawed at her each day.

  As she had suspected upon arrival, Miss Mellor kept a tight ship, and the household ran like clockwork. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Kitty was run off her feet with Christmas preparations.
So little time to do everything that was expected of her: the boxes for Saint Stephen’s Day to gift the staff and tenants and securing a haunch of venison for Christmas Day itself. She’d only had a few days’ grace before callers had started to arrive. They had been invited to several parties, and Robert had dutifully escorted her, and she had dressed hoping to gain his notice, in one of her new gowns that had a lower neckline than she was strictly comfortable with. A dutiful if somewhat distracted, “You look lovely, dear,” had been her reward.

  It was the twentieth of December, the day her family had been expected to arrive, however, all but Aunt Emmie had chosen to stay in London. A heavy stone sat on Kitty’s chest at the thought of her first Christmas without them. Disappointment settled in her limbs, and she flopped back against the down pillows.

  Well, she was damned if she was going to be melancholy today.

  She kicked off the covers and instantly regretted it at the rush of frigid air. She rubbed her arms, diamond glints of snow dancing upon the frosted windows panes, the fine dusting during the night giving the impression that God had been playing with a giant sieve and flour. She glanced at the ominous grey sky, heavy with snow and unchanged for the last few days. If the weather broke, it might prevent her from venturing out to collect evergreens they would need to bring colour to the house. Another task to be completed sooner rather than later.

  She shivered and dressed for riding. Madame had come through in the end and made her a habit that was both a thing of beauty and practical. The midnight-blue velvet had a soft and luxurious touch, and the high collar edged with gold embroidery helped keep out the cold. It was a pity there was no one to see it. Instead of cutting a dash in Hyde Park, it would see its debut at a sleepy country estate.