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

by Collette Cameron

  She tugged him down to meet her mouth. They kissed deeply and tenderly for long minutes. Rupert’s blood was heated with desire by the time they broke apart, and the fingers he used to push back a few tendrils from her forehead trembled. He would marry this woman, even if it took him months to convince her. The real treasure was right here, in his arms, and he was never letting her go.

  Rupert dipped his head and took her mouth with his, coaxing Verity to open her mouth to his ravishment. She returned his kiss with reckless abandon, soft gasps, and breathless moans. Passion flared brightly while the sun beat down on them.

  “We have to stop soon,” he murmured in between kisses. “Though this is my land, we are by no means private.”

  “Soon,” she said, brushing her mouth across his chin. “Why do you taste so sweet?”

  Rupert pressed his lips against the sensitive flesh just behind her left ear. “You are tempting me, woman. You make me weak with longing.”

  “It is only fair I affect you in a similar manner, wouldn’t you agree?” she whispered, her voice rich with such want he groaned.

  “Will you let me woo you?”

  She gently threaded her fingers through his hair and brought his mouth close to hers. “Isn’t that what I am doing now, my lord?”

  The sweet, teasing way she said it burrowed into his heart, filling him with delight. Rupert kissed her endlessly, coaxing, exploring, ravishing. There was a distant bell in his mind when he started to peel off her coat and dress to reveal creamy shoulders which he kissed reverently. The harsh, uneven rhythm of their breathing mingled in the air and blended with the whistle of the winds through the trees. They were so lost in passion and each other, it would take an earthquake to pry them apart.

  They tugged each other clothes off in between kisses and laughter. At times he didn’t know why they laughed, but it felt right. He felt happy. And he could see the same emotions glowing in her beautiful eyes. Soon they were naked, and her eyes roamed over him.

  “You are so lovely, Rupert,” she said with a tender smile.

  “It is you who is beautiful, Verity,” he replied, drinking in her sweet, lush curves splayed decadently before him on his coat. She had such lovely skin, breasts high and firm, rosy nipples, sensually curvaceous hips, and legs that were long, slim. A rough, desperate sound escaped from him.

  “My teeth ache from wanting you.” He pulled her to him until the tips of her breasts grazed his chest, and she buried her face against the corded muscles of his throat. Rupert groaned to feel her mouth, wet and heated against his skin. He held himself above her as she kissed his chest and up, nipping at the hollow of his throat.

  “I can feel your heartbeat against my tongue,” she said, brushing soft kisses at the corner of his mouth. Her tongue shyly traced the fullness of his lips, and he groaned, shivering in her embrace.

  Verity chuckled, a low sound rich in pleasure. “I suspect you desire me as much as I desire you, Rupert.”

  She nipped at his bottom lip. The action had arousal surging through hotly him. He craved her taste and touch. Rupert had never wanted any woman this badly, and he feared his need was so great he might disappoint her. He lowered himself over her, and she parted her thighs to cradle his weight.

  Their mouths came together in another burning kiss, he couldn’t stop touching her, caressing her throat, over her collar and down to her plump breasts. He swiped his thumb over her nipples before capturing the hard pebble between his thumbs and forefingers. Rupert dipped and took in his mouth a nipple that was ripe like a berry. He rolled it between his teeth before sucking. She gasped and arched wildly into his embrace.

  His cock stabbed against her thighs, and he almost spent at the sensation. He needed to be in her, but Rupert was desperate for Verity to be ready for him. He trailed his fingers down across her belly to her quim. Rupert delved his fingers between her swollen folds to caress.

  “Ah, Verity, my sweet, you are so delightfully wet.” He thrust a long finger into her depth, and she bucked into the intense pleasure. “And tight.”

  He rubbed his fingers along her slit, up to her clitoris, which was hard and straining. He stroked that nub of pleasure, and she pulled her mouth from his, panting. He rubbed her clitoris over and over until she gushed against his palm.

  “Rupert,” she wailed at the pleasure quaking through her.

  But he did not let up, driving her into mindless passion. Confident she was wet enough to take him, he grabbed his manhood and pressed it against her tender opening. “Verity,” he said gruffly. “Look at me.”

  Eyes darkened with arousal collided with his. Then he slowly and inexorably pushed inside her. She was so tight he doubted her claim of experience. Fiery fingers of pleasure danced up his spine, and sweat beaded his brows and shoulder blade.

  Verity grasped his shoulder tightly, her nails sinking into his flesh.

  “Widen your thighs for me…yes, just like that, open them wider.”

  She complied, and he shafted her deeper until he was buried to the hilt.

  “Oh!”

  He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Am I hurting you?”

  “I might need a few minutes before you move.”

  Rupert held himself still while he kissed her endlessly. He kissed her lips, her neck, and the corners of her mouth, eyes, lips, soft kisses meant to comfort, reassure, and arouse. It wasn’t until she lifted her hips, silently begging for more, did he move. Her hips arched into him, and a needy moan slipped from her and traveled straight to his cock. He slowly glided out of her, his breath hissing between his teeth, until passion ripped any semblance of control he tried to maintain.

  He stroked into her deep and sure, over, and over. Her cries echoed around him and down the hill. “Oh, yes, Rupert!” she cried out, her quim clenching around his cock like a hot, tight fist, convulsions wracking her frame.

  He slipped his hands under her shoulders, bringing her closer as he moved faster and deeper within her wet, welcoming body. Their bodies moved in exquisite harmony with one another until the pleasure roared through him, and with a hoarse groan, he emptied deep into her shivering body.

  It took several moments before he could move to untangle their limbs. Rupert peered down at her.

  “Are you—”

  His words faltered when Verity laughed. The delighted joy in her voice pulled a smile to his lips. Still, he had to ask, “Did I hurt you?”

  “Only a slight discomfort that vanished almost right away. Oh, Rupert, I never imagined loving could be soooo wonderful,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve never felt such bliss before.”

  “And that was just the beginning.”

  “I cannot credit there is more, surely not!”

  Their gazes locked, and something heated and intense passed between them. To Rupert’s shock, he felt the faint stirring of arousal once again in his loins. And her eyes were also warm with desire and sensual curiosity.

  “Much more that we shall explore together without reservations but on a bed, or a chair, or atop a desk, or on the carpet before the fire.”

  “Sounds scandalous,” she said with a teasing smile and a blush.

  He pressed a kiss to her nose. “You do know this means you must marry me.”

  “Hmm,” she said, still smiling. “I suppose I must give it serious consideration.”

  It wasn’t a no, and for Rupert, that was enough.

  “Do you wish for children, my lord,” she asked unexpectedly.

  “Yes, at least six.”

  Her gaze flickered up to meet his, disbelieving. “Six?”

  “Too many?”

  “Two or perhaps three is what I had normally envisioned for myself.”

  And perhaps for us, lingered unspoken, but it was there in the air between them.

  “Then two or three it is,” he said tenderly. “Come dear one, we must get to rights before we are happened upon.”

  And he hurriedly retrieved a handkerchief to clean her so they could get dresse
d. Which they did with many in between laughs and kisses.

  Chapter 8

  “It is getting chilly,” Verity gasped, glancing at the sky. “I do hope it will not rain.”

  Rupert did up the last button on his jacket, turned her around, and brushed the remaining twigs from her hair

  “We will have to hurry and return home soon,” he murmured.

  Rupert’s intent had not been seduction. Far from it. But he would not regret how delightful everything had turned out, and he was certain confident he was winning her over.

  They were all set to rights, their interlude only viewed by a stoic sheep, who had glanced at them, then wandering off to some other part of the ruins.

  She faced him and smiled; the curve of her mouth shy yet tempting. He noted the lush redness of her mouth, which would tell the world she had been thoroughly ravished.

  “Are you afraid to fall in love again?”

  Her eyes darkened with remembered pain and a breath trembled on her lips. “Yes. It was not easy recovering from such a painful loss. I was even ill for a few weeks.”

  “I understand, and I am so sorry you had to go through that.” He tucked a wisp of tendril behind her ears. “And now…are you still afraid?”

  A soft smile touched her mouth. “No, far from it. I am filled with hope and dreams I’d long set aside.”

  Ripples of relief filled his veins. “Good. I think we should view the chapel now, and then head back down for luncheon. It is so long since I was last inside the building that I suppose I should check it for water damage anyway, though I can’t remember anything like Miss Herriot described as a shield,” he said.

  “Yes, we should look, because the treasure will help you get your debts paid and sort out the estate. Although I am of age, my mother and brother are more likely to accept us marrying if you are solvent.”

  She replaced the bonnet tying it tightly and tucking in the strands of hair that had escaped from its confines. “Some things never change, and if we decide not to marry, my fifteen percent might allow me to travel and perhaps buy a house in Bath, where Mary could partake in the cultural events that she so enjoys. She is very good and loyal, but I know she would prefer town living where she could go to the theatre and watch the dancing, even if she does not participate herself.”

  He kissed her again, angling his head to avoid the brim of her bonnet. “There is no if.”

  She grinned at him. “I am starting to believe you, my dear, Rupert.”

  “We have to find the treasure first. Although, you are the treasure I needed to find most.”

  She laughed, and Rupert grabbed Verity’s hand and led her along the path to the old chapel. The doors had been replaced sometime in the last century and were secured by sturdy locks. Rupert produced a loop of five keys of different sizes. The two largest keys turned smoothly in the chapel doors' locks, and it swung open without creaking.

  “I don’t think we should take Rufus into the church with us. I will tie him to that small tree as otherwise, he will follow us in.”

  “Good idea Verity, he is a lovely dog, but it seems disrespectful to take him inside,” Rupert agreed.

  The chapel was relatively plain, showing few architectural features besides some vaulting to support the now neat slate roof. It was dim inside, the light coming from a large window at the front of the chapel. That window was leaded erratically as if it had once contained stained glass. Over the window's interior was a metal mesh that was clearly designed to prevent the window from being smashed to enable entry. The window was clearly dirty on the outside as the light was dappled from the tarnishing.

  There was a faint smell of incense, still clinging to the atmosphere. The interior was mostly a large rectangle with space for several rows of plain dark wood pews and a cloth-covered altar underneath the large window. On the altar was a beautiful ornate silver cross, but it could have done with some time spent polishing it. There were also two brass candlesticks, still containing about four inches of a candle.

  The walls inside were plastered and whitewashed and seemed in good order. There were no apparent patches of damp or puddles on the stone slab floor from a high roof leak. The sidewall on the left had some arrow-slit windows like those in a castle. Too narrow for even a child to enter by, and some previous custodian had them glazed in plain glass.

  Behind the altar were two standard flags on poles, bedraggled and blood stained as if they had fought the battles themselves, not the soldiers who carried them. Rupert examined them, but one was from the local regiment and the other from some Scottish guard regiment.

  “I believe this standard once belonged to our local regiment, but the other is from a regiment of the Scots Guards. I do not understand Ellesmere's connection, but there do not seem to be any talbots here. We’ve drawn another blank.”

  “There are a couple of brasses in the floor here of medieval knights, they are rather blurred but they carry shields.” Verity knelt to examine them closer, and Rupert stood carefully so as not to shade the light. “Crusader’s cross quartered with some kind of tower or castle on the first. And the second has what looks like crows over a bend and wheat sheaths below. They are nothing like the sonnet.”

  To the right of the altar was a small lady chapel. Furnished with a small altar and one prayer seat. There were a few window slits through the outside wall, and the only thing that might be of value was a renaissance style oil painting of the virgin and child which hung behind the altar.

  “Great-uncle Frederick bought the Madonna in Italy on his grand tour. Unfortunately, it is not a renowned old master's work, but a rather good modern copy. He apparently thought that the lady chapel needed something indicating its purpose.”

  “We could check the sides of the altars as the cloths could be hiding a shield?”

  “Feels a bit irreverent, but I suppose someone would change the altar cloths in a normal church.”

  “I think if we do it with a prayer in our hearts, it would not be considered sacrilegious.”

  The lady chapel altar turned out to only a small wooden table, but the main altar proved to be made of some cream coloured marble. It was carved with ornate gilded baroque curlicues and flourishes surrounding several bible quotes incised and gilded in Latin.

  “I can understand why the cloth covers the altar so thoroughly, at least one of Ellesmere’s former owners must have had catholic leanings, that would have been dangerous to admit to, although I always suspected that Frederick leant that way.”

  “Well, it has been a wasted journey, but at least we have checked everywhere there could be a treasure unless it is under the slabs of the floor, and I don’t want to lift them all in the hopes there might be. I think the sonnet is referring to somewhere specific, not saying take the whole floor up.”

  Rupert frowned. “Wait, behind the lady chapel, there is another door. I’ve never been inside there. When I saw the chapel as a boy, there was some kind of curtain or hanging over it. I have three more keys, let’s see if one of them unlocks it.”

  The smallest of the keys was clearly too small for the lock, but the final key looked about right. Rupert inserted it into the lock, and it turned easily. The door opened inwards to reveal a small room which had some shelves to one side.

  The outside wall had two narrow arrow-slit windows letting in a little light. On the shelves was a pile of linen, apparently some discarded vestments and faded altar cloths. A large bible, nicely bound in scarlet leather, which was unsurprisingly written in Latin and an oil lamp with a fairly recently made tinderbox beside it. In the centre of the floor was a plain wooden table with absolutely nothing on it.

  “Not much is there, I presume it was used as a vestry of sorts. Bible’s in Latin, which supports your theory. Oh, what is that under the table? I think a piece of oak has been set into the floor,” Rupert pointed out.

  Rupert pushed the table to one side of the room to examine the floor more easily.

  There was indeed a piece of wood which l
ooked to have come from a very large tree. It was roughly square in shape and clearly hinged to the stone with some brass fixings. At the other side was a brass plate that contained a small keyhole.

  “I think this is the lock that the smaller key fits,” Rupert said, trying it in the lock. The key turned with a small click. He lifted the edge of the wood slab and carefully folded it back to reveal some worn stone steps going down into pitch-black darkness.

  “Now I see what the oil lamp was for, shall we risk exploring what looks like a crypt?”

  “Mary never mentioned going in a crypt, but she said it had been when she was a little girl that she remembered seeing it. Her late father was the vicar at that time, so that might explain how she had access to the chapel,” Verity said as Rupert attempted to light the lantern. It took a couple of tries, but it lit, and he adjusted it to produce a small pool of light.

  “Are you sure you want to come down too? I doubt it will be very nice down there, it will be musty and full of cobwebs. You could wait in the chapel if you prefer, I would not want you to be scared.”

  “So you think me a faint-heart, Rupert Rogers, now I am insulted,” she said in mock anger.

  Rupert grinned, “I most humbly apologize, my lady. How can I atone for such a heinous sin?”

  “I will think of some forfeit you must pay, perhaps I will make you read me all of Frederick’s love poetry? If you think some nasty spiders and mouldering bones are going to put me off when we might find the treasure, you have another think coming to you…”

  Rupert chuckled. “I was fearing something far, far worse than reading you poetry. I had better go first.”

  “…without your clothes on…” she drawled in a whisper, so he almost did not hear her. Then she giggled, which made him sure she had really said it.

  “If you are naked as well, that would be a pleasure to anticipate, careful this bit is very worn…” he said, turning to steady her. “We have nearly reached the bottom.”

  The cold hit them as they reached the stone floor. Rupert held the lamp up high; it showed only part of a deep vaulted crypt, which the lamplight revealed contained several sarcophaguses, carved out of slabs of pale coloured stone. Here, the incense smell was more intense, but there was no real smell of mould or decay.