Once Upon a Christmas Wedding

by Scarlett Scott

  His irritation sharpened into something nearer to anger. Graham’s heart grew colder, and he dipped his head and drawled right at her ear, “And I will do everything to ensure that my father does not marry that woman!”

  A sharp gasp escaped her before she whirled around to face him. The prettiness of her features struck him, and he was momentarily speechless. Had he ever seen skin look that soft? She had pure creamy flesh with the lightest scattering of freckles across the bridge of a small nose. An odd urge to lean in and kiss the top of her nose horrified him, and he scowled.

  Her golden-brown eyes glowed with secrets, mischief, and a good deal of ire. “You!”

  He leaned in, so their lips were perilously close. “Yes…me!”

  Chapter 3

  Callie went absolutely still, her heart a pounding roar in her ears. It was Viscount Sherbrooke. How shockingly handsome he appeared in dark trousers and jacket, with a burgundy waistcoat. His hair was a bit messy and in need of taming. How rakish it made him look! He was one of the ton’s most elusive marital catches and was often featured in the scandal sheets.

  With an effort of will, she succeeded in maintaining a serenely blank expression. “I beg your pardon, Viscount Sherbrooke, I wasn’t aware there was someone else here,” Callie said with what she hoped was a great delicacy.

  “Evidently,” he said with an icy bite.

  His stare was a tangible thing, reaching out to touch her. Yet it was not a tender look, his glare was filled with something cold and judgmental. She could see the dangerous glitter in his narrowed eyes, but she refused to give in to the urge to step back. Then his words came back to her. ‘And I will do everything to ensure that my father does not marry that woman!’

  The door to the conservatory closed, she glanced over her shoulder, and noted her mother and the earl had left. Facing back the viscount, she took a steady breath and lifted her chin to meet his unflinching and oddly intimidating regard. “Whatever do you mean by saying you’ll ensure your father does not marry my mother?” Callie cried, thoroughly affronted.

  It galled Callie unspeakably that he might do something to rip apart her mother’s happiness.

  “I believe I was clear, Miss Middleton. My father deserves more than a woman who would scheme with her daughter to entrap him,” the viscount said in a voice mingled with civility and condescension.

  “Mama has done nothing of the sort! And I only fanned the flame which had already been lit. A blind man could have sensed the attachment between the pair.”

  “And you think I would believe your mother had nothing to do with the contriving act you’re putting on?” he drawled. “Spare me the act, I’ve gotten it enough times from fortune hunters looking to marry into our family’s wealth.”

  She gasped, crushing the mistletoe between her fingers. “How dare you! My mother might be enduring strained circumstances, but she would never form an attachment with someone only because of money! There are genuine feelings, and I daresay Mama is in love.”

  “Love!” That incredulous utterance was followed by a sharp laugh, which ended as soon as it began. His mien became even more remote, his eyes pinning her in place that of a hawk. It was decidedly uncomfortable.

  “If the viscountess admires anything about Father, it is his deep pockets and connections.”

  She did not trust herself to make a civil reply. “You odious creature!” Well…she did try to hold her tongue for a few seconds. “Who gives you the right to object to true love.”

  An arrogant brow lifted. “Ah…so your mother’s feelings have even exceeded the normal type of affection? Of course, this…” he waved toward the mistletoe and the conservatory, and continued, scathingly, “This is true love and not the manipulation of a family after my family’s fortune.”

  Callie faltered into astonishing stillness, an unknown tempest brewing in her breastbone. How had she ever thought this man handsome? He was the devil! For she could see, he intended to ruin her mother’s chance at happiness with the earl, and she would not allow it!

  “I assure you, nothing of the sort is happening! I am appalled, mortified, and angry that you should think it and express your opinions in such an uncivil and arrogant manner. I cannot credit that the earl…who is kind and most thoughtful is your father! I can see your purpose is to ruin my mother’s chance at happiness, and I will not allow it,” she said fiercely, jabbing the point of her finger against his shoulder.

  Surprise flared in his beautiful blue eyes before unexpected humor filled his gaze. The shift in his temperament rattled her.

  “And how do you plan to stop me?” he asked with provoking amusement.

  Sudden tears pricked behind her eyes, and her throat burned.

  His eyes widened, and his entire body went still. “Why are you crying?” he demanded gruffly.

  She fought her reaction with a will Callie hadn’t known she possessed. It would be so mortifying if she should shed a tear in the odious man’s presence. “I am not crying,” she snapped, hating that her voice trembled.

  “Then, what is this?”

  The tender way he asked the question had her peering into his eyes in surprise. He reached out, his thumb brushed against her cheek in a feather-light caress, and it was then she realized he traced the path of a tear. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot, and her breath hitched at the weakness that assailed her. “I have a tendency to express my emotions a bit too obviously.”

  “I supposed I frustrated you with my plans to thwart your schemes?” There was an edge of steel beneath the gentleness of his tone.

  Her chest hurt with the effort to remain apparently unaffected. “No…you do not know my mother…of her kindness, of her loyalty, and that when she loves, she does so with her whole heart. It hurts that you would judge her so unfairly and by the standards of other women you must have encountered in your life. I am not trying to entrap the earl. Never that.”

  She vibrated with indignation, took a deep breath, and continued, “I…I could see the tendre Lord Deerwood and my mother have for each other. Mama has been broken and hurt for so long, that it relieves my heart she still can love and yearn for more from life. My mama is pure of heart, demure, respectable, and though she is a bit enamored of scandal sheets, she is not mean-spirited at all! But she can be painfully shy, which some might misconstrue as indifference. I only thought to help her a bit, and it angers me that you would try to take away the happy smile I just saw on her face because of your own arrogance and vanity. Your father is an earl…a man of maturity and good sense. I daresay he does not need you to decide whom he should marry!”

  He lowered his hands and studied her as if she were an unusual creature.

  “You are very decided with your tongue, aren’t you?”

  Now he sounded as if he admired her. “I agree, Miss Middleton, I do not know your mother, and I may possibly do her a disservice by comparing her to others. I should also trust my father’s judgment and not meddle in his affairs. I will endeavor to do so if you promise no more mischief.”

  She frowned. “I…”

  “If there is a genuine attachment between the pair, they will discover it for themselves without any added manipulation, wouldn’t you agree?” he asked smoothly, his eyes never leaving her face. “They’ve received a proper nudge just now…I am certain you witnessed that very passionate kiss as well.”

  She flushed, recalling the very wicked embrace. She wondered if he was right, but Callie knew her mama. The viscountess would need more than one nudge, and while Callie’s and Letty’s encouragement was meant to be helpful, this dratted man would see it as manipulating his father. She wanted to growl at him. “I suppose so,” she agreed reluctantly.

  “And if love…,” he said with skepticism, “were to arrow their way into their hearts, it is up to the earl and Lady Danby to discover it without anyone conspiring to set them up in a compromising situation that would lead to a forced marriage, especially with so many guests here. There is more than one notoriou
s gossip amongst this set.”

  Oh! A revelation bloomed through her. “You do not believe in love,” she said with soft surprise.

  He jerked in evident surprise. “I love my family, and I know this because I would do everything necessary to protect them.”

  “There is also the romantic kind of love, and I pity you since I believe you do not think it necessary!”

  His face softened, and she was grateful for it.

  “Ah…the flowers and the poetry, the long walks and kissing and then naked and sweaty, tangled limbs atop a bed? That is merely lust and a passion for life.”

  Shock blossomed through her in a chilly wave. Callie considered a variety of answers and rejected them all. What could she say?

  Laughter and something devilish lurked in his brilliant eyes. “Ah…, I’ve distressed your sensibilities.”

  Callie retreated a few steps, needing the space between them, for his presence was overwhelming and suddenly felt wicked. The awareness they were alone…and that it was late settled inside her. Instead of allowing her the distance, the dratted man followed her. She kept retreating, and he kept advancing. Callie only stopped when her rear encountered one of the Roman statues by the sashed windows.

  “Miss Middleton…Callie…”

  Her heart jerked at the intimacy of her name on his tongue.

  “Is it a shortened name?”

  “Yes,” she said huskily. “Callisto…”

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, with a small smile.

  Why her father had decided to name her after a nymph, she had never understood.

  Something indefinable gleamed in the viscount’s gaze. “I cannot help noticing clenched between your fingers is a sprig of mistletoe.”

  With a sense of alarm, she glanced down at the small green leaves crushed in her hands. Callie released it as if it were fire, and it fell to the ground between them. She fought to gather her composure at their close proximity.

  “The mistletoe is still here…with us,” he said with tender amusement.

  “Oh dear,” she said in a breathless gasp. Was he thinking of kissing her? Surely not! She was left with the uncomfortable sensation that he knew the errant path her thoughts had traversed.

  Another gleam of humor appeared in his eyes. “Is that all you have to say?” He held her hips and slowly tugged her to him, so her body was pressed against his. She should not let him hold her like this, yet unexpected anticipation sifted through her body. She felt surrounded by a wall of muscles and warm skin. The thrill of something positively improper, unexpected, and wicked quivered through her. I’ve never been kissed, she wanted to say, but what came out was, “I believe you are soon to announce an engagement with Miss Vinnette Brampton!”

  Surprised flared in the gaze that stared down at her, then knowledge. “Ah, it was your footsteps I heard shuffling in the corridor last night.”

  The rogue! Their conversation had suddenly become remarkably intimate, and the air felt fraught with peril. A desperate flutter wormed its way through her heart. “My sister’s,” she said huskily.

  “Vinnette and I are friends. After she cried on my shoulder, I escorted her to her rooms safe and untouched.”

  Callie did not understand why she believed him or why such relief filled her veins with enough force to make her knees wobble. She did not even understand why she wasn’t running from this situation. It felt reckless….and while she had a wild heart, she had never had a man stand this close to her before. And might very well never have it happen again. Within her an awful emptiness took root. I am four and twenty, and I’ve never been kissed. And weren’t house parties the perfect occasions to be wicked and improper even if just only once?

  He cupped her chin and lifted her face up to his regard. His gaze searched every nuance of her features as if he were trying to imprint something on his mind. “You are breathtakingly lovely,” he murmured. “I do believe I even like your waspish tongue.”

  She gasped, torn between affront and amusement. “Why you—”

  “It is my pleasure to divert your vexation,” he said with a smile, brushing his thumb across her lower lip. Her stomach fluttered as if birds were trapped inside, and they were desperate to escape. There was something deliciously sinful in the gaze that stared at her lips as if he imagined doing something terribly improper with her mouth.

  A sweet ache trembled low in her belly.

  Oh…oh…oh!

  Chapter 4

  Graham dipped his head lower and claimed Callisto’s lips before he could tell himself to fight the temptation. Her gasp of alarm allowed him entry, and he wickedly swept his tongue inside her mouth. She stiffened against him, and he gentled his kiss to soft, soothing nips, mindful of her delicate sensibilities. He pressed a series of light, teasing brushes of his mouth against hers. She opened herself to his persuasion, and with a sigh, she responded; he felt the inexperience, and inexplicably, it made him want her more.

  She went soft against him, and ran her hands over his shoulders in a caress that felt as gentle as the brush of a butterfly’s wing, to slip her hands around his neck. Then her response flamed with more hunger and the vivacity she had displayed earlier in their sparring.

  Graham groaned and slanted her head, deepening an already far too intimate kiss. The flavor of her mouth was sweet—oranges, gingerbread, and ratafia—yet also something elusive, sublime. Her innocent yet greedy response was wonderful.

  “You taste like heaven,” he murmured.

  She tipped on her toes and leaned into him even more. Her mouth moved under his with sensual wonder, and little whimpers of need puffed from her mouth to his. It was unlike any other kiss he’d ever had in his twenty-six years alive.

  A soft moan echoed from her and vibrated through him. Desire erupted inside of him, and he wrapped her in an even closer embrace where the evidence of his desire would be unmissable.

  She wrenched her lips from his, pressing trembling fingers to her mouth. “I did not expect that,” she said shakily.

  “Neither did I.”

  She sent him a look of cool caution. “With a man of your varied experience, I doubt that mightily, my lord.”

  He felt as if someone had broken something apart inside of him and placed it back haphazardly. Graham couldn’t quite grasp a hold of the perplexing sensations worming through him. From a mere kiss. He suspected it had everything to do with the lady before him. Her passionate defense of her mother and her evident caring nature had filled him with surprised admiration.

  She dipped into a quick and entirely graceless curtsy and then hurried away before he could gather his wits. He watched her retreating figure, wondering what the hell had just happened. While he’d had a few lovers over the years, he had never taken an innocent to his bed. He wasn’t a rake or man without honor or conscience. Lately, he had been thinking of setting himself up with a mistress, thinking it would be more convenient to have a woman ready whenever he felt the urge to have some fun between the sheets. Graham had been moving slowly in procuring a chère amie because he’d felt a bit dissatisfied at the idea of such an arrangement.

  There were days he hungered for someone to simply sit and talk with, for hours, perhaps about the work he was doing with his father or even find out about a woman’s days and what her interests were. Then he imagined he could take that elusive someone to balls and carriage rides. He hadn’t quite thought a mistress would fill that role. And staring through the glass of the conservatory at Miss Middleton as she ran along the lantern-lit path to the main house, he couldn’t help feeling that the someone he’d been imagining felt remarkably similar to the lively and charming young woman who had just left his arms.

  Suddenly that vague, shadowy figure who had been created in his most secret thoughts transformed into something tangible…and lovely. Bloody hell! A weak feeling assailed him, and he leaned against the statue. What was he saying? She was a lady, one with a respectable reputation. He could not dishonor or ruin her by asking her to be h
is mistress. She was fit for more than a quick romp beneath the sheets.

  Simply put, Miss Middleton was a lady of quality and could only be taken as a wife.

  Sweet Christ. Somehow, with the feeling for more, which had been growing inside of him, he had never thought of settling down with a wife so soon. It was inevitable, but just not now! Perhaps after a few more years of enjoying his bachelorhood.

  A cold awareness flowed through him. He had been damnably bored with that very bachelorhood, the clubs, and the fleeting lovers that only sated his lust but offered little else.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, and with a scowl, he made his way from the conservatory, determined to ignore his errant and very unusual thoughts. It must be all the mistletoe sprigs around the manor and the jolly and hopeful atmosphere turning him to such sentimentality.

  What else could it be?

  The following morning, Graham rode his horse, a massive black stallion, around the muddied lanes of the estate for a very long time, wanting to exhaust both himself and his horse. Outside, the day was bitter and gray, cold morning mist crept over the land, and he inhaled the brisk, clean air into his lungs. He had dreamed of Callisto—of kissing her, of sensually making love to her! He had jerked awake with his heart pounding to see the ash-grey rising dawn outside his windows and had been unable to return to sleep. This was profoundly irritating. He’d not had a thought of her, even though he had known her to be his father’s neighbor for over two years, but now he was constantly thinking of her.

  Slowing his horse, he guided the animal into a trot toward the eastern section of the estate where a small brook was located. There was barely any snow on the ground, and that brook should not be iced over. His horse could indulge in a drink and a rest before he took him back to the stables.

  It didn’t take long to reach, and once there, he dismounted and led Nightshine over to the stream where the horse drank from the icy stream. A rustle nearby had Graham shifting around where he spied his exquisite tormentor. The sun peeked through the clouds, splashing a warm golden glow over her rosy cheeks. She held something to her eyes and pointed in the distance toward the former groundskeeper’s cottage. Then she pointed toward the lake and the sky, gesturing with animation to the lady beside her. Her sister, Miss Letitia, if he was not mistaken. That lady shook her head vigorously, clearly objecting to whatever scheme Callisto plotted.