Seduction on a Snowy Night Page 9

  “I have them all planned if you are agreeable to my thinking,” he said. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Mrs. Hoover can start her cake. Jason and I will go hunting for Christmas dinner. You and Tom and Amelia can take the wagon to the woods and bring back some boughs of greenery.”

  She had to smile at the thoroughness of his plan. “It will be a wonderfully festive celebration.”

  “I think so. That will be the next day when we will all eat, drink, and be merry. The day after is the servants’ day off. Unless the household is to lack washing water and fuel and warm food, those who are not servants will have to serve. That means Amelia and I will be servants to the rest of you.”

  “Amelia won’t like that. She will think I should be a servant, too.”

  “You have served her and this legacy plenty. She will do it. Trust me.”

  He seemed very sure about that. She wondered what had been said while she listened at the keyhole.

  “Then the next day,” he began, then paused.

  She waited for the rest. Then the next day I will have to leave.

  “The next day, it is my turn to abduct you. We will make a little journey to Scotland, as you always intended. Only you and I will wed, not Amelia.”

  She gazed down at him in the stillness. He gazed back, right into her eyes. Waiting. Searching.

  “I am no great prize, I know,” he said. “Other than my title I have little to offer except a reputation that will embarrass you and more debts than are decent. However, you have stolen my heart, Caroline, and given me more happiness and purpose these last days than I ever thought to know. I must at least try to convince you to be mine.” He slid his hand behind her neck and pressed just enough to bring her lips to his. He showed the kind of convincing he had in mind.

  She could have answered his proposal right then. The words were in her head. The warmth of that kiss undid her, however. Words became unnecessary. Intrusive. She accepted how the sweetness turned passionate, then almost desperate. She welcomed the way her blood sizzled and coursed down her center.

  He nuzzled at her ear while he caressed down her side. “We will wait if you want, but I—”

  “I don’t want to wait.”

  Was that a thank-you she heard before his kisses pressed her neck in a dozen thrilling ways? Her mind narrowed to nothing except the sensations he created in her body, and to the building desire filling her body.

  His caress smoothed over her breast so naturally that she almost nodded, it felt so right and good. He tantalized her with new pleasures so intense that impatience entered her joyous abandon. The arm embracing her shifted and she felt her dress’s tapes loosen.

  “Stand here.” He set her on her feet in front of him. The fire warmed one side of her and the cool of the chamber touched the other side, but the heat inside her came only from him and her and what he was doing.

  He slid the dress down until it pooled at her feet. He turned her to work the laces of her stays and removed them before he turned her back again. She stood there in nothing more than stockings and a chemise. The cloth of the chemise hung loosely off her breasts. She looked down at how they had grown heavy and full and how the tips had tightened against the fabric.

  He pulled her closer, between his thighs, and eased the chemise down until her breasts were naked. To her astonishment he leaned forward and licked at one tip and the sensation sent her reeling. He kept torturing her with his tongue while he pushed the chemise farther down until she was completely naked.

  She could barely stand now. She could hardly see. He tongued at the other breast. A pulse throbbed low, between her legs, demanding more pleasure, beating a little drum of desire.

  He took her breast into his mouth, but his tongue still flicked and aroused. His embrace lowered to her hips and caressed, then held, her bottom. His other hand slid between her legs and touched that throbbing pulse.

  Shocking pleasure overwhelmed her. She gripped his shoulders so she would not die from it all. Her mind cried whimpers of need and maybe her mouth did, too. She heard nothing except his voice while he moved her toward the bed. He laid her down and covered her, then undressed.

  With only a shirt and trousers to remove, it did not take long. She caught a glimpse of him limned by the light of the fire, all lean strength like the thoroughbred he was, good lines, his chest and arms as arresting of attention as his face.

  He joined her in the bed and gathered her into his arms. “Does something amuse you?” he asked while he covered them both. “You have an impish smile.”

  “I am thinking it was wise of me to demand Jason stuff the mattress. He thought you should sleep on the ropes alone. Or the floor.”

  “It is not a bad bed. Small, but enough space for the two of us.”

  Considering how they lay, it was enough space. His body lined hers and his chest hovered over her. His head dipped to kiss her and lead her back into passion.

  Slowly, carefully, he aroused her. His kisses drew her toward abandon. He teased at her breasts with his tongue and teeth and caressed her body with confident, knowing hands. Her shyness fell away, and then her dignity, and finally her hold on herself. She moaned from the pleasure and it seemed that only made him find ways to make it better. When caresses on her thighs rose higher, he touched and toyed at her private flesh until impatient desire had her grasping him with fevered need.

  He mounted her, finding ways not to crush her with his weight. He bent her knees, then rose high on tight, taut arms and began to press into her. He filled her slowly, but it still left her breathless. Even as it pained her she did not emerge from the stupor of intimacy that filled her consciousness.

  He withdrew just as carefully, then filled her again. And again. Pleasure teased at her even within the soreness. She could tell he restrained himself for her sake, could feel the power building in him that he held in check. Maddening sensations started to overwhelm the pain and she moved, rocking up to accept him, joining him in the hard, consuming kisses he dipped his head to give her.

  His thrusts came harder then. She did not find that unpleasant and even urged him on with caresses and kisses because it brought them closer and banished the rest of the world. Their hard passion might have lasted a few minutes or many; she could not tell. There was no time, only emotion-drenched intimacy.

  Finally he was on her, his deep breaths in her ear as he collapsed after his finish. She wrapped her legs around him, and her arms, too, and held him close. She turned her head so her lips touched his cheek.

  “Yes, I will marry you.”

  Chapter 11

  “Where did you get that, Adam?” Caroline watched while Thornhill stood on a chair and tacked a ribbon to the top of the sitting room door’s threshold. An apple hung within it and a mistletoe bough dangled at its end. It added a bright note to a chamber already decorated with green boughs on the windowsills and five thick candles awaiting dusk and lighting.

  “A woman in the village had the ball and mistletoe. I added the other greens. I thought to catch you under it and steal a kiss.”

  “I think you have had enough the last two nights.”

  He checked the ribbon. “There will never be enough, darling.”

  Perhaps not. One kiss became more with them. She had surprised him by arriving at his door last night. Still sore from her first time, she had not been able to stay away. He had been unable to deny them both, although he displayed heroic restraint and care again.

  He hopped off the chair and pulled her into yet another deep kiss. “I think we should tell them today at dinner. Then we can do this whenever and wherever we want.”

  She laid her head against his chest. She enjoyed a few moments in his arms before the day’s Yuletide festivities began.

  Boughs of evergreens decorated the house. Down below Mrs. Hoover finished her dinner and cake with Amelia at her side. Amelia had complained about the chores she was expected to do now, so Caroline gave her a choice in them. To Caroline’s surprise, the choice had been
learning to cook.

  She looked through the frosted windows. Fresh snow had fallen last night but not too much, and now the sun shone on an unblemished blanket of white.

  “Jason is coming with a big log,” she said.

  “Tell him to bring it in here to dry,” Thornhill said.

  She went to open the front door and call Jason in. He set the log on its end near the fire. “Should be fine in a few hours.”

  He paused to look around the room, at the greenery and berries and candles. His gaze settled on the mistletoe bough for a long moment.

  “Stay and get warm,” Thornhill said. “I’ll see if there is some hot coffee below.”

  A little confused, Jason took position in front of the fire and pulled off his work gloves. Thornhill left and shortly returned. “It will be up soon.”

  “I’ll get some later. I still need to get the wagon and hay going, what with the snow again.”

  “No, no, stay. You should take a few minutes on this day.”

  Jason shrugged and turned back to the fire.

  Five minutes later, Amelia arrived with a tray. She stopped right inside the door. “Has the king called on us? If not, I don’t see why I am carrying refreshments up those stairs.”

  “Stay there. I will take it,” Thornhill said. Yet he did not move.

  Over at the fire, Jason watched Amelia.

  Caroline watched them all.

  Jason looked above Amelia’s head. With an expression of resolve, he made the few strides that brought him under the bough, too. He took the tray and set it down on a table. Then he did not steal a kiss. Instead he took Amelia’s face in his hands and kissed her fully.

  Caroline could not ignore the kind of kiss it was. Shocked, she took a step forward to stop him. A hand on her shoulder pulled her back.

  She looked up at Thornhill.

  Jason picked up the tray again. “I think I’ll drink this in the morning room. Why don’t you sit and have some, too, Amelia? You have been working as hard as I have.”

  Wide-eyed and perplexed by that kiss, Amelia followed him out of the room.

  Thornhill smiled.

  “Are you matchmaking?” Caroline asked.

  “I appear to have a talent for it.”

  “Jason?”

  “He is clearly in love with her. He probably has been for years. I am surprised you did not see it.”

  “She will never marry a servant.”

  “He is not a common servant here. She knows his interest now. She has already begun reconsidering him, and how she views him. That will take some time, but—Who knows what she will do?”

  Caroline stretched up and kissed him. “I will pray that the love she already has for him becomes that kind of love. It would be a wonderful conclusion of her misadventure. Is this a Christmas gift to me?”

  “I thought of it as a gift to Jason and Amelia.”

  “The mere chance of this match lightens my heart, so it is my gift, too. Thank you, for this and everything else you have done for me.”

  * * *

  “I think that went well, don’t you?” Caroline asked. Her question broke the silence that fell after an energetic passion left her screaming into the night on her release. Adam hoped no one went running to her chamber to see what accident had overtaken her.

  He doubted she knew she had done that. Nor did he think that she now congratulated them both on the artful sensuality of the last half hour.

  They had announced their forthcoming wedding before dinner, and it made for a very merry feast. Afterward, in the sitting room while the Yule log crackled, there had been games and songs, then more of the Christmas cake.

  “No one seemed too shocked,” she added. “Except perhaps my sister. She does not resent it, though. She only asked me later why I would marry such a demanding man.”

  “She is unhappy that I said tomorrow she and I would be the servants to the rest of you. She thinks you should join us because officially you are half owner of the manor.”

  “She is correct in that. My father’s testament left it equally to us both. I should play the servant with you.”

  “I have decided you will not. Not another word will be spoken on this matter.”

  “My, you are demanding. And commanding.” She nuzzled his neck.

  Both when necessary. He wanted Amelia to serve Caroline, for once, even if it was in this mock fashion. Amelia did not comprehend how her sister had lived and worked while Amelia played the gentleman’s daughter. He doubted Amelia had noticed the toll it had taken on Caroline’s hands.

  That thought had him feeling down beside the bed until his hand hit a bundle propped against the wall. He grasped it and pulled it up. “I have something for you.” He set the bundle on his chest right in front of her nose.

  She sat up. “What is it?”

  “Gifts. Small and hardly good enough for you. Useful at least, perhaps.” It had probably been a blessing to only have the village shops available. If in London he would have been tempted to spend hundreds for jewels and luxuries. Hundreds he did not have. For these small gifts he had enough, though. In time, with Caroline at his side and his one talent put to use with the horses, perhaps there would be more than enough.

  She took the bundle and felt through the muslin wrap. She petted the red silk ribbon that bound it together. “This alone would be enough.”

  It had been a day of laughter and joy and a night of unbearable pleasure and powerful emotions. A dark anger now threatened to ruin that, and he swallowed the reaction. He pictured his cousin and Margaret Millerson today, living as if the luxuries they enjoyed were their due.

  Later, he thought. Not too much later, but not now.

  Caroline pulled at the ribbon and unfolded the muslin. She lifted a fur muff. “Oh, my.” She rubbed the fur against her face. “It is beautiful and I will treasure it. Not very practical for riding a horse, of course, but—”

  “It is to keep your hands warm when you ride in a carriage.”

  She was good enough not to say she had no carriage.

  “As for riding, keep looking,” he said.

  She peeled back more muslin and squealed with delight. She lifted lambskin gloves and immediately pulled them on. “They fit perfectly. Like another skin.”

  “You can pick up a farthing while wearing them.”

  “I can also hold and shoot a gun.”

  “That too.”

  “There is something else—” More muslin and another squeal. “Good solid work gloves! You have given me a whole wardrobe for my hands.” She fell back into his arms and kissed him.

  He held her against his body. “I never want to see you with red, raw hands again, Caroline.”

  “I am surprised you found all of this in the village.”

  “Most shopkeepers have a special drawer that rarely opens. Small luxuries await the right patron. I would have bought a wardrobe for your body as well, but that will have to wait for town.”

  “I have nothing for you,” she whispered.

  “You gave me yourself, Caroline. There is no gift more precious.”

  She rose on her arm and looked down at him. “Perhaps I do have something else.” She caressed down until she reached his cock. “You may have to tell me how to wrap it, though.”

  He told her just how to do it.

  * * *

  Two mornings later, Caroline slipped out of Adam’s bed while he slept. The announcement of their marriage had been met with shock, happiness, and good cheer, but that did not mean they could openly share a bed.

  He had not been in his chamber when she arrived the night before. He still had duties as a servant down below. A day of that, with only Amelia to aid him, had left him working long into the night. Food from Christmas meant no one had to cook much, but the dishes still needed washing and the pots scrubbing.

  Amelia had complained about having to help when Caroline did not. It seemed unfair to her. To Caroline, too, who again petitioned Thornhill for her to be made a serv
ant. He would have none of it. He meant to humble Amelia, she knew, perhaps so she would be amenable to Jason’s eventual proposal. Mostly, however, he knew that Amelia would live at Crestview now, and if a peer of the realm could help groom horses Amelia could help groom chambers.

  Caroline was in the kitchen with Mrs. Hoover when Tom hobbled down the stairs outside and opened the door. “Riders coming up the lane. A carriage, too.”

  They all looked at one another and shrugged. “I can’t imagine who it could be,” Caroline said. All the same she went up to greet whoever was coming to their door.

  A coach and two riders on horseback drew closer. The riders wore livery. The huge carriage sported an abundance of brass and two liveried footmen. As it rolled to a stop in front of her house she saw the escutcheon on its door.

  Jason came up behind her in the hall. “Go above and wake Lord Thornhill,” she said. “Tell him his cousin is here.”

  A footman hopped off the back of the carriage, opened the door, and set down steps. A man emerged. The face beneath his hat’s brim was a fuller, older, coarser version of Thornhill’s. His shorter body showed more weight. Caroline gritted her teeth. This man would soon be family to her, but she still hated the sight of him.

  One of the footmen came to her at the door. “The Marquess of Haverdale has called for Lord Thornhill.”

  “Please ask him to come in and wait by the fire.”

  “He intends to remain outside.”

  “If he chooses to remain in the cold, so be it. He is welcome here. No one is going to assault him.”

  The servant looked shocked by the very notion of an assault on his lord. He returned to the marquess and delivered her message.

  The marquess appeared indecisive. The damp and cold won out over any inclination to stand his ground. He approached, bowed, and followed her into the house.

  “Lord Thornhill will be with you soon.” She ushered him into the study. “Will this do? The blue chair is very comfortable.”