Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1)

by Anna Campbell

  “Harry Steele, you are not allowed to play unfairly when it comes to the bedroom. If you do, punishment shall follow.”

  Harry groaned. “Oh, Alice, you have no idea what that does to me. If you are going to be strict, I promise I will misbehave all the damn time.”

  She swiped playfully at him. “Naughty boy.”

  As the topmost button on the front of her gown opened, Harry leaned in and kissed her. The next button saw another kiss. And so, it went on. By the time he had worked his way down the line of the dozen small fastenings, they were both breathing heavily. Harry then made fast work of Alice’s stays before discarding them and her gown.

  Now, she was determined that Harry would also know pleasure. They were in this together, and she wanted him to experience all that she felt for him.

  She brushed her hand over the placket of his trousers and Harry groaned once more. Unlike last time, he didn’t push her away.

  What a pity you are not wearing a toga. I could take you in hand so much faster.

  “Promise me that you will tell me how you like to be touched. How I can give you the pleasure you need. Don’t be afraid that I will hold back. I want us to know everything about the other, even our darkest desires,” she said.

  He took a hold of her breast, brushing his fingers back and forth over her peaked nipple. The sensation even through the thin fabric of her chemise sent heat pooling in her loins. Her body ached for him to show her the heady heights of sex once more.

  “We will take things slowly. There is far more enjoyment in a slow, sensual dance than a fast waltz. Today, I want to know you as my woman, for our bodies to reach climax together.”

  Alice swallowed deeply. She wanted this, trusted Harry to show her the way. He took her lips in another long, soft kiss.

  When he released her, Harry held her gaze. “Do you remember the night at the club, when I asked for your permission? We are going to do that again. I want you to always feel that you are in control of what is happening to your body, of your sexual release.”

  Her answer to each and every one of his requests was going to be yes.

  “Harry, make love to me,” she replied.

  He nodded. His jacket and cravat were quickly dealt with, his boots toed off and flung into a corner.

  When they came together once more, Harry was clad only in his shirt and trousers, the placket of which was partly undone. Alice stared longingly at the bulge which pressed against the remaining fastenings.

  She held a hand to her chemise and shyly smiled at him. “Remember, no ripping.”

  Harry placed his hands either side of her body, then slowly began to bunch the fabric up in his hands. Inch by inch, the chemise lifted.

  Cool air kissed her calves, then her thighs. When the hem of the garment barely covered her hips, he stopped.

  “May I?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  There was a whoosh of fabric, her vision momentarily covered, and then Alice was free of her chemise. She stood only in her stockings and slippers. The shoes went the same way as Harry’s, into the corner.

  Alice slipped a hand down and covered her sex, earning herself a disapproving shake of the head from Harry.

  She bent to remove her stockings.

  “No, they stay on,” he said.

  She scowled; why would he want her to keep her stockings on?

  “You have no idea of the nights I have lain awake and thought of you naked except for your stockings. Of how many times I taken myself in hand and stroked my length just thinking how amazing it would feel to be deep inside you with your stocking-clad legs wrapped around me.”

  “I see. So, the stockings stay, but the rest of me is naked?” she replied.

  He moved her hand away from where it covered her sex.

  “Never be ashamed of your body, my love, especially not in front of me. I intend that you will spend a great deal of time naked, so you may as well get used to it,” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow at his remark. “Breakfast naked? Doing the household accounts naked? What about when we fight?”

  Harry stepped forward and gently placed his hands on her hips. “I look forward to listening to you yell at me when you are naked. I can just picture how your breasts will bounce up and down the more riled you get. Fighting then fucking will be the order of our marriage. I shall demand it.”

  She pretended to be shocked by his rough language, but having heard it from her brother enough times, Alice couldn’t muster the right expression. Instead she simply laughed.

  He pulled her against him, his hard erection pushing against her stomach. Emboldened by their honest conversation, Alice dropped her hand to the last button on his trousers and flicked it open. Harry’s cock leapt free and into her hand. She squeezed gently, then began to stroke him.

  He let her toy with him for a time, his breathing slowly growing more ragged by the second. Resting his hand on hers, he stilled her movement.

  “Enough, woman. Time for you to be ravished.” After scooping her up in his arms, Harry marched over to the bed and promptly tossed her onto it. His shirt and trousers disappeared in an instant and a naked Harry climbed on, rising over Alice.

  He stilled, staring deep into her eyes. “Where to begin? It’s like being given a huge menu and not knowing which dish you want to start with.”

  She grinned up at him. “We do have all day, so we could feast for quite some time.”

  His gaze shifted to her breasts and he gave an appreciative hum. “I started with those last time, so I think I might leave them to the next course.”

  Alice’s hips bucked as Harry traced a finger down her stomach and brushed over the outer folds of her sex. Her body thrummed with desire. He was barely touching her, but the memory of his fingers and what he could do with them had her panting. “Yes. Yes. Anything,” she whispered.

  One, two fingers dipped into her wet heat. She was not the least surprised that his strokes were so easily deep and long, she had been ripe and ready for him from the moment he had first kissed her. Alice was hungry for his touch.

  Pleasure coursed through her body as he slowly thrust his fingers in and out. His thumb rolled exquisite circles around her sensitive bud and she groaned.

  I will never be able to get enough of this, of what he does to me.

  Harry shifted further down the bed. Alice’s back arched off the mattress as his hot mouth and tongue began to feast on the soft flesh of her sex. Her fingers clutched at the bedclothes, grabbing and holding them in tight fistfuls.

  “Oh my god, Harry,” she whimpered.

  Her climax was near; it took all her strength not to beg him to finish her off. She was desperate to come, but not this way.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said.

  “I want you inside me. I don’t care what else we do this afternoon. I just want this first time, and now,” she whispered.

  He positioned himself between her legs, his cock large and hard in his hand. She flinched for a moment as he pressed himself inside. There was a momentary sting and then it was gone.

  Harry stilled. “When you are ready, let me know.” He traced his thumb around and over her sensitive nib, and Alice gripped his arms.

  She let out a shuddering breath. “Yes. Please. I want this.”

  He pushed all the way in, and she moaned. “Oh, Harry, that is so good. Please, I need more.”

  A steady rhythm of deep thrusts and withdrawal began. She had never imagined it could be this way with a man. That her first time would be so incredible, the groans of pleasure which came from Harry making the encounter all that more glorious.

  The bed rocked with his every move. Alice closed her eyes and gave herself up to him. Let Harry take control of her body and her ever-growing hunger.

  Her need built to fever-pitch. She was so close to release, but it was just out of reach. In a sudden movement, Harry pulled back, and taking one of her breasts into his mouth, sucked hard. It was all it took to push her over the ed
ge.

  “Harry, oh!”

  Alice’s world exploded.

  The orgasm he had given her at the club was nothing compared to this mind-altering climax. Pleasure tore through her like lightening. On and on it rolled.

  “Wrap your legs around me. Take me deeper,” he commanded.

  She lifted her stockinged legs and did as he asked. Harry buried his face in the crook of her neck as he pounded his cock deeper, harder and faster with every stroke. His fingers gripped to the side of her hips, his breath coming shorter every second.

  And then he let out a guttural groan and slammed into her one last time. They collapsed into each other’s arms, panting for air. Hot, sweat-slicked bodies held tight to each other.

  When Harry finally rolled off Alice, he pulled her to him. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I love you too.”

  In the late evening, Harry eventually took Alice home. They had shared a long afternoon of making love and exploring one another’s bodies. He had lost count of the times he had brought her to climax, but the memory of hearing her cry his name when she was on the verge of release would forever remain in his heart.

  The carriage slowed to a stop in the mews at the rear of the North family home, and Harry helped Alice down. They walked toward the house, hand in hand.

  As they passed the main entrance to the stables, Alice paused mid-stride, before stumbling to a halt. She pointed to a large travel coach which had not been in the yard when Harry had arrived earlier in the day.

  “Oh, thank heavens,” she exclaimed.

  “What?”

  She turned to him, and cupping his face in her hands, gifted him with a hundred kisses. She then drew back, smiling. “That’s the North family travel coach. My parents have come home early from their trip.”

  Chapter 22

  The following afternoon, Harry walked the short distance from his house in Grosvenor Street to Redditch House. It was only a matter of a hundred yards or so to his family home in Upper Grosvenor Street, but at times over the past year, it had felt like an ocean separated them.

  He got a welcoming smile from the head butler as he stepped in the front door of the early Georgian mansion. The house took up a great deal of the block with its imposing Portland columns; the dukes of Redditch were never ones to hold back on showing their wealth.

  Upstairs, Harry waited outside his father’s study. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t nervous about seeing Lord Steele. The man had already cut him off and thrown him out of the house. There was nothing left for his father to hold over his head.

  “Your grace, your son is here to see you.”

  The sound of a throat being cleared, and gruff mumbling drifted out to where Harry stood.

  “Which one? I have four of the beggars,” replied Lord Steele.

  “My apologies. Lord Harry Steele.”

  Silence followed, and Harry could just imagine what foul curses would be running through his father’s mind at the mere mention of his name.

  Nice to see you too, Papa.

  “Alright, show him in.”

  He quickly checked his jacket and cravat in the hall mirror, making sure they were all in order. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back and strode into the Duke of Redditch’s study.

  His gaze took in the all too familiar room. Books, piles of papers, and the ever-present cigar hanging out of his father’s mouth greeted him.

  Harry caught the scent of burning tobacco and smiled. “Port-tipped. I thought you had given up on those.”

  Lord Steele raised his eyes from where they had been staring at a ledger and fixed his gaze on Harry. “A year, and that is all you have to say to me?”

  “I thought I would go with something innocuous to begin with, recalling that the last time we spoke you were raining down hellfire and brimstone on me,” replied Harry.

  His father rose from his desk, setting his cigar on an ashtray where it continued to send out a small, thin plume of smoke. “And as I recall, you were telling me to ‘go to the blasted devil,’ so I think we might call that even.”

  Harry grinned at the memory. At the time, there had been nothing amusing about it, but over the past eleven and a bit months, he had made his peace with it—mostly.

  He took a moment to study his father; little had changed about his features during the period of their estrangement. The man had barely aged a day. There was comfort in seeing that the old bastard was still fighting fit. They might not currently see eye to eye, but he could confess to having a soft spot somewhere in his heart for his father.

  Lord Steele came around to the front of his desk and gave Harry a slow looking over.

  I dressed in my best courting clothes today. He can’t possibly have any cause to find fault with my attire.

  “Are you well, boy?” he asked.

  Harry chuckled. He was twenty-six years old, and had long ago stopped being a lad, yet his father still referred to him as if he was a child.

  “Yes, Father, I am in excellent health,” he replied.

  A half sniff and a nod were his father’s reply. He pointed toward the nearby whisky-laden sideboard. “Fancy a drink?”

  There was meaning behind those words. Lord Steele’s offer wasn’t so much one of being a convivial host, but rather subtly enquiring as to whether he would need a stiff drink, or two once Harry revealed the purpose for his visit.

  “Thank you, no. I have had a morning of champagne, and that was plenty enough.”

  “Champagne? You are a strange one, Harry Steele. If I wasn’t sure that your mother has always been true to me, I would think you might be someone else’s by-blow,” replied the duke.

  At times, Harry suspected it might have been easier for his father to deal with him if had thought he might not be his son. The nobility was not known for keeping to the marital bed, but in his parents’ case, they had. A rare love which had blossomed from an arranged marriage had seen the duke and duchess happily wed for almost forty years.

  “I was celebrating with my future bride and her family; that was the reason for the champagne. I am getting married, Father,” said Harry.

  Genuine surprise registered on his father’s face. Both eyebrows raised toward the ceiling. “Well I’ll be. You are one for keeping the ton guessing. I take it you have come for money,” replied the duke.

  Harry shook his head. “No. I have come to give you my news and to ask for your blessing. Nothing more.”

  Lord Steele nodded toward the door. “Let us go sit in the formal drawing room. This calls for a more friendly place in which to chat.”

  They crossed the hallway, headed for the door opposite. The head butler was waiting a little distance away.

  The duke waved him over. “Could you please bring us up a pot of strong black tea and some thin toast with anchovy paste?”

  Anchovy paste. His father might well have thrown him out of the house, but he still remembered his youngest son’s favorite food.

  “My son will be staying for refreshments.”

  My son. How long has it been since you used those words kindly toward me?

  The butler smiled and bowed. “Very good, your grace.”

  They made themselves comfortable in the cozy, warm drawing room. The overstuffed purple floral couches, which his mother preferred to the more formal sofas, had long been some of Harry’s favorites. They had been the reason for the big, puffy ones he had purchased for his own home.

  “Now, tell me all about this chit,” said Lord Steele, settling into his comfy couch.

  Alice was many things, but a chit she most certainly was not. The future Lady Harry Steele was a strong young woman.

  “Her name is Miss Alice North. Her father deals in textiles and trade,” said Harry.

  His father’s eyes lit with delight. He clasped his hands together loudly and shook them. “Huzzah! Well done, Harry! You’ve gone and landed yourself an heiress. I didn’t think you had it in you, but that’s capital news.”

&
nbsp; Harry waited until his father’s gleeful celebration simmered down a touch before replying, “She has a watertight marriage settlement, so there will not be a big fat dowry coming my way. Alice and I will live comfortably on an annual allowance from her father, plus the money I bring in.”

  “Pfft. Damn new money. They might not have the breeding or titles, but they know their way around a contract,” replied his father.

  The butler finally reappeared in the doorway bearing a tray, which he set down on the table between the two couches. After pouring both the duke and Harry a cup of tea, he bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

  Harry’s stomach growled as his nose picked up the spicy aroma of anchovy on warm toast. How long had it been since he had tasted heaven?

  “I understand you have established a business of sorts with the Duke of Monsale and some other chaps. It is going to be enough to support you and a family?”

  Of course, his father wanted to know how he was going to go for money. The whole question of funds had been the cause of their massive falling out; Harry had refused to take up a respectable but low-paying career just to placate his family.

  “The coaching company is still in its infancy, but I have had another money-making venture operating over the past year,” he replied.

  Lord Steele picked up his steaming black tea and downed a mouthful. How the man could do that and not wince as it burned his tongue Harry had never been able to figure out.

  “Yes, I managed to get something of the truth about your peacock act from your mother, not that I approve of dabbling in other people’s misfortunes. Though I do have to ask how you expect to keep that going once you have taken on a wife.”

  The thought had already occurred to Harry. He was not going to be able to flounce into balls and parties garishly dressed when he had Alice on his arm.

  “Of course, if you came back to the fold, I could speak to someone about a job for you. Something in a government ministry. Solid, respectable, and money which you could count on.”

  Harry shuddered. He could never do that—not now not ever. “Alice and I shall manage. You know I couldn’t do a ministerial role. Sitting at a desk, pushing paper all day would kill me.”