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

by Anna Campbell

  Cassie turned to him in horror, speechless, her heart crumbling. A marriage of convenience to the only man she had ever loved.

  Sidney didn’t sleep what little remained of the night. At first light, he took the carriage to the village posting inn and rented a horse. Speed was his motive, but in truth, he needed the distraction. He needed the pounding and pain of a hard, long ride to drive out the madness in his mind.

  He’d…touched her. She had wanted a kiss from him. And he, in a blaze of lust and yearning, had seen her standing there. How could he not have recognized her?

  Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to. He didn’t understand how in an instant he’d lost his head.

  But even just remembering how she’d looked, standing before the fire, her skin bathed in light, glowing like the moon. Her hair flame-red. All good sense had left him. He’d jumped willingly into the fire in her blazing blue eyes.

  And all along it had been Cassie in his arms. Maybe a part of him knew, the part that struggled so long to remain quiet. To resist.

  He didn’t have an answer or an adequate excuse.

  He only knew that she would now become his wife.

  He should be wildly relieved about that, but instead, guilt colored his every thought, weighing each breath until he could hardly breathe.

  Married to Cassie. He couldn’t quite grasp it yet.

  Tristan had punched him out of brotherly duty, but they both recognized that this was the only acceptable outcome. Sidney had had no defense for his actions. He had nothing to say, no reasonable excuse for how he’d come to be caught with his hand up her skirts.

  All he could do was assure Tristan and his family that he’d do the right thing. But he didn’t feel right, he felt like he was sneaking treasure right under their noses. This was…exactly what he wanted.

  Cassie.

  His.

  Forever.

  He just never thought he would ever have it.

  Now he did and…he was lost.

  Worse still, Cassie was upset.

  Her family was angry, and he had no choice but to leave. In two weeks, he’d be traveling to Star Frost, now with a wife. One who might possibly hate him. Her reaction to news of their marriage was to run off in tears, and he couldn’t follow her, give her comfort. He was the villain. He’d taken advantage of an innocent, and not just innocent, the most treasured, respected, and protected woman he’d ever known. They kept Cassie on a tight leash for a reason. She was stunning, witty, intelligent, and kind. The diamond of her family. They allowed her to deny the three proposals she received in her first season because they knew she could do much better than two wealthy Misters and a baron’s son. And she certainly deserved better than to be pawed at and ruined during a ball.

  He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he took the prized lamb.

  Chapter 6

  Cassie rose from bed at Mary’s insistence. The maid was peculiarly quiet, considering she must know. Everyone knew. But what frightened Cassie the most was Sidney’s stoic resolve to marry her.

  Honor. Duty.

  Those were not emotions. Those were obligations.

  She was an obligation.

  Her plan couldn’t have gone more wrong. Though the outcome was what she had always dreamed, instead the reality felt more like a nightmare. Now she would face her parents and brother, and the bad dream would only get worse.

  They’d have questions, lectures, Tristan would make snide comments—ugh. She could imagine it now. It was like turning the cart all over again. She couldn’t explain what happened last night, any more than she could explain how the cart flipped. But it had. Her world had been turned upside down, only this time… She did have a hand in it.

  At first it had seemed so easy. Note, secret meeting, mistletoe, kiss. What could have gone wrong? Everything. Apparently, she wasn’t the only woman who intended to lure Sidney to an assignation.

  “Come along, your mother and father are waiting rather impatiently,” Mary said.

  Cassie groaned. “I don’t want to go willingly to an inquisition.”

  “Make up something silly. You were swept away in the excitement. It was the Mistletoe Masquerade, after all. You got the desired outcome. Lord Reardon is quite the catch. Better than the three gentlemen who proposed during the season.”

  “But he doesn’t want to marry me. How can he? He’s being forced to.”

  “Aye, he has to do the right thing. He’s a gentleman. A handsome one at that.”

  Cassie glared at Mary’s back from above her dressing screen as she slipped off her nightgown.

  “That is not what I wanted. I wanted him to fall in love with me.”

  Mary gasped and turned. “I beg your pardon?”

  “The intent was a kiss. Nothing more.”

  “What more happened?” Mary asked with rabid interest, clutching Cassie’s stockings to her chest.

  “Nothing. We were caught. I never intended to be caught.”

  “That’s what they all say. But you did want him?”

  Cassie sighed. “I did—I do. But the intent of the kiss was to see if he could have feelings for me, to see me as more than Tristan’s sister.”

  Mary came around the screen and helped Cassie finish dressing.

  “Men are simple creatures. Of course he’ll want you.”

  “You didn’t see his face when he told me we’d marry. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want to marry me. He has to.”

  “Marriages have begun on shakier ground before. He’s a good man. He always treats the staff with respect. That says a lot about a person.”

  Cassie moved to sit before her vanity. “I just wish…it had all been different.”

  Mary nodded with sympathy as she brushed Cassie’s hair. Her nimble fingers made two plaits and wound them together into a bun on Cassie’s head. Mary plucked a few strands from her temples to make flirty wisps.

  “There. You’re ready for the inquisition. What more could they possibly want of you? You’re marrying a viscount. It may not be the best of circumstances, but marriage does make amends.”

  Cassie smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

  She dragged her feet going down the stairs, praying her brother would sleep well past noon. He seemed to have a way of saying “I told you so” with just his eyes, whenever she’d made a mess of things.

  But this was different. It wasn’t ink on her mother’s favorite shawl or a creek she couldn’t jump across. If Sidney hadn’t offered for her, she would be ruined, her family name made a mockery.

  And at the worst time possible. It was almost Christmas. Cassie always loved this time of year. They didn’t get snow this far south, something Cassie had always wished to see, but the evenings frosted overnight, and most mornings sparkled like gems. She liked to bundle up with a hot cup of tea and sit on the terrace. She adored baking with her mother for the charity baskets, always a big undertaking in the kitchens where everyone helped.

  It was the time of year when everyone drew close to stay warm, spent evenings talking or reading, and even her brother chose to be less of a scoundrel. But as she reached the breakfast room, all the cheer she normally felt was gone. In a single night.

  “We’ll cancel the party.”

  Cassie overheard her father saying from inside the breakfast parlor.

  “I can’t have a drawing room full of people judging us,” her mother replied.

  “They will judge us anyway. The sooner we get the wedding over with the better.”

  Cassie paused outside the door. The footman stared at her in question. She shook her head, and he nodded, stepping back to his position without her parents noticing either of them. Cassie hid behind the door and listened. A little reconnaissance might be useful.

  “It’s not her fault,” Tristan said. “We know how she is. Impulsive, reckless. I don’t know why she did it, but she wanted him to meet her there. I believe that. Sidney…how could he resist? He says he didn’t know it was her. That, I don’t believe. I hate to t
hink it of him, but…”

  Cassie cringed. So, he was awake and part of the firing squad.

  Her mother sniffed. “Why would she send him a note?”

  Cassie couldn’t take any more. She had the answers. It was time to just…confess. To everything. This was not Sidney’s fault. He should not bear any of the shame.

  She pushed away from her niche and stepped into the room. “Don’t think anything terrible of him. It is my fault. I sent the note, and it was clear after we were discovered that he didn’t know it was me.”

  Three startled gazes held her frozen.

  “But why?” her mother asked.

  “I just wanted a mistletoe kiss. I never thought we’d be caught if I chose somewhere secluded. And if…if he refused me, then no one would know. No one would see my humiliation but him.”

  “Everyone saw the two of you,” Tristan grumbled.

  “I can’t help that Lady Delilah had the same idea but doesn’t know north from south. It was…bad luck.”

  Her father scoffed and folded his arms. “Bad luck? I’d say you’re damned lucky. As terrible as this situation began, you’re now engaged to a viscount and will be married as soon as he returns with a special license. I’ll brook no argument on that score.”

  Cassie looked down and folded her hands in front of her. “I won’t argue.”

  “Why? Why him for your little lark? It could have been anyone else, Matlock, Carrington?” Tristan asked. “You have countless admirers.”

  Cassie was unsure if he was angry for her or at her. “No man of my acquaintance compares to Sidney. I’ve—I’ve known him so long now, and I…I love him. I wanted to know if he could love me back, if he could see me as something more.”

  Tristan wiped his hands over his face and paced before the hearth. “A girlish fantasy.”

  “A girlish fantasy would not have endured as my feelings have,” Cassie argued. “Don’t belittle me. I’ve had a season and three proposals. As you say, I have many admirers. But Sidney is the only one I want. Do you think I wanted to be caught? To be nothing more to him than a duty? Do you think I enjoy standing here and telling you any of this?”

  “This is most unfortunate,” her mother said.

  “Indeed,” her father added.

  “You love him,” Tristan stated. “What experience do you have with love to know it from infatuation?”

  Cassie stiffened. “What experience do you have, dearest brother? Have you ever loved a woman longer than a night?”

  “Cassandra!” her father barked. “I’ll not have such filth coming from your mouth.”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. “How am I the shame of the family for wanting one man when he is like a tomcat?”

  Tristan smirked. “’Tis the way of things.”

  “It’s bloody unfair.”

  “Cassandra!” Her father stood, shoving back his chair.

  “Leave us,” her mother said.

  The men turned to her in confusion.

  “I wish to speak to my daughter alone. There is nothing more that either of you need say that could be helpful. What is done is done. This is a matter of the heart now and a conversation between mother and daughter.”

  Once her father and brother stormed off, her mother waved her to her chair and a hot breakfast was placed before her.

  “What more is there to say?” Cassie asked.

  “Eat first. Heavy discussion is best done on a full stomach.”

  Cassie took a grateful sip of tea, the warm brew soothing her turbulent insides. “Thank you. I feel chilled through and through.”

  Her mother nodded. “Do you want to marry him? One thing I always swore was that my daughter would have a choice in her husband.”

  Cassie raised a brow. “Did you?”

  “Yes, but it took some arguing. My father wanted me to marry someone else.”

  “How did you meet Father?”

  “At a ball. I’d had a terrible argument with my mother and father. I was supposed to meet their suitor of choice, and I was reluctant, to say the least. I can’t even remember his name now. Somehow, your father charmed me from my mother’s side, and in one dance, I knew.”

  Cassie sat up straighter. “Knew what?”

  “He was exactly the man I wanted.”

  Cassie blinked. “Then you understand.”

  Her mother nodded, her eyes glistening with what Cassie suspected was not anguish but the happy tears of memories. “I do. I would have done anything to marry him. But I didn’t have to. He had a better title. My parents were instantly supportive. And we would have supported you and Sidney if we’d known. You could have come to me.”

  “If I got the reaction I was hoping for, I would have. But I didn’t know if he returned my feelings,” she swallowed, “and now I never will.”

  “Do you think he cares for someone else?”

  Cassie froze. Did he? Oh, God. She had no way of knowing. She never thought—oh no. He never spoke if it, but why would he? He’d be private and stoic as he was with most things. Now she felt even worse.

  Tears pricked her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  Her mother reached across the table and touched her hand. “There are many ways for love to be born. It may take some time and work, but the best things always do. You will need your strength and determination not to give up. You have an abundance of both those things. I have faith in you.”

  Cassie smiled her thanks, but inside her heart crumbled again. She wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for days. “If he does love someone, I can’t marry him. I can’t bear to—to take love away from someone else. Please don’t force him.”

  “We aren’t. He was insistent from the start.”

  “He was?”

  “He is very honorable.”

  Damn his honor. She wanted his love.

  Chapter 7

  Sidney finally made it to London, dusty, exhausted, and guilt ridden. He left his rented horse with a groom, to be returned to its registered stable, and entered his family home on shaky legs. He went straight to his room, intent on sleeping for a thousand years. Tomorrow… He’d beg for an audience with the Bishop of Canterbury.

  Only a skeletal staff remained in the London residence. The others would have moved to the country house or sent home for the holiday season. He might be alone, but his staff didn’t have to be. They had families, whereas he had no one. He was a lonely bachelor, orphaned at the age of seventeen when an illness took both his parents. He had no siblings, but he did have cousins. He should have his aunt and uncle and their passel of children live here instead of him. There were so many wasted rooms that could be filled with people, conversation, laughter.

  Like Cassie’s home. Perhaps that is why he liked visiting so much. Her home was never lonely. Even with just two adult children, their household seemed to bustle with life and color.

  Cassie provided the most color. She filled every room she entered with vigor, brightening every corner like a candle. What would she look like here, walking the darkened halls? He didn’t see the need to spend on candles and oil for empty rooms.

  Maybe he’d become cheap. Only purchasing the bare necessities. Would Cassie change that? She’d never come across as spoiled, but she wanted for nothing. What would she make of these walls, the wood paneling, green and brown cushions and sofas, paintings of dead people? Some he knew, some he did not. To Sidney, the house was a moratorium of the past. He hadn’t changed a thing, and neither had his mother. It was old, and it smelled old. The smell used to be familiar and somewhat comforting but now… It was cold. Empty. Lonely.

  Sidney considered his room. It was exactly as his parents had left it. He’d moved in and continued the tradition of stagnancy. His enormous bed was shrouded in heavy velvet curtains he never used. The large hearth was enough to warm the room on the few occasions he slept here.

  Sidney was always moving, visiting friends, staying out all night, or staying at Tristan’s. He practically had a permanent room at Tristan’s.
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  How had the Summers terrace townhouse become more of a home to him than his actual home? And how was he to feel about taking Cassie from such a warm, comforting place to this mausoleum?

  He laid back on the bed and covered his face. Would he ever stop feeling guilty?

  As he lay there, his eyes grew heavy, his body weighted by sore muscles and bone-weary tiredness. He let sleep claim him. Drifting on a sea of feathers, sinking into the dark void until images appeared in his mind.

  Visions of Cassie, no less.

  She wore the green dress, peacock feathers nestled in her fallen hair. Red waves of silky locks fell around her shoulders. Entranced by her pagan beauty. Music filled his ears as he was pulled toward her by an invisible tether of need. He ached for her, and in this dream world where there were no repercussions, in fact, he was certain that no one existed except the two of them. He could have her, and he could tell her how much he wanted her without fear that baring his heart might bring down the world around him. The world where he wasn’t alone, where he had family again, in Tristan, in Lord and Lady Summers.

  They filled a void he never knew he had, but it was always there, a dark force, a boundless emptiness. He hadn’t been close to his parents, but at least he’d had people to go home to until one day… They weren’t there at all.

  But now Cassie would be. For all the years to come.

  She had wanted him to kiss her.

  Dream Cassie turned to him, beckoning him with a smile and the crook of her finger. He floated to her, and she stepped into his arms, their mouths fusing, their bodies drifting together as one. Clothes disappeared, and suddenly, they were on a bed, and he was inside her. She moaned his name over and over. He thrust, sweat beading on his back, his heart pounding, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her, couldn’t bear to look away as release rocked through him, and she threw her head back, in sync with him, crying out in ecstasy. They lay together, panting, surrounded by silk sheets and plump pillows. She looked at him and cupped his cheek, and in her eyes, he could see his whole future.

  He was home, he was warm and whole.