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

by Anna Campbell

  “I certainly will. And Lady Emma, like myself, Lauren never forgets the actions of a friend.”

  Chapter 16

  Lauren fidgeted with the scalloped hem of her nightgown.

  Sitting in the middle of the bed, she glanced around Theodore’s room. It was spacious and tidily kept, his valet obviously very meticulous in his efforts to keep things orderly. Because of Penelope’s intervention, at least she could be sure his servant would not interrupt them tonight.

  Picking up the sprig of mistletoe her cousin handed her just as she was leaving, Lauren smiled. It seemed fitting it be used as a means of showing Theodore she’d decided she would become his wife.

  But how much longer would she have to wait for him to arrive? The mantle clock had struck eleven-thirty, meaning dinner had ended over an hour ago. Even with the requisite cigars and brandies following the meal, he should have retired by now.

  “You are being unreasonable,” Lauren muttered to herself. “He’ll be along soon enough.”

  As if on cue, the doorknob turned, and Lauren hurriedly straightened her posture, smoothing a hand over her hair. The mistletoe, clutched so fiercely between her fingers, was in immediate danger of being mangled.

  Theodore entered the room, his attention on removing his coat. He did this as though in deep thought, his back to the bed. Tossing the garment over a nearby chair, he made his way to the fireplace and poured himself a brandy.

  Staring in the flames of the fire, he drank while Lauren watched his form, backlit by the glow and gilded as if in gold. Her heart contracted, squeezing painfully tight as she realized how very much she loved him.

  Leaning an arm against the mantle, Theodore sipped until the brandy was gone. He twirled the glass absently.

  Lauren bit her bottom lip. What was he thinking? Was he thinking of her and their time spent together earlier? Was he wondering when he might see her again? Or was he plotting how he might convince her to marry him? With a deep sigh, she took fate into her own hands.

  “Will you stare into the fire all night?”

  Theodore stiffened in response to her soft question, his back straightening although his head remained bowed. His hand tightened around the glass before he slowly placed it upon the mantle.

  “What are you doing here, love?” He kept his back to her, and Lauren shivered at the dark, dangerous quality of his voice. If he was surprised at discovering her in his room, he did not show it. He sounded… tense. Cautious. Aroused.

  “I wish to finish our conversation.”

  “Most definitely not the ideal time or place, Lauren. How did you get in here, anyway?”

  “Penelope.” Lauren studied him, taking in every nuance of his body and its reaction to her words. “I do not plan on leaving this room until we have settled this matter between us, Theo. Won’t you look at me?”

  A shuddering breath escaped him. “I don’t dare.”

  Lauren swallowed. “Why? Have you changed your mind about me? About us?” The last word came out almost as a sob.

  Theodore let out a harsh laugh. “Changed my mind? Far from it, love. It is taking all the willpower I possess not to ravish you.”

  “Please, Theo. Come here to me.” Perhaps if she pleaded, he would relent.

  “St. Simon’s Cross, Lauren—” The curse tumbled from him. His hands clenched into fists against his thighs, shoulders rounding with the effort to keep from whirling about and pouncing on her. “This is dangerous. Dangerous and foolish, and I don’t know what the hell your cousin is thinking by allowing you in here…”

  “I shall ask the same question I posed earlier today. What would you do differently if you could? Would you tell me what our fathers had done?”

  Theodore slowly turned, seeking Lauren out and finding her in his bed. His eyes pinned her in place. The twin orbs glowed in the soft light cast by the fire, so bright and so fierce, Lauren thought they could be rare sapphires.

  She wondered what he thought of her, sitting as she was in the middle of the rumpled sheets, a night rail of dark blue silk barely concealing her body. Did he find her desirable? Did he think her plain brown hair softy and shiny? Was her skin too pale for his tastes? Were her lips full and pink enough that he dreamt of them?

  “Dear God,” he choked out, finally. “You are a vision. A gift I do not deserve. Are you truly here?”

  Lauren’s heart pounded as though it were a wild herd of horses set free from captivity. With a tremulous sigh, she reached for him.

  He came forward hesitantly until he stood beside the bed. Enfolding her hand into his larger one, he stared down at her, his eyes roaming over every curve and line of her body. She flushed, warming from his gaze and the incredible heat of his hand.

  “Theo?”

  He shook himself, reaching out with his free hand to trace the plumpness of her lips with a forefinger.

  “I would tell you the truth of the matter,” he admitted in a low voice. “That my father was dying, our fortunes were long depleted, and I alone was responsible for the estates and the care of my mother. My lofty title was of no use when creditors refused to extend finances. My father and Lord Kendall believed it best for all involved if you did not know the details behind our engagement. To my shame, I followed their directives because I wanted you so much, but it was wrong. I was wrong. I should have told you from the very start. If I had, we would have started our marriage with honesty and trust.”

  “Father knew my stubbornness. The idea of being sold for a title and safety repulsed me.”

  “It may have suited other purposes financially, but we fell in love first, Lauren. Before anything else, there’s that, and it’s the truth. No matter what else you might think, above all else, I loved you first.”

  A tear tracked down Lauren’s cheek. She swiped it away. “I believe you, Theo.”

  Theodore’s eyes closed, a momentary selfishness where he appeared to be thanking some higher being. When his gaze locked on hers again, it was with fierce protectiveness. “Now, you must return to your room. We shall call for Penelope to escort you…”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  His hand tightened on hers, their fingers entwined. Leaning down, he murmured against her ear, “I threatened a man’s life tonight for you, Lauren. Promised I would tear him apart with my bare hands if he so much as uttered your name in a way that displeased me. Made sure he understood I would take great pleasure in it if he dares slander your honor. Lady Emma, in protecting her own reputation, linked her retreat during the games with your absence. I’ll not have those actions erased now.” His eyes roamed her features with undisguised hunger. “There is no other option. You must go because I can’t protect you if you stay, darling. Not from myself. Not from what I want to do with you.”

  Lauren held up the mistletoe, her manner solemn. “I do not wish for protection. I wish to be kissed and held. I wish you…”

  A hand clapped over her mouth, cutting off her words. “For the love of God, Lauren,” he choked out. “Have mercy.”

  In response, she nipped his palm.

  Theodore let out a sharp hiss, his hand snatching away.

  “If there is mistletoe, you must kiss me, Theodore. Are those not the rules you put in place?” Lauren’s eyes flashed with silver fire. “Or do they only matter when you are the one enforcing them?”

  “Damnit, I’m trying to save you from yourself… and from me.”

  “I don’t want to be saved. If dying by fire is the only way to prove…” Lauren shot back.

  “There are a thousand ways to die,” Theodore interrupted with a growl. “Having torn myself away from you once, I’m discovering it kills me to do so again.”

  “I choose to die in your arms. By your kiss. Hearing you say I am yours and you are mine. I will die saying I love you.” Her words flowed out in a rush, her hand keeping his prisoner when he might have pulled away. “Theodore, don’t push me away now when I am giving you everything I have. I am surrendering.”

 
His features softened, his gaze turning molten. “Never, darling. Never surrender. I will not have you on your knees for me. I will not have you as anything other than what you are—fierce, stubborn, loyal, and smart enough to make me see how wrong I’ve been.”

  Sinking onto the bed, Theodore took her by the shoulders, his long fingers gently caressing her flesh as he stared at her. “Do you truly mean what you said? That you love me?”

  “I’ve never stopped.” Lauren inched closer, reveling in the heat of his body. Intoxicating and lavish, it radiated from him in waves. It left her drowsy and yet embroiled in a heightened sense of awareness. The broad expanse of his chest beckoned for her fingers, calling for exploration, and the palms of her hands twitched with restless hunger, ready to smooth across the muscles hidden beneath the white cambric shirt. “I’ve always loved you. I always will.”

  Theodore slid his hands down her arms until both her hands were captured in his, the mistletoe crushed. Leaning forward, his forehead touched hers as he swore a hoarse vow.

  “I love you, Lauren. I want to marry you. Take care of you. Give you half a dozen babies, all blessed with your gorgeous eyes, and watch them with you as they grow up. I want to squabble with you about insignificant things, then make amends by covering you head to toe with kisses. I want to grow old and grey with you, knowing we’ll spend eternity together side by side.”

  Lauren laughed, a little sob escaping at the same time. “Yes, Theodore. I want that, too. All that and more.”

  “Anything for you, my love. Anything.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I have one secret to confess, one I should have revealed sooner. Our mothers conspired to bring us together here. For different reasons than our fathers, I think, but a conspiracy nonetheless. Does this change how you feel about us?”

  “I already know, and I cannot fault them. They love us both very much and only want to see us happy.” Her lips parted as she gazed up at him, and without even realizing it, she willed him to kiss her. To take her mouth and shape it to his own. To own her breath and breathe his into her lungs. To claim her soul, body, and heart.

  “I hope you agree an elopement is in our immediate future.” He kissed Lauren so softly it wrung a moan from deep within her chest. “If I could marry you this very moment, I would.”

  “Will you kiss me instead, Theo? Will you make love to me?”

  A wicked grin curved Theodore’s lips until he resembled a hungry wolf. “When you are in truth my wife, we shall make love until we both collapse.”

  “I do not want to wait. I want you now.”

  “Unwise, my love.” He chuckled at her eagerness, and Lauren wanted to stomp her foot that he wasn’t taking her seriously.

  “Make love to me tonight and marry me tomorrow,” she demanded. “The mistletoe is supposed to make you compliant.”

  Sobering, Theodore smoothed a stray wasp of hair from her brow and tucked it behind her ear. “I am easily commanded by you. Always. But I won’t dishonor you before we wed.”

  “And if I demand a truth, a favor, or a kiss?”

  “I would grant all three.” Cupping her stubborn chin, he brushed his mouth over hers.

  “Then let us begin with a favor,” Lauren murmured. “Remove your clothing.”

  Chapter 17

  Theodore shook his head.

  “I’ll not take your virginity here, and not before we are man and wife.”

  Lauren’s head tilted. “A momentary bit of pain. A spot of blood. I am already yours in my heart. The time and place matters little to me with the exception that it be here and now, Theo. If you worry that you may hurt me, you do so needlessly. I know what to expect.”

  “So, now you attempt to ease my apprehensions,” he mused. “How can you possibly know the full extent of what I will do if your demands are met?”

  A tiny smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Mother provided some details during the time we were engaged. Penelope answered even more of my questions earlier tonight.”

  Theodore was slightly stunned Lauren’s cousin would knowingly contribute to her deflowering under the viscount’s roof. But then again, Penelope and George had their own rather scandalous beginning to their marriage. After carrying on a secret love affair under the very nose of Penelope’s uninterested fiancé and her parents, the two of them had eloped to Gretna Green.

  Lauren sensed his wavering resoluteness. Moving closer, she brought her arms up so they looped around his neck. “This is what I want, Theo. It is what you want, too.” Her eyes, so warmly grey like the summer sun flashing on water, held his until he wondered if he might drown in their depths. “After everything, after all these months apart, isn’t our love worth what we want?”

  Her fingers caressed his nape, lightly grazing the flesh, sifting through the strands of his hair, their mouths so close that his breath caught and mingled with hers. Theodore could not conceal the shudder of desire that raced through his body.

  “Lauren…”

  His shaky whisper was answer enough. With aching sweetness, Lauren closed the distance between them, her lips touching his gently at first and then with a growing hunger. Her tongue slipped into shy contact with his, retreated, then returned until Theodore met her plea, their mouths mating in an ancient dance.

  It was a kiss so passionate, so heart-stopping and possessive, and so beautifully raw, it was quite possible that time stood still.

  When the earth resumed its rotation, Theodore discovered his shirt had been unbuttoned by quick, nimble fingers, and warm, feminine hands were smoothing the fabric off his shoulders.

  He never released her mouth while tearing the shirt free from his body. Once that was accomplished, his hands gripped Lauren’s tiny waist, pulling her against him. Crushing her to his broad chest so he could feel her firm, high breasts burning his skin even through the thin, satin nightdress.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he murmured when he finally took a breath, kissing the slender column of her neck, delighting in the scent of roses and the taste that was uniquely hers. “I’ll try, at least.”

  “I know you will. I’m not afraid.” She angled her chin higher, letting him devour her as he liked, gasping when he moved lower and nipped her shoulder. When he chuckled at her response, she turned her head and licked the spot just below his ear before taking an earlobe between her teeth and worrying it gently.

  “Little minx,” he groaned in surprise at her playfulness. “You’ll be the death of me. You know that, don’t you?”

  Lauren laughed softly, running her hands over his chest as if awed by the sharply chiseled muscles rippling beneath the skin. “You are so wide. So hard and strong.”

  The words were followed by soft lips skating over the flesh her hands just touched, hovering for a brief second above his flat, disc-like nipples. Then… a lick, a languid swirling of her tongue across the turgid flesh, an experimental taste before her teeth closed over each one in turn to give a teasing bite.

  The slight pinch of pain only heightened Theodore’s arousal, to the point he thought he might explode with the need to bury himself deep inside her.

  “Christ, Lauren,” he choked out while her hands maneuvered even lower until they rested on the button placket of his trousers.

  “The rest of your clothes, Theo. Shouldn’t they be removed for this to work properly?”

  She blinked up at him, innocent and flushed, her eyes dark silver with arousal, and all that silky brown hair flowing around her shoulders. The shadowy vee of her breasts, decadently exhibited by the nightdress’s neckline, demanded he run his tongue over the exposed silky flesh. But he wanted more than just that little sliver. He wanted all of her. Now.

  Rising from the bed, he quickly stripped free of his remaining garments and boots and returned to her. Intending to tug the gown over her head, he reached for the hem, but she grabbed his hands, halting his motion.

  “Wait.”

  Theodore froze. He recognized the unsure quality of her voice. The slight tremor of fear
it contained. Her eyes were glued to the area of his groin.

  Dread seized his heart and bottomed out in his stomach.

  “My love… I’m sorry. I’ve frightened you with my impatience, my roughness—”

  Lauren gave a shaky laugh. “No, wait. I only want—I want to look at you.” Her gaze traveled his body, from neck to thigh and all gorgeous slabs, edges, hollows, and bulges in between. “Oh, Theo. You are so beautiful. So… amazing.”

  Her eyes lifted to meet his, shy but bold. Curious, but hesitant. Because this might not be acceptable behavior between a man and woman, and she was new to all of this, and only he could teach her.

  “A truth, Theo.” At his nod, Lauren’s lips parted slightly with anticipation. She licked them, a slow swipe of her tongue passing over the pouting top lip first, the lush bottom one last. “May I touch you? As you touch me? Do you… want me to touch you?”

  Theodore’s eyes closed in a silent bid for strength. For willpower. For divine intervention because, God help him, he felt capable of ravishing her like a pillaging thief. “You are killing me, Lauren. I may burn up in flames on this very spot, but yes, you may touch me, however you like. Whenever you like. I am yours. You are mine. Remember that.”

  She assessed his form again, lingering in certain areas, and damn if he didn’t harden all the more because of it.

  Then, very softly, she instructed, “Lie back upon the pillows.”

  Lauren’s pulse raced like mad.

  For all her outward calm, she trembled like a leaf as Theodore followed her instructions without a hint of hesitation.

  When he was in place as requested, she faltered, suddenly unsure of her next move. Because there was so much of Theodore to admire… to salivate over. To worship and adore. He sprawled across the bed, propped by stuffed pillows like a magnificent warlord. Great expanses of gleaming skin lay bare before her, waiting to be explored however she wished.

  There were his shoulders to begin with. Wide and defined with angular edges and thick tendons leading to biceps that flexed and bunched with muscles when he moved his arms above his head, clasping his hands tight at the base of his neck. She’d already discovered the mysterious planes of his chest and the way he quivered the tiniest bit when she touched him.