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

by Anna Campbell

  The tightness in her lower belly made her squirm, and her breasts grew heavy and sensitive. The uncomfortable, restless feeling had returned full force, but now she knew he had the ability to appease her need. She didn’t want to dwell on how he had acquired such talents.

  The confrontation with the two men in the alley had upturned what she’d thought she knew about herself. An unfamiliar vulnerability had shaken her footing. Thomas hadn’t taken advantage of her battered confidence or the brandy fuzzing her senses the night before. He could have. She’d certainty begged him to.

  The morning brought clarity. A clarity society would deem madness.

  She laid a hand on his stomach between his folded arms and the top of his breeches. His breathing remained deep and even, and he didn’t so much as twitch a muscle. She glided her hand to the nearest button of his fall and ever so slowly slid it free.

  She glanced up, but his face remained impassive. Biting her bottom lip, she slid her hand into the narrow opening. Her fingertips brushed the hard length of him covered in thin cotton. With a startling quickness, Thomas clamped her wrist.

  Oh dear. She’d been caught with her hand in the biscuit tin.

  “What the devil are you doing?” His voice was raspy with sleep.

  “Is it not obvious?”

  He turned his head on the pillow, and their gazes collided. He remained on his back. Her hand remained in his breeches. Their faces were too far away to share a kiss, but close enough she could see the shards of dark amber around his pupils. His expression was a clash of shock and wonder.

  With the slowness of a stalking cat, she inched her hand farther inside until the pads of her fingers stroked his length through the cotton. His hand spasmed on her wrist, and his eyes widened with his sharp intake of breath. Yet he didn’t protest.

  Her own breathing picked up as she curved her fingers over his cock. She explored the thick length of him, from the taut sacs below to the spear-shaped tip. Imagining his cock in place of his finger gave her a moment’s pause. Would he fit? Her body had no such qualms. She ached to have him between her legs and could feel herself growing slick with want. This time it wasn’t her but him who begged.

  “Please.” The word emerged on a chesty groan.

  “Do you want me to stop?” She tightened her grip, and his cock pulsed in her hand, making her catch her breath.

  “Of course I don’t, but we can’t…” His hips moved restlessly, not away, but into her touch.

  “Of course we can.” Whether they should was a different debate. Actually, any sane person would argue they shouldn’t. If they did nothing, at least when their adventure was concluded, she could claim her innocence. Mostly.

  It wasn’t merely her night in a cottage with Garrick that was an issue. Lord Berkwith had seen her being pulled into an alley with two ruffians. Only his gentlemanly discretion, which was in question to begin with, stood between her and ruination.

  Her mother would already have a plan brewing on her return. Victoria would be married off before any rumors sifted through society. She would be another man’s wife, expected to share his bed whether she wanted to or not. Fate had given her the opportunity to be with the one man she truly wanted and loved. She’d read enough books to know not to thumb her nose at fate.

  “Mother wants me to marry soon. Very soon.”

  “All the more reason for us to stop this madness.” Yet he didn’t pull away, giving her a shot of hope that was more potent than the brandy.

  “There’s only been one man who has ever stirred my blood. Only one man whose bed I’ve dreamed of sharing.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, and his expression could only be described as tortured. Was she winning or losing the argument?

  Unable to keep the desperation from her voice, she continued, “I realize you’re a man of the world and have experience with this sort of thing. I’ve only read how to please a man and will probably be a disappointment, but if you could find it in your heart to—”

  He jerked the quilt off her and rolled half on top of her in a rush of movement that shocked her into silence. His elbows were braced on either side of her head, his lips an inch from her. “Hush, woman.”

  He kissed her, slow and languorous, yet with an underlying intensity of being lured into a trap. She was more than happy to be caught.

  She relaxed under his weight, enjoying the feel of him. One of his legs was braced between hers, and his erection was pressed against her thigh. Tentatively, she raised her hands from the mattress and lay them lightly along his flanks. His muscular bulk stirred her senses.

  “I need to confess something.” He spoke the words between drugging kisses.

  She hummed before nipping the sensuous curve of his bottom lip between her teeth. He raised himself out of the reach of her mouth, and she pretended to pout, hoping he hadn’t changed his mind.

  “You mentioned I’m a man of the world with experience.”

  A blush lit her from head to toe. “I want to please you, if you’ll teach me.”

  Red burnished his cheeks, and his chuckle was self-depreciating. “I have experience with many things, but not as much as you are assuming.”

  “But last night you knew exactly what to do.”

  The red from his cheeks traveled down his neck. “I’m not entirely inexperienced, but I’ve never… bedded a woman.”

  Thomas was a virile, attractive man. She’d seen the way the maids had eyed him. He’d had countless opportunities. Of that she had no doubt. “Why not?”

  His rare smile made a bittersweet longing swell in her chest. “Don’t you know?”

  “Because of me?” The slight creak in her voice was a sign of her rising emotion.

  For years, she’d assumed her feelings for Thomas were unrequited. Their kiss had renewed her infatuation, but two long years had passed without an overture from him. Her dreams had felt out of reach, and if not for this unexpected turn of events, she might never have had him in her grasp.

  “Of course because of you.”

  She swallowed back a lump of tears. Turning into a watering pot might put him off. No, it wouldn’t. She smiled through a haze of tears, wrapped her hand around his nape, and pulled him down for a kiss.

  “We’ll figure it out together. I’ve read quite a bit more than I should have on the subject. If you would like me to share.”

  “Yes, I know about your sojourns to the bookshops and what you bought.”

  “I was wondering why you didn’t comment on my attire and the padding.” Her forays were well thought out and perfectly executed. Even her parents were none the wiser. “How long have you known?”

  “Since the beginning. Your father tasked me with keeping your safe. I made it my business to know what you were up to. Your disguise was quite good, but not good enough to fool me.”

  “You didn’t tell Father.”

  “Make no mistake, I would have if I thought you were endangering yourself, but I understand how restricting you find your role since your debut. It has pained me to watch your natural curiosity stifled by conventions.”

  He understood. She didn’t need to hide her true self from him. It was like a too-tight set of stays had been loosened. And knowing they were on equal footing in bed made her even bolder.

  “Speaking of my natural curiosity.” She ran her hands down his back to the hard muscles of his buttocks and dug her fingers in. “You have very much aroused it.”

  He tugged the ribbon and pulled her chemise off her shoulders, not stopping until her breast were exposed to his gaze. There was nowhere to hide with the morning sun offering illumination, so she didn’t try. Instead, she arched her back in invitation.

  He accepted with gusto. He lathed her nipple with his tongue before pulling the peak inside his mouth for a hard suck. Pinpricks rushed through her and made her squirm. She pulled his shirt from his breeches and rucked it up his chest, needing him as naked and vulnerable as she was. He grabbed hold of the back and pulled it over his
head. She ran her hands up his chest and pushed him away a few inches in order to see what he’d unwrapped.

  Before she had the chance to make a thorough examination, he switched their positions in a show of strength that made her weak in the knees. He ended up half sitting against the pillows, with her straddling him, and his cock pressed between her legs. A blush started in her cheeks and couldn’t be contained. Pink raced across her breasts.

  “Are you embarrassed?” he asked with a quirk of his brows.

  “I’m embarrassed and aroused and desperate and scared and about a thousand other things I can’t explain.”

  “Concentrate on the pleasure. The rest we will figure out together.”

  Yes, together. She took a deep breath. His gaze fixed on her chest, and his hands followed. He cupped her breasts and thrummed her nipples with his thumbs. She pitched forward and braced her hands on his chest. The muscles shifted and dark hair tickled her palms. She forgot about her embarrassment.

  She ran her hands over his shoulders and back over the planes of his chest. Multiple scars traced their way over his skin. She hurt to think of him hurt. How close had he come to death?

  She touched a recent one with her finger. “What happened here?”

  He shifted and looked down at where she pointed. “Got into a fight with a stick while I took cover in a stream.”

  A disbelieving laugh burst out of her. She had expected a harrowing tale involving stilettos and evil Frenchmen.

  “Oh, you laugh, but it hurt like the devil, and I had to keep quiet or risk getting caught.” His grin was as close to boyish as she’d ever seen on his face.

  She leaned in to kiss his smiling lips. “Whether a stick or a dagger, I never want to see you on the pointy end.”

  “A sentiment I wholeheartedly agree with. Do you have any scars to discover?” Before she realized what he was about, he had her chemise up and over her head and tossed it on top of his discarded shirt.

  She was entirely naked. His face lost any boyishness, and he grew taut everywhere, but most especially between her legs. Her hips rolled in response, and a small moan slipped out. She touched the waist of his breeches. He nodded but didn’t make a move to continue her earlier work. She shifted backward and attacked the buttons with shaking hands. Her fumbling only heightened the tension.

  Once the fastenings were loosened, Victoria tugged. He took control, bucking her off and kicking off his breeches. He knelt on the bed, one leg between hers, and pushed her to lie back.

  She stared at the appendage jutting from a nest of dark hair between his legs. She’d seen statues of naked men. She’d even seen sketches in the courtesan’s diary, but neither had prepared her for the reality. Slowly, as if it were an easily spooked animal, she reached out and touched him.

  “Go on,” he said in a rumbly voice. “It won’t bite.”

  She shot him a smile and grasped him. He twitched in her hand, and she drew in a quick breath. His cock was hard, but the skin covering him was soft. A slit in the head glistened with fluid, and she explored the spear-shaped tip, running a thumb along the slit and gathering the slippery fluid.

  Thomas gripped her thighs and pushed them apart. He stared between her legs with the same fascination she felt regarding his cock. Like the previous evening, he stroked and toyed with her until she was squirming with urgency.

  She surrendered even as she mounted a weak protest. “Wait. You’re supposed to enter me.”

  “I will, but this will make things easier for you.” His voice was strained. “I hope.”

  The ominous qualifier barely registered before her climax took hold. This time his fingers drove deep within her, pumping hard through her bliss, extending it. His fingers retreated, and she raised her head to complain, but he had shifted to kneel between her legs.

  He gripped his shaft and rubbed the head of his cock through her wetness until he was pressed at her entrance. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes. And very willing,” she answered breathlessly.

  He pushed inside of her, one slow inch at a time. A sheen of sweat broke over his brow. “Am I hurting you?” he asked between clenched teeth.

  “No.” She was lying. Her body burned as it stretched to accommodate his length and girth.

  He pushed until his hips were seated against hers, pinning her legs wide. “It will get easier.”

  “How do you know?” She bit her lip.

  His laugh edged closer to a groan. “I don’t. Do you want me to stop?”

  She actually considered his question, but as the seconds ticked off, she found the pain subsiding into a different sort of ache. “No, don’t stop. What’s next?”

  “Next, I do this.” He withdrew almost all the way, then pressed into her again. Sensation jolted through her when his hips met her body.

  “That was… Do it again.”

  He did. And again and again and again until she lost count. The slide of him in and out of her had become easier, and the friction felt rather magnificent.

  “I can’t… You feel too good.” He withdrew and pumped himself. Fluid spurted onto her belly, warm and copious. Breathing hard, he collapsed at her side.

  Neither of them moved for a long moment. Victoria touched the cooling fluid. It smelled earthy and foreign. She brought her finger to her lips and tasted him. Salty and primal. She hummed.

  Garrick was watching her with hooded eyes. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

  “I was curious.”

  He leaned over her and kissed her. A long, slow, drugging kiss. He broke away only long enough to retrieve a square of rough linen to wipe her belly clean. “I love your curiosity.”

  He moved over her again, and for a moment, she thought they were going to do it all over again, but he slid down her body, laying kisses along his path. “I need to apologize though.”

  “W-why?” She tried to close her legs, but his broad shoulders were in the way.

  He lay a kiss above her mons. “I hurt you, and you did not reach your climax with me.”

  “You only hurt me for a moment, and I climaxed before. And last night.” His head dipped, and he flicked his tongue over her still slick folds. She made a sound of surprise when he wiggled his tongue over a sensitive bud. “On the other hand, I shall not complain if you would like to make amends.”

  His humming chuckle was nearly her undoing. She spread her legs wider and tilted her hips, all modesty at their position forgotten. He worked the bud with his tongue and lips while he gently stroked her folds.

  Her climax hit her fast and hard, and she cried out his name while fisting his hair. Le petit mort. The little death. Except she felt more alive than she ever had. Her limbs were heavy and replete with pleasure. The aftermath was hazy, but she was aware of him kissing his way up her body to reach her mouth. His taste was indescribable, and she realized she was on his tongue and lips.

  How could she ever share her bed with another?

  Chapter 7

  Garrick was in heaven. Or as close to heaven as he was likely to come. The woman of his dreams was naked in his arms. Victoria’s head was cushioned on his shoulder, and her leg was draped over his. Her curls tickled his chin.

  His body was still tingling from the aftermath of their lovemaking. He’d never expected the act to be peppered with laughter and soul-exposing kisses and confessions. Had he said too much or not enough? What would happen when they left the cottage?

  Stomach-turning worry loosened the grip of his sensual haze. He needed to check on his horse and determine their next steps. Assuming Garrick’s message had reached Sir Hawkins, his mentor would have left word for him through their usual channel.

  He’d stayed awake a good part of the night, alert for signs anyone had tracked them, but neither horse nor man had disturbed the falling snow. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed. The banked fire kept the cold at bay, but he flipped the quilt over Victoria to keep her warm.

  She ran her hand down his back. A shiver of pleasure
cascaded through him, and his semihard cock let its wishes be known. Given very little encouragement, he could take her again.

  “You’re beautifully formed, Thomas.”

  He smiled over his shoulder. The quilt was wrapped around her torso, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. Her dark curls tumbled over the pillow. Never had he dared to dream he would see her like this. The intimacy took his breath away.

  “I could say the same and more about you, love.” Emotion he tried to stifle hoarsened his voice.

  The same questions he struggled with reflected back at him in her eyes, but as he had no answers to offer, he rose and pulled on his clothes, turning his attention to the practical matter of staying alive.

  “I’m going to check on my horse. The kettle is full of water if you want to warm it to freshen yourself or boil it for tea. There might even be some sugar stashed in the cupboard.” He shot her a glance from the door and ducked into the cold winter world. His horse was content in the lean-to under a woolen blanket. After letting him feed and drink, Garrick saddled him. It was likely to be another long ride.

  Garrick walked the perimeter of the meadow, but nothing had disturbed the snow except the light prints of a fox. With an armful of wood, Garrick reentered the cottage, half hoping Victoria was still lounging under the covers naked and would invite him to join her.

  She was up and dressed, minus the fastenings she couldn’t reach, and rummaging through the cupboard, muttering to herself. The dark braid of her hair swung over her shoulder, tendrils escaping like curling vines.

  “Aha!” She emerged with a swipe of dust along her cheek holding a tin. She checked inside and smiled, her eyes sparkling. “The sugar is a bit clumpy, but clumpy sugar is better than no sugar at all in my estimation.”