Winter Wishes: A Regency Christmas Anthology

by Cheryl Bolen

  Meg kissed him again with flattering enthusiasm. As Otis wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her closer, almost onto his lap, he was breathless with anticipation. He began to caress her body, and she did the same, spreading her hands over his shoulders, touching his face as they kissed. Soon she had wriggled fully onto his lap.

  She even pushed back some of the blankets to get closer.

  Otis slowly lowered one hand down her side and then farther along her leg. His touch was light, careful. He desired her but he would not rush her into making love to him.

  Meg suddenly covered his hand with her own. “I like it when you touch me.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “I could continue if you lifted your hand.”

  She lifted it, and that was all the proof he needed that his attentions were welcomed.

  His slid his fingers softly over her ankle and thick stockings. As he moved his hand under the edge of her nightgown, skimming her woolen stockings until he reached bare skin, she gasped and writhed delightfully.

  He pressed his lips to her brow and then caught her face in his hand. “I shouldn’t take liberties. Not until our wedding night.”

  “What if I think I’ve been a spinster long enough? Would you believe me wanton if I admit to being very curious about the pleasures to be found in the marriage bed?”

  “Never.” His brows rose. “Such a boon would be more than I deserve.”

  She grinned back at him. “I’ve heard that ladies enjoy intimacies. I desperately wish to know if that’s true.”

  He tightened his grip on her head. “You’ll enjoy everything about our life together, I swear it.”

  Meg got up from the settee and held out her hand to him. “Show me.”

  Otis was on his feet in a second and swept her up into his arms to carry her across the room. When they reached the bed, he pulled back the covers and placed her atop the sheet gently then kicked off his shoes and untied his cravat before joining her.

  Meg pulled him down on top of her, a little nervous laugh escaping her lips until he kissed her. He settled on the bed at her side as they continued, exploring each other with their hands. Meg pressed her body into Otis, anticipation thrumming through him.

  He lifted her nightgown slowly, caressing her thighs as it rose higher.

  When his fingers slid into her curls and he touched her intimately, she moaned and parted her legs wider.

  Otis delved between her folds, touching her in a way that could only bring her pleasure. She held on to his shoulders and started to rock against his fingers.

  He liked that she displayed no hesitation or doubt. She could not still her body, as she writhed against him constantly. He slid his fingers lower and found her damp core. Moving as slow as he could, he slipped his fingers into her tight channel. She seemed not the least bit worried that he was taking her innocence. She was enjoying what they did far too much for doubt.

  “Otis,” she whispered desperately.

  “Soon, darling, let me tease you a little longer.”

  Otis teased his fingers into her again and again, biding his time. He wanted to see her give herself over to pleasure. He ached to feel her around him too.

  Otis drew back to loosen the buttons on his trousers and drag his shirt over his head. When he moved closer to Meg, she threaded her fingers in his hair and kissed him again. “You. Are. So. Warm,” she noted between kisses.

  “So that’s why you like me so much?”

  “That and a few other things,” she promised.

  Her fingers slid down his bare back, a little cold, and he shivered. “Such as?”

  Meg stilled and then her fingers slid beneath the waistband of his trousers at the small of his back. She pressed him tighter against her lower body. Another moan escaped her lips. “That is one.”

  Otis brushed his erection against her sex more firmly, and then he brought them closer together as he shoved his trousers out of the way.

  She gasped as he eased into her body, and her grip tightened on his backside even more as he started moving inside her.

  He leaned his brow against hers as they rocked together. It felt so good. Almost too good. He would not last. Otis slipped his fingers between them and teased her clit. She stiffened suddenly, and then she cried out.

  Otis quickly covered her mouth with his lips to stifle the sound, and a few moments later he groaned, his body jerking as he found his own release too.

  They gasped for air and slowly parted.

  Firelight danced over the ceiling above them and Meg whispered, “That was lovely.”

  “Indeed,” Otis said as he drew Meg against his side. She burrowed closer to his warmth as he drew a deep calming breath. He was going to marry Meg and he couldn’t be happier. He nuzzled her hair—content and replete. “The perfume you wear reminds me of the summer I spent at your home as a boy. As intoxicating as making love to you.”

  “I could never imagine being so happy,” she responded.

  “Neither could I, until you. Are you warm enough?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Very warm with you beside me.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “May I stay a little longer?”

  “Yes, Otis,” she whispered, and then laughed. “You are the most remarkable bed warmer I’ve ever had.”

  “Happy to be of service,” he whispered. “I’ll warm your bed every night if you want me to.”

  For an answer, she pulled him close and kissed him again.

  Chapter 13

  Meg was in the portrait gallery the following morning, bundled up from head to toe in her thickest coat, wool scarf and felt cap to keep the ever-present chill at bay, when Otis strolled up to her. She had been alone, waiting for breakfast to be served in a nearby room, and Otis wasted no time in pulling her into his arms, tilting her backward, and kissing her witless.

  When he allowed her to rise, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright. “Good morning, Meg. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” she answered, blushing hotly. She patted his broad chest, still astonished by the way she felt when he held her close. “I trust you slept well.”

  “I didn’t even try,” he told her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. He drew her along to the far end of the long room. “Someone very particular was on my mind this morning.”

  “Who could that have been?”

  He stopped and cupped her face. “The woman I think I might love.” Meg blushed as he kissed her again, but he drew back too soon. “I have something I want to give you.”

  From his pocket he produced a small silver case.

  She turned it over in her hands, completely baffled. “What is it?”

  “Something I think you might find invaluable in the coming years when you are cold.”

  Meg carefully opened it and found, not jewels, but matches.

  She started laughing as she removed one slender, sulfur-tipped match. “A priceless gift for me.” But Meg felt bad. “I have nothing to give you. Hector did not give me time to make or purchase anything for someone like you.”

  “Having you say yes to me is enough of a present for this year,” he promised. He kissed her cheek, and then sighed. “I have to talk to Hector today. Set things in motion.”

  “Ah, yes, Hector,” she said, and then pulled a face. “If he puts in an appearance.”

  “Oh, he certainly will show himself this morning.” Otis grinned. “I snuck into his room earlier, laid out his clothes, put his fire out and opened a window to let the winter in. I’m sure he’ll be downstairs and complaining at any moment that he is starving.”

  Meg laughed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Otis squeezed her to his side. “You’re not as cruel as I am to him.”

  Perhaps that is what had been wrong with her life all along. She had tried to look after her brother and he clearly didn’t want to be coddled by her. “Are you sure we’re not rushing into this?”

  Otis grew quiet but then he grinned. “We proba
bly have rushed things a little, but I don’t believe I will regret anything about us. Are you having doubts now?”

  “Not really. But I am a little worried about you, and what your father will say? He’s not going to be happy that you’re going against his wishes.”

  “One problem at a time,” he suggested as he squeezed her shoulder again.

  Otis had fully explained the wager, shown her proof that there was no particular bride included in the bet. He was free to marry anyone he chose and would win if they married within three months. After last night, Meg had little incentive to delay the marriage. She’d chosen Otis to be her husband when they’d shared her bed last night, and liked what they did together too. And there was the anticipation, unexpressed, that she might soon be carrying Otis’ child. Meg desperately wanted to make a family of her own with Otis.

  When they reached the doorway to the breakfast room, everything was ready. Otis bid her enter first. Otis’ siblings were squabbling over which chairs they would sit on but Otis drew her to the other end of the room and held out a chair. “You take your tea with milk, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I…” She looked at him in surprise. “You take yours the same.”

  He winked. “I noticed that, too.”

  The London newssheet from last week was on the table near them and Otis offered it to her first. “Not today, but thank you for asking.”

  When Otis moved to the sideboard and loaded up two plates, Meg sighed a little. Christmas had always been her favorite season and now she had even more reason to love it. Otis would make a very attentive husband. He made her so happy already.

  They talked quietly for most of the meal but then Hector arrived. He seemed grossly put out, not to mention unwell. Puffy eyed and pale, he squinted at the food as he loaded a plate for himself. When he sank into the opposite chair and groaned, Meg considered her chances of engaging in a reasonable conversation with him were slim.

  So she ignored her brother, ate well, and chatted with Otis, relishing the small seemingly random brushes of his arm against hers. Eventually, the children left the room and it was just the three of them enjoying breakfast together.

  She glanced across at her brother and then drew in a deep breath. She really wanted to marry Otis but she had to have her brother’s permission first.

  Otis spoke before Meg could think of a way to start that conversation. “Are you feeling better now?”

  Hector scowled at him. “I’m fine.”

  “Good,” Otis said. “Perhaps we might continue our conversation from yesterday.”

  Hector’s scowl only deepened, never a good sign. “What conversation?”

  “The one we were having before you cast up your accounts beside my carriage?”

  Meg gasped. “You never told me he was ill.”

  “It is the sort of illness that only time can cure.” He chuckled softly, settling his hand lightly over hers. “More tea?”

  “Yes, please,” Meg murmured, deciding not to press for particulars. She didn’t want to drive her brother away. At least, not until he agreed to let her marry Otis. After that, she might not mind ever seeing him again. He didn’t exactly inspire her loyalty.

  Otis refilled his cup too. “I haven’t changed my mind. I want to marry her.”

  “To win a bloody wager,” Hector exclaimed, throwing her a warning look. “Can you believe this?”

  Meg felt Otis’ touch on her back. She grinned slowly, even wriggled back against him. “I know all about the wager, Hector, and I think he’s been very clever. When he wins, he’ll take his mother and siblings on a holiday. Somewhere much warmer I hope.”

  “Definitely somewhere warmer,” Otis promised.

  Otis’ father entered the room. This was the first time Meg had seen him in the morning room at this hour. Lord Vyne seemed a bit pale and a servant hurried to seat him and serve him.

  Once he had a plate of food before him he dismissed the servant and looked across at Otis. “You will accompany the Milne’s into town and show them around.”

  “I’m afraid that is impossible,” Otis replied. “I have other plans today.”

  “What other plans could you have more important than engaging in a courtship?” Lord Vyne nodded. “Milne is expecting you to be attentive to his daughter.”

  Meg sucked in a shocked breath that Lord Vyne would speak so boldly of such a matter while she and her brother was still in the room.

  She glanced first at Otis and then at her brother. Surely Hector would prefer Otis to marry someone he really wanted and not Lord Vyne’s choice.

  Otis caught up her fingers and held her hand under the table. “I cannot do that.”

  Hector slowly lowered his fork down, his gaze speculative on Meg and then his gaze dipped a little. He shook his head and a smile appeared. “Hmm, yes I suppose we do have quite a lot to talk about today. Lord Vyne, Lord Clement has asked for my sister’s hand in marriage and I am giving them my blessing. We have yet to decide the wedding date.”

  Meg couldn’t contain her smile, and tears formed in her eyes. Hector would let her marry Otis after all. She wanted to hug him, thank him, but she didn’t want to let go of Otis’ hand quite yet.

  Lord Vyne gaped. “What?”

  “He asked quite boldly too. Would not take no for an answer.” Hector offered her a smile. “I guess that means it was love at first, or is it second, sight.”

  Lord Vyne suddenly smiled. “Well, well, well. So you’ve finally given up. I’ll have the carriage brought around immediately.”

  Otis’ grip tightened on Meg’s hand. “Whatever for?”

  “The terms of our wager were very clear.” Lord Vyne seemed positively smug. “If I win, you leave.”

  “Those were indeed the terms but I have not lost or conceded you the victory. I was to begin a courtship and marry within three months. Stockwick has approved my suit and has agreed to a wedding as soon as possible.”

  Lord Vyne’s eyes narrowed. “But you chose the wrong woman, my son. No offence intended Lady Margaret.”

  “None taken,” Meg murmured.

  Otis threw a smile her way. “Oh, I definitely chose the right woman to be my wife. I chose with my heart. The terms of our wager did not specify the lady I must wed. Perhaps if you read the wager again more closely you will see I am right. It says nothing about who I would marry just that I must.”

  The earl shot to his feet and stormed out.

  The silence in his wake was deafening. Otis raised Meg’s hand to his lips and kissed her. “That went better than I expected. Thank you for your timely intervention, Stockwick. I promise my mother will be much more enthusiastic about our news than my father just was.”

  “We should go and tell her the happy news soon. I’d rather Lady Vyne hear it from us than from your father.” Meg glanced at her brother who was watching her through squinted eyes.

  Hector was nodding slowly. “So that’s that?”

  Meg blushed. “You did want me to marry.”

  Hector grunted. “Now if only I could be rid of the estate as easily.”

  Otis stood. He pulled Meg to her feet and led them both toward the drawing room. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that, Stockwick. I think I may have a solution that makes perfect sense for both of us.”

  Hector glanced up at a bunch of mistletoe hanging over the threshold of the drawing room now and sidled around it. “Really?”

  “Obviously we cannot stay here year round. It’s much too cold for Meg.”

  “I will stay if you wanted me to,” Meg promised Otis but then she noticed the drawing room had changed. “Oh my.”

  She moved away from Otis and her brother. There was a tree almost reaching as high as the ceiling in one corner, decorated with ornaments hanging from the branches. Something she’d heard royalty did, but she’d never seen it done before. Other things were far more familiar and brought a smile to her lips. A Yule log burned in the great hearth and although night was a long way off, the mantle blaz
ed with a dozen or more candles. It was an enchanting scene that reminded her so much of Christmas’ past.

  “I thought I might purchase your estate and make a home there for our family,” Otis was saying.

  Meg spun around to stare at him in astonishment. “Really?”

  He nodded quickly. “I knew the first day I saw you again that I would do anything to make you happy. But there is a benefit to me too. I want to see the estate prosper again.”

  Meg bit her lip and stared at her brother. “You truly don’t want to live there do you?”

  “Not for even one more night.” He nodded slowly and then held out his hand. “We can discuss your purchase of the estate tomorrow when we begin to draw up the marriage contract.”

  Meg laughed as the deal was struck. “This is the happiest holiday of my life.”

  Hector cleared his throat loudly. “I don’t hear a thank you, Hector?”

  “Thank you,” she cried. Meg rushed to her brother and gave him a quick hug then threw herself into Otis’ waiting arms. “I’ve never been happier to be so wrong. This is the best Christmas ever.”

  Epilogue

  Meg hurried down the stairs of The Vynes, mortified that she had overslept on the most important day in her life. At her side was the woman who would be her mother as soon as the ceremony concluded. Her brother was pacing at the bottom of the stairs.

  He looked up scowling. “What time do you call this?” he complained.

  “Every woman is entitled to be a little late for her own wedding,” Lady Vyne argued. “Now say something nice, Hector, or don’t say another word.”

  Hector wisely buttoned his lips shut.

  The countess seemed the only person he ever listened to, especially about the wedding. She faced Meg and teased another two tendrils of hair free to frame her face. “Your mother would be so proud if she could see you today. If she were here, she’d say there had never been a lovelier bride.”