Winter Wishes: A Regency Christmas Anthology

by Cheryl Bolen

  His head snapped toward her. “Ambrosia!”

  Her heart was too full of hurt for him to contain. The pain spilled over into tears.

  He jumped to his feet and came to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “What is wrong? Has something happened?”

  Unable to speak, she shook her head.

  He gathered her against his chest and tenderly placed a kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes and nestled her face into the crook of his neck. His tone was soothing as he murmured words to comfort her and caressed the length of her back. “I am here, my darling. I have you. No need to cry anymore.”

  His gentleness intensified her ache. Why must someone as good and loving as Phillip endure the type of hell he’d been through? Why must anyone? She found the raised scar on his side and ran her fingers along the ridge.

  “What have they done to you?” she whispered.

  Phillip’s body grew rigid; he set her away. “You should have told me you were coming tonight.” He turned away, grabbed his discarded shirt from the chair, and pulled it over his head. “It has been a long day. Return to your chamber so we both may rest.”

  His abrupt dismissal stung. The urge to runaway was strong, but her sister would be awake still, and she would have questions. Knowing Laurel, she would send Ambrosia back with orders to face her troubles with Phillip before they were allowed to fester.

  Blast her for being the wise one.

  Her tears had stopped, and she wiped the dampness from her cheeks. “I am staying. We need to talk.”

  His glower would be frightening if she didn’t know him better. Any man who loved animals the way he did was good at his core. No one would ever persuade her otherwise. And like a wounded animal himself, he lashed out.

  “We’ve been together all day. What more is there to say?”

  “Plenty.” She perched on the end of the bed and patted the place beside her. Her hands shook. “I will go first.”

  His thick brows were dangerously low over his steely blue eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest. His body was closed off, but she wouldn’t allow his invisible armor to deter her. Setting aside the last shred of her pride, she pleaded.

  “Please, Phillip. This is not easy for me either.”

  For a moment, she thought he might force her to leave. His frown deepened, and he sat on the bed stiff-backed, arms still crossed. What words could she offer to a man who’d suffered as he had? Her life had been easy. She’d always had plenty of everything, had lost no one, and no one had ever mistreated her. She was acutely aware of how naive and pampered she’d been.

  “I only now realize the reasons you do not talk about the war,” she murmured. “I am sorry for mentioning Captain Brazier today. I suspect our conversation stirred up memories you would rather forget.”

  He met her gaze. She rushed to fill the silence.

  “We could find a different illustrator, someone without a personal connection. I will save my pin money and purchase an advertisement in the news-sheet. I would want your help in interviewing the candidates.”

  His arms drifted to his sides; his lips parted as if bewildered by her rambling. It confused her as well, but she couldn’t stop talking.

  “We should wait until the new year, or perhaps in the spring. No one will want to travel before the ice thaws and the mud dries. There is nothing worse than being stranded on the side of the road, what with highway men running amok these days.”

  Soundlessly, his mouth opened and closed.

  “We will want to wait until the roads clear to start the kennel, too, although it might take a while for us to select a healthy lady dog.” She cocked her head. “Or will more be required? Do we begin with a single litter, or is it best to have a few? We should really decide soon, don’t you think?”

  Mercifully, he placed his hand over hers on the bed and gently shushed her. She stopped babbling; a deluge of heat engulfed her body. He brushed his thumb across her cheek and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before stroking the length of her braid. It hung heavily down the middle of her back.

  The hard anger that had lined his face was gone. His eyes were dull now, and she sensed his sadness. It seeped through her skin, threatening to overpower her hope.

  “The Christmas ball will be held in two days, Ambrosia. You must select a husband. He will help you interview illustrators. We will not see each other again.”

  “No, you are wrong. I have no future with any of the men my parents invited.” Her stomach roiled; her tongue felt gritty. Fear whispered in her ears.

  He doesn’t want you. He will laugh at you. You will look like a fool.

  She chose to be brave. “I love you,” she whispered.

  He didn’t laugh.

  “I love you,” she repeated in a louder voice. “I only want to be with you.”

  “If you knew everything I have done, you wouldn’t say that.” He closed his eyes, squeezing tightly. “War changes a man; it makes him into something he doesn’t recognize anymore.”

  “I know all I need to know.” She caught his hand between hers to anchor him to the bed. “You fought against England’s greatest enemy and saved us from invasion. You are a hero.”

  “I am not a hero,” he snapped. “Why must everyone keep using that word?”

  He broke free of her fragile hold and paced to the fireplace to rest his arms and head on the mantle. “You don’t understand, Ambrosia. Men died under my command. I committed atrocities that turn me inside out to think about now. My best friend lost his leg in battle, because I ordered the charge. How does any of that make me a hero?”

  She didn’t know how to respond and feared she would say something wrong, but her silence would be unforgivably cruel. Taking a deep breath for fortification, she said, “You did what any solider must do. You served your country.”

  A shudder passed through him. Ammie left the bed to try to ease his pain, even though she didn’t know how to offer solace to a man whose experiences were worse than anything she could imagine. Tentatively, she reached to slick a curl behind his ear. His hair was the color of the precious cocoa kept locked in the larder.

  When he didn’t shy away from her touch, she lifted to her toes and gingerly kissed his cheek. A shadow darkened his strong jawline; his whiskers were rough beneath her lips.

  “You survived,” she murmured. “Your task was to stay alive and come home to your family.”

  He held very still. The air around him vibrated. The tension was exciting in a way she couldn’t explain. Goose flesh rippled along her arms. Her heart knocked against her breastbone.

  “You are good, Phillip.” Emboldened, she kissed the corner of his mouth. “You have a beautiful soul.”

  He turned his face toward her. His eyes were the deepest blue, like the sky at twilight. “How do you know?” he whispered.

  Cradling his face, she kissed the tip of his nose and chin, and held his unwavering gaze. “I wouldn’t love you as I do if your heart was not pure.”

  “Ambrosia.” He spoke her name with a reverence she didn’t deserve when compared to him, but she basked in it. The huskiness of his voice caressed her body, causing a shocking pulse between her legs.

  He stood upright and encircled her waist. His strong hands linked at the small of her back. She twined her arms around his neck. The soft hair at his nape brushed her wrists, and she shivered with pleasure.

  “I see you, Phillip—all of you—and I love you. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, but not out of a sense of duty or honor. I must be loved in return.”

  A small pressure at the curve of her back urged her closer. She leaned into him and offered herself. His lips skimmed hers, the contact too brief to be satisfying. A whimpered plea reached her ears. It took a moment to realize the sound had come from her.

  With a weak groan, he claimed her mouth.

  Chapter 13

  Ambrosia’s acceptance of him, even after he’d confessed his transgressions, was a gift Phillip couldn’t refuse.
He buried his fingers in her silky hair and splayed his hand on her back. Her heat penetrated the thin cotton of her wrapper and nightrail. She rose on her toes, pressing her sweet body into his.

  A hunger to see and touch her ravaged him. He yanked the sash around her waist loose. Her wrapper fell open, and he shoved the garment off her shoulders. Breaking the kiss, she dropped her arms from around his neck.

  Hellfire. What was he doing? He halted, not daring to move for fear of spooking her more than he likely already had. Ragged breaths passed their lips, their chests rising and falling in perfect rhythm. His throat thickened as she stared up at him. A storm was building behind her eyes. He tried to form an apology, but he couldn’t speak.

  Slowly, she slid a finger beneath the hem of his shirt, hesitating a heartbeat to search his face before continuing her exploration. The snow-white fabric gathered at the waistband of his trousers. When the pad of her finger touched his feverish skin, his abdomen contracted. He sucked in a sharp breath.

  Triumph curved the corners of her plump mouth, and she flattened her palm against his lower belly. He smothered a groan as blood ripped through his veins. His cock grew heavy and sensitive to the barest brush with his trousers.

  Grabbing the edge of his shirt in her fists, she drew it higher on his chest. He bent forward to allow her to tug the garment over his head before settling his hands on her waist. Her gaze roamed his body, her fingers following the same path over rugged planes and the swell of muscles. Her caress caused an ache deep in his bones, and he trapped her hand when she covered his heart. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against hers.

  “I adore you,” he murmured. “I think I loved you from the second I saw you, but I didn’t allow myself to believe you could ever love me back.”

  “You were wrong.”

  He smiled. She never censored herself with him, and he would never doubt her words of kindness when she delivered her less favorable opinions with the same sincerity and conviction. “I want to be with you forever, Ambrosia.”

  Her beautiful eyes glittered in the candlelight. “I want it, too.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes yes!”

  She planted a smacking kiss on his mouth. He gently captured her behind her head before she could pull away, and deepened the kiss. With a pleasurable sigh, she melted against him, parting her lips while he tasted her. She was sweet like the ambrosia for which she was named. Unable to satisfy his hunger fully, he devoured her. She clutched his biceps and met him kiss for kiss.

  He stripped away the wrapper; the garment dropped in a puddle at her feet. When she raised her arms, he tore the nightrail over her head. Her braid fell heavily against her back. They hung apart, time suspended. A rosy flush covered her chest and cheeks. Her nipples pebbled under his intense stare. When she draped her arm across her breasts and slid her hand down to cover her sex, the movements were innocent and erotic at once.

  “You are beautiful, my love,” he said. “Will you allow me to see you?”

  Seemingly hesitant at first, she uncovered her breasts. They were pert and firm and perfect for her slender frame. Her blush intensified, but she didn’t look away.

  His heart expanded, claiming all the space in his chest. He had never loved anyone more than he loved her. “Thank you. You truly are perfection.”

  The worried furrow between her brows faded away, and she dropped both hands at her sides. A low rumble sounded in his chest. He swept her in his arms, lifting her as he kissed her again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, returning his kisses with a desperation that matched his own. He cradled her arse and stumbled toward the bed. They landed on the edge of the soft mattress, both laughing from the shock. He fumbled with the front fall of his trousers and stood long enough to shed them.

  Her laughter waned, and her already large eyes seemed twice their size as she gawked at his nude body. For a brief moment, he had his own bout of shyness. He’d not stood bare before a woman since his return from Belgium, and his body was no longer what it had been. He had grown more muscular and lean in his years abroad, and he had scars. Some were no more than small nicks sustained in training; others, larger gashes earned in battle.

  “You are perfection,” she said breathlessly.

  Her admiration restored his confidence. Grinning, he cupped his hands around her rib cage and tossed her higher on the bed before climbing over her. He settled between her thighs and smoothed loose strands of auburn hair away from her face. Their kisses were more leisurely and sensual. When he drew back to feast on the sight of her lovely face, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it.

  “Something is wrong,” he guessed. “Do you wish to stop?”

  She shook her head. “But I-I am a virgin.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” He smiled and placed a tender kiss on her cheek. “When our wedding night arrives, I promise to be gentle.”

  “Our wedding night?” Her glare bordered on being comical. “Are you suggesting we wait, after all this?”

  “I think we should delay consummation until our vows have been spoken, yes.”

  She huffed. “Then what is the point in both of us being naked and flustered? Law.” She planted her hand in the middle of his chest to push him away. “I don’t need this frustration, Major. Please, move.”

  Chuckling, he captured her hand and lifted her palm to his lips. “There are other ways to make love, fairy, all very pleasurable.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Is that true?”

  “I swear it. I could prove it if you like.”

  Her eyebrow arched and interest lit her jade green eyes. “By all means, Major Rowland, show me, and don’t leave out any details. I appreciate a man who is thorough.”

  * * *

  Phillip was nothing if not attentive. He caressed and kissed almost every inch of Ammie until she was quivering. He propped himself up on his elbow and allowed his gaze to lazily sweep over her body. No longer embarrassed by her state of undress, she stretched and practically purred for him.

  When his fingertips glided around her belly button and grazed the edge of her curls on a path to her thigh, she moaned. She ached from wanting him.

  “You are torturing me, Phillip.”

  “Am I?”

  His eyes held a wicked twinkled as he bent toward her and blew a stream of cool air across her sensitive nipple; his fingers walked up the inside of her leg. She shifted on the covers, restlessness spreading through her body.

  “Phillip.”

  He grinned. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you told me to be thorough.”

  “Please, get on with it. I cannot take the anticipation anymore.”

  Granting mercy, he closed his mouth over the tip of her breast, swirled his tongue around the bud, and lightly sucked. Ammie gasped. She could feel the pull deep in her core. He kissed her breasts, giving them the same consideration the rest of her body had received thus far.

  When his fingers reached the apex between her thighs, and he touched her at last, she sank into the bed with a cry of relief. He played with her, skimming his hand over her hot skin before inserting his finger inside her. On his second pass over her sex, his fingers were slick and glided effortlessly over her flesh. He touched an especially pleasurable spot, and she moaned.

  “Does that feel good?” His voice had grown husky; his face had lost all traces of playfulness.

  “Mm-hmm, marvelously good.”

  His fingers stilled. He kissed her slowly. When he drew back, his eyes were a smoky blue. “Do you want more?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, don’t stop.”

  He held her gaze and delved two fingers inside her. When he brushed his hand over the same sensitive spot, she arched her back, gasping.

  “That’s right, love. I want you to come for me.”

  Yes, yes, anything you want. Her mind was too dazzled by the pleasurable sensations coursing through her to ask what he meant. With each touch, tension spread from her lo
wer belly. She was losing control; she didn’t care. Her breath churned, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

  He matched her increased pace, his hand driving her toward a place she had never dreamed existed. A pleasant pressure expanded into her chest, nearing a point where it couldn’t be contained. One more flick to that lovely spot he’d discovered and she burst into a thousand pieces, again and again, wave after wave of the most amazing sensations she had ever experienced.

  Afterward, Phillip held her, stroking her damp brow while she drifted back from heaven. Her heartbeat began to slow again, and a pleasantly tingling elasticity lingered in her limbs. Languidly, she turned in his embrace and rested her chin on his chest.

  “Dear lord,” she said breathlessly, “I might never leave our marriage bed.”

  Chapter 14

  Ammie stifled a yawn as she and Phillip waited for her parents in her father’s study. They had spent the night pleasuring each other, dozing for short periods before reaching for each other again.

  They sat side by side on the same bench she had shared with her mother a few days earlier. It felt like a lifetime ago.

  “Does it seem like we’ve known each other forever?” she asked. “I cannot remember what life was like before I met you.”

  “Yes and no.” Phillip smoothed his hand from her nape to the small of her back and kissed her temple. “I feel we have always belonged together, but I know how long it has taken to find you. My life is unquestionably better with you.”

  She swiveled toward him, her knees touching his. “Promise you will fight for us. No matter what my parents say, we belong together. Please, stand with me on this.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “Whatever it takes to win their approval, I will do it. I love you, Ambrosia. I cannot bear to lose you.”