Oh.
“Oh,” she breathed.
“And I don’t want you to answer right away, since that wouldn’t be fair to you.” His expression made it seem as though he were anxious she were going to say no anyway.
“But if after a month or so you discover you feel the same way about me, I want to know so I can propose. I’m deliberately not proposing now because that would put you on the spot, and that’s not fair.”
“But—” But what if I want to hear the words? But that would be forcing him as much as he didn’t want to force her.
It was unfortunate they were both such considerate people.
“Just consider it,” he said hastily. His cheeks were reddened, as though he was embarrassed. It was adorable, though she doubted anyone had called the Large Grumpy (but not really) Welsh Earl “adorable” before.
“Owen!” his mother called. “We have to be going.”
“You’re going.” And he was taking her heart with him, and she couldn’t tell him, because this was the worst possible time, and his mother was even now walking toward them, an impatient expression on her face.
Just give me a moment, Pearl pleaded in her head. Just realize that your son’s needs and wants come first, and he needs and wants me.
But the woman didn’t slow her pace.
“Lady Pearl, happy Christmas! I am delighted to get the chance to say good-bye.”
“Good—” Pearl began, only to stop when another carriage pulled up. And then she groaned.
“Pearl! Pearl, thank God you’re all right!”
Her mother.
The carriage stopped, and her mother flung herself out, pelting up the steps with far more energy than Pearl knew she had. Her sister Eleanor followed, walking more slowly, a rueful expression on her face. One Pearl knew well—Eleanor had just spent time alone in a carriage with their mother after all.
The duchess drew up as she spotted Owen, however, and she got that smug look on her face that made Pearl want to groan again.
“And who is this?” she said in a sly tone.
“That is my son, Owen Dwyfor, Earl of Llanover,” Owen’s mother replied stiffly. “And you are?”
“This is my mother, the Duchess of Marymount,” Pearl supplied hastily. She hoped the ladies wouldn’t get into some sort of Aristocracy One-upsmanship contest.
“Oh!” Owen’s mother said in an entirely different tone of voice. “Well, that is lovely. We were about to leave, but surely we can stay for a bit? I know Owen wishes to say good-bye to Lady Pearl.”
“Good-bye?” Pearl’s mother said in disappointment.
Pearl rolled her eyes. Thanks for making me seem pathetic, Mother.
“Owen!” his mother called. “Come here and help with the luggage.”
He gave her an exasperated look, but went to his mother as the duchess spoke.
“How could you leave us? And on Christmas too!”
“I believe you left me, Mother,” Pearl replied. She glanced over her mother’s shoulder to meet her sister Eleanor’s sympathetic gaze.
“That doesn’t matter,” the duchess replied, waving her hand dismissively. “I am just grateful you haven’t starved, or been eaten by dogs, or keeping company you should not have.”
Those things are not the same, Pearl wanted to reply, but to her mother, they certainly were.
How would the duchess react to knowing that her last unmarried daughter had fallen in love with a Welshman? Granted, he was an Earl, but the duchess would likely not recognize a Welsh title as being anywhere close to an English one.
“You’re all right, Pearl?” Eleanor said, stepping forward to clasp Pearl’s hand. She peered intently into her sister’s face behind her spectacles. “Oh,” she said after a moment. “You are all right.” And then she smiled, a warm, knowing smile that told Pearl her sister had figured it out. Of course not the particulars, but that Pearl had fallen in love.
And at that moment, Pearl felt seen. It was lovely, to know her sister did care for her, even if she wasn’t as bossy as Olivia, or as headstrong as Della, or as intelligent as Ida.
“Mother,” Eleanor said in a louder voice, “I believe I left one of Ida’s gifts here.”
Even though both Pearl and Eleanor knew full well that Eleanor hadn’t done any such thing.
Eleanor shot Pearl a conspiratorial smile. “Do what you need to do,” she said in a whisper. “I’ll distract her. That is, if you want?”
Pearl nodded vigorously. “I want. Thank you,” she said.
She gave Eleanor a quick hug, then ran toward where Owen and his mother stood.
“Pardon me, my lord?”
He turned, giving her a look that nearly melted her. His eyes told her the truth of everything he’d just said—that he loved her, that he wanted her, that she fit. All this in just a few days. But she knew it was true, even if she had known him for years.
“Yes, my lady?”
She held her hand out. “I believe you have something of mine?”
He looked confused, then his expression cleared. “Oh. Yes.” He dangled the ornament in the air between them, a hopeful look on his face.
“But I would like to place it on the tree that you bought.”
He frowned, confused again. “Place it on—?”
“Yes. We will both be leaving soon, but I’d like the ornament to be where it belongs.”
“Go on ahead, don’t keep Lady Pearl waiting,” Owen’s mother said.
“Of course not.” He dropped the ornament in Pearl’s outstretched palm, then walked beside her up to Lady Robinson’s home.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
“I’m doing what I want to do,” she whispered back. “I’m having my adventure.”
They walked into the house, then Pearl turned the lock in the front door and grinned at Owen. “They won’t be able to get in. Not until it’s too late.”
His eyes widened, and then he returned her smile.
She took his hand and led him to the room they’d slept in.
“Pearl?” he asked questioningly, but he followed her lead into the room.
“First we have to return the ornament to where it belongs.” She glanced at him. “I love that you put a pearl in it.” Had anybody ever done something so Pearl-specific in their lives?
She knew the answer to that question.
“How did you manage it?”
“I found a place when I was out to dine with my family, I told the jeweler it was a Christmas present, and that it was extremely important it be done within the hour. And I gave him a generous fee.”
“I love it,” she said as she put it in the center of the tree. Not too close to the candles, of course.
They stood looking at it for a few moments. And then heard the knocking.
“Owen!”
“Pearl!”
Their mothers were shouting their names simultaneously.
Pearl grinned. “Should I take care of this?”
Owen bowed. “Please do.”
She scurried out of the room and walked to the front door. “Hello?” she called.
“Are you all right?” the duchess said.
“Yes, we are. Owen and I are just exchanging Christmas gifts. Perhaps you should all go get some tea, we might be a while.”
Pearl smothered a giggle as she heard the shocked gasps, quickly followed by smug noises of satisfaction.
“We’ll be back later. Quite later,” the duchess called.
She waited as she heard them retreating, their excited tones of voice telling her just what they both thought of this particular outcome.
Glad we could please you by pleasing ourselves, she thought.
She returned to the room, their room, where Owen waited.
“Sit down,” she said, gesturing to the sofa.
He sat, looking up at her.
“You didn’t propose earlier.”
His mouth opened, and she leaned forward to place her fingers on his lips. “Shh.
Let me speak for a moment.”
He nodded.
“I want to give you a Christmas gift.”
As she spoke, she took the skirts of her gown and raised them, then got onto his lap facing him, one knee on either side of his legs.
“Pearl?”
She smiled and took his face in her hands. “As far as I can tell, nobody has ever asked you what you want. Not in everyday life, and certainly not for Christmas. That was apparent earlier, when you said you wouldn’t force anything on me. You didn’t say what you wanted, you just ensured I was accommodated as much as possible with no consideration of your own needs. Even earlier,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush, “you made certain my needs were met before yours. You are the most generous, giving person I have ever met. So I want to ask you, Owen. What do you want, what do you truly want, for Christmas?”
He took a deep breath, his gaze steady on her face.
“You.”
She grinned in response. “That is what I was hoping you would say. And, if it’s not too selfish, let me tell you what I want for Christmas: you.”
He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made her tremble.
“And now,” she said in a sly tone, “let’s make certain neither one of us can exchange their gifts.”
She leaned forward to press her body against his as she spoke, and his strong arms came around her.
“I want you to get what you want, Owen,” she whispered.
Owen felt something ease inside as she spoke. Although other things tensed, given that her breasts were against his chest and her delightful curves were resting on top of his cock.
“Are you certain, Pearl?” He couldn’t help but tighten his grip on her, even though he would let her go, if that was what she wished. “Because we’ve only known each other a few days.”
“You told me how you feel, Owen. I haven’t told you how I feel. Can I do that?”
It was unusual for anyone to ask his permission for something—usually they told him what was going to happen, and it generally involved effort on his part.
“Please,” he replied.
She responded by kissing his neck softly, twining her fingers in his hair. “We have only known each other for a few days, but you took time to know me, even within a few minutes of meeting me.” She chuckled. “Granted, you were rather abrupt, but you asked if I needed help. That is your way, Owen. You are a kind, generous, giving person who has to give without expecting anything in return. And normally not getting it.” She trailed kisses on his neck and on his ear, sending shudders of desire coursing through him. “I like how you wanted to get to know me, how you asked questions and showed me things even though you likely thought me a nuisance.”
He slid his hands up and down her back, feeling the indent of her waist, the flare of her hips.
“You took care with me, Owen. At each point of our adventure, you asked if I was all right, you made certain I wasn’t frightened or anxious or hungry.”
“Even if there were too many eggs,” he replied gruffly. She laughed.
“And I know already that I think I’m falling in love with you too. I don’t want to wait a month. I’ve waited my whole life for you. I want you now. If you want me.”
“I do,” he said, exhaling as he spoke.
As soon as he’d spoken, he gathered her tightly in his arms and rose, then placed her on the floor and took her hand, leading her out of the room and into the main hall.
“Where are we going?” Pearl asked.
“Bedroom,” he replied.
He began to walk up the stairs. His limp was much less noticeable now, Pearl observed. She followed, grinning like a fool.
She hadn’t been upstairs yet, but she didn’t spare a glance at any of the furnishings in the rooms they passed, just kept her gaze on his broad back, on his disheveled hair that curled around his collar.
He led her into a bedroom with a massive bed in the middle. She didn’t wait, she leapt onto it and bounced, much as she had when she was younger.
He didn’t join her, not right away. Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he tugged on his shirt, then drew it over his head, revealing his strong, muscled body.
Looking at his beautiful form made her want to touch and kiss him everywhere. She felt her breath grow faster, and she got onto her knees and pulled at the back of her gown, too impatient to do a proper unbuttoning. The fabric pulled apart with a satisfying tearing noise, and then she drew it up over her head and tossed it onto the floor, leaning back entirely naked on the bed.
His eyes were wide, drinking her in. His hands went to his trousers, and he leaned over, tugging his boots off and then shoving his trousers down off his legs, leaving him naked as well.
“Owen, you are a splendid sight,” Pearl said in a pleased tone of voice.
“As you are.” His voice was husky, and she shivered in anticipation. “You’re certain about this?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “You might outdo my sister Ida in asking questions. Yes, I’m certain. Come here and compromise me.”
He grinned, then got onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He crawled forward, caging her with his arms, his penis brushing against her lower belly.
And then he lowered his mouth to kiss her, and she nearly forgot to breathe. His tongue swept inside her mouth, and his hands seemed to be everywhere, on her shoulders, her neck, her breasts. His fingers caressed her nipple, and she arched her back, which pushed her belly more into him.
He broke the kiss to utter some sort of inarticulate growl, and she found herself growling back, which made him break into an unexpected laugh.
She grinned, then wriggled underneath him, sliding her hands to grasp his shaft.
He closed his eyes in response, and she stroked him, watching his expression grow more intense.
“So good,” he murmured, and then he slid his hand between them, finding that place that ached for his touch.
“Mm,” she said. “Touch me.”
“That is something I will gladly do for you,” he said, his tone wry.
He put the palm of his hand on her mound, causing a surprisingly sensual pressure, and his fingers began to rub. “So wet already,” he said.
“Mm,” she said again. She felt the pleasure building with each caress.
“Owen, I want you.” She accompanied her words with a wiggle of her hips to make it clear what she was talking about.
“You’re—”
“Shut up, Owen,” she said. “I want you now.”
“So bossy,” he replied.
He gripped his penis, his hand covering hers, and brought it to her opening, rubbing the head against that throbbing place. She bit her lip and held her breath as he began to enter, so slowly she thought she might die.
It hurt for a moment, but the hurt was much less than the rising pleasure, and then he was inside, his body on top of hers, her legs wrapped around his hips.
“Are you all right?” Of course he had to ask again. But it was so sweet, to be so cared for.
“I am,” she replied. She ran her hands up and down his back, onto his arse, relishing the strength and size of him.
At her words, he began to move, raising himself up on his elbows and drawing himself in and out of her, his expression one of concentration.
It felt delicious and delightful, to have all that power and strength focused on her, and she closed her eyes to block out anything that wasn’t the feel of his body sliding into her.
His pace increased, and soon he was moving quickly, the impact of his thrusts making her slide up the bed.
It felt tremendous.
She bit her lip as he continued his steady movement, then held her breath as he froze and flung his head back, howling his pleasure in a loud roar.
And then collapsed on top of her, finally not asking if she was all right underneath his weight.
She smiled at the thought.
“Merry Christmas, Owen. I most definitely received the gift I want
ed,” she said after a few moments.
“Merry Christmas, Pearl. I got more than I could have ever expected. Thank you.”
Epilogue
“And then she told us to go get tea!” The duchess addressed the small gathering with her usual flair, allowing very few others to get a word in edgewise.
The wedding was a quiet affair, as suited Pearl and Owen, even if the duchess was miffed she couldn’t celebrate the success of having married off the last Howlett sister.
Pearl sat next to Owen at the wedding breakfast as their mothers detailed everything leading up to their unusual engagement.
His hand found hers under the table, and he ran his fingers over the large ring he’d insisted on buying, even though Pearl thought it was far too extravagant.
“It’s Christmas and a wedding gift rolled in one,” he’d said in response.
“Are you happy?” he murmured.
She glanced over at him, looking at his dark, handsome face, which Olivia said made him look exactly like one of the heroes from one of her salacious novels. To which Pearl had just smiled knowingly, making Olivia’s eyes go wide and her mouth open with all sorts of questions. Of course.
“I am. Even though,” she continued, gesturing at the plates in front of them, “we are eating eggs again.”
He groaned. “At least it’s eggs in a different style this time. If they had served fried eggs, I might have refused to marry you.”
“Too late. We’re already married,” she replied in a cheeky tone.
“Yes, and I did compromise you,” he said in a mock suffering tone.
“I think I compromised you,” she retorted.
He laughed, and she joined him, squeezing his hand under the table. They burst out into more laughter as they both felt a nudge at their legs, realizing Mr. Shorty was making his hunger known.
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