All I Want for Christmas...is you

by Gayle Eden

  It was not their fault that he was taking what he saw as the biggest risk of his life, for a man who did not do so lightly in business. This was personal, and what he felt was his last chance, since he did not feel this way about any other woman. He knew that Miss Verena Shyer would not care a fig for his wealth and titles; she was too genuine for that.

  “Thank you, Feyer. Will you lay out my evening clothing? I believe I have another ball on my schedule.” He smiled as the man nodded and those features smoothed into their normal lines. “By the by, will you see if I have something less formal, but appropriate, to wear on Christmas? I have been invited to a friend’s house and I gather it will be a family thing, nothing stiff and ceremonial.”

  “Yes. Sir.” The man’s brown eyes lit up. “I know just the thing.”

  “I knew you would. Feyer.” After his bath and shave, Lucas dressed and while sipping brandy in the study, before leaving, realized he should have some gift for Bram and Jerome, for Verena too, though he had not the faintest idea what would be appropriate.

  As he got in the coach, he decided if fate was kind and he did see her tonight, he’d perhaps keep his head about him enough to probe some hint from her as to what he could purchase.

  Still, sitting there, as a long line of crested vehicles deposited guests at the Marquis of Chamberlain’s mansion, Lucas admitted to himself that things seemed more bright and alive, and it was not just the pristine snow, which caused it. The ladies gowns seemed vibrant and voices sharper and clearer. The air he breathed in and the anticipation building in him that he would see her, had much to do with it.

  This was, in his memory, the first time he looked forward to the social gatherings and crushes that were required of him. Had he just spoken to her for the first time yesterday? He groaned, hoping like hell that she did not feel that they were still strangers. He did not feel that way, and he knew what society required in the lines of courtship. He bloody well did not want to take any more steps back from where they had nearly been last night.

  * * * *

  Rena felt as if she had been holding her breath until Lucas entered. He descended the shallow half moon steps to the ballroom, amid his name and title being announced. While he did so, she felt that flutter in her stomach that his hair was down and the longish silk of it shone as he bowed over hands and nodded. There were silver strands in it, and she thought that he’d be even more devastating when the color all turned, with his dark skin and violet eyes.

  His height and the manner in which he carried himself, disproved the impression he had insisted she have of him yester eve. He did look remote and proud, somewhat cool as his social mask was intact. In addition, standing with her hand on the duchess’s chair back, she was a bit amazed that this was the man who waltzed her around a sitting room, the same one who felt warm and so masculine, real under her fingers, and that those eyes had peered down between his lashes with a sensual fire that set her trembling.

  It was bad enough that she had changed her gown three times before the ball, muttered and had the maid shaking her head as she had talked herself into a nervous fit for the first time in her life.

  She had told herself she’d imagined it all, and even as she glided down the stairs in her final choice of a bronze silk gown with faux pearl bodice and clutched her fan in her ivory-gloved hand hard enough to snap it, she waffled between being sure he was actually interested in her, and being afraid that she’d made more of it than it was.

  Her hair left straight but in a twist with nestled pearl combs, had been fixed and re-fixed, curled and straightened until she’d finally had mercy on Polly and confessed that she was trying to impress a certain man.

  The plain faced maid had grinned and then said sardonically, “Keep it simple, then, Miss. You are at your best that way. You are not of the fashion, but unique and striking. Let them wear their frizzy curls and overdone flounces and jewels. You’d outshine them in your chemise.”

  “Thank you, Polly. Now, do me up, and kick me out of here. I have wasted enough time and the duchess hates to be late.” She had laughed.

  Rena was not laughing now, but bracing herself while her skin tingled from head to toe. Her heart beat a rapid thump behind her ribs. He was coming closer, though he had not looked at her. He was detained repeatedly, while the ballroom filled up with guest after guest.

  Finally he came right toward he. His violet eyes went down and up her body so thoroughly before he reached her, that her knees went weak.

  He bowed first to the duchess and had some conversation with her half-deaf aunt. The music began, making Rena jump as she was so focused on keeping her poise and composure, smoothing her features by the time he straightened and took a step, which put him right in front of her.

  He did not bow or kiss her hand. That social mask dropped and his sensual mouth pulled into a smile that nearly melted her through the floor.

  “Good evening.”

  “Good evening.” She dared a small smile feeling the depth of his tone flood her with warmth.

  His eyes held hers. “Will you dance with me?”

  “Yes.” She placed her hand in the one he extended.

  Rena did not know who else or how many other dancers there were. She did not even mind that the space became more crowded. She kept his gaze, as he did not seem to want to look from her, and she floated for the length of the tune, lost herself in the attention of the man she’d dreamed of having to herself.

  When the dance ended, she took his arm to exit the floor. He left her to procure champagne. After handing her a glass, while sipping his own, he stood there with her, watching the crowd and seemed oblivious to the number of people staring at him.

  Rena was not. She sipped and she tried, and she felt his heat in the small inches that separated her arm from his, but she noticed the people who looked between them. She could guess that they were wondering why she had gained the notice of such a lofty and handsome man.

  He leaned to the side, saying under the music, “It is my age, or rather the difference between our ages that is garnering the stares.”

  Startled she met his gaze. “No, what the devil has that to do with anything?”

  His smile came again. “Nothing to my mind.”

  “It is because they are wondering who in the world I am.” She insisted.

  “I doubt that. Your brother is well known. I am fairly certain it is because a woman as young and as beautiful as you, should be pared with one of those handsome fellows your age…”

  Rena snorted, then realized he actually did think that, regardless if those who looked at them did or not. She realized that this handsome man was trying to ease his own concern that she may have some silly problem with his age.

  She took a sip from her glass and then turned as if looking beyond his shoulder to tell him, “At the risk of sounding improper, I confess that I haven’t given a thought to your age in all the years I have noticed you, my lord.” She cleared her throat. “I do not think there is a peer in London, at any age, save my brother and perhaps Jerome, who comes close to being as attractive. And still, they lack certain…” She shrugged and ignored the fact her face was flushed. “I have always noticed you,” she finished simply.

  Rena knew he was looking at her, and she waited several anxious heartbeats before she turned her eyes to his face. The intense stillness had her stomach cinching, until she noticed that his eyes held a certain sensual heat and pleasure.

  “Do not worry about propriety around me, Verena. I fished for that, for very honest reasons.”

  She swallowed and husked, “I am not interested in any male my age. I never have been. Nor have I bemoaned my status as the duchess does. I have always noticed you, from my very first season.”

  His eyes became even more mysterious, as if his thoughts were mists amid the violet. “And I you.”

  “You may call me, Rena.” She smiled a little nervously.

  “My name is Lucas,” he said though his thoughts seemed to be somewhere ahe
ad of those words.

  “Lucas.” She nodded slightly and released a tense breath. “You do not mind my age?”

  “I do not mind anything about you, Rena.”

  Tingles spread over her skin. “You scarcely know me.”

  “Would you like to rectify that?”

  “Yes.” She knew he had watched carefully for her reply.

  “Let us start with your pastimes…aside from trying cheroots.” He teased quietly.

  “Oh, dear.” Her eyes twinkled. “I fear I enjoy doing many things out of doors. I ride and fish, I hunt and have been known to dig in the dirt with the Gardner at Brydon house.”

  She glanced away as he was listening so intently it made her nervous. “I had all the proper training, but truthfully, Bram plays and paints better than I do. We spent much of our time trying the patience of our tutors, and slipping out of doors instead of studying. I like to read, to picnic and to take rambling walks. I sing only in church, and I like to laugh.”

  She looked back at him. “I only cry when something moves me intensely, and I…I cannot think of what else to say.”

  “You enjoy the opera?”

  She nodded, sensing he knew that. “I like music. I enjoy simple things and artistic things. What of you, do you have hobbies?”

  “I play cards, box at the gym, ride, and like you, spend a lot of time out of doors. I sail and I cannot play a blessed thing, nor can draw a straight line.” He grinned somewhat. “I read and…I work.”

  “I heard that. My brother said you had worked very hard for many years.” She looked around and then back at him. “You dance very well, too. Tonight, but last evening particularly.”

  He chuckled and she delighted in that sound, and his white smile.

  “I thank you, considering we were somewhat constrained.”

  “I scarcely noticed,” she admitted softly.

  His smile faded and that heat was in his gaze again. “What shall I bring your brother for Christmas?”

  “Hmmm. Aside from brandy, I don’t know.” She laughed. “I got him a horribly bright coat, since he can and does buy himself whatever he wishes to. I always buy something to amuse and shock him. Last year I had a robe made for him in some eye smarting yellow flowers and red stripes. He wore the thing over his clothing all day.”

  Lucas laughed. “Well. I cannot out do that, but I shall try to think of something. And you?”

  “Oh. He bought me a straw hat the size of our card table. It had so many bows and flowers.” She chuckled.

  “I mean, what shall I bring you?”

  She flushed. “Nothing. Just, join us.”

  He shook his head, then, “Have you a pet?”

  “No, not of my own. Bram has a lovable old dog and there are tabbies around Brydon…”

  “Birds?”

  She nodded. “I like birds.”

  He took a swallow from his glace, looked around, and then back at her. “Do you know what I want?”

  Her breath stuck in her throat and she shook her head slowly.

  His head leaned toward her and he murmured, “You, Rena. I want you.”

  Somewhere in the thunder and roar of her heart, the surge of her blood, she remembered to breathe. Still felt like she had not. Here she was in the middle of a ballroom, likely a hundred eyes on him, and he’d said words that she wanted to rasp and ask him to say once more, simply to assure herself that she’d heard right.

  Rena must have looked stunned, for he took her arm and led her around the crowd, stopping to deposit their glasses and onward to the only exit available.

  The snow came down thick but he paused, keeping her just under the roof overhang, to the right of the French door he had opened. Even as the cold air struck her, she was blocked from the worst of it as he put her against the exterior wall and stood in front of her, his warm hands sliding up her arms.

  She saw his head descending, his lashes at half-mast, and then she was enfolded in his arms while his warm mouth covered her own.

  Her hands slid just under his jacket, against his incredibly warm body. Rena closed her eyes while his lips brushed in some truly erotic and sensual manner over hers, and then in a small circle, before his tongue teased the seam for entry.

  She opened and moaned, lifting on her toes and holding tighter when that smooth and velvet tongue laved over and under hers. He did it unhurried and easy, though she could feel a tension in him.

  Her mind was dizzy, her body starting to catch fire, and when he moved his head, slanted it, she took the invitation to taste him, again moaning at the heat and softness, the intimate sensuality of it. She followed and then tested, trembling because he curled his tongue over hers, seeming to reward her every time she delved into his mouth or laved under his tongue and around to stroke and pleasure.

  Their breathing was intense and sizzling. There were sounds, a sexy little noise that followed when he pulled back and kissed her delicately, closed mouth, then rubbed their lips again and followed that by gently nibbling her lower lip.

  She could not help the short pants that resulted from the excitement and hunger rushing through her. There was sheer pleasure, a deliciously sensual feel to his skillful kissing.

  Rena made a brief sound of satisfaction when he opened and went inside again. This time the kiss was deeper but silky and slow, heavy with hunger, and yet meant to please as much as to taste.

  That sound came again, a wet and intimate one, as he slowly lifted his head and they were looking at each other. White mists came from the heat of their breathing, and she knew that her eyes must hold the same glitter as his.

  His voice was deep, very husky as he murmured, “It’s very hard to stop doing something so incredibly pleasurable. Your taste, the feel of your mouth, and your tongue in my own, I do not want to stop. And yet, I dare not indulge more, since we are at a ball.” His hand moved to cup her face, his thumb near her mouth as he asked, “Did I go too far, too fast?”

  “No.” Rena wet her lips and swallowed. “I don’t want to stop either.”

  He slid his hand to the back of her head and pulled her against him a moment, his strong arms completely around her and his lips near her ear then laughed somewhere between careful and resigned. “I do not know how much you know… of intimacies, Rena. I am not a man who’s… damn.”

  He sighed and waited a beat. Then, “I am incredibly aroused and I realize we have scarcely met. I am somewhat at a loss at the moment…”

  She breathed in his warm scent, eyes closed and said a bit muffled against his chest, feeling his heard beating heart, as well as the heated length of his sex from their tightly plastered bodies, “I know enough.” Her voice sounded too much like a moan since she could have stayed the way they were, and since the thought that she aroused him that much inflamed her own body. “I’m not exactly calm myself, Lucas. It has nothing to do with how long we have known each other. I don’t think one can control these things.”

  His mouth brushed her ear, his hand on her back, sliding in a soothing caress. “I must let you go.”

  “You must.” She heard the regret in his voice.

  They parted as if by mutual understanding, and the cold air helped only slightly to clear her head as she refused the offer of his coat. “I’ll go in first.” She turned and did so, before she was tempted to linger.

  Rena was beside her aunt when she saw him enter some half hour later. He looked tense and on edge and she felt much the same as she wished them both anywhere but there, anywhere together.

  His gaze met hers briefly, before he went into the card room. She did not see him again for the rest of the evening, and by the time she got home, her body ached from holding herself so contained and standing until her aunt was ready to leave.

  Lying in the dark and under the warm covers many hours later, she cried only a little bit that Lucas Bennington wanted her, that he had kissed her and that she had not imagined it all these years. He was a man of sensual passion; an incredible male who made her long for se
xual intimacies that she’d dared not dwell on before.

  Oh God… Rena buried her face in the pillow and breathed in deep, then let it out slowly. She had wanted him before, felt attracted and drawn to him, been stirred by looking at him. It was nothing compared to this.

  This was an ache, a hunger, and a complete awakening of her body that she could not have imagined until she had tasted him, and he her.

  Chapter Four

  The week was a blur of noise and music, cheerful scents and sounds. Rena saw him only twice before Christmas. Once as he passed by their coach in his own as they were going in opposite directions, and another time, as she was leaving her neighbors having had tea, and he was entering his coach.

  That time he had seen her as well, and had stepped back and stood on the street looking at her. She had scandalously raised her hand to him. He’d smiled and, she thought, shamelessly winked at her before getting in his coach.

  At Bram’s townhouse, decorated in bright red and green, she had endured some teasing from her brother over Moncrief, and then finally confided the whole in him.

  They had been putting the final changes on the tree in the informal sitting room at the back of his house. He’d taken her hands, hugged her and then leaned back and lowered his brows saying in a faux stern voice, “Must I give the brotherly lecture on propriety, or demand Lucas tell me his intentions or—”

  She had cut him off, “You must love me enough to wish me well and happy. You must be the brother and friend you always have been, and the man you really are. For you know that I thought my future had been written out for me. While I may well enjoy life and have made it alone, I would rather under any conditions, experience these feelings with a man I have longed for, for many years.”

  Bram shook his head and gathered her close, saying on a sigh, “I share that wish with you. I have oft said that men are fools and do not recognize what a special woman you are. I believe that Lucas does. In fact I know—never mind.”

  He had released her and after discussing what they would fix on Christmas, and getting some simple recipes from cook, who would leave ham and bread, plenty of cakes and pastries, they decided they would do the usual informal spread in the dining room and leave it at that.