Seduce Me By Christmas

by Deborah Raleigh

  For goodness’ sake, who would call at this late hour?

  Setting aside the book, she tried to still her pounding heart. Surely a criminal would not have politely knocked at the door?

  Still, she remained seated for a long moment, considering the wisdom of simply ignoring the intruder. Surely whoever was out there would eventually give up and go away?

  As if to squash her brief hope, another knock echoed through the cottage, this one much louder. With an exasperated sigh, Sarah rose to her feet and crossed to the door. The last thing she wanted was the boys disturbed.

  “Who is there?” she demanded, her voice sharp.

  “Nico. I’m Mr. Charlebois’s valet.”

  Sarah frowned, her lingering fear altering to confusion. “What do you want?”

  “There’s been an accident.”

  “Good lord.” Hastily unlocking the door, Sarah yanked it open and waved her hand toward the dark-haired man. “Please come in.”

  The stranger stepped over the threshold and if Sarah hadn’t been so rattled, she might have smiled at the sight of his lean, dark countenance and gorgeous brown eyes. Maggie had caught sight of the servant in the village, and had dreamily described him to Sarah as a dashing foreigner who looked more pirate than valet.

  Nico lingered near the door, his gaze running a brief but thorough survey over her heavy dressing gown and hair she had pulled into a simple braid.

  It wasn’t the usual male appraisal. In truth, Sarah felt as if she had been put on a set of scales and weighed for her worth.

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  “What has occurred?”

  “Charlebois was…” There was the faintest hesitation. “Thrown from his horse on his return to the Lodge.”

  “Thrown?” Sarah’s brows jerked together as she recalled Raoul riding up to the cottage. Never in her life had she seen a horse and rider in such obvious harmony. “I do not believe it.”

  “Even the finest rider can take a tumble.”

  “Yes, but…” Realizing she was wasting precious time, Sarah gave a shake of her head. “Never mind. How badly is he injured?”

  “He has taken a blow to the head, and his ribs are injured. I can’t say if they’re broken. In any case, he’s in a great deal of pain. I heard in the village you were skilled with herbs.”

  A shocking relief raced through Sarah, making her knees weak. Raoul was hurt, but at least he wasn’t…

  No, she could not even bear to consider the other.

  “Not so skilled as my mother, but I do have several remedies that I keep handy for those in need.”

  “Will you bring them to the Lodge?”

  She blinked at the abrupt request. “But…surely Mr. Charlebois would prefer a trained surgeon? I assure you Mr. Dalton is far more qualified than myself in dealing with such injuries.”

  “Charlebois has refused to call for him.”

  “But why?”

  “A gentleman has no desire to have it widely known he was tossed like a greenhorn.”

  “You believe I would be any more discreet?”

  He regarded her with a steady gaze. “I do.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Will you come?”

  Much to her surprise, Sarah felt herself wavering. Every bit of logic told her to inform the man in no uncertain terms that she would not be hauled to an unwed gentleman’s home in the middle of the night. Not even if most villagers would accept she was only there in the role of a healer.

  But another part desperately wanted to rush to Raoul’s side. Not only to offer what humble assistance she could, but to simply reassure herself that Raoul was not seriously injured.

  Why it was so vital that he be well was a question she would dwell on later. For now, she had enough troubles to occupy her mind.

  “I’m sorry, but the boys are already asleep and I cannot leave them here alone.”

  “Understandable.” Nico nodded toward the open door. “I brought Pickens with me.”

  Sarah peered through the darkness, able to make out a large man standing next to the elegant carriage.

  “Pickens?”

  “Charlebois’s groom. He rarely has a word to say for himself, but he is quite dependable and the oldest of seven children. He can watch your boys until you return.”

  Her refusal trembled on her lips, but could not be uttered.

  Blast it all. She would never be able to sleep. Not until she was assured that Raoul was on the mend.

  How foolish was that?

  Foolish, but undeniable.

  She heaved a sigh, more aggravated at herself than the poor servant who had come to fetch her.

  “Allow me to gather a few items.”

  Nico’s expression never altered, but she sensed his coiled tension ease.

  “Thank you.”

  “Do not thank me yet,” she muttered, turning on her heel to enter the kitchen and collect her supplies.

  It took another few minutes to pull on her heaviest boots and wool cloak. No doubt she should have changed from her dressing gown, but she was in a hurry to reach the Lodge and in truth, the robe that buttoned to her neck and was fashioned from white cambric was far more modest than many of her dresses.

  Still, it felt odd to be led from the cottage by the impatient Nico without the familiar discomfort of her shift and corset.

  Pickens gave a nod of his head as they passed and made his way to the cottage. Sarah was able to make out heavy features with a surprisingly sweet expression, but it was not his appearance of a gentle bear that made her trust him without a qualm.

  She knew Raoul well enough to know he would never hire anyone who would harm a child.

  Permitting Nico to hand her into the interior of the carriage, she impatiently allowed him to wrap her in the waiting blanket before he was shutting the door and climbing onto the high seat to set the carriage into motion. In some distant part of her mind she recognized the biting chill in the air and the sway of the carriage over the rough path, but her thoughts were centered on reaching Raoul.

  At last they pulled into the circle drive and halted before the covered portico. Sarah untangled herself from the blanket and climbed out of the carriage before Nico could assist her.

  The dark, unnerving gaze flicked over her, then he turned and led her toward the nearby door. Together they entered the silent house, Nico pausing to help her out of her heavy cloak before leading her up the stairs.

  Oddly, Sarah felt no embarrassment as she prepared to enter a gentleman’s private chambers. Not even attired in nothing more than her dressing gown. Instead, she clutched her leather satchel and fought back the urge to dash up the stairs like a schoolgirl.

  Reaching the landing, Nico waved a slender hand toward the open doorway.

  “This way.”

  A rich, familiar voice floated through the air. “Nico?”

  “I have returned, lord and master.”

  There was a sound of impatience. “If I was truly your lord and master, you would not have disappeared after leaving the brandy decanter…” The words broke off in shock as Nico stepped through the doorway, closely followed by Sarah. “Sacrebleu.”

  “I brought you something much better than brandy,” Nico announced as Sarah took a swift glance about the bedchamber.

  She took note of the blue and ivory drapes, the satin wall panels, and solid walnut furnishings that matched the large, four-poster bed. There were only modest ornaments to soften the impression of stark masculinity. Even the few oil paintings hung on the wall were scenes of hunting or rugged landscapes.

  Her gaze skimmed over her surroundings, giving her the opportunity to brace herself before at last turning her attention to the man sprawled across the bed.

  Even prepared, however, she couldn’t halt her heart from skipping a beat as she caught the full view of Raoul Charlebois.

  Good…lord.

  When he was fully attired, Raoul was an elegant, breathtaking gentleman of society. A man with a smooth
charm and clever wit who could melt the heart of the most discerning female.

  Now he was half-reclined on the pillows, with his golden curls tousled and a hint of stubble darkening the line of his jaw. More disturbing, the blankets that covered his body had fallen to expose the hard expanse of his upper chest.

  Her breath caught, and a strange sensation fluttered in the pit of her stomach.

  The sophistication had been ripped aside and she was suddenly confronted with the raw masculinity he kept disguised.

  With his lashes half-lowered, Raoul allowed his blue gaze to glide down her body, the smoldering heat nearly tangible despite her voluminous gown.

  “You have, indeed,” he murmured, his gaze lifting to study Sarah’s flushed cheeks. “Remind me to give you an increase in pay.”

  Gathering her composure, she tilted her chin. “I am here because your servant claims you are too foolish to call for the local surgeon.”

  Nico cleared his throat. “I had to reveal to her as how Hercules gave you a toss, and you were too embarrassed to have it known throughout the village.”

  A golden brow arched as Raoul shot a swift glance toward his servant.

  “Thank you, mon ami.”

  His dry tone warned Sarah that there was far more to Raoul’s injuries than a simple tumble from the saddle.

  “Always happy to be of service,” Nico drawled.

  “Perhaps you could be of service by making a pot of tea? I am certain Miss Jefferson must be frozen to the bone to have been out in such weather,” Raoul retorted, wincing in obvious discomfort as he shifted on the pillows.

  Abruptly noting the lines bracketing his mouth and the shadows beneath the brilliant blue eyes, Sarah moved briskly to the side of the bed, perching on the edge of the mattress and opening her small satchel. It did not appear as if Raoul was on his last leg, but he most certainly was in pain.

  “I am quite well, thank you, but I could use hot water and a sturdy mug to steep my herbs. Mrs. Dent will no doubt have left a kettle near the fire.” She set her mixture of herbs on the nearby table, along with her various salves. “Oh, and I will need some strips of clean linen if they can be found.”

  Nico gave a short dip of his head. “I will return in a moment.”

  Waiting until Nico slid from the room, Sarah turned her attention toward the man stretched out beside her.

  “Now, Mr. Charlebois, do you intend to tell me what really happened?”

  “Perhaps.” A strained smile touched his lips. “Someday.”

  “Someday?” Her eyes narrowed. “I begin to wonder what brings you to Cheshire, Mr. Charlebois.”

  “Raoul,” he countered, softly.

  She bit back her demand to know the truth. For all his efforts to disguise his misery, she could sense he was hurting. Now was not the time to badger him for answers.

  “Show me where you are injured,” she instead commanded.

  “This is not at all nec…” His words broke off as she ignored his ridiculous words and simply leaned forward to run her fingers through his hair, exploring his scalp until she discovered the two distinct lumps that had already formed. “Mon Dieu.”

  Although not formally trained, Sarah had been tending to injuries since she was sixteen. She had discovered that many wounds did far better to heal on their own, so long as they were not infected.

  “Painful, no doubt, but not fatal,” she murmured.

  “They are a great deal less painful when you are not poking at them.”

  Leaning back, she regarded him with the same patient expression she used when the boys were being petulant.

  “I believe Nico also mentioned that your ribs were injured.”

  “Yes.”

  “May I see?”

  There was a pause before a wicked smile curved his lips. “If you insist.”

  With a slow, deliberate motion, Raoul tugged at the covers, drawing them down to his waist.

  Unable to help herself, Sarah sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes captivated by the smooth torso that literally begged for her touch.

  Oh…my.

  Chapter 10

  Despite his lingering pain, Raoul was smugly pleased by the stunned expression on Sarah’s face.

  He wanted her to react to his naked chest. He wanted her heart thundering and her blood racing with the same biting need that had clutched him since she’d walked through the door wearing nothing more than her dressing gown.

  It only seemed fair.

  “Is something the matter, Sarah?” he teased, his voice thick with his raw awareness.

  She wetted her dry lips, then with obvious effort, she sucked in a deep breath.

  “Of course something is the matter. Unlike many women you might be acquainted with, I am not at all accustomed to being alone with half-naked gentlemen.”

  His lips twisted as he briefly wondered what her reaction would be if she knew that he was more than half naked. Then, catching sight of the uncertainty shimmering in her dark eyes, he felt an unexpected pang of remorse.

  Damn. It had been so long since he had been in the company of a truly innocent woman, he forgot how unnerving it must be to find herself alone with a gentleman in his bedchamber.

  His expression softened as the unexpected need to protect this woman overcame his more basic instincts.

  “Then return to your cottage, ma petite,” he urged. “I cannot think what possessed Nico to drag you out in such cold.”

  Her shoulders squared, as if she were struggling against her own better judgment. And perhaps she was.

  “First I intend to put salve on those bruises, and to mix a tonic that will assist you in sleeping.”

  His brows snapped together. “Laudanum?”

  “No, it is no more than a mixture of chamomile and lavender, with just a bit of lemon balm. It is quite harmless, I assure you.”

  His repugnance was replaced with a faint amusement at her defensive tone.

  “I have complete faith in your abilities, ma belle.”

  Before she could respond, Nico returned carrying a large tray that he set on the table beside the bed.

  “The hot water you requested and some strips of linen, although if Mrs. Dent should wonder what happened to her apron, I refuse to take the blame.”

  Sarah tilted back her head to flash Nico one of her devastating smiles. The seasoned rogue blinked, as if stunned by the blinding beauty.

  “Thank you.”

  “That will be all, Nico,” Raoul growled, not entirely pleased by his servant’s lingering gaze.

  With a mocking bow, Nico headed toward the door.

  “I’ll return below stairs. We wouldn’t want any unexpected visitors.”

  Nico stepped out of the room, deliberately closing the door behind his retreating form. Thankfully, Sarah was too busy mixing a handful of dry herbs in the mug of hot water to notice.

  Leaving the herbs to soak, Sarah returned her attention to him, although she was careful to ensure that her gaze never dipped below his chin.

  “Nico seems to be a most unusual valet.”

  “You have no notion.”

  “Was he in the theater?”

  “No, he comes straight from the stews.”

  That clearly surprised her. “But you trust him?”

  “With my life.”

  She pulled a ceramic pot from her leather satchel. “You are fortunate to have such a loyal servant.”

  “Some days I feel more fortunate than others…” Raoul sucked in a shocked breath, unprepared for her soft touch as she soothed the salve onto the bruises spreading over his ribs.

  Her fingers stilled. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

  Raoul clutched the blankets bunched about his waist. “Ma belle, you have been torturing me for days.”

  Realizing his discomfort had nothing to do with his wounds, Sarah sent him a chiding frown and continued with her gentle ministrations.

  “This salve should ease the stiffness, although the bruising is too deep to compl
etely avoid a measure of discomfort over the next few days. I suppose it is too much to hope that you will remain in bed until you are properly healed?”

  “Only if you give me sufficient inducement to linger.”

  She shook her head. “If you are well enough to flirt then you are well enough to lift yourself so I can wrap the linens around you.”

  Pressing his upper torso off the pillows, Raoul hid his flare of pain as he deliberately leaned close to inhale her cinnamon sweetness.

  “I am well enough to indulge in any number of activities,” he whispered close to her ear, unable to resist temptation.

  Doing her best to ignore his blatant invitation, Sarah efficiently wrapped the linen around his waist, tying it off with a knot.

  “There, that should keep the salve…” She sucked in a sharp breath as his lips brushed over the curve of her ear. “Mr. Charlebois.”

  “Yes, Miss Jefferson?”

  “You should not.”

  He teased the hollow below her ear, his earlier determination to behave as a gentleman dissolving into a forgotten wisp of sanity.

  “I am well aware I should not,” he growled. “Unfortunately, I cannot seem to help myself.”

  “You…” She shivered as he trailed his tongue down the curve of her neck. “Oh.”

  “Sarah.” Forgetting his aches and pains, Raoul grabbed her face in his hands and studied her with a sense of bemusement. “I do not comprehend what you have done to me, but I have no defense against you. I am utterly at your mercy.”

  Her breath came in quick pants between her parted lips. “I have done nothing.”

  “No?” Shifting, Raoul took her hand and pressed it to the blanket, directly over his hard erection. “I would say you have done more than you bargained for.”

  “I should return to the boys.”

  “Please…Sarah,” Raoul murmured, not above pleading as he planted desperate kisses along the line of her jaw.

  “What?”

  “Just a few moments. I beg of you.”

  With a gentle insistence, he urged her down on the mattress beside him, careful to keep his touch light enough that she would know she could pull away at any moment.