by Suzan Butler, Emily Ryan-Davis, Cari Quinn, Vivienne Westlake, Sadie Haller, Holley Trent
He kissed her neck, teasing the curve with his teeth, then his tongue. “I did not want to marry if it meant marrying someone I could never look upon with anything but pity or disgust. I did not want to wed a woman who would force me to change, force me to settle into some dull, staid existence filled with boring parties and dinner at court.” With his thumbs, he teased the bodice of her dress, massaging her nipples through the fabric. “What I want is a woman who will best me at cards and distract me at hazard with a well placed foot,” he smiled, “and who will always make me laugh and when she fights me, it is because she is my equal, not because she wants to be my superior.”
Mmmm. He wanted more, more of her body, more of her mind, more of everything that was Violet. Soft moans tantalized him as he stroked her nipples and nipped along her jawline.
“We should go down soon before Freddy comes up to find us.”
Kit chuckled against her skin. “Trust me, he won’t.”
“I want you,” she whispered. “But I want you where I can have you all to myself for a few hours.”
“I do love the way your mind works.” He kissed her chin, then tucked her fichu securely into place before buttoning up her pelisse. “I think I need you to nurse me back to full health. Can you do that, my lady?”
A soft tongue licked the edge of his earlobe. “With pleasure, my lord.” She climbed out of his lap and helped him into the jacket which lay piled at the edge of the bed. “And the answer to your question is yes.”
“As if I did not know this,” he said, grabbing her and pulling her close to bite her lower lip.
“You are the most arrogant man I have ever met.”
“Would you love me any other way?”
“I love you in every way.” She kissed his lips, coaxing and teasing until they were both breathless. Then he took her hand, threading his fingers through hers and led her down the stairs.
As they stepped outside, he closed the door to the past behind him, knowing that the only thing that mattered was this moment and the future he would have with Violet.
Thank You
Thank you for reading A Marquess for Christmas. I hope you enjoyed Kit and Violet’s story. Coming soon: Bella and Freddy’s romance, tentatively titled, Surrender to the Duke. Please visit http://smarturl.it/vw-sd for details.
You can also go to my website for more information about my books: http://www.viviennewestlake.com or join my newsletter.
Vivienne’s Book List
A Marquess for Christmas
Lady Northam’s Wicked Surrender (Wicked Liaisons, Book 1)
The Lady’s Wicked Proposition (Wicked Liaisons, Short Story)
Tempting the Governess
Surrender to the Duke (Coming Soon)
About the Author
Vivienne Westlake has been reading and writing romance since the age of fifteen. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature and when she’s not plotting stories about sexy heroes and sassy heroines, she’s buying a book on British history, watching the latest teen vampire show, doing an art project or singing karaoke with friends.
Vivienne enjoys hearing from readers. You can contact her at:
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If you enjoyed A Marquess for Christmas, please watch for the upcoming release of Surrender to the Duke.
ONE GOLD HEART
Sadie Haller
SADIE HALLER
http://sadiehaller.com
Copyright © 2013 SADIE HALLER
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
ISBN-13: 978-0-9938264-2-9
Published by QTP
Dedication
For my amazing Grandma.
I miss you every day, but especially at Christmas.
Chapter One
Mac checked the caller ID and grinned as she answered, "Hi, Sully."
"I need a huge favour."
"I'm quite certain it's customary to at least say hello, maybe even engage in a little small talk before making requests," Mac scolded.
"Look Mac, I'm desperate and I don't have time to suck up. I was stupid and went on a date yesterday to the outdoor skating rink, and—"
Mac interrupted. "But you can't skate."
"Yeah, back to the 'I was stupid' part. Anyway, I broke two ribs when I crashed into the side railing and I'm out of commission for the next six weeks."
"I'd have more sympathy if you'd stop thinking with your dick, you know."
"I don't need sympathy, just a favour. Dominant Cord has gigs booked for most of December, starting Friday, and I need you to sub for me."
Mac cringed. "Tell me you don't mean Friday, as in day after tomorrow Friday."
"Yes, that's exactly the Friday I mean."
"Bugger. You, of all people, know I hate performing. There must be someone else you can call on."
"'Fraid not. Everybody's booked solid. C'mon Mac, you know I wouldn't ask this of you if I had any other option."
"You are such a weasel."
"I knew I could count on you."
Mac was suspicious. "Hang on, what are we playing?"
"Bach's Christmas Oratorio," Sully mumbled.
"For that, you miserable lump of knob cheese you are paying for the beta-blockers and you owe me a favour to be named later."
"Done."
"Shit, that was too easy. I have a couple of errands to run this morning. I'll swing by to pick up the music and get the details from you on my way home."
"Fabulous. I'll see you soon."
"Yeah, just feckin' fabulous," Mac muttered as she hung up the phone.
***
Mac rang the bell, nervously clenching her fists as she waited. Minutes later, she took another anxious look at her watch and rechecked the house number against the address Sully had given her. Yup, apparently, this was the place. She rang the bell again and waited. Irritated and out of patience, she decided to make one last effort before giving up. As she prepared to knock, the door was replaced by a broad chest and impressive biceps accentuated by a muscle-hugging, black t-shirt. She stomped on her lust. She was here to work, and didn't need to complicate her life any further.
"What?"
Mac took an involuntary step back and looked way up. She briefly regarded his handsome face, but his Guiness-brown eyes had her wet and tingly before she could regain her composure. She extended her hand and said, "Um, hi. I'm Mac Wallis, Sully's sub."
The man gave her the once over and blew out an exasperated breath. "You've got the date wrong, pet. The play party isn't until Sunday night."
His deep voice resonated within Mac's chest, sending another trickle of moisture into her panties. "Sunday? Sully told me we were scheduled to play on Friday night."
"I don't think so, pet. We're otherwise engaged on Friday. Where is Sully, anyway? He should have been here ten minutes ago."
"He's at home, where else would he be?"
"Here. He is supposed to be here for a rehearsal, dammit"
Realisation dawned and Mac held up her index finger. "Hang on a mo." She suspected this man wasn't often interrupted by a finger waving woman, and his surprised look amused her. She reached into her bag, pulled out her phone, and punched in Sully's number.
She didn't wait for h
is greeting before laying into him. "That favour to be named later just doubled, pal. I'm standing in front of a very grumpy man who wants to know why you're not here and I am. I'll be generous and assume you are loopy on pain meds and forgot. I'm going to give the phone to Mr. Peevy-pants, and you will rectify the situation immediately."
Mac handed the phone over and stomped off the porch, needing the space to cool off. She was already so stressed about having to play for strangers on crappy reeds, she didn't need to colour it with anger and arousal. Bugger that feckin' weasel, Sully, anyway. She kept her back to the house as she inhaled deeply through her nose, letting each breath trickle from her mouth.
She was almost calm when Mr. Sexy-voice invaded her happy place. "Mac, he wants a quick word."
She turned slowly and took one more deep breath before heading back up the stairs to reclaim her phone. "This had better be fixed, because if there is even the slightest problem, I'm done. Are we clear?"
"I am SO sorry, Mac. Really, I meant to call and—"
"I don't want excuses, Sully. Just tell me it's sorted."
"It's sorted."
Mac disconnected, and returned the phone to her bag.
"That was rude. You didn't even say goodbye."
Mac's eyes flashed as she wagged her finger again. "Stop right there. I am doing him a huge favour. Far bigger than I think you could ever understand. His fuck-up increased the value of that favour and we've been friends long enough that we don't always have to observe telephone etiquette. I am here as Sully's substitute because he is unable to play. Can I assume we are both on the same page, now? "
"Yes, we're on the same page, and if it makes you feel any better, I did give him shit for not giving me a heads-up. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. Perhaps we can start again?"
Mac nodded and extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Mac Wallis, and I'm here to substitute for Sully while he is incapacitated."
The man took it and said, "Nice to meet you Mac. I'm Finn Taylor, and I play flute. I appreciate you agreeing to step in for Sully and help us out. Come on inside and meet the rest of the group."
Mac followed Finn into the house. She removed her shoes and set her bags on the floor before shrugging out of her coat. Finn took it from her as she slid her arms free, and hung it on the coat tree in the corner.
"The music room is at the back of the house. We'll swing through the kitchen and get you some water on the way."
"Thanks."
"So, where and when did you and Sully meet?"
Mac had to cut him off right there. Her attraction to Finn was already problematic, fostering any kind of personal connection would be a disaster. "Look, Finn, I'm here to do a job, nothing more."
Finn grabbed a glass from the cupboard and set it on the counter before fetching the jug of filtered water from the fridge. "Okay, no personal stuff. How about professional? I trust Sully to send us someone capable, but what are your credentials?" He asked, as he filled her glass.
"I got my Bachelor of Music in performance from McGill," Mac stated in a tone that declared the subject closed.
Apparently, Finn had other ideas. "And...?"
"And, that's it."
"That takes care of educational, what about professional?"
"I don't play professionally. I hate performing. Like I said, this is a huge favour for Sully."
Finn returned the jug to the fridge and paused a moment before turning to face her. "What on earth was Sully thinking? How are you going to manage our concert schedule if you hate performing?"
Mac lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eye. "Sully was thinking he was down to his very last, desperate hope. And I will manage with the help of beta-blockers."
"Sweet, sweaty Jesus, what a cluster-fuck," Finn muttered as he stalked to the music room.
***
"Brace yourselves," Finn shouted just before he and Mac entered. "Sully's gone and busted a couple of ribs, his replacement doesn't play professionally, and the icing on the cake? She requires drugs to perform."
He took a brief look at the trio of shocked faces before he continued. "This is Mac Wallis." He shifted his attention back to Mac, mildly curious at her wary, sideways glance at the piano. He pointed to an empty chair. "You can sit there." He introduced the rest of the quintet, pointing to each in turn. "That's Jack Riley on bassoon, Wilson Kennedy on clarinet, and Griff Edwards on horn." Not giving anyone an opportunity to do more than nod in greeting, Finn carried on. "Now let's get started. We're already running late. Mac, how long until your reeds will be ready to play?"
Mac settled into her chair. She immediately opened her instrument case and tucked the top-joint of her oboe into her armpit while she continued with her preparations. "I soaked them before I left, so they should be good to go as soon as I have my top-joint warmed up. Give me two or three minutes to get myself organised?"
"Like I have a fucking choice."
Mac stopped what she was doing and glared at Finn, her eyes bright with hurt and indignation. Then she unloaded. "Look, I've had just about enough of the snide, snarky bullshit. You don't want me here. I get it. I don't want me here either, but the way I see it, you've got three options. You find someone else to replace Sully, you cancel all your gigs until he's better, or you deal with me. I'll give you until the end of this rehearsal to make your decision, but I will not put up with any more of your unprofessional behaviour. Just because I don't sing for my supper, don't get the idea that you can treat me with any less respect than you would Sully."
Ignoring the audience, Finn replied, "Fair point. Are you just about ready to start?"
"Absofeckinglutely."
"Okay, let's do a full run-through without stopping, then we'll see what we have to work with."
Finn kept an eye on Mac throughout the rehearsal, ready to cue her the moment she got lost. To his relief, the opportunity never came. She played perfectly. Instruments were laid to rest with the death of the final note, and applause quickly replaced the stunned silence.
Jack gave Mac a quick wink. "Well, Finn, I know which option I'm voting for."
Finn was surprised by the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy. Where had that come from?
Wilson piped up. "Well done, Mac. I have to know, was that straight sight reading, or have you played this before?"
"I played it years ago at university, but not since. I had hoped to have time to go over it before coming to rehearsal, but with a concert on Friday, making reeds was my priority."
Finn finally found his voice. "You played it well here in rehearsal conditions, but I'm concerned about how you'll do in performance, especially when you're drugged up."
"Knock it off, Finn," Griff snapped. "If Sully trusts Mac and her abilities enough to send her to us as his replacement, I think we need to accept she'll be fine."
"I'm just uncomfortable about people relying on performance enhancing drugs."
"I guess Viagra's not an option for you then," Mac snapped.
The others sniggered as Finn's eyes flashed, but Mac didn't back down. "This may have been just a rehearsal for you, but for me, it was worse than a performance. In a performance, I'm playing for strangers who are there to enjoy the music. Here, I was playing for strangers who were looking to pick apart every little thing. Now, I'm tired, grumpy, and ready to go home. So, what's your decision, Finn?"
"I still don't like that you use drugs, but we have no choice. You're in."
"You make it sound like I'm a crack-head. If you can come up with a drug-free way for me to cope with my performance anxiety, I'm all ears. Not that it's any of your business, Mr. Just-Say-No, but the beta-blockers were the absolute last resort for me. Without them, I wouldn't have graduated from university. Now, if we're done here, I'm going home."
"Yeah, we're done. Same time tomorrow night. I'll need your contact information. Phone numbers and email, please. Here's mine." Finn handed over a business card.
Mac grabbed her wallet fro
m her purse and slipped his card into one of the compartments, before pulling out one of her own. "Here." She slapped the card down on the seat next to her and proceeded to stow her gear.
As they packed up, the rest of the quintet watched the sparks fly between Finn and Mac. They said their farewells, and Finn didn't miss the look of panic in Mac's eyes as the others left en-mass.
He crouched next to her, bothered by her obvious distress. "I'm sorry, I'm not making a very good impression. I'm angry at the situation, and I've been taking it out on you. I'm not usually this much of an asshole. You were great tonight, and I look forward to playing with you." He left out the part about his wish for an alternative because her need for medication completely freaked him out.
"You're forgiven. I'm sorry too. It's not like I've been all sweetness and light. And before you blame it on the beta-blockers, I've been every shade of pissed off since I got that call from Sully this morning. The beta-blockers didn't make their appearance until just before I headed over here. Now, I really do need to get going."
Finn stood to give her space while he watched her gather her belongings and scurry out the door. Sully would be getting a call as soon as she was gone. Fucker.
***
"What the fuck, man,” Finn bellowed, “You sent us a drug addicted amateur."
"Bullshit. I sent you one of the best oboists I know. The only reason she's not on my sub-list, let alone at the top of it, is her crippling performance anxiety. Trust me, if I'd had any other options, I wouldn't have done this to her."