The Christmas Countess

by Adrienne Basso

  Rebecca nearly came off the bed. He pressed deeper and she strained beneath the flicking torture, a scream building in her throat. Sensation built upon sensation as his tongue swirled and dipped. Too much, then not enough.

  She began to undulate her hips forward. His hands settled over her stomach, rubbing it in smooth patterns, keeping her in place so he could taste and tease her tender flesh.

  Rebecca blazed with heat; she shivered with cold. She panted breathlessly, unable to get enough air to fill her lungs. The sensations intensified and then suddenly broke. Rebecca dug her heels into the mattress, arching higher as she felt the pleasure shake and rumble through her.

  Cameron held her as she shuddered, his tongue moving slower, barely touching her flesh. When the final tremor ended, she felt him shift, felt the bed creak as he moved. He gathered her in his arms and she was surrounded by his strength, his heat.

  Boneless, Rebecca closed her eyes and let herself drift, let the lightness and satisfaction of her climax bathe her in warmth and comfort. But her peace was short-lived. His erection, long and stiff, was pressing insistently against her hip, poking, probing at her.

  Her body reawakened. She shifted so she faced him, until only inches separated their faces. His eyes had darkened to near blackness. The smoldering look nearly brought a blush to her cheeks, which was ridiculous considering the intimacy she had just allowed him. With an impish grin, Rebecca leaned forward and bit his earlobe. Hard.

  At the same time she boldly dragged her hand over his flat stomach and cupped the heavy sacks of his balls. He sucked in a sharp breath.

  Lightly dancing her fingers upward, she wrapped her hand around his stiff penis, his width so thick her fingers barely met. Gliding her hand upward, she stroked him, pleased to hear a sharp moan escape his lips, delighted to feel his body shudder.

  She set a pace that seemed to please him, stroking up, then down. His hips pumped forward to meet her hand and she felt a drop of moisture form at the tip of his erect shaft. Touching it with her fingertip she rubbed it sensually over the head, massaging with a circular motion.

  “So bloody good,” he moaned.

  Rebecca pulled back so that she could see his face. His expression was tight, his eyes heavy lidded with desire. Watching him in his pleasure brought forth the wetness between her own legs. She moved them restlessly against his upper thighs as she increased the pressure of her grip on his rock-hard penis.

  “Cameron.”

  Her voice was a whisper, a call of passion. Yet it seemed to pull him away from the moment. He groaned again, then clasping her wrist, he dragged her hand away.

  “Enough,” he growled, his voice filled with want and need.

  He turned away from her and Rebecca cried out. The musky scent of their arousal filled the chamber and her frustration mounted. She should have kept silent, should have allowed him to gain his release.

  “I‘m sorry,” she muttered, feeling terribly gauche and inexperienced.

  “For what? Nearly killing me?” She heard the humorous irony in his voice.

  “I…uhm—”

  “Thank goodness you spoke,” he said. “I was nearly too far gone to hold myself back.”

  “Oh. So you‘re not angry with me?”

  “Rebecca, I can assure you that anger is most definitely not an emotion I am feeling at this moment.”

  Catlike, he stretched his naked body, rubbing against her in a slow, sensual caress, from her breast to her belly, to her sex. Then linking her fingers with his, Cameron slowly raised her arms above her head.

  Suddenly she was spread before him like a wanton feast, a woman waiting to be conquered, possessed. The vulnerable position heated her blood, made her feel wicked and desirable. He kissed her again, his lips hot, his tongue merciless. She began to struggle for breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Cameron rose to his knees above her. She watched the play of candlelight on his handsome face. There was a yearning in his eyes, so honest, so intense it nearly stole her breath.

  “You are mine,” he stated hoarsely.

  “I am.”

  Slowly she spread her legs. She felt him reach between them and part her most tender flesh before easing himself inside. Their bodies slid together intimately, naturally. It felt extraordinary.

  He flexed his hips forward and went deeper. Rebecca gasped at the feel of him filling her, digging her fingertips into the tight muscles of his upper arms.

  “You are very tight,” he whispered. “Am I hurting you?”

  She shook her head, fighting to think beyond the confusion of intense pleasure and intense emotions.

  “No…I feel…I…” her eyes filled with tears.

  “I know,” he whispered. “I know. You cannot help but remember the past, the memories of another.”

  “I‘m sorry.” She blinked and two tears rolled down her cheek. “I want you, Cameron. You. No one else. Truly.”

  “Ah, sweet Rebecca. I understand.”

  He held himself perfectly still inside her. Gradually, Rebecca felt the emotions begin to ease from her heart, felt herself drawn back into the sensuality and passion of the moment.

  He does understand. He knows as much as I want this, as much as I want him, my heart needed a moment to say a final farewell to the only other man who ever shared this total intimacy with me.

  Cameron touched the side of her face, then leaned down. She angled her head so they could kiss. Mouths joined, Rebecca parted her lips and sucked in his tongue. His scent invaded her senses. Need rushed through her like a lightning storm and she melted under the delicate, caring assault.

  She shifted her buttocks and arched herself against him. It felt right, this passion between them. He was everything she could desire in a lover; passionate, giving, caring. Rebecca embraced the moment utterly, allowing the last of her defenses to fall.

  She took his hand and brought it down between their bodies to the place where they were joined. His fingers were gentle, almost delicate as they stroked her. Gasping, she bucked to take him deeper and he obligingly thrust harder.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, holding him in place. Cameron quickened the pace and moaned. They surged together, then came apart, each seeking release, oblivion, fulfillment.

  Then all at once he seemed to reach a crisis. Cameron stiffened and shuddered in her arms. A guttural, masculine shout of pure satisfaction rang in her ears. She felt his heat and power seep into her and it filled her with a soaring sense of joy and completion, different totally from anything she had ever known.

  Visibly exhausted, he sank down and buried his head against her cheek. His breath came in great, rasping billows. The sound flooded her heart with a strange, intense warmth.

  Rebecca sighed. His body lay heavily on hers. It felt wonderful. Her hair was damp, her face covered in a fine sheen of sweat. It felt wonderful. Her limbs were stretched and sore and aching. They felt wonderful.

  “Sorry. I must be crushing you.” Cameron levered himself away and started to roll off her.

  “No, don‘t leave me,” she cried, holding him close for a tender kiss.

  He obliged. Then he smiled wickedly, flexing himself inside her. “Eventually I shall have no choice but to go, dearest Rebecca.”

  “Perhaps.” She smiled back, clutching his hips with her thighs. “Perhaps not.”

  “Here, let‘s try this instead,” he said.

  He disengaged himself, but before she could protest he shifted to his back and gathered her on top of his body, holding her in a possessive embrace.

  She lifted her chin and set it squarely in the center of his chest. He reached up, brushing her damp, disheveled hair back from her temples. Their eyes met. His gaze was still intense, his face still hard with passion.

  Rebecca‘s heart swelled with emotions she could not define. Was it love? She was unsure. She had loved Philip deeply, completely, yet those feelings were different from these emotions.

  Worse? Better? She hones
tly did not know.

  “Now what?” she whispered.

  He pushed a stray tendril of damp hair behind her ear, then lifted himself forward and kissed her temple.

  “We sleep.”

  And remarkably, they did.

  ———

  The bedchamber was filled with quiet, peaceful stillness when Cameron awoke a few hours later. It was dark outside, but he knew morning must be fast approaching. Sitting upright, the earl tossed back the sheets and left the warmth of the bed, searching the floor for his discarded clothing.

  He kept glancing at the bed, but Rebecca did not stir once as he dressed. Though he was loathed to disturb her slumber, Cameron knew he could not leave without speaking with her.

  He had to call out to her twice before she moved. Finally, she sat up in the bed, clutching the sheet to her breast. She looked tousled and sleepy and incredibly sexy.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked, her expression unfathomable.

  “‘Tis late. I must return to my room.” He held up the night rail he had found. “Will you be needing this tonight?”

  “Oh, yes, thank you.” She reached for it, but he held it back.

  “Would you like to wash first?”

  She blushed. He handed her the night rail, then turned his back. She scurried to the washstand, and he imagined her naked body. Sweet, lush, tempting. He hardened quickly. Needing to toss that delightful image from his mind, Cameron busied himself by picking her garments off the floor and placing them neatly on the chair.

  “You make a fine lady‘s maid, my lord,” she joked when he was finished.

  “I shall remember that, if my fortunes ever change and I am forced to seek employment.”

  She scrambled over to the mattress and sat on the edge, apparently waiting for him to leave before getting beneath the covers. It should have felt awkward, but somehow it did not.

  He hesitated at the foot of the bed, then cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should consider marriage, Rebecca. If you are so inclined.”

  She lowered her head for a moment, then lifted it. Her face broke into a small grin. “Gracious, Cameron. You look as though you have swallowed a lemon. Whole.”

  “Oh, God, I am sorry. I did not mean it to come out quite that way.” The smile he was trying to force on his face withered before it reached his mouth. Damn, he was behaving like a fool. How else would she react to such a dutiful, dispassionate proposal? Of course she would say no to it.

  “It‘s all right, Cameron. Truly. So much has changed between us and so suddenly. We need time to absorb it all before we consider taking any sort of action, before we make any decisions about our future.”

  “You are rejecting me?” he asked.

  “Not precisely.”

  “I am an earl,” he blurted out.

  Her lips twitched. “So I have heard.”

  “I am very wealthy.”

  She glanced about the elegant chamber. “Clearly.”

  “I am also, apparently, an ass.”

  “Cameron, please.” She stood and walked from the bed to him, each step graceful and elegant, not stopping until she was again in his arms.

  He pulled her close against his chest. She smelled of roses. And sex. His penis began to stir with interest.

  “Hmm, you are also a randy, oversexed goat,” she muttered.

  “Only around you,” he said in an ironic tone.

  “I did not say that I did not like that aspect of your personality,” she teased.

  “But you won‘t marry me,” he said glumly.

  “Gracious, you are worse than Lily! Stop acting like a petulant child.”

  He knew she was right. He was being ridiculous. Yet as he held her in his arms, he realized this went beyond a physical, sexual connection. On some level he did not fully understand, he needed her. The sum of his feelings were confused, conflicted, yet there was no doubt in his mind, or his heart, that a part of him longed for her. For Rebecca, and no one else.

  Cameron dragged in a heavy breath. “We will speak of this again.”

  “Yes, certainly.”

  She looked decidedly wary. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit, but he was wise enough to know when to retreat. He could not press her now, when his thoughts were addled and hers seemed so set.

  In Cameron‘s experience there were few opportunities in life for second chances. This was, he believed, his chance and he was determined not to make a mistake and let it escape his grasp.

  Chapter 16

  Rebecca pulled her woolen cloak more firmly around her shoulders. The occasional gusts of wind sent a sharp chill through her, that brought on a strong shiver.

  “Are you sure you have dressed warmly enough?” Cameron asked, concern lacing his voice.

  “I am fine. The exercise will warm me. Really,” she insisted, before he could protest further.

  To emphasize the point, Rebecca quickened her step. The earl merely took a slightly longer stride to keep pace. It was early afternoon, a crisp, cold day and they were on foot, heading toward the north woods. On a very important mission, Cameron had told her, though he had not given her any specifics.

  And Rebecca had not been inclined to ask. She was in a strange mood today, her thoughts and feelings jumbled, her emotions confused, yet serene. Her body still tingled from last night, those seldom used muscles and limbs sore from the earl‘s ardent lovemaking. Though she did not fully understand it, she did not regret what had happened between them, yet she could not help but wonder where it would all lead.

  He had not brought up the marriage proposal again and she was grateful. Her feelings were too raw, too new, too disoriented to discuss it.

  The treetops moved in the slight wind, sending a fresh shower of snow to the ground. The earl tilted his head and stared at the leafless branches overhead. “We should try to stay in the center of the path or else we will soon be covered in snow.”

  Rebecca followed him obediently into the middle, now measuring her strides to match his. “I usually don‘t like the winter,” she said. “Too cold and blustery. But I like the snow.”

  “I do too.” He smiled wryly. “Just not when it is falling on my head.”

  Rebecca returned the smile, pleased they were able to be comfortable around each other, especially after the events of last night. How ironic that their physical closeness brought on this odd change, when logic dictated it would be precisely the opposite.

  It seemed to Rebecca from the first moment she had crossed the threshold of the earl‘s London home, they had been at odds, so rarely at ease with each other, especially when alone. She was relieved that had finally started to change.

  “Snow is a most amazing phenomenon,” Rebecca commented. “Even when only a dusting of it falls, the world around you looks perfect, pristine. All the natural imperfections are so artfully hidden and everything appears so hopeful and full of promise.”

  “True, but then the temperature begins to rise.”

  “Aye.” She shook her head and muttered sadly, “as it gets warmer, the snow melts and reality intrudes. The dirt beneath the snow appears, the white perfection is marred, and the chance for a fresh, clean start seems to vanish.”

  “Dear Rebecca, we do not need the illusion of snow to remind ourselves that there is always hope, always the chance for a new beginning, no matter what has happened.”

  She ceased walking. “Are you turning into a romantic, my lord?”

  “Perhaps I am,” he answered with an easy smile. “Or perhaps you are just hoping that I am.”

  The wind changed direction suddenly and blew against her side. Rebecca shivered and the earl moved so that his large body buffeted her from the chill as they continued walking.

  For an instant she was shockingly aware of the strength of his solid male body. It brought forth an un-bidden memory of last night, the feeling within her as his large, powerful frame loomed above her, her hips rising against the hardness of his penetration, the muscular strength of his back as
she held on tightly to him.

  “Ah, here it is at last. Perfect.”

  With a blush, Rebecca pulled herself away from her sensual recollections. Dutifully, she gazed ahead and beheld a lush evergreen. It stood at nearly her height, fuller at the bottom and tapering to a point at the top. The branches were straight and full, draping in an elegant line.

  “‘Tis an evergreen tree,” she said vaguely.

  “Oh, no, Rebecca, ‘tis a Christmas tree,” he corrected.

  “A what?”

  “A Christmas tree,” he repeated.

  Rebecca blinked. She had never heard of such a thing. “What precisely, does one do with a Christmas tree, my lord?”

  “Decorate it.”

  He circled the tree slowly, carefully examining it from all sides. His gaze traveled up and down and she could see his thoughts were centered completely on it.

  “I daresay, I do not grasp the significance of decorating a tree in the middle of the forest,” Rebecca said.

  “It is not meant to stay in the woods. I shall have it cut down.”

  “And then what?”

  “Bring it back to the house,” he answered as if it were the most logical of explanations and she was acting foolish by asking.

  “And when it is at the manor?” Rebecca prompted, still not following his train of thought.

  “It will be set on a table and placed in a prominent section of the drawing room.”

  “The drawing room?”

  “Yes, I thought that would be best.” He tilted his head, studying the tree from a different angle. “Or do you think the front parlor would be better?”

  “I think the forest is the best place of all to keep an evergreen, my lord.”

  “You are missing the entire point.”

  “Apparently.” She stared at the tree, then stared at him, trying to puzzle it all out. “You will place this tree in the drawing room and then decorate it?”

  “Yes. With small candles and ribbons and bows and some handmade ornaments. Charlotte has already started crafting a few of them, but everyone is invited to help. I imagine the children and servants will think it great fun.”