The Mistletoe Marquess: A Risqué Regency Romance

by Sahara Kelly

  “Convenient.”

  He felt in the way, but the lack of a chair was annoying. For want of anything better, he walked over to the bed and boosted himself up, sitting on the edge and watching her as she made tea.

  She could have been any London hostess entertaining a guest. Her movements were graceful and steady, her fingers long, her hands elegant, her wrists delicate. And yet he would never think her weak. She had a strength that showed in the tilt of her head and the set of her shoulders. She had stayed here, a tiny shelter in a deserted bit of the countryside, and in the middle of a winter storm, no less.

  She approached with a mug in each hand and passed one to him.

  “Give me both,” he ordered. “Then you may sit here as well.”

  “All right.” She did as he suggested, then nimbly hoisted herself up onto the fur next to him.

  He passed her tea. “There. Not quite the drawing room but close.”

  “I was never much enchanted with drawing rooms.” She turned her mouth down at the corners. “Too restricting by half.”

  He sipped his tea, carefully, since it was hot. “You sound as if you dislike formalities. Restrictions…?”

  She nursed her mug, waiting for the liquid to cool. “I’ve never cared to be molded into someone else’s idea of what I should be. A fate, I might add, that awaits most women today.”

  “Is that why you’re here? Did you perhaps run away from something? Someone who tried to mold you?”

  She shook her head. “I would not bore you with my history, Mr. Chillendale.”

  “I doubt I would be bored, Miss Eldridge.”

  That mobile eyebrow rose. “Very well. The barest bones only, though.”

  “I’ll settle for that.” For now.

  He couldn’t look away from her. The skin of fine porcelain, the eyes that were green and yet flecked with gold that glistened in the firelight. And that hair. Tumbled strands of chestnut, richer than any fur, shining as if lit from within.

  She sipped her tea, then licked her lips.

  Reid felt a bolt of lust pierce through his body with almost violent force. It was as if someone had lit one of Whinyates’ rockets and sat him on top of the damn thing. He resisted the urge to see if the top of his head was still in the right place, but it was a challenge not to reach up and check.

  “So.” He cleared his throat of some obstruction that made it rough and low. “The barest bones, Miss Eldridge. I await the tale with eagerness.”

  And I shall have you naked beneath me, writhing with desire, very very soon.

  *~~*~~*

  He really is quite extraordinary, she thought.

  He was sitting next to her, smelling faintly of hops and barley, with eyes that had darkened as his arousal increased. She wondered if he knew that. Perhaps someday she’d tell him. But she’d promised him the bare bones of her life. That was exactly what he would be given.

  “I never knew my mother. She gave me life and in doing so, lost her own.”

  “How sad.”

  “I’m sure it was, but I was too young to understand.” She paused. “It affected my father, of course. The loss must have been terribly painful. I suppose I was a constant reminder of that pain, or he couldn’t deal with a babe in the house…I don’t know. Whatever his reason, before I was a year old, he sent me to live with my aunt. She was actually a distant relation, I think, and had no husband or children of her own. She became my family and loved me well. I can remember no other.”

  There, that would do. Much of it was the truth, anyway.

  “You were happy?” He watched her.

  “Yes. Growing up, Aunt Dorothea made sure I had friends, and there were cousins who would visit. It was fun.” She gave nothing away. “Time passed, and when I reached the appropriate age, my aunt arranged for my marriage.”

  “You are wed?” One eyebrow rose at that news.

  “Widowed. The gentleman selected was quite a bit older than myself.” She hid her eyes for a moment, sipping her tea as a distraction. “I believe his goal was to produce an heir. Sadly, he passed away before such a happy event could take place.”

  “I see. Most unfortunate.”

  “Indeed.” She put the mug down. “However, life continues, as it must. I was able to establish a small household and often entertain friends. I do not lack for anything, so I must count myself fortunate.”

  “And is there another prospective husband being lined up in the wings?”

  “No.” She met his gaze. “I doubt that I shall wed again. But I shall enjoy life—and love—on my terms.”

  “What does that mean?” He put his mug down as well.

  “It means…” She looked at his lips, those cool firm lips that she’d already tasted. They were a meal she had yet to finish, as was the rest of him. “It means that I shall enjoy pleasure where I find it. I have no care for the proprieties, rumor or gossip. As long as I am discreet…I shall live my life as it pleases me.”

  He moved nearer. “And what pleases you? May I be allowed to know?”

  She moved as well, turning toward him as they sat next to each other on the bed. “It would please me were you to touch me.”

  “It would also please me.” His voice had roughened. “Where may I be allowed to place my hands?”

  “So polite.” She chuckled. “Let’s see.”

  Taking his hand, she moved it behind her and let him feel her waist. “That is very nice, sir.”

  “Indeed it is, Ma’am. You are slender and warm and a pleasure to…caress…” His hand moved slightly, stroking up and down, sending tingles through her.

  Oh yes, this is right.

  She lifted her hand to her bodice and slowly undid the row of buttons, from her neck to well below her bosom. Daringly she reached for Reid’s other hand. “I would feel your touch on my breasts, sir.”

  “I would enjoy that myself.”

  He slipped his fingers past the opened fabric and found her, drifting a soft brush of flesh over flesh at first, then growing bolder and cupping her, weighing, lifting her full globe and finally thumbing the nipple to instant hardness.

  “God have mercy, you’re beautiful…”

  He pulled her roughly into him, keeping her breast in his grasp, and staring down at her with sensual hunger in his gaze. “Kiss me. Now.”

  She lifted her free hand to his head and grasped his hair, pulling him to her face, nearer…nearer…until she could stand it no more.

  She kissed him, passionately, hungrily, parting her lips and reaching out for his tongue with her own.

  From there it was only a matter of moments before they were lying on the bed, fighting with clothing, kissing, licking, nipping flesh as it was bared, and eventually tumbling together, naked and craving one another.

  She found herself on her back, the fur soft and arousing beneath her bare skin, with Reid bracing himself above her, all fire and man and rock hard cock.

  “I would have you now. This very second.” His face was flushed, his eyelids heavy with desire. “But tell me no and I’ll stop.”

  Her heart leaped at his words. Only a truly honorable man would dare to speak them at this point.

  She paused for no longer than a heartbeat. “Yes, Reid. Yes. Take me. Let me take you. Don’t wait a minute longer for I cannot hide my wants anymore…and I want you.”

  He groaned, moving above her and finding her sex, spreading her honey around her delicate folds, then rubbing the swollen head of his cock through the slick moisture, skillfully sending her own arousal higher than she could imagine.

  “God, Reid…I can’t…”

  She felt her release beginning, that sparkling tingle at the base of her spine. Her breath shortened and her muscles tensed as he grabbed her knees and spread her legs wide. He bent them, pressing them as far apart as he could, letting her reach for her shins and hold them as he moved into position.

  She was completely revealed, stretched and bared to his gaze, her pussy wet, her woman’s curls damp
against her hot and swollen flesh. Every inch of her sex throbbed and pulsated as her climax neared.

  “Now, Reid…please…”

  “Yes. Now.”

  He thrust, hard and deep, his hard length stretching her inside as his hips stretched her thighs outside. She was impaled, pierced by a rod of steel, and it was the most wonderful feeling she had ever experienced.

  Then he started to move.

  And it got even better.

  Within moments she knew any chance of holding anything back was gone. She cried out, little whimpers forced from her lungs by the weight of his body as his rhythm quickened and he began to groan.

  At last she was there—and her body fell apart into a million stars as it exploded around Reid’s cock.

  Lost in her own ecstasy, she vaguely heard his cry. But she could feel him, feel the pulsing jets of hot seed as he filled her; the tiny movements stimulating her own muscles and sending another wave of pleasure through her.

  “Oh God, oh God…” She screamed and grabbed his shoulders, anchoring herself to the real world lest she fly away into infinity.

  “Jesus,” he breathed, holding her as she shuddered and then eased into limpness.

  She panted, struggling for breath, and he moved away, grunting as his cock slid from her body. She missed it. Missed that connection that had brought her such incredible delight.

  He wrapped them both in his cloak and held her closely, their breathing settling back into more normal patterns. “’T’would seem we are both quite religious.” His voice was filled with amusement.

  “What?”

  “I believe we both renewed our faith at the same moment.”

  “Oh good grief.” She burst out laughing. “You’re quite right, but it’s not the thing to mention it, I believe.”

  He laughed too, and they lay together, strangely comfortable in their nakedness, enjoying the exhaustion and the satiety of their bodies.

  Finally, she moved, reaching out an arm for her mug. “Ugh. My tea’s cold.”

  Reid sat bold upright. “Tea. Damnation. Tea.” He slipped away from her and off the bed, reaching for his discarded clothing, and looking distraught. “I have to leave you. Forgive me. I almost forgot that I have to be at home for guests to tea.”

  “What a shame.” She watched him. “They must be quite important guests?”

  “I suppose.” He fought with one boot. “M’mother’s crony, Lady Southwick. Not my favorite person, but when one’s mother says be there, I’ve learned ‘t’is easier to just be there rather than try and do anything else.”

  “Lady Southwick. I believe I’ve heard that name. Let me see. She has a daughter, yes? Emma something? Emmeline? That’s it.”

  He nodded, struggling into his jacket. “Yes her. Nice girl. Known her for years.”

  “Of course. They’re your neighbors, I suppose.” She stretched. “And did I not hear a rumor that she was to be your Mistletoe Marchioness?”

  Reid straightened. “It’s been discussed.” He found his gloves and turned to her. “But no decision has been finalized as yet.” His gaze met hers boldly. “And after today, I have even more reservations about confirming anything.”

  “I’m flattered.” She let one bare leg rise beside the fur, knowing she was presenting a wanton image of sexual desire.

  “By the way,” said Reid. “I forgot something.”

  “I can’t imagine what,” she laughed.

  “I forgot to ask your first name.”

  She rose up on one arm, letting the fur drop to frame her breasts. “My name is Prudence.”

  Reid gasped out a laugh, shook his head, and left.

  Chapter Four

  The ride home was accomplished in record time, given the late afternoon waning light and the snow on the ground. But Reid admitted to himself as he dismounted, he hadn’t remembered very much of it. His mind was still full of the woman who had been so terribly mis-named. There was nothing prudent about Prudence, he mused with a private grin.

  The groom took Whiskey toward the stables, and Reid noticed the carriage signifying the arrival of the Southwicks drawn up alongside. To his dismay, the horses were being brushed and tended. That meant Lady Southwick and Emmeline were already there.

  He hurried inside, hoping to be able to tidy himself and stroll in for tea without comment. But luck was not on his side.

  “There you are, Reid. We were wondering where you’d got to.”

  It was Lady Mary Southwick, looking down her nose at him. The woman was always reminding the Chillendales that she was related to a Duke, which thus made them her inferiors.

  “I was delayed, Ma’am. My apologies.”

  She sniffed. “It can’t be helped, I suppose. But I’m sure your mother will be happy to delay tea while you change.”

  “I…er…” He had intended to refresh himself and perhaps put on another jacket. Apparently that would not do.

  “Now I know you Chillendales like informality, but do remember you have guests, young man. And Emmeline is here with me. I’m sure you will want to appear to your best in front of her, now, won’t you?” She smiled archly.

  “Lady Southwick, I…”

  “Oh run along. You’ll have to keep us for dinner if you wait much longer.”

  Terror at that thought spurred Reid into action. “Of course. Your pardon, Ma’am.” He bowed and fled.

  He rushed through his rooms, stripping as he went, blessing his man Chilton for the warm water in the ewer and the clean clothes laying on the bed.

  As he soaped a cloth, he felt he was washing away the traces of her. Of the inappropriately named Prudence. He was removing her scent, and the fragrance of spring. He was cleansing himself of the pleasure he’d experienced, and returning to the bland and ordinary place that was his world.

  He realized he was in a mold, not unlike the comments she’d made to him earlier. He was one of the “establishment”, and his life was predictable. Not to mention quite dull. Yes, he loved Chillendale ales, and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else or doing anything else. But this afternoon had shown him that there was another side to life. A side where conversations were important and challenging, not routine. And where passion roared to life.

  He couldn’t, for the life of him, imagine taking Emmeline to bed and finding that fire within her. He’d shock her to her slippers if he touched her breasts. She’d faint if he did anything more.

  He dashed down the stairs to the small drawing room and paused at the door, hearing that girlish giggle Emmeline was so proud of. What sound would she make when he stripped her and claimed his husbandly rights?

  She’d scream and then faint. Again. He just knew it. She was that kind of young woman.

  “Dear Reid, finally.” His mother caught sight of him. “Come in, there’s still some tea left. I let Bunbury bring it in, since Mary graciously informed me that you were in the house at last.”

  He gathered his composure as best he could and managed to not refer to their guest as a bacon-brained old fogey. “I was delayed, Mama. My sincerest apologies, to you and to Lady Southwick and Miss Emmeline.”

  His polite bow was greeted with a nod from the older woman and a blushing giggle from the younger one.

  “Were you widing, Mr. Weid?”

  He blinked. “Er, yes. Yes, I was.” He recalled how much he loathed that little affectation that made girls mispronounce words in order to appear adorable. It didn’t work with most of ‘em, and failed dismally with Emmeline.

  “So bwave of you. The snow can be quite wisky under a horse’s hooves.” She simpered.

  “I had a sturdy mount, Miss Emmeline. There was no danger. I’m sure you must agree that a little ride now and again, even in winter, is a pleasant experience. It’s a very lovely time of year.”

  She shivered. “Oh no. I don’t like to wide at all when it’s cold. Besides, my nose turns quite wed.”

  “Ah.”

  Having reached the end of that topic of conversation with l
ittle difficulty, Reid moved to the tea tray and accepted a cup from his mother. Who managed to give him a fierce glare along with a plate of lemon tartlets.

  He correctly interpreted this as to mean he was to sit and participate, without saying any of the things she knew he was thinking.

  He sighed and sat.

  “Now that we’re all here,” began Lady Southwick, “perhaps this is as good a time as any to begin some discussion of the events to come.”

  Lady Jocelyn delicately sipped her tea. “I believe we have matters in hand here at Chillendale, dear Mary. The arrangements for the Mistletoe ball are underway. I think we’ll be using more holly—I’m told the berries are plentiful and red this year.”

  “Yes, but…” Lady Southwick began.

  “I’m guessing our girl hollies have picked up a bit then, have they?” Reid inquired of his mother.

  “Girl hollies?”

  He suppressed a grin. He knew Emmeline would catch that comment. And for the moment he had redirected the conversation away from the quicksand of the whole Mistletoe Marquess business.

  For the next fifteen minutes, he and his mother entertained Emmeline with a discussion of the difference between male and female holly bushes, and enchanting her with the notion that only the female bushes bore berries.

  She found it “dewightful” and smiled eagerly at the prospect of being able to tell her friends who all thought she was nothing but an empty-headed ninnyhammer.

  Since Reid tended to agree with that assessment, he put the last lemon tart into his mouth, thus eliminating the need for a response.

  “That’s all very nice, but not what I thought we would be discussing today.” Lady Southwick’s voice had a distinct edge to it.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. What were you wishing to talk about, dear Mary?” Lady Jocelyn was sweet as sugar.

  Reid reminded himself to hug his mother more. She was such a trouper and dealt so well with situations like this.

  “I would have thought it was quite obvious.” A pair of carefully colored eyebrows rose into tall arches. “The announcement of dear Emmeline’s elevation to the position of Mistletoe Marchioness.”