Chase Family Collection: Limited Christmas Edition

by Lauren Royal

  He was silent for so long, she began to wonder if he’d fallen asleep.

  Then slowly his fingers moved to unfasten her stomacher.

  Her heart soared. She’d won.

  She wanted this. She burned for him. And she truly did want her first time to be over and done.

  “Are you certain?” he asked, his whisper low and earnest, his fingers fumbling on the stomacher’s tabs in the darkness. His hands fell away. “I’m undressing you, and you’re not stopping me.”

  “Yes, I’m certain. I’m not stopping you.” She found his hands and brought them back to the stiff, embroidered garment. “I’m not.”

  His hands didn’t move, just rested lightly against her front. Her pulse skittered. Beneath his fingertips, her breasts felt firm and overly sensitive.

  A silence stretched between them. When he spoke again, his voice was even lower, more serious. “You do know what you’re asking?”

  She began to nod, then stopped since he couldn’t see her. “I know exactly what I’m asking. I want you to make me yours. I want you to rip my gown off,” she clarified, echoing his words from earlier.

  Immediately, he made a little sound of capitulation.

  The next thing she knew, she found herself locked in his arms, and he had his lips pressed tightly to her forehead in a caress so cherishing it made her heart twist painfully in her chest.

  After a minute he pulled back, and his fingers returned to her stomacher, less tentative this time.

  Her own fingers fluttered up to unbutton his waistcoat. The stiff stomacher made a soft plop as he dropped it to the stone floor. She pushed his waistcoat back over his shoulders and off of him, then dropped it to the floor as well.

  She really had won, she thought, her breath catching in her throat.

  Beneath where the stomacher had been, Chrystabel was laced tightly into her bodice. Joseph untied the bow, then went to work on the laces. “You’re sure?”

  Why was he still asking? Hadn’t she made herself clear? Hadn’t she, a rather bold girl, been bolder than ever before?

  “I’m sure,” she breathed. She couldn’t let him back down now.

  Remembering her sisters’ warning, she was nervous. But feeling Joseph’s hands on her, she was also excited. And the excitement overwhelmed her worry.

  Every single bit of it.

  Suddenly feeling frantic, she reached out to free his voluminous shirt from where it was tucked into his breeches. All she wanted, it seemed, was to feel his skin against her own. He seemed covered with so much fabric. Yards and yards of frothy fabric, all standing in her way.

  With a pained chuckle he pushed her hands away. When he seemed to be struggling on the bed, it took her a moment to realize he was drawing the shirt off over his head. She imagined all of his warm, tempting skin being revealed and wished mightily that she could see it.

  She couldn’t. But she could touch him. She reached out, running her hands up his bare chest, feeling the taut skin and the muscles underneath.

  It wasn’t enough. With a tiny moan of pleasure, she shifted toward him and spread her bodice wide. A soft gasp escaped his lips as she pressed herself against him, the gossamer material of her chemise the only barrier between them.

  He felt so good. Her heart beat faster. Her breathing became strangely uneven.

  “Now?” she whispered.

  “Not yet,” Joseph said, pulling away from her a little. His fingers brushed a breast through the thin fabric of her chemise, and she felt the peak tighten into hard tenderness. Her body arched toward him involuntarily, her breath becoming even more ragged.

  “Oh, Chrysanthemum,” he breathed. “I cannot wait. Can you wait?”

  “I cannot wait,” she echoed in a whisper. “Now?”

  “Not yet.”

  Pulling away from her again, he wrestled the heavy bulk of her double-skirted gown over her head. It joined the rest of their clothes on the floor, leaving her clad in only the chemise. She lay there, shivering, not with cold but with anticipation.

  “I wish I could see you,” he whispered.

  “Feel me,” she invited instead.

  And he did. She held her breath while, with whisper-soft caresses, his hands skimmed leisurely over her middle, then traced the curve of her hip. He brushed her mouth with his as his fingers teased lightly through the fabric, then more firmly, tracing the crease where her thighs met.

  A heat spread from his hand, bathing her in warmth. She moaned softly and felt Joseph smile against her lips. Before she knew what was happening, he'd tugged down her chemise and fastened his hot mouth on her bare breast, suckling gently, stroking his textured tongue over the sensitive peak.

  She’d imagined kissing and mating, but she’d never imagined anything like this. Good heavens, it was indescribable. He wandered to her other breast, his mouth hot there while the air cooled the wetness he'd left behind. Driven to distraction with new sensations, she writhed against him. Her breath came in short gasps; her hands roamed the hard planes of his back. She was acting wantonly again, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

  She didn't want to help herself.

  And while she was pondering the wonder of it all, he swept off her chemise.

  Leaving her bare.

  She’d sometimes wondered if she might feel shy or embarrassed in this moment, but in the darkness she felt gloriously free. She pressed against him once more, feeling the ache inside her spread.

  “Now?” she whispered again.

  “Not yet.”

  “Oh, my God, when?” she gasped, and he caught that gasp in his mouth, reclaiming her lips in a devouring caress. While she was distracted by that, he slipped his hand between her legs and parted them gently, his fingertips trailing sensuously on her inner thighs. She began to tremble. When he brushed against the curls that guarded her most secret self, she gasped again, this time in shock and fascination.

  “Hush,” he whispered into her open mouth. Distracting her once more with a long, deep kiss, he slipped a finger inside her tight passageway.

  Chrystabel could scarcely believe a man was touching her there, let alone moving his finger in and out of her, as he was slowly doing now. But everything with Joseph felt right. He found an exquisite spot, and waves of passion swept through her. She clutched him tighter, feeling as though her heart might burst if something, she wasn’t sure what, didn’t happen soon.

  Then suddenly his hands left her, and she was aware of a flurry of movement. When he reached again to pull her close, she found he’d removed the rest of his clothes. His arms went around her, and they met, skin to skin, from their shoulders to their toes.

  This, she thought, is bliss.

  Down low she could feel a hardness, a hardness that made her blood race, a hardness that told her he wanted her as much as she craved him.

  Her married sisters had told her about this, too.

  “Now,” she breathed.

  “Not yet, my love.” He kissed her quickly, wildly, then bent his head to trail his lips down her throat. A hot stab of lust lanced through her. And love. It was all mixed up together in her head, in her heart, in her body so aware she felt if Joseph just kissed her one more time she’d explode.

  All at once she felt the sensations were more than she could bear.

  “Now, Joseph. Now.”

  He chuckled against her, sending low vibrations through her. “Slower is better, my love. We’ve a long way to go before—”

  “Now.”

  His mouth left her. “Don’t you like this?”

  “I like it too much.” She couldn’t catch her breath, and her entire body sang with an awareness she’d never even imagined. “Please, Joseph, join with me now.”

  Everything he was doing felt good, but she wanted it all and she wanted it now. She wanted it done. She wanted this first time over with.

  She couldn’t stand a moment more of this sweet torture.

  “Please.”

  She held her breath, waiting while sh
e felt him swallow hard. “Chrysanthemum—”

  “Please.”

  He hesitated. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure!”

  “Hush. You need to keep quiet, my love. You don’t want to be caught down here, do you?”

  Oh, God. She could think of nothing more embarrassing. She briefly considered calling the whole thing off, but he was kissing her again, softly, and then he began to move over her, apparently having given in.

  Chrystabel’s heart pounded, excitement blending with the fear. She forgot about calling anything off. Instinctively she raised her knees. Seeming to support himself on his elbows, Joseph took her face in both hands and kissed her while he eased his way between her legs.

  He settled against her, fitting there as if they were made to go together. An incredible urgency radiated from where his body was poised to enter hers. Her blood pumped faster.

  He broke the kiss and froze.

  “I cannot do this,” he gritted out in a fierce whisper. “I cannot do this before we’re wed.”

  “Oh, I believe you can,” she murmured with a secret smile he couldn’t see. And deliberately she raised her hips, welcoming him into her and at the same time bracing for the pain.

  It wasn’t as bad as she’d anticipated, but she might have cried out if Joseph hadn’t covered her mouth with his. Holding her face, he stayed still and whispered senseless endearments, raining little kisses all over her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  But the pain was fading already, rapidly becoming an ache of another kind…an ache so exquisite she found herself straining against him in hope of easing it.

  He kissed her mouth, and then he moved in her.

  A gasp of wonder escaped her lips.

  “Now,” he whispered.

  She couldn’t seem to form as much as a single word.

  He moved in her again, and then they moved as one in a dance as old as time, a dance far more intimate than the scandalous volta. Slowly and then faster, the feelings building to a crescendo, higher and higher until Chrystabel couldn’t quite hold back a scream.

  Joseph placed a hand over her mouth as she erupted in pleasure so intense she was half convinced she was flying. Up and up, flying higher yet when she felt him go with her. Her own hands went everywhere, trying to feel him all at once as her breath came in long, shuddering sighs, matched by his.

  It seemed a long time later when she drifted back down to earth. Joseph was still pressed close, his heart beating in a cadence to match hers. For the next few minutes, she just lay beside him, content to listen to the two of them breathing while she savored the new and wonderful sensation of his warm body against hers.

  “It was bliss,” she whispered when she finally felt able to form words.

  “It was.” He kissed her cheek, her nose, her forehead.

  “It was beautiful.”

  “It was.” He kissed her mouth.

  Her lips clung to his for a long, satisfying moment. “I’m so glad I talked you into doing this now.”

  “So am I.” She heard a smile in his voice. “Now you’ll come to me on our wedding night with only joy.”

  “Oh, yes, it was joyful.” She felt deliciously worn out. “And our wedding is three weeks away. More than three weeks away. By the time of our wedding night, I reckon we’ll have had plenty of practice, so that everything will be very, very joyful.”

  “What?” She felt him pull away a little. She couldn’t see him, but she sensed he was looking at her with a bit of consternation. Or trying to look at her, anyway. “We’ll be in my parents’ home all of those three weeks. At least”—she heard his breath catch—“I assume we’ll both be in my parents’ home. You’re not still planning to go to Wales, are you?”

  “Of course not,” she said with a soft laugh.

  She’d never expected to laugh in bed with a man, but it felt right.

  Everything with Joseph felt right.

  “I never wanted to go to Wales at all,” she added, shifting closer. “But we’ll be in your parents’ home after those three weeks as well, won’t we? This is Tremayne, and you’re the Viscount Tremayne.”

  I’m going to be the Viscountess Tremayne, she thought, feeling a little thrill run through her. I’m going to be Lady Tremayne.

  “Yes, we’ll be here at Tremayne afterwards too. But we’ll be married then. We cannot ‘practice’ in my parents’ home before we’re wed. Surely you understand that.”

  “Surely I don’t.” He was absolutely darling. “We’re in your parents’ home now, aren’t we?”

  “They cannot find us here!” he exclaimed too loudly. “We’re in a priest hole!”

  “Hush!” she admonished in a whisper. “You need to keep quiet, my love. You don’t want to be caught down here, do you?”

  She thought she heard him choking, but then she realized she was hearing suppressed laughter. “That’s the second time within an hour that you’ve parroted my words,” he said once he got himself under control. “Shall I assume you’ll be doing this all of my life?”

  “All of our lives. And I’m afraid so.” It actually wasn’t much a habit of hers, but she’d look for opportunities since it amused him. “I hope you’ll still want to marry me anyway.”

  “Of course I still want to marry you. But I don’t want to do this again until we’re married.” She heard a little pout in his voice. “Not in my parents’ home.”

  “Really? Really, Joseph?” She pressed closer, feeling evidence that he was lying. “I think you do want to do this again. But you just go on thinking that.”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he accused. “I can tell from your tone that you’re thinking you’ll seduce me again. Well, I have more control than you think. It won’t work. You won’t be able to seduce me until you have a wedding ring on your finger.”

  “You think not?” she said, wishing she could send him her best challenging look.

  But it was pitch-black.

  So she just whispered, “Watch me.”

  Twenty-Four

  CHRYSTABEL AND JOSEPH had lain wrapped in each other’s arms for a long while, sometimes kissing and sometimes just breathing. Then they’d risen and dressed, laughing softly as they felt around for their clothes on the floor. After that, exhausted, they had crawled back on the bed to rest, chatting in whispers while they waited for Arabel to return and tell them it was safe to come out. At some point they had fallen asleep.

  Chrystabel woke when she heard a scraping sound overhead.

  The wardrobe’s false bottom was being removed. For a moment, she panicked—her heart began beating double-time. But then she blinked herself more wakeful and chided herself, because surely it was just Arabel, coming to free them at last.

  When the bottom was lifted, dim light filtered in first.

  “Arabel?” she called softly.

  Bright light flooded the chamber as a torch was thrust into the opening above. “I knew it!” Sir Leonard crowed as he descended, sounding disgustingly pleased with himself.

  Chrystabel and Joseph bolted upright simultaneously.

  She heard the third step snap, a loud crack like a cricket bat slamming a ball in the Grange’s village square. But Sir Leonard didn’t falter. He came closer, waving the torch before him in victory.

  “I knew I’d find you hiding with this foul lot. Mark my words, girl, your great friend Trentingham will finally get what’s coming to him. And as for you, Creath—you will marry me today, or—”

  “Who is Beth?” Chrystabel squeaked.

  “Who is…? Who the devil are you?” he roared as he reached the bottom.

  Apparently Joseph hadn’t completely reattached Chrystabel’s stomacher in the dark. Working the remaining tabs as surreptitiously as possible, she shakily rose. “I’m Lady Chrystabel Trevor,” she said with all the dignity she could muster—which was quite a bit. “Don’t you remember me from when you came by on Tuesday evening? I’m a guest of the Ashcrofts. I d
on’t know who this Beth is you’re speaking of, but I can assure you she’s not here.”

  “Not Beth, you halfwit—Creath! It rhymes with breath!” He crisscrossed the room frantically, poking the torch into every corner in a fruitless search for his betrothed.

  “Creath isn’t here, Sir Leonard,” Joseph growled, knotting his cravat from his seat on the bed. “It’s the second time you’ve made this mistake. If you leave now, perhaps we’ll pretend it was an honest one.”

  “Do you take me for an idiot, boy? If you’re not harboring my bride, why the hell are you hiding in a priest hole?” he bellowed furiously, pulling a pistol from his wide boot top and brandishing it at Chrystabel.

  Her heart jumped into her throat. She shrank back, falling onto the bed at the same time Joseph leapt up and shoved Sir Leonard hard in the chest with the heels of both of his hands.

  Sir Leonard stumbled back.

  “Leave her alone!” Joseph hollered. “You don’t point guns at ladies! And we’re down here because we have Christmas decorations, you witless worm! That’s right—you caught us celebrating Christmas,” he sneered. “What are you going to do about it? Are you going to turn us in, Sir Justice of the Peace? Or are you going to shoot us? Is this what your life has come to, harassing neighbors for celebrating holidays?”

  “Damn right I’m going to turn you in! Right after I find Creath!” Following one last look around that failed to reveal her, Sir Leonard turned on a heel and stormed back up the steep staircase, his torch in one hand and the pistol still in the other.

  Joseph rushed up the stairs after him. “Wait! The third step!”

  Sir Leonard half-turned, but it was too late.

  One leg crashed through the ruined step. Terror flashed in his eyes. His pistol went off. As the bullet hit the wall behind her, Chrystabel screamed and saw the rest of him plunge through the staircase.

  With a great thump, he landed on his back, followed by a hideous crack as his head hit the rock-hard ground. He lay there half behind the staircase, his neck at an odd angle, his arms spread out to the sides. The torch guttered against the stone floor, plunging the room back into darkness except for a sliver of dim light that filtered in from the opening above.