Chase Family Collection: Limited Christmas Edition

by Lauren Royal

The humming stopped. “Oh, Lily,” Rand said, but his words sounded more like a groan. She worried for a moment that he was angry, but he didn’t seem angry. He didn’t push her away. Instead, he curved a hand around the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss.

  The lips that had been soft and gentle earlier were urgent now, more fervent. He kissed her until she felt breathless, senseless, his mouth trailing down to play in the sensitive hollow of her throat.

  His lips felt so good against her skin. His tongue drew warm circles on her flesh, moving lower, delving closer to the cleavage revealed by her low neckline. Her heart raced faster as new sensations rippled through her, not only where his mouth teased her, but other places, too. An ache was building inside her, a most strange and wondrous feeling.

  Wishing to make him feel the same way, she reached to unknot his white cravat.

  Rand lifted his head. “You cannot do that,” he murmured.

  The lace-edged fabric came untied, and she began drawing it from his neck. “I want to do to you the same thing you’re doing to me. I want to make you feel—”

  “You cannot.”

  She stopped, stunned by the vehemence of his words, the steely gray of his eyes. “Why?” she breathed.

  “Because if you do,” he said very slowly, “I fear I may not be able to keep from doing more.”

  Was that all? She smiled as the cravat slid free.

  “Lily—”

  “Rand.” Her mouth feeling suddenly dry, she licked her lips. Her heart pounded so loudly she feared he could hear it above the rain and her own harsh breathing. Rising to her knees to face him, she caught his silvery gaze. “I want you to do more. I want you,” she clarified, echoing his words from weeks earlier.

  Now she really knew what he’d meant.

  His smile looked painfully forced. “You’re going to have me. We’re going to have each other. In six weeks.”

  “I want you now.” As her fingers went to loosen the lacing at his neck, she watched his eyes widen in shock. She’d never felt like this before—like a wanton, truth be told. And she was every bit as shocked as he—shocked not only at her boldness, but at the desire that raged through her, sweeping clear her resistance and all her inhibitions. She’d never imagined feeling free enough to offer herself to a man.

  But then, she’d never before been in love.

  He just stared, dumbfounded, while she opened the placket of his shirt and put her mouth to his skin as he had to hers, tasting him, faintly salty and musky, a heady flavor that was his alone.

  “Lily.” He raised her face and touched a finger to her chin, looking wistful. When Jasper hopped from the bench to the pallet, his bushy red tail flicking up and down, Rand swallowed hard, then sighed. “Even your menagerie disapproves.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “You’re truly bent on seducing me, aren’t you? No matter what your animals think.”

  “They’re not thinking, Rand. They’re just watching.”

  She felt a shudder run through him. “I don’t like it.”

  Under other circumstances, she might have laughed. “The animals watching?”

  “Yes.” He gave her a light kiss before his face set in determined lines. “Your parents wouldn’t like it, either.”

  “The animals watching?” she repeated, nonplussed.

  “Yes. I mean, no.” He looked deliciously flustered. “I mean they wouldn’t like this.” He yanked her against him and kissed her again, hard.

  She let herself slide into the demanding caress. He plundered her mouth, tasting of strawberries and champagne and Rand. When at last he let her go, she found herself trembling with ill-contained desire.

  “My parents kiss all the time,” she informed him shakily. “They would certainly like it. As a matter of fact, Mum told all us girls we should make sure to kiss a man before we marry him. To ascertain we’re well matched in that area. And she’s an accomplished matchmaker, so I’m sure she knows of what she speaks.”

  Despite everything, Rand’s lips quirked in a half smile. “It isn’t the kissing they wouldn’t approve. It’s what it will lead to should you insist on going any further. Your parents certainly wouldn’t like that.”

  He quite obviously didn’t know her parents.

  “Violet was born seven months after they wed. And she wasn’t a particularly undersized baby.”

  His forehead furrowed in confusion. “What?”

  “They didn’t wait, Rand. And I don’t see why we should, either.” She watched his jaw drop open as she continued. “We’ll be married in six weeks…but I want you now.”

  He shut his eyes momentarily. “If you say that enough times, I’ll begin to believe you.”

  “How many times?” she wondered. “Will five or six more do? A dozen? I want you now, I want you now, I want—”

  He silenced her with another kiss, a kiss so fierce she wondered if perhaps he’d given in. But when he drew back, he gazed at her, gauging her—and also gauging his own power to resist, she guessed.

  Then slowly his fingers moved to unfasten her stomacher, and her heart soared. She’d won. She wanted this. She burned for him.

  And besides all that, if they made love now, then later, on her wedding night, she wouldn’t have to worry about—

  “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice low and earnest, his eyes more intense than ever, his fingers fumbling on the stomacher’s tabs. He glanced down, then dropped his hands. “I’m undressing you, and you’re not stopping me.”

  “No.” She took 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. His expression steadied and grew serious. “You do know what you’re asking?”

  She nodded. “I want you to make me yours.”

  For a moment—one split second in time—everything stopped. The rain, the animals’ chattering, Lily’s pulse. When it all started again, she found herself locked in Rand’s arms. He pressed his lips to her forehead, a caress so cherishing it made her heart twist painfully in her chest.

  At last he pulled back, his fingers returning to her stomacher, less tentative this time. Her own fingers fluttered up to untie his cuffs. Beatrix hiccuped louder. The stiff stomacher made a soft plop as Rand dropped it to the pallet.

  Beneath where the stomacher had been, Lily was laced tightly into her bodice. As Rand untied the bow, then went to work on the laces, his gaze strayed to watch Lady flit from the bench and land gracefully beside them.

  Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “Are you sure we cannot put them outside?”

  “You cannot tell me they’re really bothering you.”

  He couldn’t back down now.

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

  With a pained chuckle he pushed her hands away and drew the shirt off over his head. One smooth, lithe motion that revealed all that warm, tempting skin, reminding her of the day in the drawing room when he’d removed his shirt to wash off the soot from the fire.

  Only this time, she could touch him.

  She did, running her hands up his chest, feeling the taut skin and the muscles underneath. With a small moan of pleasure, she shifted forward and spread her bodice wide. A soft gasp escaped Rand’s lips as she pressed herself against him, the gossamer material of her chemise the only barrier between their upper bodies.

  She released a long, languid sigh. “Heaven,” she murmured.

  “Not even close.” Rand lifted the heavy bulk of her double-skirted gown over her head, bringing her chemise along with it…and baring her to his hot gaze.

 
She’d always anticipated feeling shy and embarrassed in this moment, but with Rand she felt gloriously free. She pressed against him once more. His hard chest felt warm against her nakedness—warm and sensuous as silk. Her breasts tingled, and the ache inside her spread.

  “Heaven,” she whispered again.

  “Not yet.” His fingers were frantically unlacing his breeches. He rose quickly to push them down and off, but before she could get a proper look he’d dropped to kneel again before her and reached to pull her close.

  His arms went around her, and they met, skin to skin, from their shoulders to their knees. His hands splayed on her bare back, pressing her closer. 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.

  “Heaven,” she breathed. “This is really, truly heaven.”

  “Sweet Lily, you have no idea.”

  As Rand eased Lily to the pallet and came down beside her, Beatrix’s hiccuping intensified. Lady twittered. He swept them with an uneasy glance.

  “Rand?” Lily whispered.

  Tearing his gaze from the creatures, he kissed her quickly, wildly, then bent his head to let his lips trail 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 Rand just kissed her once more she’d explode.

  But he didn’t kiss her. Instead his mouth skimmed her breasts and then fastened on one rosy peak. Warm. It felt warm and damp, unbelievably exquisite. Her hands threaded into his hair as he licked his way to her other breast and suckled there until she arched toward him. When he swirled his clever tongue, desire shot to somewhere deep inside. Her fingers fisted in his hair. Suddenly she felt the sensations were more than she could bear.

  “Now, Rand.”

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

  “Now.”

  His head shot up. “Don’t you like this?”

  “I like it too much.” Her breath was coming short, and her entire body sang with an awareness she’d never imagined.

  But besides all that, the anticipation was killing her.

  It had been four years since she and her sisters had huddled here in the summerhouse, secretly reading Aristotle’s Master-piece. The Master-piece had said making love would hurt the first time, and for four years, she had worried about that.

  Now it was about to happen, and she wanted to get it over with. She wanted to enter her marriage free of this fretful anxiety.

  “Please, Rand, join with me now.”

  He hesitated.

  “Please.”

  She held her breath, watching while he shut his eyes and swallowed hard. “Sweetheart—”

  “Please.”

  He kissed her once, softly, then opened his eyes and nodded.

  Lily’s heart pounded, excitement blending with fear as he began moving over her. Instinctively she raised her knees. Supporting himself on his elbows, Rand took her face in both hands and kissed her while he eased his way between her legs.

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

  Beatrix let out a long, loud meow.

  Rand broke the kiss and froze, only his eyes moving—darting between the cat and the squirrel and the bird, all scattered across the summerhouse.

  “I cannot do this,” he gritted out. His eyes settled back on Lily, holding her captive. “I cannot do this with them watching.”

  Passion burned in that gray gaze.

  “Oh, I think you can,” she murmured with a soft smile. And deliberately she raised her hips, welcoming him into her and at the same time bracing for the pain.

  It was sharp, so sharp she cried out. Still holding her face, Rand whispered senseless endearments, raining little kisses all over her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  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, still holding her gaze, he moved in her.

  A gasp of wonder escaped her lips.

  “This, sweet Lily, is heaven,” he said.

  She couldn’t seem to speak at all.

  Then they moved as one in a duet as old as time, a perfect harmony that went far beyond music and words. Slowly and then faster, the feelings building to a crescendo, higher and higher until Lily erupted in pleasure so intense she was half convinced she really was glimpsing heaven. Up and up, flying higher yet when she felt Rand go with her.

  At long last, she drifted back to earth. Rain still pattered overhead, but more softly now. Across the summerhouse, the animals had quieted. Beatrix had even stopped hiccuping.

  Lily opened her eyes to the magic of candles winking in the dimness. Rand was still pressed close, his heart beating in a cadence to match hers. He lifted his head to find three creatures staring at him, and with a groan, he buried his face in the crook of Lily’s neck.

  A soft laugh rippled from her. “You managed,” she said. “With the animals watching.”

  “Ah, yes.” His words vibrated against her throat, sounding amused. “But I hope they’re not expecting a repeat performance. I’d just as soon not have an audience next time—not that this time wasn’t good.”

  “It was heaven. I saw heaven.”

  “Did you?” He kissed her nose, her mouth, then leaned up and shot her a smile. “Please don’t tell me you saw cherubs playing harps.”

  “No.” She laughed again. She’d never expected to laugh at a time such as this, but it felt right.

  Everything with Rand felt right.

  “No cherubs,” she whispered. “Only you.”

  Thirty

  IT TOOK THREE carriages to get to Oxford. A valet and two maids rode in the first, along with all the luggage. The second held Chrystabel and Joseph.

  “Do you suppose the children will be all right alone?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Three of those ‘children’ are in their twenties. Relax, Chrysanthemum. It seems like years since we’ve had a carriage to ourselves. Come over and sit on my lap.”

  Smiling, she did. It had been years. But their offspring, with the exception of Rowan, were finally grown. “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you, too.” He kissed the top of her head. “And I can hear you without all the chatter.”

  She settled against his warm form, using his body to cushion her from the jarring ruts in the road. It was a calmer ride than many, though, the landscape mainly gentle green slopes. Cattle roamed, grazing aimlessly. “Ah, this is nice.” Chrystabel snuggled closer. “I wonder how everyone else is doing.”

  “You worry too much, Chrysanthemum.”

  She sighed. “I’m just wondering what happened yesterday. If anything.”

  “If anything? Two young people in a summerhouse…”

  “One of them was sweet Lily.”

  He snorted. “The other was a healthy male. I used to be a healthy male, which means I know of what I speak.”

  “You still are a healthy male,” she protested, knowing he wanted to hear it and also thinking it was true. He was only forty-six, after all. “But regardless, Lily remains worried by Rose’s attitude, not that I can blame her. I must figure out a way to get Lily and Rand off alone together some more. Much more.”

  “Hey.” He tilted her chin up and placed a kiss on her lips—a somewhat bouncing kiss due to the ride, but a nice one nonetheless. “Can I entice you to forget about our children for a while? Here I’ve succeeded in getting us off alone together…why aren’t we taking advantage of it?”

  Conversation was abandoned in favor of blissful sighs.

  THE THIRD carriage wasn’t nearly as peaceful.

  On one of the upholstered benche
s, Rand sat beside Lily, holding her hand. Across from them, Rose glared at their linked fingers while Rowan chattered, excited about his first trip to Oxford.

  “You’ve never been?” Rand asked.

  “Never.”

  “Neither have I,” Lily added.

  “And you, Rose?” Rand asked, trying to bring her into the conversation.

  “No,” she said shortly, still glowering.

  He squeezed Lily’s hand, knowing her sister’s disapproval was hard on her. Remembering their encounter in the summerhouse yesterday, he could only be glad it had happened. Lily would have no thoughts of changing her mind now. Perhaps the seduction hadn’t been planned or honorable, but he couldn’t be sorry, not when it had bonded her to him as tightly as a book to its cover.

  At least he hoped it had, he thought suddenly, relieved when her fingers squeezed back. After all, she could be with child. Although that was one thing he didn’t hope for—not yet, anyway.

  Of course, he knew the potential consequences of what they’d done, of what he expected they’d do over and over in the months and years ahead of them. And when children came along, he was certain he’d love them as much as he loved Lily. But he’d prefer some time alone with her first. He was just getting used to the idea of being a husband; he felt woefully unprepared for fatherhood as yet.

  “Do you know,” Lily said, dragging his thoughts back to the conversation, “we’ve never been much of anywhere besides London and the area that surrounds Trentingham. Oh, and Tremayne, but not for years.”

  “Tremayne?”

  “A castle and lands our family owns near Wales. We stayed there during Cromwell’s Protectorate, and again in ’65 when the Great Plague was a threat. Now that Grandpapa has passed on and Father become the earl, Rowan is Viscount Tremayne.”

  “Are you?” Rand asked Rowan, smiling when Lily’s brother nodded and puffed out his narrow chest. “Well, then,” he told the boy, “you’re certainly more important than I. I’m a mere lord.”

  “You’re important,” Lily protested sweetly.

  Across from them, her sister groaned.

  “Have you never been out of Britain, then?” he asked Rose.