Chase Family Collection: Limited Christmas Edition

by Lauren Royal

  “Kit is very nicely put together, isn’t he?” she asked into the darkness.

  “He’s handsome enough,” Rose admitted in a vast understatement. “It’s unfortunate he’s not titled.”

  Lily turned over again to search her sister’s face in the dim light from the fire. “He’s a famous architect. Goodness, he gets commissions from the king himself! I imagine he can afford to live in a grand style. Why should it matter that he’s not titled?”

  “Of course it matters.” Rose averted her gaze, staring up at the old oak beams in the ceiling. “Violet is a viscountess, and you—soon you’ll be a countess and eventually a marchioness. Why should I settle for less?”

  “You’re the Earl of Trentingham’s daughter, which means you could marry a guttersnipe and you’d still be Lady Rose. Besides, if you love a man, it’s not settling.”

  “Well, I’m not in love with Kit, am I? I’ve barely met the man, and I’ve no intention of getting to know him better when he’s not what I want.” Rose rolled away, presenting Lily with her back. “Go to sleep. You have a journey early in the morning.”

  End of discussion. Lily imagined she could feel Rose’s cold calculation rolling off of her in waves.

  So much for growing closer.

  Deprived of conversation, Lily’s thoughts drifted back to Rand. Over the next quarter hour, she tossed and turned, trying to ignore her body’s cravings and failing utterly.

  “Go to him,” Rose finally said.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Go to him. I won’t tell Father or Mum or anyone else. Just go, so I can get some sleep.”

  “Rose, I—”

  “I’ll never like the fact that you won him, but it’s a fact nonetheless. Go, Lily.”

  “I—” She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. But it wasn’t as though Rand were in the adjacent room. “I’d have to walk outdoors alone in the dark of the night. It isn’t safe.”

  Her sister snorted. “It’s fifty feet down an alley. Should anyone approach you, Beatrix will draw blood with her claws, Jasper will nip off the poor soul’s toes, and Lady will peck out his eyes. Just go.”

  Lily didn’t have to be told again. Nerves scrambling, she slid from the bed and began throwing on her clothes. “Thank you, Rose.”

  “You’d do the same for me.”

  “Thank you anyway.” The Ashcroft siblings had always stuck together, but Rose’s willingness to cover for her said louder than any words that Lily was well on her way to being forgiven.

  She was relieved. And grateful.

  But mostly, she was on fire.

  Thirty-Four

  “LILY?” CLEARLY shocked to find her on his doorstep, Rand opened the door wider, then blinked as her three animal friends scampered in past him.

  Lily stood on the front step, shivering in the chilly night air but enjoying her surprise. The expression on Rand’s face was priceless. The rest of him looked delicious, his hair tousled from sleep, his body wrapped in a dark brown brocade dressing gown tied loosely at his waist.

  She wanted her hands on that body. “May I come in?”

  “Oh.” He blinked. “Of course.” Holding a candle with one hand, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and drew her inside. As he shut the door, he eyed the assorted creatures. “How the devil did they get to Oxford?”

  “I told you, they follow me.”

  “They follow you,” he repeated dryly, as though that explained nothing at all. “What are you doing here?”

  “I missed you.” She moved closer and slipped her arms beneath the silk dressing gown. It was her turn to be surprised when she felt nothing but bare skin. She skimmed her hands over his back, smiling to herself when he bobbled the candle. “I came to talk about tomorrow. Your father—”

  He hushed her with a quick kiss. “I don’t even want to think about the old goat, let alone talk about him.”

  “I was jesting.” She molded her body against his, feeling altogether wicked and wonderful. The house smelled of new wood and paint, and Rand smelled of warmth and temptation. “Since you couldn’t come to my bed, I decided to come to yours.”

  His eyes widened, a new glint in the warm gray. “Well, then,” he said, his voice turning velvet-smooth as he gazed down at her, “shall we go up to it?”

  She suddenly realized what she’d said and how forward it must have sounded. Rose would say something like that and hold her head up, but Lily had just shocked herself speechless.

  The look on her face must have amused him, because his lips twitched as he drew her hands from beneath his dressing gown, raised the candle, and motioned her toward the stairs.

  Her cheeks burning, she preceded him up the steps.

  “I cannot believe you’re here,” he said from behind her matter-of-factly, as though she hadn’t just proved herself a wanton.

  “Rose told me to come.”

  “Rose?”

  “Yes, Rose. She couldn’t stand my tossing and turning.” Lily paused on the bedchamber’s threshold. As she stared at Rand’s bed, the wicked feelings faded. There was a big difference between sliding into passion in a summerhouse and showing up on a man’s doorstep in the middle of the night.

  Placing a gentle hand on her back, he urged her inside. “I was tossing and turning myself. Couldn’t sleep, so I was puzzling out some old text.” He pushed aside a jumble of papers to set the candle on the desk by the door. “But Rose?”

  “She’s accepting us, Rand.” Her gaze was still fastened on the bed. The forest green hangings were pulled back, the sheets invitingly rumpled. “She may not be happy about it, but at least she’s coming around. She’s not going to hate me all our days.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  At the sound of the door slamming shut, she jumped and whirled to face him. “What was that?”

  “They’re outside.”

  She put a hand to her racing heart. “Who?”

  “Your animals.” He grinned. “They cannot come in here. But they’re not out in the rain. There’s no need to worry—”

  “You’re impossible.” Now that the bed was out of sight, safely behind her back, she was feeling amorous again. She went closer and went on her toes for a kiss. “The animals really don’t care.”

  “I care.” He kissed her forehead, not her mouth. “This time I don’t want any distractions.” His hands on her shoulders, he slowly backed her up. “This time is going to be different.” He kept going, his thumbs caressing the sides of her neck, inciting a delicious shiver. “This time—”

  The backs of her legs bumped into something.

  The bed.

  “This time,” he concluded, “we’ll do it my way.”

  It was a high four-poster bed with two steps leading up to it. Rand lifted her by the waist and sat her atop the feather mattress.

  She swallowed hard. “Your way?”

  “My way. Slow and easy…”

  The way he said that made her suspect there would be nothing easy about it.

  Her suspicions were confirmed when he began removing her shoes. Slowly. And untying her garters. Slowly. And rolling down her stockings. Slowly.

  Those hot cravings she’d been feeling—the ones that had driven her to run here, the ones that had prompted her to slide her hands under Rand’s robe, to brazenly tell him she’d come to his bed—were returning at an alarming speed.

  “Rand?” He looked like he was concentrating very hard, his gray gaze intent on what he was doing, his fingers tracing featherlight patterns on her skin. She quivered. “Do you think you could go a little faster?”

  “We did fast yesterday. I told you, I intend to go slow.”

  “But why?” He was driving her mad. “If we go fast,” she argued, “maybe we’ll have time to do it twice.”

  His hands fell away from her as he burst out laughing. She crossed her arms, indignant, wondering which upset her more: him laughing at her expense, or the fact that he’d ceased touching her.

  Then he smilin
gly shook his head and said, “Good heavens, I love you.” And she wasn’t upset at all.

  The laughter lingered in his eyes. “My sweet Lily. You seduced me in the summerhouse, but it’s my turn tonight. And if you’re good, we’ll do it twice.”

  “If I’m good?”

  “If you let me do it my way.”

  His way was exquisite torture. It took him ages just to remove her clothing, and he managed to graze every bit of her skin along the way. By the time he finished, there wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t tingling with anticipation.

  At last he stood beside the bed and shrugged out of his dressing gown, his body gilded by the dim light of the single candle. He had a runner’s long sculpted muscles, all shadowed in stark relief.

  She could see he was ready to take her, and she was more than ready to be taken. She licked her lips and raised her arms to him, holding her breath when he eased her onto her back and moved over her.

  “Lily.” He felt so warm, his weight supported on his elbows, his fingertips dancing on her face. Barely touching, just enough to make her skin tremble in response. “Lily, you make me burn.”

  “Rand—”

  “Hush.” His lips grazed her ear, lightly, lightly. Pleasure rippled through her, and heat pooled in her middle. He took an earlobe into his mouth, sucking softly, and the room seemed to spin, rattling her senses.

  “Rand—”

  “Hush. Be good.” His lips trailed down her neck, a warm swath of sensation. He rolled off her to lie next to her, tracing her waist with teasing fingertips while he bent his head to taste her breasts. It was too much at once, especially when he swirled his tongue around one rosy peak and then bit it gently.

  She gasped, feeling it harden in response. Feeling him harden against her thigh. She reached down and wrapped her hand around him, eager to find what he felt like…warm velvet over steel. Her heart racing, she moved her fingers experimentally, and his moan made her blood race even faster.

  When a scratching came at the door, his moan turned into a groan.

  “It’s only Beatrix,” she whispered. “Ignore her.”

  He did. His talented mouth on her breasts roused a melting sweetness within her. He nibbled her neck while his hand moved to tease her legs, up and down their length, coaxing them apart, trailing between. His fingertips skimmed her thighs, and currents of desire rippled through her.

  Then he kissed her until she was breathless, until she was senseless, until her entire world was consumed with the taste and touch of him. And all that long time his fingers worked closer to where she ached, until they were almost there.

  Almost.

  Lily touched him everywhere she could reach. He was so very male, his body gloriously hard compared to her softness. Her breathing quickened when his did; her heart pumped faster when she felt his pulse respond to her touch. But his hands and mouth on her remained slow and steady.

  A sound of surprise escaped her lips when he rolled her onto her stomach. “Hush, Lily,” he said. “Be good.”

  It was frustrating, because she couldn’t touch him now, not really, not the way she wanted to. Her hands fisted at her sides. She felt his lips on the soles of her feet, warm and damp and ticklish, and was astonished to find her whole body was so sensitive. He nipped along her calves, paid homage to the backs of her knees, and nibbled the insides of her thighs, pausing in his upward journey to rain kisses across her bottom.

  The ache was becoming unbearable. She squirmed and heard a low chuckle in response, his lips on her skin making the sound vibrate right through her.

  Tiny pecking sounds came through the door.

  Rand froze. “Lady?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Lily came up on her elbows. “Ignore her.”

  Beatrix’s scratching joined the pecking as Rand eased her back down to the sheets. “They seem unhappy. Maybe we should let them in.”

  “They’re fine.” She turned over and cupped one of his cheeks with a hand, loving the masculine roughness. “Ignore them. Please.”

  He smiled, a smile so darkly sensuous it made her breath catch in her throat. He turned his head and kissed her palm, a warm press of his lips as he held her gaze with his. “Be good, now,” he said, rolling her back onto her stomach. He climbed over her and straddled her thighs. “I’m not finished.”

  She sucked in a breath. He was there, hard between her legs, nearly where she wanted him. His fingers danced over her back, massaging, tantalizing, teasing. She quivered beneath him, dying to have him inside her, feeling him there so close.

  For a moment—a moment that felt like forever—he raised his hands. Lily waited, waited, her heart beating so hard she was sure he could hear it. Then she felt the sliding tickle of her hair as he swept it to one side, felt him lean forward and place a shivery, soft kiss to her nape. Felt his chest hard and warm against her back, felt his breath wafting over her.

  Felt the cool air as he drew away…

  …felt his tongue on the base of her spine, a long, hot swipe all the way to her neck.

  She trembled uncontrollably and heard little taps on the door.

  Jasper, hitting something against it.

  And then Rand’s heavy sigh. “Maybe we should—”

  “Ignore them!” she cried, twisting under him, writhing until she managed to get faceup, until she half sat and grabbed him by the shoulders to pull him down upon her. “Ignore them and kiss me!”

  He did, parting her lips, tasting of sin and seduction. She’d asked for kisses, and he kissed her. For what seemed an hour, he only kissed her. He kissed her and kissed her, hot kisses that spoke of possession.

  She could touch him now, and she did…until his breath sounded as harsh as her own, until their hearts pounded in tandem, until she thought she might scream…until he rolled to his side, taking her with him, and slipped a hand between her legs.

  He cupped her and then stilled.

  Feeling an incredible urgency, an indescribable ache, she arched up against his fingers, waiting, waiting, waiting…

  And he finally moved his hand.

  Slowly. Too slowly. Over and over. And over and over, stroking her with exquisite tenderness, until she heard little cries and realized they were hers, until she wondered if one could die from this overwhelming need…

  And then he slipped a finger inside her.

  “Rand,” she breathed. It was too much. Too, too much. The world spun crazily. He drew out, a dazzling glide of sensation, then plunged in again, making her hips lift off the bed. Again. Again and again until she thought her heart might burst from the pleasure.

  And then it did. It burst into countless little pieces, and they hadn’t even come back together yet when she felt him move up and slide into her as he covered her cry with his mouth.

  He felt so perfect, joined with her, filling her, that tears came to her eyes. When he moved, they moved together. A dance of love, slow and measured and then fast and frenzied, until she burst again, this time taking him with her.

  The candle guttered across the room, and the chamber went from dimness to darkness. Lily heard scratching and pecking and tapping, but she was blissfully limp on the bed. “Ignore them,” she whispered, the words barely passing her lips.

  Feeling his way in the blackness, Rand pressed a kiss to her slack mouth. “You sound tired.” She heard a smile in his voice, a smile of pure masculine pride. “Do you still want to do it twice?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said on a sigh.

  “I’m glad to hear it, sweet Lily.”

  Twice, she thought, would never be enough. But she needed some time to recover first.

  As his tongue traced her lips, she decided five minutes would do.

  Thirty-Five

  “YOU LOOK VERY nice, Rand,” Lily said the next morning.

  Rand blinked. Standing outside the inn while they waited for the rest of her family, he’d been lost in thought, rehearsing in his head the upcoming interview with his father. Now he focused on her, noticing that her p
ale green dress was quite lovely. The underskirt was white, the stomacher and sleeves sprinkled with little white rosettes.

  Very demure and aristocratic. His father would approve.

  “Thank you,” he said with a smile. “You look very nice, too.”

  She moved closer, sweeping him with an appreciative glance. “You look even better than at the baptism.”

  A special occasion, that baptism, and he’d dressed the part. His smile widened at the memory. But the smile turned wry as he suddenly realized he’d dressed for his father today, even going so far as to have hied himself off to a barber early this morning to have his hair properly trimmed.

  Ruefully he ran two fingers along his freshly shaved jaw. After all these years, he was still trying to impress the old goat.

  The thought stuck in his craw, and he briefly contemplated returning home to strip off his dove gray velvet suit in favor of one of the wool ones he usually wore. But they were running late already.

  As was typical with the Ashcrofts, he heard them before he saw them. Along with the family came a valet and two maids and an incredible amount of luggage considering they’d left home for just one night. The trappings of nobility could be cumbersome, to say the least. It took a good bit of time to get everyone and everything settled, during which Rand was reminded why he’d never wanted to be a marquess.

  The ride to Trentingham was a loud one with similar rigmarole at the other end. Rand breathed a sigh of relief when he and Lily finally set out for Hawkridge alone.

  “How far is it?” she asked, leaning against him in the carriage.

  “Not very. A couple of hours downriver.”

  She glanced up at him, looking surprised. “I wonder, then, why I never met you before Violet’s wedding. I thought I’d been to every house within a day’s driving distance with my mother and her gifts of perfume.”

  “There were no women at Hawkridge,” he reminded her. “My mother died before you were born. And there were all those years you were at Tremayne, remember? Far away near Wales. Then, soon after you returned, I left for Oxford.”