It Happened One Christmas: Christmas Eve ProposalThe Viscount's Christmas KissWallflower, Widow...Wife!

by Carla Kelly

  She winced. She tried to hide it, but he was beginning to understand these little reactions of hers. ‘You don’t, do you?’

  ‘I would have been fine, once the rest of my candles were sold. But...’ Bleakness coloured her voice. Resignation. As if she’d come to an unpleasant decision.

  ‘I have money put aside.’ More than he’d need in several lifetimes, not counting what he would later inherit.

  ‘I can’t take your money.’

  ‘A loan, then, to be repaid when you are settled.’

  ‘Why? Why do you want to help me? We barely know each other.’ She was clearly as bewildered as he was himself.

  And yet he did understand, somewhat. ‘Because I was taught that a man with honour should always help a lady in distress. And...’ Honesty won out over platitudes. ‘Because I find you attractive. I like you and it would haunt me if I thought I should have done more to help.’

  ‘You are a good man, Adam Royston,’ she whispered. ‘If we had met at some other time...’

  She cupped his jaw in her hand. A capable hand, work-roughened, yet small in comparison to his large paws. A gentle touch. Something lacking from his life as a rule. A siren’s call to his lonely soul. He could not stop himself from gazing at her plush pink lips, from recalling the delicious feel of them beneath his own.

  Her eyelids fluttered, as if she, too, recalled their last delicious melding. Her hand slipped around his neck, her body twisting towards him so her breasts brushed against his chest, her spine arching, her fingers combing through his hair. She kissed him.

  Considerations of honour made a swift if weak appearance. And yet she had made it quite clear she would not accept any sort of permanent liaison. A gentleman should not argue with a lady, not one he desired and respected as much as he did this one, and who so obviously desired him. Not with regard to a kiss at least.

  She was a widow with knowledge and experience, not an ingénue. A warm generous woman whom, to his great surprise, he’d become inordinately fond of in a very short space of time. More than fond. Much more than fond. And for reasons that went far beyond her outward appeal.

  On her lips he tasted sweetness, despite the lingering odour of the fire, and beneath that was her scent, the earthiness of beeswax, the sweetness of honey mingled with the perfume of roses. No matter how long he lived, those scents would remind him of this moment, this kiss and this woman. He let himself enjoy it to the full, let it sweep all thoughts from his mind.

  * * *

  Kissing Adam was like drinking too much champagne. He made her feel warm all the way to her toes. And fluttery inside. She’d expected another refusal, but he deepened the kiss, sending pleasure rippling to the very tips of her fingers. Along with deep sensual longing.

  She drew back and gazed into his eyes, smoothing his hair back from his face, enjoying the silky feel beneath her hand and the warmth of his gaze. ‘I kept thinking of you yesterday. Imagining you on the road far from here.’

  His expression became rueful. ‘I was thinking about you, too.’

  Perhaps he regretted their parting after all? ‘You must have thought me dreadfully bold,’ she said diffidently.

  ‘Not dreadful. Lovely.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘The timing was...wrong.’

  ‘Because you have to leave.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘Partly.’

  ‘And now I, too, am leaving.’ An ache pierced her heart. ‘Even though we have known each other such a very short time, I will miss you.’

  He inhaled. A deep indrawn breath. ‘Gads,’ he said, ‘we both smell of smoke.’

  A change of topic. A man avoiding uncomfortable emotion.

  ‘We do.’ She pulled back, embarrassed by her boldness. ‘I’ll bathe the girls in the morning. They were too exhausted tonight. I fear your sheets will need laundering. I will do them before I go.’

  ‘You will not. I will make arrangements.’ He hesitated. ‘No doubt you are terribly tired also.’

  ‘I am, but I fear I shall not sleep given all that has happened.’

  ‘Worry does that to a person.’ For a man he was very understanding. Sweet. Caring. The kind of man who would make a wonderful husband. She repressed a surge of longing. She could not marry anyone, not with all the complications of her life.

  ‘Will you let me show you something?’ he asked.

  ‘If you wish.’

  He put an arm about her waist and they left the kitchen with its gleaming rows of pots reflecting the glowing fire in the hearth, traversed a passage beyond a scullery and entered a large square chamber with whitewashed walls and a trestle table beside an enamelled sink.

  ‘My, it is warm in here,’ she said.

  He let go her hand and lifted the lid of a large tin-lined wooden tub. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘This is where I am to do the laundry?’

  He grinned. ‘Guess again.’ He pulled out several large linen sheets from a cupboard and lined the tub. He turned a lever on a pipe running up the wall. Water began to flow. Steaming hot water. ‘As long as the fire in the kitchen is alight, the water in the cistern behind it is hot. Sir Josiah liked his bath and his servants were too old to carry water up to his room so he had this installed.’ He turned a second lever and adjusted the flow of both. ‘This water comes from the well.’

  She peered over the edge of the tub. A wooden ledge ran around its circumference about a third of the way up the sides. ‘A seat?’

  ‘Mmm,’ he said, stirring in a deliciously scented oil and adjusting the levers. The water continued to fill the tub, creeping upwards until it was more than half full. He turned off the water.

  The idea of soaking in a tub of hot water was just too irresistible. ‘This is marvellous. Are you saying I may use it?’

  ‘Of course. There is soap on the shelf back there. Not very feminine, I’m afraid, but better than the scent of smoke.’ He went to another cupboard. ‘Dash it. No towels. I must have used the last one earlier this evening. I know where there are more.’ He strode off.

  Cassie dipped her fingertips in the water. Perfect. And the scent was lovely. Sandalwood. An earthy manly scent that reminded her of him. She stared at the water. Dare she? It would be terribly wicked. But what had being good ever got her? An old irascible husband. A stepson who hated her. It had brought her the girls she loved as if they were her own, though. If she could only find a way to keep them.

  Again, her mind began whirling with thoughts, options, plans and, worst of all, worries. Adam was right, a bath would help her relax, perhaps even help her to sleep. Trying to deal with two girls on a long journey while bone tired was not something to contemplate with equanimity.

  And travelling with the smell of smoke tainting her every breath would only make it worse. She pulled the pins from her hair and set to work on removing her gown. Before leaving the cottage, she’d exchanged her nightgown for the only thing left unpacked, the comfortable old-fashioned sack dress she had planned to wear on the journey. It fastened with a bow at the neck and a tie under the bust. It took her no more than a moment to step out of the gown and fold it. Next she stripped off her stockings. She hadn’t bothered with stays when she had dressed so quickly, but should she keep her shift on? If she did, it would never dry by morning. She didn’t have enough clothes to be leaving any behind. Hearing no sound of Adam returning, she whipped it off over her head. She climbed up the steps and threw one leg over the rim of the tub. The water was just hot enough to make her toes tingle.

  A moment later, her foot stopped complaining about the heat and she brought the other leg over. Using the seat to step down, she immersed herself to her neck, the deliciously scented steam rising around her. Blissful. Sir Josiah had known a thing or two about pleasure. The warm twinkle in his eye had given him away. The old rogue. A kindly old rogue. He had been good to her,
though he might not have been so kind if he had known she had told him nothing but lies.

  Adam breezed through the door. His gaze sought her and when he found her already ensconced in the tub, he stilled. His face sported a grin. ‘Is it to your liking, my lady?’

  Her heart stopped beating. How did he know?

  His smile fled. ‘What is wrong?’

  Oh, merciful saints, he was teasing her, not using her title. ‘Nothing is wrong. It is perfect. Heavenly.’ Only one thing would make it better. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo at the boldness of the thought that popped into her mind. ‘Why don’t you join me? You smell as bad as I did.’

  Gah! That was hardly inviting or seductive. The shock on his face made her squirm. ‘We will have to be up early in the morning,’ she added in a rush. ‘I thought you might prefer not to wait, since you must be as tired as I am.’

  Dash it, she was babbling. Making things worse. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ she mumbled and grabbed for the soap.

  * * *

  All his erotic fantasies, every single one of them, had taken on lush female form. The skin on her face and shoulders had a lovely rosy glow, from embarrassment and the heat from the water. The arm rising above the rim of the tub was the most graceful limb he had ever seen and the thought of the rest of her naked below the surface of the water had him as hard as a rock. And...she was naked. It hadn’t taken him a second to spot the fine lawn chemise folded with her gown or to understand the meaning of those bare, elegantly sloped shoulders.

  And now she was inviting him to join her.

  He’d managed to walk away the previous evening, but tonight he did not have the strength and not just because the offer would never come again. Indeed, he was surprised she was giving him a second chance. He certainly wouldn’t have been so generous.

  She had given him so much joy these past few days, far more than he deserved and she deserved that he return the favour, if she would allow it. ‘I would love to join you.’

  He turned his back and stripped off, very much aware of her interested gaze. It reminded him of the first time he had undressed after his wedding. Only then there had been a whole lot of blushing by both parties and giggles. They’d been so young and innocent. Heedless.

  The recollection seemed more like a distant memory than usual. Less painful. Something to be thought of fondly rather than avoided. He turned around.

  Her gaze took him in with obvious interest. She licked her lips as if they’d dried, or, given the flush on her face and the intensity of her gaze, as if she’d seen something she might like to taste. He strode across tiles cold beneath the soles of his feet.

  She shifted along the seat to give him room to step down, her gaze rising to his face, her lips curving in a smile of welcome. He blushed like a damned schoolboy and sank into the water. Their thighs touched beneath the water. This close, he could see the rise of her gloriously full breasts and the darker rose of their peaks. He had either landed in heaven or hell. It would be up to her to decide which.

  With a sigh she leaned back, her head resting on the edge of the tub. ‘This is wonderful. One would never expect such decadency from the oldest knight in the county. I wonder how it works?’

  A prosaic topic, likely deliberate so as to hide her modest blushes, though her use of the word decadent was inspiring all kinds of wicked thoughts in his head. ‘I haven’t quite worked out its exact workings, but gravity seems to have some part to play with the help of valves in strategic places and a constant supply of water from an underground stream.’

  ‘Fascinating.’

  Whereas a débutante might have yawned the word to ensure no one took her for a bluestocking, Cassie appeared genuinely interested.

  ‘A local fellow put it together,’ he said. ‘I found his name and the bill for his services amidst Sir Josiah’s papers. I am thinking of asking him to come to Portmaine Court and investigate the feasibility of something similar there.’ He realised his error. ‘If the earl approves, that is.’

  She didn’t seem to notice his hastily added amendment; lazily opening her eyes, she gave him a blindingly beautiful smile. ‘He needs only to try it to approve. He might even decide to move in here.’

  He wanted her to move in. With him. He stretched out a hand and laced his fingers with hers, brought her hand to his lips. ‘It is too bad neither of us can stay.’

  Her smile dimmed a fraction. ‘Then we should make the most of the time we have.’

  Thank you, all the gods on Mount Olympus. ‘We should wash your hair.’ Her hair was a glorious golden mass, the ends floating on the top of the water like the trailing fronds of an exotic water plant. He loved the way it flowed around her in silky waves.

  She cast him a glance aslant. ‘We?’

  He leaned over the edge of the tub and held up a bucket. ‘If I fill this with clean warm water, I can tip it over you once you have lathered.’

  ‘Hence the “we”.’ She reached for the soap and sniffed at it. ‘Nice.’

  He leaned over and inhaled. ‘Sir Josiah’s. I’m sorry it is all we have.’

  ‘I like it.’

  It was what he had used on his hair and body earlier. And would again now. The idea of sharing something so personal was both arousing and endearing. A sweetly painful pull in the region of his chest made his breath catch.

  She quickly worked up a lather in her palms before she handed him the sliver of soap and worked the suds into her hair.

  ‘Let me,’ he said, seeing she already needed more soap. He used the piece of soap directly on her hair, working it in, splashing up more water as needed.

  ‘You have done this before.’

  ‘I was married, once.’ And until now he had forgotten the pleasure of such intimate moments marriage brought with it. Or he hadn’t wanted to recall.

  He used the tips of his fingers to massage in the soap, firmly enough to cause her to turn her back and give him better access. She sighed and leaned back languidly against his shoulder as he continue to work at her scalp. A small moan of bliss arrowed straight to his groin. His member gave a little pulse. Happy because she was pleased and more than happy because this was only the start. Or so he hoped.

  An idea formed in his mind. Tenuous. Likely something which would not put him in good stead with the earl, but it made sense. It would solve his problem. At least he hoped she would agree, but he must not rush matters. He didn’t want to ruin his chances.

  ‘Lean back,’ he said softly in her ear, holding one arm beneath her shoulders. ‘Let us rinse off the worst of the soap.’

  Without hesitation she complied and her magnificent breasts made a spectacular appearance, rising amid the bubbles now covering the surface of the water, causing him to become painfully hard. He forced himself to focus only on her hair, on running his fingers through the floating strands until they began to squeak. He lifted her back to sit on the ledge.

  She beamed at him. ‘Oh, my. That was simply lovely.’

  ‘Let me finish the task, if you will.’

  He picked up a small rag from the ledge and lathered it up. ‘You know, in the old days washing a guest was often the duty of the daughter of the house.’

  She cast him a look askance, though there was a teasing smile on her lips. ‘Are you proposing I wash you?’

  He raised his brows. ‘You may if you wish, but I was thinking of it the other way around, since I am your host.’

  ‘In the absence of your employer.’

  His employer was very much in favour of the idea. He passed the cloth down her arm. Her eyes widened when he started at her throat and then worked down her chest and over her breasts. As he stroked the flannel across her delectable curves, he deliberately kept his mind blank. This was not about his pleasure, but about her enjoyment. She worked hard, looking after her daughters. She deserve
d pampering.

  Chapter Six

  This medieval form of bathing, Cassie thought dreamily as the cloth stroked down her inner arm and down the side of her torso, ought to be illegal, but she wouldn’t have missed it for the world. The man excelled at the sensual seduction of the mind and the body, and that was before he had begun washing her.

  ‘Other arm,’ he said close to her ear.

  The deep enticing murmur sent a shiver down her spine. A shiver of pleasure and anticipation that took up residence in places no lady acknowledged. And yet, as a married woman, she had heard talk of there being more delight to copulation than simply the begetting of children. For some women.

  The care he took with his kisses gave her the sense that he was a man who would ensure his partner experienced more. She turned her body and held out her other hand, peering at him from beneath lowered lashes. The expression on his face was one of intense concentration, but, oh, his mouth, his lovely mouth, it had such a sensual cast as his gaze followed the motion of his hands down her arm, all the way to her fingertips and then upwards along the most sensitive skin of her inner arm, across her breasts and down her ribs to her stomach.

  She couldn’t move for the sheer unadulterated bliss of sensation, her skin dancing and prickling in anticipation of his touch and then sighing with pleasure as he soothed and stroked.

  Would he go lower?

  She tensed and he reached deeper into the water.

  His hand wrapped around her ankle, drew it up and out of the water and rested her heel on his chest. Rough hair tickled the sole of her foot, the beat of his heart an erotic reminder of his nakedness. She let herself relax, her nape resting against the edge of the tub as he repeated his caresses on first one leg and then the other. She sank into the pleasure of the moment. Relaxed. Drifting on a river of delicious touches and strokes. Boneless. Mindless.

  And when the cloth gently pressed between her thighs, she parted her legs and let his touch soothe her there, too. Soothe and arouse.

  A moan escaped her lips.