His Christmas Angel (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 8)

by Mathews, Marly

  As he broke the kiss, she seemed quite breathless, and her eyes filled with something he had never seen before. He thought they looked a little passionate. A little drunken on that pleasure. She had liked the kiss, and now craved a bit more of his loving. It puffed him up to know that he had almost intoxicated her with his kiss.

  “And, now,” he said, slipping out of her grasp, which was a little harder to do considering her initial hesitation. “I must be a good husband, and take my leave. Yes, I must depart.” He didn’t know how much longer he could stall. Was she going to have any sort of a reaction to his words? Would she stop him?

  Dear God, he hoped—he prayed she would.

  He chanced a glance at her, and she looked quite dejected. Almost forlorn. He felt a bit guilty, but he had to remain stalwart. He had to go through with his plans. If he allowed her to throw a rub in the way—well, she would never want to invite him into her bed, and he rather did want a wedding night, even though he knew he couldn’t force her. His father had said there would be time for lovemaking in the Country—and he was probably right, but after the night he and Ann had experienced, he needed to hold her in his arms. He craved it with a yearning he had never experienced before.

  He knew some men just made their wives do their duty. He had heard the cretins talking about in the past—and he couldn’t abide their sort. Sir Wilfrid was from that class, and it sickened him.

  “Clarence, you are not serious, are you?” she asked, in a small voice.

  He smiled. Thank God, she’d finally spoke. Better yet, she sounded as if she was going to ask him to stay.

  “Oh, but I am, Ann. I am. It wouldn’t do for me to do anything else. I am a gentleman. I abide by the code of chivalry.” He nodded his head vigorously. He needed her to want him as much as he wanted her. “I mustn’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I shan’t make you do what you perceive to be your duty. I want to be appreciated. I want you to want me to take you as my wife. After all, a marriage in England doesn’t have to be consummated to be legal. One just has to have the ability to consummate it.” He barely knew what he was saying. All he could think about was Ann, and the bed that was terribly close to them, and he couldn’t seem to stop looking at her bosom. The way her breasts were heaving in the low cut bodice of her wedding dress. He licked his lips, suddenly feeling quite parched.

  “I…I confess I never knew that,” she said softly.

  “You didn’t?” he asked, backing in the direction of his bedchamber. He had almost made it when his foot caught on the bloody Axminster carpet rug, and he went toppling backward. He hit the floor with a great thud, and his arse bore most of the brunt of it. “Damnation,” he muttered angrily. “That bloody well smarted. I think I might have bruised it. Yes, indeed, that is going to leave a mark,” he concluded, grimacing.

  She looked shocked. Her eyes opened wide. And, slowly, her face transformed, and she smiled, and then, erupted into a fit of giggles. The sound of her laughing at him wounded his pride. He felt like a clumsy oaf, and he was trying desperately to look so capable—so debonair. Now…now, he looked like a bloody buffoon, and she would think less of him, and that part rankled more than anything else did.

  She rushed to his side, and knelt by him. “Are you hurt?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Yes,” he grunted. “Bloody right, I am, and it hurts like a bloody bugger.”

  “Where does it hurt? I can kiss it better.”

  “I think you will want to retract that offer,” he muttered, looking away.

  “No…I shall kiss it,” she said firmly.

  “It is my bottom,” he said, staring her right in the eyes. “I hurt my bottom.”

  “Ah,” her face went red, and her eyes went a little desperate. “I think…well, it is rather well cushioned so you shouldn’t be in too much pain,” she said sensibly, apparently recovering her momentary sense of panic. She extended her hand to him to offer him assistance. “Come on, I shall help you up.”

  He sighed. Did she just tell him that his arse was well endowed? He didn’t know how to take that. He never thought he had a big arse—but now…maybe it was rather well rounded, although he didn’t think it too large. “Well, give us a hand, then,” he said. He grasped her hand. A devilish thought went through his head. Pulling her toward him, she collapsed on top of him. “Now…this…was worth the pain. Oh, yes, I suddenly feel ever so much better. Do…do you honestly think that I have a big arse?”

  She looked stunned by being sprawled across him, and he thought she was going to give him a tongue lashing. Instead, she looked at him completely blown away by what he had just said. She laughed. “Oh, Clarence. I merely meant that falling on one’s bottom is preferable to falling on one’s face. I…I never meant to imply that you had a large posterior. Quite the opposite in fact, you have a nice…” She stopped, and her eyes widened as far as he had ever seen them. They looked as if they might fall clear out of her head.

  “Go on,” he urged. “Finish your assessment of my butt.”

  “Oh, that is rather crude, Clarence.”

  “Why? It is short for buttocks…” he countered. “I see nothing crude about it, but then, I suppose it’s a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”

  She sighed heavily, and blew a wisp of hair that dropped onto her forehead out of her line of sight. “I…I…there isn’t anything wrong with your behind. It is perfectly fine. Especially when you wear tight trousers. I have always much preferred them to inexpressibles, and you…you make them look all the better.” She went bright red, rather like a tomato. “I…I cannot believe we are having a serious chat about your bum.”

  “Get used to life with me. There is never a dull moment,” he said, attempting to maintain a straight face.

  She wiggled on top of him, and he grimaced. Maybe he shouldn’t have acted so rashly. She moved against him a bit more, and then, finally righted herself. Standing up, she sighed, “You are a cheeky devil, Clarence Deville.”

  He stood up. Bowed to her in a dashingly debonair manner, and grinned. “I know. And now, this cheeky devil must take his leave.” This time, he turned around, so he wouldn’t have another unfortunate tumble back onto his arse. Obviously, he needed to see where he was going. He couldn’t glide gracefully out of the room whilst keeping his eyes locked on her. Oh, no, he wasn’t that noble of bearing. He was a bloody clodhopper. “I am such a simkin,” he sighed.

  She sighed loudly. “Clarence?”

  “Yes,” he asked hopefully, turning to look at her.

  “Stay,” she whispered. Her eyes lit with softly passionate amber fire, and the look of passion in her gaze made his stomach dip a bit. She looked like he had just lit the spark on an inferno of passion. Mayhap, he had been right about Ann. The way she looked now told him he wouldn’t have to worry about being married to a woman with no pluck to her backbone. That thrilled him. He wanted her to let all of her sprightliness show through. He wanted her to wear it on her sleeve. He wanted her to become a strong woman in her own right. She would be a force to be reckoned with in a few months.

  “I shan’t unless I am wanted. I do not want you putting up with my presence and allowing me to make love to you only out of duty,” he said calmly, despite how elated he suddenly felt.

  “You…” her voice was tremulous. “You are wanted. Please, believe me. I want you to stay, Clarence. I want you to share my bed for the night. I cannot bear thinking of you being anywhere else. I like your company.”

  “We won’t just be sleeping beside each other, you know,” he said. “I want you to be aware of what my staying entails.”

  “I know exactly what it means. I know that we shall be consummating our marriage,” she whispered. “I trust you to show me that a relationship between a man and his wife is not always just based on pain. I trust you to teach me all that I should know.”

  “Wherever did you hear such a ludicrous thing, Ann? Who has been telling you such utter flummery? That’s utter rot, that’s what that is
!”

  “It doesn’t matter, Clarence. None of what I used to know matters now. I have so much to learn. What matters is what we make of our life together. What matters is what we do from here on in.”

  “Come to think of it, I think I might have hurt myself right here,” he said, pointing to a spot on his cheek, and waiting for him to attend to her. She came up to him, and kissed him where he had touched. “And here,” he tapped the cleft on his chin, “and here, too,” he put his finger over his lips. “I am in a horrible amount of agony.”

  She kissed him on the lips, and he drew her against him. Breaking away, he spoke against her mouth…”Ann, I give you one last time to reconsider, and tell me to take my leave…if you don’t…I stay—and you shall be hard pressed to remove me from your bed after that. I love you, Ann. I shall spend the whole night demonstrating to you the depth and intensity of that love—and maybe, maybe, I shall entice you to return my love.”

  She smiled, and kissed him again.

  This was sheer bliss. He moaned loudly.

  He had everything, he had ever wanted—everything he had ever desired. He had his Ann…he had his lady.

  He had his Christmas Angel.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sir Wilfrid stood with his back to her.

  His thin, tall frame sent a chill straight through her heart. She had to escape him. She had to find a way out of the bedchamber he had trapped her in. She couldn’t find the door. There didn’t seem to be one.

  She let out a strangled sob, as he turned away from the window. It was a frosty morning, and the cold had seeped into the room. There was no fire burning in the hearth. Only cold. Icy terrifying coldness. She focused on the window. Attempting to will her consciousness away from this room to the world beyond the window.

  Snowflakes fell from the sky, and she wished she could be outside, instead of where she was right now. Trapped like a little lamb waiting to be slaughtered. He would take her unmercifully. His pungent odour clung to the air, tickling her nose, and making her want to retch.

  “Now,” he said, in his raspy voice, “Shall we begin?”

  Ann screamed, and sat up in bed, clutching the bedclothes to her chest. Her breathing was rapid, and she felt cold and clammy. A dull ache thudded in her head.

  “Ann,” Clarence said sleepily, as he sat up next to her. “Are…are you alright?”

  Her eyes clapped on her familiar surroundings, and she let out a ragged breath, as she realized that it all been a nightmare. Thank God. It had all been a nightmare. Why then, had it felt so real?

  “I had a terrible nightmare, Clarence,” she confessed. “I…I dreamt that Sir Wilfrid had me. He had me trapped in his bedchamber, and he was getting ready…to…he was getting ready to…” She couldn’t finish it. She couldn’t speak the awful truth aloud. She shuddered, and let him draw her to him, and she clung to his warmth. Letting him cocoon her in the safety of his embrace. He smelled so good. They had barely left this room in the last two days, and she knew that today they would have to leave the sanctuary of Evesham House and the familiarity of London for Evesham Hall out in the Cotswolds.

  “He will never get you, Ann,” Clarence said fervently. “You do not have to worry so. He will never have any power over you. You are safe. You are my wife now. Haven’t I made that clear to you in the last few days?”

  She nodded her head, staying silent. And clutching his hand tightly. She smiled happily. The good memories of their time together swept over her, warming her in a reassuring way. She never wanted to leave Clarence’s side. He made her feel protected—and cherished. She had never felt so close to anyone in her entire life. If only they could stay this way forever. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself to the contrary, she knew that Sir Wilfrid would come for them.

  “What if…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  He made a hushing sound, and put his finger over her lips. “Do I have to distract you again? Do I have to make it so you cannot voice the worries in your head? You are safe, Ann. As long as we are together…no monster from your nightmares can hurt you. Sir Wilfrid cannot hurt us. Do you believe me?”

  “Yes, Clarence. Yes, I do,” she said softly.

  She smiled. His worried visage melted, and he kissed the middle of her forehead, and then the tip of her nose, and then, finally, he claimed her lips, and she hungrily kissed him back. She sighed against his mouth. They collapsed back down, and she sank into the pillows, while he lavished her body with his adoration.

  If there was heaven on Earth—she had surely found it.

  *****

  “The second carriage has been loaded with our luggage, Ann, and my valet and your maid are ready to depart. Now, we need only go to our own carriage, and of course, Lord Spaulding and Lord Prescott will be our outriders, along with some other men that shall keep us well protected.”

  She nodded her head, and turned away from her dressing table. “Do we really have to go, Clarence? We have had such a lovely time here. I don’t want to leave. I confess, I don’t want to leave the sanctuary of this bedchamber. We have made such delightful memories here.”

  “We can have a lovely time at Evesham Hall as well. You will adore it as the snow starts to fall. At least I hope we have some snow. It hasn’t been nearly cold enough. I don’t even think it feels like winter yet, and I so wanted snow in time for Christmas.”

  “Well, if you want it—it will come. You always get what you want, Clarence. Mother Nature wouldn’t dare disappoint you.”

  He chuckled. “I already have everything that I have ever wanted in life. If she disappoints me, I shall deal with it. It shall be regrettable, but it shan’t ruin my mood.”

  She fussed with the hat she wore, and then, sighed. She wasn’t certain she liked it, although the peacock feather on it was quite lovely.

  “Green suits you,” he said, in his adoring way. She still wasn’t certain that she was worthy of his love. He worshipped her, and she couldn’t even return his profession of love with her own. It made her feel wretched, and yet, it didn’t seem to worry him. He never lost his temper with her, and continued to give her all of the love he had to give.

  “I have always liked it,” she confessed, looking down at the green carriage dress that she wore. He reached for her matching cloak, and her fur muff.

  “You must keep warm. I shan’t have my Countess catch cold.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think I have to worry. I will have you to keep me warm, won’t I?”

  “Quite right,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “I have done a good job of that the last few days, haven’t I?”

  “Aye, you have. You have shown me that everything I thought I knew about marriage and the relationship between a husband and wife was…well…”

  “Not quite right?”

  “If it was…if my mother had that kind of a marriage, I do feel sorry for her. I wish she could have had what we share. I wish she could have found a man like you.”

  “Very few couples share what we have between us,” he said huskily.

  She smiled at him. Maybe he was right. She had grown awfully fond of him in the last few days. He had been such a loving and considerate husband. He had opened her world up, and revealed to her that though there had been pain at first—there was also pleasure—so much pleasure, and she was grateful to him for being so gentle with her.

  Did she love him?

  She couldn’t say. All she knew was that she relied on him, more than she had ever relied on anyone in her life. If he left her…she would miss him dearly.

  She did feel tenderly toward him—the question was—was it love?

  Clarence studied Ann closely. She looked tired. The nightmare she had suffered earlier that morning still haunted her. It had taken a toll on her and he hated seeing the evidence of it on her face. He wished he could make all of her pain go away. He wished he could erase Sir Wilfrid from their lives.

  Tiny had suggested he could arrange for the man to have an accident�
�but he hadn’t actually believed him. Mayhap, mayhap, he should have taken him up on his offer. Surely no one would miss such a terrible man?

  “I am ready,” she said, hooking her arm through his. “Now, let us start our journey to the Cotswolds. Let us hope the weather holds while we are on the roads. I do hope we can have Christmas Goose, gingerbread, and play snapdragon, and sing carols, and shall there be me mummers and wassailers?”

  “Oh, aye, and a Christmas fire, and so much more, hot chocolate, egg flip, mincemeat pies, Christmas cake, pound cake, Christmas pudding and so many other tasty treats. We shall bedeck the house in greenery on Christmas Eve—we shall have such merriment. Evesham Hall shall be filled with laughter and love. If only the rest of the family were coming to spend Christmas with us.”

  She smiled at him. Despite her smile, there was something hidden in her eyes. A sadness he feared he would never be able to vanquish. As long as Sir Wilfrid loomed over their heads, she would always live in fear, and he hated the fact that he was powerless to make her feel truly safe.

  He wanted to vanquish her villain once and for all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “How did you let this happen?” Sir Wilfrid Culpepper demanded icily. “You are her father—you should have been able to control the little bitch. A father should always be able to bring their little whelps to heel. A father isn’t a proper father, if he cannot control his family, your word is law. Sad that wasn’t the case with you, eh, Hardwicke?”

  Lord Broadway stood cowering in front of him. He clutched his hat in his hand, and kept pulling at it. It would be bent out of shape by the time he was done with it. “It would seem—it would seem that my youngest daughter is a headstrong girl, and she masked it with her timidity. I didn’t know she would turn out to be so bloody clever. She never portrayed such tenacity before. Indeed, we within the family always believed her to be a little too weak. I always thought she would faint dead away at the first sign of trouble. We obviously underestimated her.”