A Marquess for Christmas

by Vivienne Westlake

  * * * *

  Kit wasn’t in the townhouse, though his steward in town confessed that Kit had sent word that he was in London. The question was where. Violet had travelled with the Havenhursts to town, but in the last three days, they’d come up empty.

  “I have a strong feeling that we will find him today,” Freddy said. “He was not with Joseph Clark, but there is another boxer, Barnabas Wilson, who Kit knew back in the war. He sponsored him from time to time, but Barney got married a couple years ago and his wife refused to let him in the ring.”

  Violet had nothing to go on but Freddy’s instincts, so they made their way to a brown brick building with white columns that looked like every other house on this side of town. It was at least clean and didn’t have the foul stench of the apartments down by the river.

  There was a bright red bow and a wreath on the blue door, which had a fresh coat of paint, unlike its neighbor, whose door was chipped and peeling.

  “Wait here,” Freddy said, closing the door to the carriage.

  Violet looked out the window of the coach, wondering where the hell she was and when this chase would end. How could Kit just disappear? Was the steward lying? Maybe he had an address, but was under orders to keep it hidden.

  Was it even worth it? If Kit did not want her, this whole jaunt was a waste of their time. It had been two weeks. Christmas was in two days and they’d be forced to spend it here in London rather than back at home. Maybe she should have listened to the duchess and waited at Oakfield.

  She fiddled with her pelisse, stroking the fur trim as she waited for Freddy. The man was diligent, she had to give him that. She’d offered to continue the search with Avery so that the Havenhursts could spend their holiday back at their estate, but Freddy refused.

  The sound of footsteps got her attention. Violet looked over and saw Freddy motion for her to come out of the coach. She adjusted her hat then stepped out to his waiting arm.

  They made their way up the steps and Freddy whispered. “He’s in bad shape.”

  Bracing herself, Violet didn’t know whether she’d find him passed out on a floor in a drunken stupor or worse. They walked inside and made their way up a narrow staircase to a small bedroom.

  When Violet stepped in, Kit was sitting on a small bed with a green wool blanket, his eyes puffy and his lip swollen and bloody. He wore no jacket and she could see through his tunic that he was bruised and beaten. Was this what Freddy had meant a few days ago?

  “Kit.”

  He looked up to see her, his eyes widening. “Get her out of here, Freddy! You did not tell me you brought her here.”

  “What did you do? Who did this to you?”

  “Before you go off and avenge his honor, my dear, remember that he very likely paid someone to beat him into a bloody mess. He got these wounds in a match.”

  Violet went to a basin of water, which already turned pink from his blood. She pulled out a towel and wrung it. Then she wiped his lip and checked the wounds on his face. “I thought you were good at this,” she said.

  “Ha,” he laughed. “My face is purple and blue, and instead of yelling at me for sparring in a match, you tell me I am a sorry sportsman.”

  She looked him in the eyes and continued her ministrations, feeling his arms for bruises and bending his head to check if he’d reopened the wound on his crown. “What do you expect me to say, Kit? You are a boxer. You are a gambler. I knew this weeks ago. Should I now be shocked?”

  “Why are you here, Violet?”

  “I came to see why you are not in Yorkshire. Why you lied to us about where you’d gone. I came to make sure you weren’t ill and dying on the road somewhere.”

  “She came to make sure you weren’t rutting with some whore in a brothel,” Freddy said.

  Kit’s stare made her quiver inside. The tiny room felt miniscule now. His presence enveloped them. She’d forgotten how he could fill even the largest room.

  “Why would you care?” Kit pulled her wrists down into his lap.

  “I have always cared. Why do you think I would leave my home, leave my friends to come out to the bowels of London to find you?”

  His eyebrows raised. “To yell at me?”

  “I love you, you idiot.”

  “What?” His hands squeezed her wrists so tightly that she couldn’t move them.

  “I said I love you. You told me you loved me that night and you were so into your cups I thought you were addled in the head or manipulating me to take your side against your sister. I never thought you were serious.”

  “Why did you not ask me?” The softness in his tone brushed over her like a feather.

  “I did not want you to tell me that you did not care.”

  He cupped her face and pressed his mouth to hers. Everything went blank around her, fading into nothing, except his warm lips over hers and the sound of her own heart beating.

  “I meant what I said, Violet. I think I became smitten with you when I saw you attack that highwayman with a broken basket.”

  “That was no highwayman; that was a dirty brute with foul breath and no common sense.” As soon as she said the words, she realized the significance of what he’d said. “You remember.”

  He smiled. “Yes, I remember. It only came back to me a few days ago when I saw a butcher’s wife haggling with a baker over a mince pie. She shook a loaf of bread at him and nearly took his eye out.”

  “I had no weapons, sir, and you had discharged yours. I had to do something until you could finish reloading.”

  Kit brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Only you would attack a thief with nothing but the handle of a basket.” He kissed her nose. “Only you would use dubious means to cheat me at a game of hazard.” When he licked his lips, her breath caught. She stared at his mouth, wanting him to take her mouth again. “Only you would fall in love with me when you thought I was a gambler and a boxer rather than an aristocrat.”

  “It does not matter, Kit.” She closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around his neck, and melded her lips to his. In seconds, his hands stroked her back, easing their way down to her waist. Too many layers of clothing were in the way for her to get as close as she wanted.

  “What do you mean it does not matter?”

  “I mean I love you exactly as you are.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I do not expect you to change your ways overnight. I do not expect you to suddenly seek a wife and children when you have never wanted those before. But, I need to be clear with you. I have said it before, but it bears repeating. I will not be your mistress.”

  They stared at one another for a moment. Kit watched her eyes go from molten gold to green and listened to her breaths as she waited for him to respond. He’d said over and over that he would not marry some insipid debutante who only cared for a title and money, with no sense to make good use of either. He’d said he did not want a woman who would harangue him and browbeat him into doing as she wanted.

  But he had never refused to marry a feisty, passionate widow who could sing like an angel, best him at hazard, do any and every dirty deed he demanded in bed, then berate him when he showed up bloody and bruised after a boxing match. Six weeks ago, he’d sworn he would not marry. However, six weeks ago, he’d not met Violet Laurens.

  Maybe for once in her life Bella was right. She and Freddy seemed to think Violet was perfect for him. The fact was he could not envision spending his days with anyone else.

  “But you love me.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  Freddy interjected, “Kit, you do realize that you will never meet another woman like her. So do not be an imbecile and muck it all up. I will kill you. Then Bella will kill me, and we’ll all be dead.” He smiled, “Except for the lovely Mrs. Laurens.”

  “Mind your own bloody business, Freddy.” Hadn’t he said those same words weeks ago? How different everything was then.

  “I will wait downstairs.” Freddy kissed Violet’s hand, then left the room.

&
nbsp; Kit claimed Violet’s mouth, this time commanding her to open for him. His lip stung from the hard pressure of his lips on hers, but he didn’t care. His head pounded, but he didn’t care.

  The only thing that mattered was her.

  “Kit.” She came up for air.

  “Yes, angel?”

  “Will you come home with me?”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “I would go anywhere with you.”

  “Let us gather your things. Maybe we can be home in time for Christmas.”

  “Oh, God,” he said. “I forgot about Christmas. I was supposed to be at Oakfield with Bella.”

  “Bella is here in town. We will all leave together.”

  “We need to do something first.” He fingered her fichu, wanting to spread the cloth open so that he could taste the spot between her décolletage.

  “Can we at least wait until we are back at the townhouse before we do that?” she asked. “This bed is tiny and cramped and Frederick is waiting downstairs.”

  Kit slipped his fingers into her hair, which was tied up under her fur trimmed hat. He pulled, exposing the soft skin of her neck. “That is not what I meant.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Tomorrow we will go to the bishop.”

  “The bishop, what—” She tried to move, but his hold was so tight that she couldn’t. She lifted her hand to her hair to rub the spot where it pulled. “Ow.” He released his grip and she sat up straight and grabbed his shoulders. “Kit, be clear with me. Why do we need to go to the bishop?” Her tremulous voice gave her away. She knew exactly what he meant.

  “I want to arrange a date as soon as possible, Violet. The bishop will arrange for the announcement of the banns without us having to travel to Dover and back to Welbury Park.” Technically, the banns had to be read at both of their church parishes, but Kit did not want to have to travel all over England if they could avoid it.

  “Say it, Kit. If you mean it, then you need to ask me.”

  “Violet, will you marry me?”

  Her eyes went wide and she stared at him. “You are sure? You told your sister over and over that you refused to marry. What has changed?”

  “You. Me. Everything.”

  “Kit, I love you. I want to marry you. Please be sure that you want to do this. Once we are married it cannot be undone.”

  “You are a stubborn woman,” he said, pulling her into his lap. The heat of her bottom seeped into him, warming and arousing him all at once. “You tell me you love me. You refuse to be my mistress. Is this not what you want?”

  She bit her lip. “When you love someone, you seek to protect them, to put their needs above your own. I will not marry you if it means that you will tire of me in a year when you realize that marriage was not what you wanted. I will not be one of those women that you send off to the Continent or lock up in the country because you cannot bear the sight of your wife.”

  He kissed her neck, teasing the curve with his teeth, then his tongue. “I did not want to marry if it meant marrying someone I could never look upon with anything but pity or disgust. I did not want to marry someone who would force me to change, force me to settle into some dull, staid existence filled with boring parties and dinner at court.” With his thumbs, he teased the bodice of her dress, massaging her nipples through the fabric. “What I want is a woman who will best me at cards and distract me at hazard with a well placed foot,” he smiled, “and who will always make me laugh and when she fights me, it is because she is my equal, not because she wants to be my superior.”

  Mmmm. He wanted more, more of her body, more of her mind, more of everything that was Violet. Soft moans tantalized him as he stroked her nipples and nipped her along the jawline.

  “We should go down soon before Freddy comes up to find us.”

  Kit chuckled against her skin. “Trust me, he won’t.”

  “I want you,” she whispered. “But I want you where I can have you all to myself for a few hours.”

  “I do love the way your mind works.” He kissed her chin, then tucked her fichu securely into place before buttoning up her pelisse. “I think I need you to nurse me back to full health. Can you do that, my lady?”

  A soft tongue licked the edge of his earlobe. “With pleasure, my lord.” She climbed out of his lap and helped him into the jacket which lay piled at the edge of the bed. “And the answer to your question is yes.”

  “As if I did not know this,” he said, grabbing her and pulling her close to bite her lower lip.

  “You are the most arrogant man I have ever met.”

  “Would you love me any other way?”

  “I love you in every way.” She kissed his lips, coaxing and teasing until they were both breathless. Then he took her hand, threading his fingers through hers and led her down the stairs.

  As they stepped outside, he closed the door to the past behind him, knowing that the only thing that mattered was this moment and the future he would have with Violet.

  EXCERPTS

  Included for your enjoyment are excerpts from other sensual and erotic historical romances.

  Excerpt from

  Lady Northam’s Wicked Surrender

  By Vivienne Westlake

  Book 1 in the Rekindled Passions Series

  A midnight encounter between two estranged lovers rekindles a passion beyond their wildest dreams...

  Rowena, Countess of Northam, is surprised to find her former suitor has returned from India and is on his way to the very house where she is staying. When he appears in her room late at night, she can only believe it is a dream. Her fantasy soon becomes reality when Simon makes every effort to seduce her.

  Despite his six year absence, and the fact that Rowena married his best friend, Simon is determined to have her back now that she is a widow. It soon becomes clear that while her body craves his affections, she doesn't trust him enough to give her heart. Can Simon forget her past betrayal and convince her to surrender to the greatest love they’ve ever known?

  England, 1816

  An hour later, Rowena was in bed, although peaceful rest proved elusive. She patted her pillow and turned on her side for the hundredth time. How many days would it take Simon to arrive? Would she manage to get through her visit without having to see him at all? And if she did see him, what would she say? Could she ask him the question that had burned for so many years in her heart? Why did you abandon me?

  She still couldn’t fathom the answer. He’d promised to write to her when he’d gone off to the war in Spain. She thought he intended to propose upon his return, but instead he’d never contacted her at all. His best friend, Paul, convinced her that Simon was a rake, never the type to settle down. That she was one of many conquests. She’d been devastated. Their two months of courtship had been nothing more than an amusement to him. By the time he’d returned to England over a year and a half later, she’d agreed to marry Paul.

  Now he was coming back, threatening to turn her entire world upside down again. Could she survive it a second time?

  Sighing, she shifted and turned her body to the opposite side. It had been so long since she’d seen him at the wedding. Only a few weeks afterward, he’d taken another post in India. Rowena wondered how he looked now. Did he still wear his sideburns short and neatly trimmed? Was he as tall as she remembered?

  With a loud sigh, she turned on her back and stared at the ceiling, invisible in the pitch-dark room. Barely a sliver of light shown through the curtains at the window. There was nothing to distract her from her thoughts. As much as she dreaded seeing him, she couldn’t help her curiosity. A part of her wanted to see his face, to stand beside his tall, muscular frame and—and—What? Yell at him? Strike his cheek? Kiss him? She wanted to…

  Sleep. Rowena’s eyelids were heavy and she couldn’t keep them open any longer. Exhaustion overpowered her thoughts, and she fell into a deep sleep, filled with vivid dreams.

  Warmth spread over her, across her chest, down her arms and thigh
s. Despite the chill in the air, Rowena twisted in the blankets, her body flushed all over. Her mind lost in the dream.

  She was lying down in her chemise and a tall, broad shouldered man was coming towards her intently. He climbed into the bed and lightly gripped her sides. Little trickles of electricity spread through her skin.

  When his fingers spread wide and stroked her from her belly all the way up to her breasts, she forgot to breathe. He palmed them firmly and she wondered what it would be like to have him touch her without the fabric in between.

  The man’s touch was bold, hungry and she arched into it, her body curving like a bowstring. Tension spread down to her thighs and she longed for him to push them apart. He leaned down in the darkness and she gripped his hair, pulling him toward her. Their mouths fused and a heady rush went through her as his tongue laved hers, filling her even as he demanded complete control.

  He pinned her arms to her sides and she melted under him, pliant and willing. Something about the way he stroked his tongue over hers, the low sound he made, stirred a memory inside her.

  Rowena looked into the eyes of the man leaning over her and in the darkness, recognized them. Simon. In her dream, he was as she remembered. Intense blue-gray eyes, a strong jaw and a taut muscular chest that she’d always longed to touch.

  Before she could speak, he pinched her nipple and rolled it between his fingers. “Ah!” A sharp twinge of pain gave way to exquisite pleasure, which snaked its way down to pool at the juncture of her thighs. He took his time, teasing and pinching, the rough pads of his fingertips grazing her skin in a delicious fashion. Her lower belly clenched under the onslaught.

  With ragged breaths, she watched as he freed her breast to suckle it. Though she was now free to move her arms again, she stayed still. The chilly night air spread over her puckered nipple when he lifted his head. She shivered in response.

  “I missed you,” he whispered, then lifted her thighs and spread her legs open. He ran his hands under the chemise now, stroking her skin where he had never explored before. The sensation of being spread before him caused a pearl of moisture to drip from her cleft. Her sex squeezed in anticipation. Why hadn’t they done this years ago?