Once Upon a Christmas Knight
Page 7
“Of course.” The man knew not with whom he dealt.
“Then I would have you tell Mama and Papa that I am retiring, and I wish not to be disturbed.” Thus, she lured her prey.
“That is easy.” He nodded once.
“And then you will return and stay with me.” Grasping his lapels, she pulled him close and pressed her lips to his. “As yours is the face I would admire as I go to sleep and to which I shall wake.”
His muscles tensed, belying his disquietude, and she knew he was hers. “Absolutely not.”
“But—you promised.” Not for an instant would she relent.
“Darling, be reasonable.” He rolled his eyes. “I never said I would ruin you.”
“We are to marry on St. Valentine’s Day, which but weeks away.” She splayed her palms across his chest. “It is but a skip and a jump.”
“It is over a month from now, Margaret.” He stiffened his spine, as she nuzzled his temple.
“But less than two, which hardly matters in the grand scheme.” She nipped his chin. “And it is only this once, dear Percival, my Prince Charming.”
“You must be joking, because if I do this, it will never be just once.” Ah, she tempted him.
“Is that another promise?” With her goal in sight, she pressed her suit. “Shall we rendezvous in the back parlor?”
His gaze widened. “No.”
“Then I will come to you.” She nibbled his fleshy ear lobe, and he exhaled a shaky breath. “Or would you refuse me, when I desperately need you?”
“Never, because I need you, too.” To her delight, he grasped her by the wrist and pressed her palm to the telltale bulge in his breeches. “But you should not be traipsing about the halls, as you caught a chill, and I would not risk your health.”
“Then it is, perhaps, lucky that you will keep me warm.” When he groaned, she giggled. “And you are so warm.”
“Are you sure you want this?” As she fondled him, he bared and gritted his teeth but made no attempt to cease her play. “Because, if I do it, there is no going back. You must marry me.”
“Then we are in agreement, and I will see you on St. Valentine’s Day, Monday, February fourteenth, at St. George’s Hanover Square.” She licked the curve of his neck. “Do not be late, else I shall be vexed and come searching for you.”
“All right.” To her chagrin, he pushed from her bed, adjusted his crotch, buttoned his coat, and exhaled audibly. “Stay here.”
As soon as Percy walked into her sitting room, and closed the double doors behind him, she threw aside the sheets, leaped from the mattress, and ran to the armoire. Sifting through her belongings, she scrutinized her wardrobe. At last, she selected a diaphanous robe.
Sitting at her vanity, she pulled the remaining pins from her mussed coif, picked up her silver-backed brush, and smoothed her long brown locks. Satisfied with her appearance, despite her red nose, she shed the conservative nightgown and the shawl, in favor of the sheer garment. Just as she crossed the room, her knight returned, bedecked in naught but a silk robe. With a definitive click, he set the bolt, and then he glanced at her and blinked.
“By heaven above, you are beautiful, Margaret.” Splaying his arms, he flicked his fingers, and she charged into his ready embrace. Cradling her head, he rocked, back and forth, and she knew, in that instant, she was where she belonged. “You shiver, darling. Are you afraid? Have you changed your mind? If so, I will not be angry.”
“No.” She shifted to meet his stare. “But I am cold, even as I am determined to be yours, irrevocably. And if you leave me, I shall scream until I bring this entire house down about me.”
As if to prove her point, she pulled free, unclasped the single shell-shaped fastener, shrugged her shoulders, and dropped the swath of delicate fabric. Without a word, he bent, swept her from her feet, and deposited her on the four-poster.
At the hearth, he threw another log on the fire and stoked the blaze. When he stood and faced her, he tugged at the belt at his waist, untied, and shed the robe. Naked and aroused, he joined her amid the covers, and she tumbled into him.
Resting on his side, he claimed a searing kiss, as he roamed and explored her body with his hand. When he kneaded her breasts, and lightly pinched a nipple, she wiggled her hips and yelped, and he chuckled. Yet, he continued the seduction, and how sweet it was, as he walked a naughty path to her little curls. Then he delved further between her thighs, to stroke and fondle her most sensitive flesh.
“Percy, what are you doing to me, as I ache, yet it is not painful?”
“I am preparing you, my dear.” He nipped at her nose. “Only when I am satisfied that you are relaxed and ready will I claim you, because I will not hurt you.”
“Believe me, I am ready, and I am not sure I can relax, at this moment.” Especially as the proof of his desire rested, hot and hard, against her hip. “Please, Percy.”
“You are determined, are you not?” To her excitement, he rolled her onto her back. “You want to be mine.”
“I will not be denied.” Grasping his shoulders, she clung to him. “And I am yours.”
“Then let us consummate our engagement.” Covering her, with his knees he nudged apart her legs. “And you shall be mine.”
“But I am already yours, as I have been since the Netherton’s masque, because you won me with your gallantry.” Framing his face, she kissed him, and he rested his forehead to hers. “Is there such a thing as a Princess Charming?”
“I do not think so, and I would never describe you as anything less than that which you hold in my heart.” Percival brushed his lips to hers, as a promise of something more. “Because you are my queen.”
once upon a christmas knight
Epilogue
Derbyshire
December, 1820
Gazing beyond the window, as a veritable blizzard assaulted the countryside, Percival reflected on the past year and smiled, as he was a vast deal more than content, despite the ugly business of bringing Ratking to justice. Garbed somewhat eccentrically in the medieval knight costume he wore to the Netherton’s masque, so long ago, he waited for his bride.
“Well, Stephen is fed and fast asleep, after the evening’s festivities.” As Percy turned, Margaret closed the doors, set the bolt, faced him—and burst into laughter. “Upon my word, just what are you about?” She tittered and surrendered to another peal of unrestrained mirth. “I cannot believe you still have that outfit, after all this time, although it included a tad more clothing, if memory serves.”
“What?” Splaying his arms, he ignored the fact that he wore no shirt or breeches, as he achieved the intended effect. “Do you not favor this version?”
“Actually, I find it quite provoking and rather stimulating.” She made no attempt to hide the fact that she appraised his erection, and he savored the confidence she displayed, given they had grown together nicely since their wedding. “It appears you are happy to see me.”
“Ah, but I make no excuses for that, as it happens whenever you are near.” As he doffed the hood and masque, she shed her robe, like a sultry siren, favoring him with an unfettered view of her luscious, naked body. “So our son is settled?”
“Indeed.” As always, she made straight for him, and he wrapped the velvet cloak about her, as she hugged him about the waist and rested her head to his bare chest. “And I wonder if we should tell Mama and Papa that Stephen was not born two months early but was, in fact, right on time, because my parents fret for our son’s health, given he is their first grandchild. I would not worry them, unnecessarily.”
“Are you out of your mind?” The mere suggestion was enough to give Percy wicked collywobbles. “Your father would kill me if he discovered I got you with child before we took the vows.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, as Papa loves you, given all you have done for our family.” Shifting, she suckled Percy’s nipple and met his stare. “And you must be thrilled that he relented, regarding the chaise from the back parlor at his tow
nhome, in the city. By the by, he will have it delivered to our estate, next month, after the preliminary hearing, in London.”
“Ratking’s trial is scheduled to commence in March. As for the chaise, I shall have it situated in our bedchamber, where I plan to reenact many fond memories of our rendezvous.” He waggled his brows, as he recalled a glorious tutorial, wherein he taught her to mount him. “As that is where we conceived my heir.”
“You warned me once would never be enough, and I foolishly ignored you.” Twining her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, she drew him close for a tender kiss, and he fondled her round bottom. “I suppose I should be grateful for your resourcefulness, but I cannot spend five minutes in that room without blushing, given all we indulged there.”
“How I adore that about you.” He launched a deeper, more thorough exchange, which scarcely whetted his appetite, and he backed her to the bed in their guest suite at Garring Manor, where the Howe’s and the Hogart’s gathered for the holidays. “Now, let us retire and make love, into the wee hours.”
“Just a moment.” To his surprise, she stayed him and retreated. “I have something for you.”
“But, darling, I have something for you, too, and it is about to burst for want of you.” Dropping the cloak to the floor, he frowned, as she walked to the armoire. “Will you not take pity on a humble, painfully aroused beggar?”
“I know, and it is lovely, but you give me that every morning and night, and sometimes in between, not that I am complaining.” Bending at the hips, she favored him with a delicious view of her arse, and he collapsed on the mattress and groaned. “My poor, aggrieved husband, I shall satisfy you, soon, but humor me, please.”
“Aggrieved is right.” He snorted and pleasured himself. “And hurry, else I shall go mad and run naked through the halls, and I just might scandalize the entire household.”
“That is why I appeal for a slight delay, that I might give you a personal gift, just for the two of us.” To his delight and curiosity, she presented him with a decent-sized parcel. “Happy Christmas, my love.”
“What is this?” He arched a brow, as she climbed between the covers and kissed his shoulder. “What have you done, as we exchanged presents, earlier?”
“Open it, and see.” Then she bowed her head as he lifted the lid. “And nothing I give you can compare to the parure of diamonds you bestowed upon me, tonight, or the deed, free and clear, you gave to my father, for the Hogart ancestral pile. Had you not acted, he would have lost it, forever, and I do so love you for helping him.”
“That is not true, because you are worth more than you realize. And my only regret is we were unable to recover more of the fortunes Ratking pilfered.” Parting the white silk, Percy discovered a figure garbed in an unmistakable costume, and the significance was not lost on him. “Margaret, it is stunning and incredibly thoughtful. I shall treasure it, always.”
From the box he pulled a rather large nutcracker, decorated as a prince from fairy tales.
“It is for your collection, and I hope you will always think of me, when you look upon it.” Beneath the blanket, she gripped his length and worked him, just as he taught her, as she trailed a series of flirty little kisses along his jaw. “But you are my Prince Charming, now and forever. Never doubt that, as I would give you the world, if I could.”
“Sweetheart, you have given me everything, such that I can never repay you, thus I persist in your debt.” After tucking the nutcracker in the box, Percy set the container on his bedside table, blew out the single taper, rolled his wife onto her back, and covered her. Framing her face with his hands, he kissed her pert nose, her rosy cheeks, and claimed her succulent mouth, which he could devour for an eternity. Then he rested his forehead to hers, a familiar position they enjoyed. “Dearest Margaret, all I ever wanted was love, and in your arms I found it.”
About Barbara Devlin
USA Today Bestselling Author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller, but it was a weeklong vacation to Bethany Beach, DE that forever changed her life. The little house her parents rented had a collection of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss, which exposed Barbara to the world of romance, and Shanna remains a personal favorite. Barbara writes heartfelt historical romances that feature flawed heroes who may know how to seduce a woman but know nothing of marriage. And she prefers feisty but smart heroines who sometimes save the hero, before they find their happily ever after. Barbara earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.
Connect with Barbara Devlin at BarbaraDevlin.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter, The Knightly News.
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titles by
barbara devlin
BRETHREN OF THE COAST SERIES
Loving Lieutenant Douglas
Enter the Brethren
My Lady, the Spy
The Most Unlikely Lady
One-Knight Stand
Captain of Her Heart
The Lucky One
Love with an Improper Stranger
To Catch a Fallen Spy
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me
The Duke Wears Nada
BRETHREN ORIGINS
Arucard
Demetrius
Aristide
Morgan
PIRATES OF THE COAST
The Black Morass
The Iron Corsair
The Buccaneer
The Stablemaster’s Daughter
The Marooner
Once Upon a Christmas Knight
KATHRYN LE VEQUE’S WORLD OF DE WOLFE PACK
Lone Wolfe
The Big Bad De Wolfe
Tall, Dark & De Wolfe
OTHER STORIES
Magick, Straight Up
A Taste of Magick