The Mistletoe Wager

by Christine Merrill

  She said, ‘I think Harry hoped that I would have the opportunity to impress eligible male guests with my ability as a hostess. I doubt that will be the case, since my skills are nothing to write home about. In any case, the single gentlemen he promised have failed to materialise. There is you, of course, but if you are with Elise…’ She trailed off in embarrassment, as she realised that her babbling had sounded like an invitation to court her.

  He watched her for a time, allowing her to suffer a bit, for it would not do for the girl to think he was interested. Whatever Harry had planned for him this weekend, he doubted it would include courting his sister. Rosalind could not tell by looking at him what his real feelings might be for Elise, and he had no wish to inform her of them. But if Elise learned the truth before he could escape, there would be hell to pay.

  He said, ‘It is very awkward for everyone concerned. Elise wished to come and speak with Harry, and she did not want to come alone. Now that my job as escort has been done, I mean to stay no more than tonight-whatever Harry’s plans might be. I suspect I will be gone shortly after breakfast, and I will trouble you no more.’

  Rosalind glanced out of the window at the fast-falling snow. ‘You do not know how treacherous the local roads can be after a storm such as this. You may find travel to be impossible for quite some time. And you are welcome until Twelfth Night in any case.’

  But she looked as though she hoped he would not stay, and he did not blame her. ‘Thank you for your hospitality. I trust you will not find it strange if I avoid your company at breakfast?’

  She nodded again. ‘I will not think it the least bit odd. As a matter of fact, it is probably for the best.’ She hesitated. ‘Although I do wish to apologise, one last time, for what happened when we first met.’

  ‘It is not necessary.’

  ‘But I cannot seem to stop. For I truly regret it.’

  He gave a curt bow. ‘I understand that. Do not concern yourself with it. We will chalk it up to the folly of youth.’ And how could he fault her for that? For he had been guilty of folly as well, and was paying for it to this day.

  ‘Thank you for understanding.’

  ‘Then let us hear no more apologies on the matter. Consider yourself absolved.’

  But, while he might be able to forgive, he doubted he would ever forget her.

  Chapter Five

  ElisE glared through the wood of her bedroom door at the man in the hall. She had not thought when she made this trip that she would end up back in her own room. She would be alone with her memories, and scant feet from her husband, while Nicholas was stowed in the remotest corner of the guest wing like so much discarded baggage. Though he showed no sign of it, she was sure that Harry had anticipated her appearance and sought an opportunity to separate them.

  But if he did not want her, then why would he bother? So Harry did not mean to come and take her in the night? Fine. It was just as she’d feared. She meant nothing to him any more. And telling her the truth, with that annoying little smile of his, had removed all hope that he had been harbouring a growing and unfulfilled passion since her precipitate retreat from his house. If he cared for her, an absence of two months would have been sufficient to make him drag her back to his bed the first chance he got, so that he might slake his lust. But to announce that he meant to leave her in peace for a fortnight while she slept only a room away…

  She balled her fists in fury. The man had not left her alone for a fortnight in the whole time they had lived together. But apparently his visits had been just as she’d feared: out of convenience rather than an uncontrollable desire for her and her alone. Now that she was not here he must be finding someone else to meet his needs.

  The thought raised a lump in her throat. Perhaps he had finally taken a mistress, just as she’d always feared he would. It had been some consolation during the time that they had been together to know that he was either faithful or incredibly discreet in his infidelities. For, while she frequently heard rumours about the husbands of her friends, she had never heard a word about Harry.

  And to have taken a lover would have required equally miraculous stamina, for even after five years he had been most enthusiastic and regular in his bedroom visits, right up to the moment she had walked out the door. Then, his interest in her body had evaporated.

  If they had not married in haste, things might have been different between them. She should never have accepted Harry Pennyngton’s offer when she had still been so angry with Nicholas. She had been almost beyond reason, and had hardly had time to think before she had dispensed with one man and taken another.

  But Harry’s assurances had been so reasonable, so comforting, that they had been hard to resist. He had said he was of a mind to take a wife. And he had heard that she was in desperate straits. That her parents were returning to Bavaria, and she must marry someone quickly if she wished to remain in England. If so, why could it not be him? He had described the house to her, the grounds and the attached properties, and told her of his income and the title. If she refused him he would understand, of course. For they were little better than strangers. But if she chose to accept everything he had would be hers, and he would do all in his power to assure that she did not regret the decision.

  He had laid it all out before her like some sort of business deal. And although he had not stated the fact outright, she had suspected that she would not get a better offer, and would end up settling for less should she refuse.

  That should have been her first warning that the marriage would not be what she’d hoped. For where Nicholas had been full of fine words of love and big dreams of the future, Harry had been reason itself about what she could expect should she choose to marry him.

  It had been quite soothing, in retrospect, to be free of grand passion for a moment, and to give her broken heart a chance to mend. Harry had been willing to give without question, and had asked for nothing in return but her acceptance.

  They had been wed as soon as he’d been able to get a licence. And if she’d had any delusions that he wished a meeting of hearts before a meeting of bodies, he had dispelled them on the first night.

  Elise had thought that Harry might give her time to adjust to her new surroundings, and wished that she’d had the nerve to request it. For intimacy had hardly seemed appropriate so soon. They had barely spoken. She hadn’t even learned how he liked his tea, or his eggs. And to learn how he liked other things before they had even had breakfast? It had all happened too fast. Surely he would give her a few days to get to know her new husband?

  But as she had prepared for bed on her wedding night, she had reached for her nightrail only to have the maid pull it aside. ‘Lord Anneslea says you will not be needing it this evening, ma’am.’

  ‘Really?’ She felt the first thrill of foreboding.

  ‘Just the dressing gown.’ And the maid wrapped her bare body in silk and exited the room.

  What was she to do now? For clearly the staff had more instruction than she had over what was to occur. And it was not likely to be a suggestion that they live as brother and sister until familiarity had been gained.

  There was a knock at the connecting door between his bedroom and hers. ‘Elise? May I come in?’

  She gave him a hesitant yes.

  He opened the door but did not enter. Instead he stood framed in the doorway, staring at her. ‘I thought tonight, perhaps, you would join me in my room.’ He stepped to the side and held a hand out to her.

  When she reached to take it, his fingers closed over hers, and he led her over the threshold to his room.

  It was surprisingly warm for a winter’s night, and she could see that the fire was built to blazing in the fireplace. ‘I did not want you to take a chill,’ he offered, by way of explanation.

  ‘Oh.’

  Then he helped her up the short step that led to his bed, and jumped up himself to sit on the edge beside her. He brushed a lock of hair off her face, and asked, ‘What have you been told about what
will happen tonight?’

  ‘That it will go much faster if I lie still and do not speak.’

  His face paled. ‘I imagine it will. But expediency is not always the object with these things. If you wish to move at any time, for any reason, then you must certainly do it. And by all means speak, if you have anything to say. If I am causing you discomfort I will only know if you tell me. And if something gives you pleasure?’ He smiled hopefully. ‘Then I wish to know that as well.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Are you ready to begin?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’ She was still unsure what it was that they were beginning. But how else was she to find out?

  He kissed her, and it was a pleasant surprise, for other than one brief kiss when he had proposed, and another in the chapel after the wedding, he had offered no displays of affection. But this was different. He rested his lips against hers for a moment, moving back and forth, and then parting them with his tongue.

  It was an interesting sensation. Especially since the longer he kissed her the more she was convinced that she could feel the kiss in other parts of her body, where his lips had not touched. When she remarked on it, he offered to kiss her there as well, and his lips slid to her chin, her throat, and then to her breast.

  It was wonderful, and strange, for it made the feelings even more intense, and he seemed to understand for his lips followed the sensation lower.

  She scrambled away from him, up onto the pillows on the other side of the bed. Because she understood what it was he meant to do, and it was very shocking. It was then that she realised her robe had come totally undone and he was staring at her naked body. The feeling of his eyes on her felt very much like the intimate kiss she was avoiding, so she wrapped the gown tightly about her and shook her head.

  ‘I have frightened you.’ He dragged his gaze back to her face and looked truly contrite. ‘Here, let us start again.’

  He climbed past her on the bed, and reached for a pot of oil that rested on the night stand. It was scented with a rich perfume, and he took a dab of the stuff, stroking it onto the palm of his hand.

  ‘Let me touch you.’

  She tensed in anticipation of his caress. But he sat behind her this time. He slipped his hands beneath the neck of the robe to stroke her shoulders, kissing her neck before rubbing the ointment into the muscles there.

  ‘See? There is nothing to be afraid of. I only mean to give you pleasure.’

  And there certainly did not seem to be anything to fear. It was very relaxing to feel his hands sliding over her body, and she found it almost impossible to resist as he pushed the fabric of her robe lower, until he could reach the small of her back.

  She was bare to the waist now. And even though he was behind her, and could not see them, she kept her hands folded across her breasts. But soon she relaxed her arms and dropped them to her sides. When he reached around her to touch her ribs, the underside of her breasts and her nipples, she did not fight him. It felt good. And then she leaned back against him and allowed him to play.

  When he heard her breathing quicken he put his lips to her ear and kissed her once, before beginning to whisper, in great detail, just what it was he meant to do next.

  For a moment her eyes opened wide in alarm, but his hands slipped down, massaging her belly, as his voice assured her that it would be all right. He nuzzled her neck. One hand still toyed with a breast, while the other slid between her legs and teased until her knees parted. The sensation was new, and intense, but he seemed to know just how to touch her until she moaned and twisted against him.

  He explained again how wonderful it would feel to be inside her, and demonstrated with his hand, his fingers sliding over her body, inside and out again, over and over, until her head lolled back against him and her back arched in a rush of sensation.

  He released her and turned her in his arms, so that he could kiss her again. And then he laid her down on the pillows. And she could see what it was that had been pressing against her so insistently as he had stroked her. She enquired after it.

  He explained the differences in their bodies, but assured her that he would enjoy her touch just as she had enjoyed his. Then he kissed her again, and lay down beside her, guiding her hand to touch him.

  It gave her a chance to observe him as she had not done before marriage. His own dressing gown had fallen away, and he was naked beside her on the bed. His body was lean and well muscled, although he had never given her the impression of being a sportsman or athlete. His eyes were half closed, and a knowing smile curled at the corners of his lips. He was a handsome man, although she had not thought to notice when he had made his offer to her. His hair was so light a brown as to be almost blond, and he had a smooth brow. His strong chin hinted at power of will, although his ready smile made him appear an amiable companion. There was no cruelty in his green-grey eyes, but a sly twinkle as he reached for her and, with a few simple touches, rendered her helpless with pleasure all over again.

  Then he draped his hand over her hip and pulled her close, so her breasts pressed against his chest. His other hand slipped back between her legs, readying her. Her hand was still upon him, stroking gently, and she helped him to find his way to her, then closed her eyes.

  He kissed her, and it was almost apologetic as he came into her and she felt the pain of it. But then she felt him moving in her, and against her, and his strength dissolved into need. Finally there was something that she could give to him, an explanation for his generosity. And it all made sense. So she ignored the pain and found the pleasure again, kissed him back as he shuddered in release.

  He held her afterwards, and she slept in his arms. The next morning he was cautious and polite, just as he had been before they had married. She remembered the intimacy of the previous night and found it strange that he was still so shy. But she assumed that over time the distance between them would fade.

  Instead it was as though the divide between them grew with each rising of the sun. He was friendly and courteous. He made her laugh, and was never cross with her over small things, as her own family had been. He did not raise his voice even when she was sure he must be angry with her.

  But he never revealed any more of his innermost thoughts than were absolutely necessary. If he ever had need of a confidante he must have sought elsewhere, for he certainly did not trouble his wife with his doubts or fears.

  In truth there was nothing about their relationship that would lead her to believe she was especially close to him in any way but the physical. At first, she thought that he had chosen her because he could find no other willing to have him. He had been too quick to offer, and with such minimal affection. Perhaps his heart was broken, just as hers had been, and he had sought oblivion in the nearest source?

  But as time passed he spoke of no previous alliances, and showed no interest in the other women of the ton, either married or single. She had frequent opportunity to see that he could have married elsewhere, had he so chosen. And the compliments of the other girls, when they’d heard that she was to marry him, had held a certain wistful envy. Although he had offered for her, he had treated them all with the utmost courtesy and generosity, and they would have welcomed further interest had any been expressed.

  They had done well enough together, Elise supposed. But he had never given her an indication, in the five years they had been together, that he would not have done equally well with any other young woman of the ton, or that his marriage to her had been motivated by anything other than the fortuitous timing of his need for a wife when she had desperately been in need of a husband.

  When night came, there had been no question of why he had married her-for his passion had only increased, as had hers. It had been easy to see what he wanted, and to know that she pleased him, and he had taken great pains to see that she was satisfied as well. To lie in his arms each night had been like a taste of paradise, after days that were amiable but strangely empty. Even now she could not help but remember how it had felt to
lie with him: cherished. Adored.

  Loved.

  It was all she could do to keep from throwing open the door between them right now and begging him to hold her again, to ease the ache of loneliness that she had felt since the moment she had left him.

  But what good would that do in the long run? She would be happy at night, when he thought only of her. But at all other times she would not be sure what he thought of her, or if he thought of her at all.

  He would be pleasant to her, of course. He would be the picture of good manners and casual affection-as he was with everyone, from shopkeepers to strangers. But he did not seem to share many interests with his wife. While he had always accompanied her to social gatherings, she did not think he’d taken much pleasure in them, and he’d seemed faintly relieved to stay at home, even if it had meant that she was accompanied by other gentlemen. He had showed no indication of jealousy, although she was certain that her continued friendship with Nicholas must have given him cause. Her husband had treated Tremaine with a suspicious level of good humour, although they should be bitter rivals after what had gone before.

  In time, Nicholas had forgiven her for her hasty parting with him, and his level of flirtation had increased over the years, overlaying a deep and abiding friendship. She’d enjoyed his attention, but it had worried her terribly that she might be a better friend to another man than she was to her husband.

  But if Harry had been bothered by it she hadn’t been able to tell. He’d either seen no harm in it, or simply had not cared enough about her to stop it.

  Most important, if their lack of children had weighed on his mind, as it had hers, she had found no indication of it. In fact, he’d flatly refused to speak of it. The extent to which he’d appeared not to blame her for the problem had left her sure that he secretly thought she was at fault. Her own father had always said that girl children were a burden compared to sons. She dreaded to think what he would have said had his wife provided no children at all.