Back at Radcliffe Manor, more complaining
“Do you think we will be snowed-in all day?” Eliza dropped down into a chair. Her light brown hair fluttered around her cherubic face. She pursed her bow lips, staring at the fire. “This is tedious,” she complained. “I want to go out and do something.”
Grayson sighed. “If the snow lets up we can take the sleigh to Ravenhurst.” He gave Isabelle a hopeful look.
“Eliza dear, if we make it to Ravenhurst, I am sure you would be able to stay the night as well.”
“Will Sebastian be there?” Eliza sat forward in the chair.
“Yes, of course he will. It is his home.” Isabelle gave her a curious look. “I think you and Katherine should get along famously,” she continued.
“Wait?” She wrinkled her face. “Who is Katherine?”
“His wife,” said Grayson.
“What?” Her eyes boggled. “When did he get married?” she screeched. “Why did no one tell me of this?” Her already shrill voice raised an octave.
“Dear, when did you meet my nephew?” Isabelle asked even though she didn’t really want to engage Eliza in conversation, but she was curious.
“It was at a ball, sometime ago. He was betrothed to your ward.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Oh what was her stupid name?”
“Are you speaking of Marguerite?” Isabelle narrowed her eyes.
“Yes, yes, that was it.” She waved her hand. “He couldn’t stand her.”
“How would you know such a thing?” Grayson asked.
“Oh, he told me,” she said, her cheeks brightening with color. “While we were dancing,” she added. Actually he had told her in conservatory outside the house. She smiled at the memory.
Isabelle widened her eyes at Grayson. “She knows him?” she mouthed. Isabelle knew what that look meant, the girl knew her nephew a lot better than she was letting on. Bloody hell!
“What?” he mouthed back. He shook his head. All this eye widening and the moving of lips without words, was bloody difficult to understand.
“What are you two whispering about?” Eliza asked, looking between the two.
“Nothing dear,” Isabelle lied smoothly. “We will bring hot chocolate as well, and of course blankets.” Isabelle stood and walked over to Grayson, placing her hands on his broad shoulders. “Eliza, why do you not go and fetch some of the heavier blankets out of the linen closet,” she suggested to get rid of her so she and Grayson could talk.
“I do not want to.” She threw herself back in the chair and folded her arms.
“Fine,” said Isabelle. “Grayson would you care to help me?” she asked, squeezing his shoulders.
“Yes, I would love to.”
Isabelle released his shoulders and he jumped up.
“Be back in a bit, dear,” said Isabelle, fleeing the room quickly.
Grayson was right on her heels.
Once they were a safe distance away, Isabelle turned. “She knows Sebastian,” she said, lifting her brows.
“I gathered that as well.” He shook his head. “I had no idea she was so…”
“Educated,” Isabelle supplied.
“Yes, I think that is putting it lightly.” He dashed his hand through his hair. “Do you think, they…you know…”
“I have no idea,” she cut him off. It was over and done with now. No need to rehash the past.
“Now what are we going to do?”
“Surely, we cannot bring her to Ravenhurst.”
“Perhaps he has forgotten. It was a long time ago.”
“It is more likely he doesn’t remember her at all. Sebastian was always three sheets to the wind during his betrothal to Marguerite.”
“Well, what can we do? We are expected at Ravenhurst.”
“I could say I have a headache.”
“That will not work,” he said. “She will want to go without you.”
“You are right, of course.” She smoothed her hands down his chest. “Perhaps we can both come down with a headache?”
“I wish.” He gathered her into his arms, and lowered his head, his lips nearly touching hers…
“Uncle…what is taking you so long,” screeched Eliza from the library.
“Bloody hell!” he muttered. “That chit needs to go back to London as soon as possible.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She ran her fingers over the wrinkle in his brow.
“Uncle…”
“Go on,” she sighed. “I will get the blankets.”
“Not so fast.” He grabbed Isabelle again and kissed her deeply. He lifted his head. “We will continue this later,” he promised.
“I cannot wait.” She smiled and reached out, caressing his backside.
“You keep that up and I may have to push you back in that linen closet and have my way with you.”
“That sounds delightful.” Isabelle grabbed at his jacket, pulling him towards the open door.
“Hold on, do not move.” Grayson said giving her a lingering stare and then quickly walked back down the long hallway.
“Eliza, be a dear and go get the other packages out of the room upstairs.”
“That is what servants are for.”
“Now, Eliza, you know I sent the servants home to be with their families for the holiday.”
“What is with you people?” she bristled. “Servants are meant to wait on us for the holidays. They spend time with their families on Boxing Day.”
“Here we do things in a more unconventional manner,” he explained hastily. “Now, do you want another gift or not?”
“I suppose.”
“Well go on then,” he urged, pushing her toward the door.
“Why can you not get them?”
“I have other things to attend to.” The chit was trying his patience.
“Fine,” she said. “Where are they?”
“What?”
“The gifts?” she said.
“Upstairs.”
“Where upstairs?” she asked, turning.
“On the third floor there is a room on the right, I have them in there.”
“The third floor,” she gaped. “That will take me all day.”
“One can only hope,” he muttered.
“What did you say?”
“I said you may need to make a few trips.”
“A few trips?” She looked appalled at the prospect.
“Yes,” he said, nodding his head. “You may have to make a few trips.”
“There better be something good up there,” Eliza grumbled, climbing the stairs.
Grayson waited until she was up the stairs then hurriedly rushed back to Isabelle.
Ducking inside the closet, he shut the door, turning the lock. “Now where were we?”
“I believe you were about to have your way with me,” she reminded him, flirtatiously.
“Yes,” he breathed, pulling her against him. “I am.
He lowered his mouth to hers. “I have wanted to do this all day,” he murmured against her lips, gathering her gown in one hand while slipping the other underneath.
“Oh yes,” she moaned, arching against his hand when he reached her sensitive flesh. His deft fingers worked their magic and within moments he had her frantic for more. “Take these damn clothes off,” she urged, tugging on his jacket.
Not able to slow his raging urgency he removed his hand and released himself. In one fluid motion he thrust inside her velvet confines. “Oh God,” he groaned, holding still. “I’m afraid this will be quick,” he breathed.
“I do not care.” She clasped his broad shoulders, acclimating herself to the sheer size of him. Her lips seeking his, kissing him anywhere she could find bare skin.
He drove into her, making her body pound against the door. “This is not working very well,” he said, trying to hold his hand behind her head so it would not hit the door so hard. He thrust again and could barely stop himself from slipping out. “This is a bloody awkward position.”
“We will ju
st have to be a bit more creative,” she said, unfastening the buttons of his shirt, seeking the soft mat of hair covering his chest. “Let’s move over there,” she suggested.
He looked over his shoulder at the small table in the center of the room for folding linens. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” She nodded, lowering her leg when he released it and walked over to the table.
“The table is too small to sit on,” he advised.
“Who says I was planning on sitting?” She gave him a flirtatious smile and lifted her skirts, leaning forward on the table.
“How I love the way you think.” He came up behind her, grasping the soft smooth skin on her hips and then thrust inside again. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she gasped, holding the sides of the table.
“Good.” Squeezing her hips he held her in place and thrust again and again, his hips meeting the soft curve of her buttocks. Reaching forward with one hand he grabbed hold of one of her breasts while toying with her nipples through her gown. Rotating his hips to give her the most pleasure, he thrust again.
“Oh yes,” she moaned. His hand slipped down between her thighs, rubbing her delicate flesh. She bucked back against him.
“That’s right love,” he coaxed, pulling out a bit and then thrusting inside her again, his hard length driving deeper, making her cry out in ecstasy.
Back and forth he switched between toying with her breasts and then moving his hand down to the softness between her thighs, rubbing her faster, harder until she was writhing against him.
Knowing she was close he pumped his hips faster, driving deeper and then slowing, teasing her to prolong the inevitable. Suddenly he thrust back inside.
“Grayson, yes,” she cried out, gripping the table harder, exploding within.
Grayson pumped his hips faster, deeper, gripping her hips tighter, clenching his buttocks. Within moments, he too was throwing his head back, completely enraptured with the release of his own forceful climax.
Hawthorne Manor, true love blossoms
Devlin pressed his forehead to hers. “You take my breath away,” he murmured, cupping her face.
Sadie would have said the same to him but his kisses had left her more than breathless. She was speechless.
Devlin smiled. “Come on.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her to her feet. “We should get inside before we both freeze.”
Holding his hand, she followed him through the deep snow and up the stairs. Once they were under the cover of the balcony, she waited while Devlin grabbed up an armful of wood.
“Would you mind getting the door?” he asked, his arms loaded.
“Yes, sorry,” she mumbled, opening the door. “Let me help,” she said, turning to him.
“No, I have it,” he said. “Go on inside and get warm. I will be right there.”
“All right,” she said. The warmth of the house greeted her when she stepped through the doorway.
“Just put your cloak over the banister,” he instructed. “I will hang it up after it dries a bit,” he called to her over his shoulder while carrying the wood into the study.
Sadie removed her frozen cloak and draped it over the banister, adjusting it so it wouldn’t drip on the floor. Walking over to the mirror, she checked her appearance and tugged off her gloves. Her fingers felt frozen. Cupping her hands, she blew on them. Funny, while she was kissing Devlin she didn’t feel the cold at all. Looking at her reflection, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were bright. Lifting her fingers she touched her lips. “Best kiss ever.” Smiling, she hugged herself.
A pile of letters sat on a little silver tray on the table. She lifted one up. The word “Ravenhurst” scrawled across front with very lovely, very female handwriting. “Ravenhurst?” she said. “Where do I know that name from?” She turned it over. The postmark said December 22, 1887. “This can’t be right.” Glancing up, she caught her reflection in the mirror. The person staring back at her reminded her of someone, well not exactly someone, but something. Her image reminded her of the woman on the Currier and Ives tin.
“Would you like a Brandy?” asked Devlin, walking out to the foyer, removing his sodden coat and hat.
Dropping the envelope, she turned. An image of the man on the tin entered her mind as well. “What day is it?” she asked, feeling faint.
His brow creased. “It is Christmas.”
“Yes, yes, I know that but what is the date?”
“It is December 25th.”
“No…” she swallowed hard, shaking her head. “What year is it?”
“It is eighteen eighty seven.”
“Oh my …oh…” She pressed her hands to her eyes.
“Are you all right?”
“I think I am going to …” Her knees went out from under her.
“Good lord!” Devlin jumped forward and caught her in his arms before she hit the floor, but it didn’t matter, not really. She had already fainted.
Radcliffe Manor, Hallelujah!
Eliza pressed her face to the window. “The snow has stopped!”
“Perfect. Now we will freeze to death,” muttered Grayson. His good mood had deteriorated quickly after he and Isabelle came back into the library. Eliza had opened the gifts, even the ones that were not for her.
Isabelle rewrapped the last package and stacked it on the table. “Eliza, why did you open all the gifts?”
“I wanted to see what everyone was getting.” She turned away from the window.
“Did it occur to you to wait so they may see what they got themselves?”
“Where is the fun in that?” She crossed her arms. “Besides, there is a gift under the tree for you that I didn’t unwrap, so why do you care?” Actually, she had forgotten about it or she would have looked at her gift too. Even now, she was contemplating peeking. The box was small…
Grayson walked across the room and got down on his knees. Sure enough, all the way in the back of the tree was the special gift he had for Isabelle. Taking it out from under the tree, he placed it inside his pocket and stood. “Eliza, go put the packages in the sleigh.”
“What?” She slapped her sides.
“Now,” he warned.
“Very well,” she huffed. Walking over to Isabelle, she glared down at her. “Come on Isabelle, I will open the door for you.”
“Eliza, I mean for you and you alone to carry the gifts,” Grayson said.
“And if I do not?” she challenged.
“You will not keep any of your gifts here or the ones in London. Do I make myself clear?” he asked his tone defiant.
Eliza could see he was in no mood for her theatrics. “Of course, it will be my pleasure, Uncle,” she gritted through clenched teeth and grabbed up an armload of gifts. Giving Isabelle a scathing look, she stomped from the room.
Grayson walked over and put his arms around Isabelle. “I am sorry about her behavior. I really do not know…”
“Shhh,” she said, placing her finger to his lips. “There is no need to apologize. She is just spirited as all girls are at her age.”
“They are all like her?” His eyes widened in horror.
“Well, no,” she admitted. “I was just trying to make you feel better.”
He chuckled and pulled her into his embrace. “Well at least she didn’t open your gift.” He patted his pocket.
“What do you have for me?” She lifted his jacket trying to peek.
“Not yet, I want to be alone with you.” He covered her hand.
“We could always make another trip to the linen closet.” She lifted her brows expectantly.
He let out a low throaty chuckle.
She stood on her toes and nipped his neck playfully.
“It’s settled,” Grayson said. “We will have to accidentally leave her at Ravenhurst.”
“You are bad,” Isabelle laughed throatily.
“Only with you,” he chuckled and pulled her pliable body against his own.
Hawthorne Manor, impossible but probabl
e
When Sadie came back to her senses she was sure she must have been dreaming, however when she opened her eyes, she was still in the past. In the past? The thought made her feel a mixture of emotions. On one count, she felt happier than she had ever felt before, but then her common sense kicked in, and she stressed over the thought that she was possibly losing her mind. Had she actually lost her ever-loving mind?
“Thank goodness you are awake,” Devlin said, sitting next to her, taking her frigid fingers in his own.
“Devlin, I need to tell you something.”
“Yes.”
Sadie took a breath, and held his hands tighter. “I know this is going to sound …well, you will probably think I am crazy…” She contemplated what to say to him. “Who knows, maybe I am.”
“Do not say such things.” He released her hands and picked up a glass of Brandy. “Drink this,” he instructed.
Taking the glass, she took a sip.
Devlin rubbed his hand on her back. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, I guess so.” She handed the glass back to him. “Thank you.”
Devlin set the glass down on the table. “Now what is troubling you?” His piercing black eyes were full of concern.
“Perhaps you should get your own drink?” she suggested. “I think you may need it when I am finished.”
“Do not be silly.” He brushed a piece of her hair back from her face.
“I don’t want you to think… differently toward me.” Her eyes started tearing up. No matter how she was going to say this, there was no way she was going to sound sane.
“You can trust me on this…” He took a breath, bracing himself. “I can assure you there is nothing you can say to me that will shock me.”
“Don’t be so sure,” she muttered. Sitting up, she fixed her gown and took a breath. “Well…”
“Wait.” He held up his hand. “I believe I will get that drink after all.” He was postponing the inevitable for surely she would tell him that she too was another ghost or worse, just a figment of his imagination. And he wasn’t sure he could bear either. Taking his time, he poured an ample amount of Brandy in a glass and then replaced the stopper. He walked back over and sat down beside her on the sofa.
A Victorian Christmas Page 9