Improper Christmas

by Reed, Kristabel

  She wrapped her legs higher around his hips, feeling him slip deeper into her. And once it built again, the pleasurable sensation of flying or falling or both, she shuddered apart once more, even as he moved harder and faster.

  And oh, oh, that was nice. She quite liked harder.

  William threw his head back, the tendons in his neck straining as he continued to move. Then he grunted her name and stilled above her. Lillian let her hands wander and her fingers trace his muscles even as her body continued to shudder with little quakes of pleasure.

  His arms gave out, and he collapsed atop her. Lillian held him tightly, limbs boneless, heart finally beginning to slow.

  “I had no idea,” she whispered into his hair.

  Eyes closed, she felt more than heard his questioning hum. But her body floated in a mist of sensation, and words seemed like too much trouble to form.

  “Can we do that again?” she asked.

  William huffed out a laugh and shifted, rolled to the side, and slipped out of her. Empty now, she gasped in displeasure. But he draped an arm around her waist and pulled her tight to his chest.

  Ooh, she quite liked this, too. This lazy afterward of bodies pressed together. Lillian hummed in pleasure, a different pleasure than what he’d shown her body, and laced her fingers with William’s.

  She wanted to talk, tell him how she enjoyed it, how she wanted to explore him as he’d done her. But her eyes refused to open, and sleep beckoned her.

  “Sleep, Lillian,” William breathed into her hair. He kissed the top of her head and held her tighter. “I’ll be here when you wake. I’ll always be here when you wake.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christmas Day. Lillian stretched luxuriously, her limbs loose, body pliant, heart light and free. Her cough lingered, of course, but otherwise she felt as healthy and normal. And happy. Oh, she was happy.

  Bent low over the fire, she hummed absently and listened as the front door opened and quickly closed again. A blast of cold air swirled around her, but felt more like a caress than the icy fingers of winter.

  “It’s snowing,” William said as he entered the front rooms. Arms loaded down with wood, he crossed the short distance to where she stirred the stew on the fire and kissed her.

  “I remember running into the snow as a boy,” he said and dumped the wood next to the fireplace. William caught her round the hips and brought her closer, his lips just brushing hers. “And snow on Christmas Day would’ve thrilled me doubly.”

  Lillian laughed, all too easily imagining a dark-haired young boy running around the grounds, making snowballs and laughing happily.

  “Does that mean we should go out and play?” she asked and arched an eyebrow.

  He tugged her onto the settee and wrapped his arms around her. She sighed into his embrace, never so happy, so content.

  “I think that’d be fun,” she confessed.

  When was the last time she’d played in the snow? When was the last time she simply enjoyed herself? Long before her father fell ill, over seven years ago.

  “Maybe another day,” he said. “I’m far too selfish with you.”

  Lillian reached back and caressed his face. She reveled in the freedom she was allowed to do so. “I’m much better now,” she reminded him.

  He worried about her health, and the simple fact he did spread warmth and love through her.

  “I’m allowed,” William said and caught her hand. He kissed the back of it, his fingers twining with hers.

  “There are more serious matters to concern yourself with,” she insisted but didn’t remove her hand.

  “You are correct.” He sat straighter and settled her against his chest. “The first of which are our plans.”

  Lillian pulled back just enough to look at him. She raised an inquiring eyebrow, her lips tilted up just slightly. “Our plans?”

  “Yes.” He nodded decisively. “I don’t want to wait too long before you’re mistress of Pennington Hall.” He stopped, his eyes far away for a moment before he focused back on her. “We’ll have to make several pointed presentations. There’s not another ball at the assembly hall for several weeks, and I’ve no interest in waiting so long.”

  His hand caressed up and down her arm, a light touch through her gown. Lillian shivered when his fingers brushed over her neck, but gallantly swallowed a moan.

  “What do you suggest?” she asked, doing her best to focus on this suddenly very important conversation.

  “Several well-orchestrated outings,” he replied promptly.

  Clearly he put a lot of thought into this.

  “Tea at the shop,” he continued then frowned. “We will need a chaperone. Hmm… ” He trailed off. Shaking his head, he met her gaze again. “We’ll consider that shortly. Lady Shelby of Hyde Heath is having a dinner in a fortnight, and I’ll ask to bring a young lady. My intended.”

  “Hmm,” she agreed. And was utterly unable to suppress her smile.

  He returned it, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “And I’ll be sure to take you for a carriage ride through the center of town. That’ll set their tongues to wagging, certainly.”

  Lillian laughed and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. “It most assuredly will.”

  William nodded decisively. “In a month we’ll be publicly betrothed.” Then he lifted her hand to his lips again and brushed the inside of her wrist. “However, I’m not sure I can wait that long to marry you.”

  Her heart did another of those slow turns in her chest. After two days of William saying such things, of confessing his love for her and showing her, passionately, that love, of the little things like his lips along her inner wrist and the softness of his kiss, she’d thought her heart might be used to such things.

  She was wrong. And the giddy feeling that blossomed inside her yesterday morning had yet to abate. She never wanted it to.

  “It’s best for both our reputations,” she agreed. But she tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him softly. “I almost can’t believe this. It’s a gift I never thought I’d receive.”

  “Nor I,” he confessed. “And I’m so grateful” — he grinned wider — “and so impatient to have you home.”

  “Oh.” Home. What a lovely word. A beautiful idea. One she never thought to have again.

  “I don’t want you in this cold, draughty cottage another day.” William looked around, his fingers once more entwined with hers and his other hand still caressing the back of her neck. “I’ll arrange for you to move onto one of the cottages on my estate.”

  “While that is a lovely thought,” she said pragmatically, “it’s far too soon for such a gesture.”

  “It’s too soon for nothing,” he disagreed. “I want to give you all.”

  But Lillian shook her head. She hated being the voice of reason. “It’s too soon for the village,” she countered. “The plan you devised is good.” She smiled to take whatever sting from her words he might hear. “We’ll marry soon enough, and I’ll be perfectly fine here until then.”

  Lillian rested her head on his shoulder and enjoyed the silence between them. It was comfortable and private, intimate in a way she hadn’t understood until today. Well, yesterday.

  “Is that a carriage?” she asked and reluctantly lifted her head.

  Yes, the clatter of horses made their way down the normally empty road. Lillian disentangled herself to stand. Who came to visit her? Unless the carriage merely passed by her cottage, which was still an odd occurrence.

  “Stay.” William set his hand on her shoulder and stood himself.

  He quickly crossed to the parlor windows and looked outside. His shoulders stiffened, and he cursed. Lillian stood.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s the Millers’ carriage.”

  Her eyes widened. For a very long moment she froze. Then she flew into motion. “You need to go upstairs,” she said and pushed him in that direction.

  Her heart beat wildly in her chest, and Lillian did
n’t know what to do first. She looked blindly around the room, but her mind skipped over everything as she tried to think.

  William grabbed his plate and the second teacup. He quickly pressed his lips to hers and raced up the stairs. Lillian took a moment, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. All right. Yes. She could do this.

  With calmer eyes, she looked around the room. There was nothing to incriminate either her or William, as he took his cup and plate, and there was nothing else to indicate a second person had ever stood in this cottage.

  Still standing, frozen in place, she waited for the knock on the door. The perfunctory sound came not a minute after the carriage rolled to a stop. Lillian took a breath and released it on a tired cough.

  She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and went to answer the door. Alice stood at the front door and turned back to the carriage.

  “Mr. Miller, see that stone did not damage our wheel.”

  Alice nodded as if she knew Nigel would do as she said, and turned back around. “Good heavens.” She sighed as if the weight of the world settled on her shoulders. “Can you imagine our wheel breaking in this weather?”

  She stepped forward without waiting for a reply. Lillian automatically stepped back and let the other woman inside. She carried a small bundle of wood. But as soon as Alice stepped inside, she stopped.

  Her head swiveled back, and Lillian knew without Alice saying anything that she’d spotted the woodpile. Slowly, her head swiveled back around.

  “Well,” Alice said and cleared her throat. Smiling, she shoved the small bundle of wood at Lillian. “Happy Christmas. We brought this wood for your hearth, but I see someone has very generously filled your bin.” She stopped and narrowed her eyes. “Or did you suddenly inherit a great amount and we were unaware of it?”

  Lillian wondered if anything happened in Chesham, or indeed the other surrounding villages, without Alice Miller hearing of it.

  “Please come in, Mrs. Miller,” Lillian said and gestured to the settee by the fire. She waited a beat then said the truth. “Mr. Pennington was kind enough to have it sent over. In gratitude for my assistance with the feast,” she added.

  All right. That was a lie.

  “Of course.” Alice’s head slowly nodded. “Of course,” she added more smoothly. “The feast. I’m certain your assistance was invaluable.” Then she sighed dramatically.

  Lillian tried very hard not to look to the stairs, where she had no doubt William eavesdropped.

  “Such a kindness for so great a man to remember of you,” she added somewhat snidely.

  Hmm, yes. Lillian only nodded, her lips pursed. “Yes,” she said with a slight tilt of her head. “Such a thoughtful gift in this weather.” She placed the bundle of firewood by the hearth. “Thank you as well.”

  Alice looked around. “Oh, you’ve made this cottage very cheery. How lovely, Miss Norwood.”

  She grinned happily at her, but Lillian wondered what went through the other woman’s mind. The only difference down here was that the fire burned brightly. And, Lillian realized as she looked about the room, the extra blanket William brought with him. Two measly changes.

  “Mr. Miller and I are visiting all our cottages today, and I have to say yours is likely the warmest.”

  Lillian ignored the facetiousness. “Hmm,” she agreed and kept her gaze firmly on Alice and not on her stairs. Instead she asked, “How was the feast?”

  “Oh my!” Alice said, as if Lillian reminded her of it. “The feast was a marvel! A sheer marvel. So many soldiers, and so many from the villages, came. The baskets were a triumph. And Mrs. Martins was in all her wonderful glory as hostess.”

  Lillian kept her smile firmly in place. This she was used to. This banal banter, the polite talk amongst society.

  “Why we had the most delicious wassail, sent down from Pennington Hall.” Alice sighed. “Such a pity Mr. Pennington was not in attendance to receive his well-deserved accolades for the transformation of the hall.”

  Lillian offered another, “Hmm, yes.”

  “I heard Mr. Pennington was visiting a sick friend,” she confided, as if she heard it from William directly. “One of his old friends from the Horse Guards.”

  Lillian choked on a laugh which turned into a hard cough. She waited until it subsided and waved Alice off. The other woman looked concerned, but Lillian smiled.

  “Yes, Mr. Pennington is very attentive to his friends.”

  Alice nodded happily. “That he is, that he is. I, for one,” she confided, “can’t wait to see the sort of parties he gives once he’s finally a married man.” She giggled merrily. “I’m certain Mrs. Martins’s niece will see that happens very soon.”

  Lillian swore she heard William curse. Her eyes darted to the steps, but she saw nothing. Alice didn’t seem to hear anything, and Lillian sighed in relief.

  “But one never knows with Mr. Pennington,” Alice continued dramatically. “There’s another young lady, I’ve heard, in London, whom he’s given his attentions to.” She leaned in closer. “But we can’t find who it might be! Still,” she said and sighed as if it were merely another item of delicious gossip, “that’s a matter for another time. “Oh!” she exclaimed in a clear change of subject.

  “Did you hear Evelyn Lansdowne became reacquainted last eve with a soldier from her past? Apparently he was a friend of the family and they had not seen each other in many years. He came to the feast, and by all accounts they were quite smitten with each other.”

  Alice leaned in again, no doubt to deliver the telling bit of gossip. “I fear Miss Catherine will be on her own shortly.”

  “Oh, that’s… ” She trailed off. It didn’t matter. Alice didn’t notice.

  “Miss Catherine might need you as a companion now more than ever,” Alice continued and stood. Lillian breathed a sigh of relief. “Do give it serious thought.”

  “Hmm, yes,” Lillian managed to insert in the brief silence.

  “But I must be on my way now. Happy Christmas to you, my dear.” Alice walked to the front door, still talking.

  Lillian glanced at the stairs again. She thought she saw William but didn’t take the time to be sure. Alice was nearly out of the cottage, and Lillian didn’t want her staying a moment longer.

  “Off to the next cottage!” she sang and opened the front door.

  “Happy Christmas,” Lillian replied. “Stay safe and warm, Mrs. Miller.” She waited until Nigel turned from his continued inspection of the carriage wheel and waved at him as well before closing the door.

  “A girl in London?” William said behind her. “Who on earth does that woman refer to?”

  She felt his arms slip around her waist and his lips press to the side of her neck. She leaned back in his embrace, relaxed. Even before falling in love with William, she hadn’t listened to Alice Miller’s prattling gossip. She wasn’t about to now.

  “There’s only one woman for me,” he said. The words caressed her skin, and Lillian smiled. She turned just enough to kiss him.

  “You can’t stay,” she told him. But she grinned up at William, too happy to allow anything to tarnish her joy.

  “I know. But I won’t leave until I absolutely must.”

  He leaned down and kissed her again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Of course, Miss Norwood. We’ll be certain to have this ready for you before Lady Shelby’s party in two weeks.”

  Lillian pressed her lips together to stop the smile. She should have known word of William’s courtship would spread like wildfire. The girl behind the counter didn’t seem malicious, merely curious, and for that Lillian was grateful.

  Three days after Christmas and the village buzzed with this new gossip. Lillian nodded to the girl and turned to look at hair combs. The blue sapphires embedded on a sea of silver reminded her of William’s eyes.

  “Oh, Miss Norwood, good,” Mrs. Spriggs said as she entered the dress shop on a burst of cold wind. “They told me you were here.”

&nbs
p; “Who?” Lillian asked, confused.

  “Everyone,” Beatrice laughed.

  “Why would everyone be interested in my whereabouts?” she asked, confused.

  Lillian glanced from the shopgirl, who tried not to stare, to the barren street outside. No one watched her through the windows or looked as if they followed her every movement.

  “We all heard about the invitation from Lady Shelby,” Beatrice said in a quiet rush. “Why the postman, Mr. Wright, shared with Mr. Stevens the news of your invitation. And, well,” she continued but shook her head, “once the baker knew… ”

  Beatrice trailed off. She wasn’t one for gossip — not spreading it, at least. But she did somehow always seem to be in the know. Lillian felt her eyebrows rise with every word Beatrice uttered.

  “And with the basket Mr. Pennington sent you from the baker’s” — Beatrice shook her head, but her smile widened even more — “it’s clear he’s courting you. Is that not correct?”

  When William promised the entire county would know he courted her by week’s end, Lillian only partially believed him. She was wrong. It’d taken only three days.

  “Yes.” She grinned widely. “Yes, he is.”

  Beatrice clapped her hands together, utterly delighted. “I had hoped!” she said loudly. She looked around the shop and once more lowered her voice. “I truly hoped this would happen,” she confided. “And so, too, did Mr. Spriggs.” Her cheeks flushed, but her smile remained undimmed. “I’m sorry I didn’t confide in you sooner; however, it is all rather new.

  “It’s of no concern,” Beatrice beamed. “I’m so delighted for you! I can see it now, the soon-to-be Mrs. Pennington.”

  Lillian’s breath caught. It was one thing to think of it when she and William were together in the privacy of her cottage, or when she was alone and smiling like a fool. It was quite another to hear her friend utter those words.

  “Mrs. Martins will have a fit over it,” Beatrice said softly. But she shook her head and waved a hand in dismissal. “Pay her no mind.”

  “I did not intend to,” Lillian agreed.

  She hadn’t paid Mrs. Martins any mind before this.