“Margaret Clare Hortence, just what were you about, going outside without your pelisse or gloves?” From the sitting room, Mama trod forth and stomped a foot, and Margaret knew she was in trouble. “Answer me.”
“Now, just wait, Beryl.” Papa cast a sorrowful expression she did not quite comprehend, given he did nothing wrong. “I would know what sent our daughter into a storm that could have killed her.”
“Patience, please.” Percy draped a shawl about her shoulders, and his tender attentions struck her as altogether hollow in the wake of her discovery. “I would know what upset my fiancée, and then I would have her rest.” As he caressed her cheek, he furrowed his brow, and she wondered why he maintained the pretense. “Talk to me, darling. Tell me what is wrong.”
“I heard you speaking to my father,” she blurted none too elegantly. “I know you married me for my dowry, and you never wanted me.”
“That is not true.” Percy raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I know what was said, and I accepted your father’s offer because I have always wanted you, but it has naught to do with your dowry.”
“Do not doubt him, Margaret.” Father clutched Mama’s hand and drew her to his side. “This is all my fault, and Mr. Howe came to our rescue. I should have been more forthcoming, but I was ashamed, after I trusted someone I should not have given the time of day, and my foolish choices resulted in disaster. Even now, we linger on the brink of insolvency, much to my shame.”
“What?” Mama started. “What nonsense is this, John? And why did you not tell me?”
“How could I?” Papa shook his head. “I was certain I could evade the debtor’s noose, but it cinched tighter and tighter, with each passing month. By the time I sought Mr. Howe’s counsel and assistance, it was too late, and the damage was done.”
So there was no mistake, and Percival did not want her.
“How much does my father owe you?” She lifted her chin, in a feigned display of pride. “And why did you not tell me I am simply payment for services rendered?”
“Sir, may I beg an audience with your daughter, in private?” Percy furrowed his brow and sighed. “There are things I must say, and I need no audience. As I am soon to marry her, I would ask you to indulge me.”
“In light of all you have done for my family, of course.” Papa retreated and took Mama with him. “We will be in the sitting room, as I must, at last, share the details of my err in judgment. Call us if you require our assistance.”
“Thank you, sir.” Although Percy spoke to her father, his gaze never left hers. “Now that I comprehend the whole of the misunderstanding, which almost cost me your precious life, I would correct your assumptions, because nothing could be further from the truth, as I want to marry you. I want you in my bed, as yours is the last face I would admire as I go to sleep and the first to which I would wake, every morning. I want you by my side, always.”
“You need not wed me to achieve that, if my father is so deeply indebted to you.” She sniffed as she wept. “We both know how things work. You could demand an alternative arrangement, if it suits you, as I am but a pawn in a much larger game. And if my father’s finances are as dismal as you claim, then I am worth nothing, as you hold the power, and you need not wed me to demand my presence in your bed.”
“Ah, but I want you legally required to be in my home, for the remains of my days. I would build a family, with you, because the past fortnight has been the happiest of my life.” From his pocket, he drew a handkerchief. “Here, sweetheart. Dry your face, as I cannot abide your tears or your misplaced sorrow.”
When she unfolded the lace-edged square of linen, she noted a familiar monogram, as well as the unique scrollwork, and she slumped in the pillows. From the beneath the blankets, she produced the gentleman’s accouterment given to her, years ago, and compared the embroidery, which was identical.
“It was you at the Netherton’s masque.” Hers was a statement, not a question, and she came alert. “Why did you not tell me? Why did you not reveal yourself?”
“Hello, again, most cherished Margaret. I believe you know me as Prince Charming, but my initials, the overlapping P and H, on my handkerchief proudly proclaim me Percival Howe.” Grinning, he winked, as her heart raced. “And I remained silent because my family was embroiled in scandal, and I suspected your father would have denied my suit, which might have killed me.” He tucked a stray tendril behind her ear and cupped her chin, and the chill enshrouding her seemed to melt at his touch. “But I watched, waited, and plotted. And just when my situation resolved itself, your father sought my advice, you fell deliciously into my lap, and I have counted myself a most fortunate man, ever since.”
“I know not how to believe you, but I desperately want to accept your explanation, as I need to have faith in you.” Lingering doubts hampered her ability to take joy in the moment, and she glanced at her portfolio, as there was one thing that could put her qualms to rest. “On the side table is a leather satchel. Will you bring it to me?”
“Anything you wish, my dear.” He did as she bade. “Here you are, as requested.”
After untying the ribbon, she opened the folder and flipped through the myriad drawings, until she found the item she sought. For a while, she studied the charcoal image, and then she looked at Percy.
“It is you.” With a tentative stroke, she trailed her fingers along the curve of his strong jaw, so familiar. “And I see it now, as you sit before me, because the likeness is unmistakable. How could I have missed the resemblance?”
“Incredible.” He studied what she considered a crude composition. “You drew this from memory? From that single, brief meeting?”
“But it was not just that once, as you occupied countless dreams, and I have envisioned your face, again and again, since that remarkable night.” Given his reasons for concealing his identity, she shook her head. “How could you think, for an instant, that I would ever reject you?”
“Darling, Barrington was wanted for a murder he did not commit, our family name was dragged through the muck in all the gossip sheets, rumors ran rampant that Florence carried his child, he returned to discover my mother conspired with a servant to commit the heinous crime and pin it on Barrington, as well as to dispatch Ernest to his maker, in order to put me in charge of the marquessate, and the entire scheme came crashing down, in full view of the ton.” He snorted. “Even I can contrive no propitious circumstance in which your father could have, in good conscience, permitted you to marry me.”
“Ah, there is that.” When she sat upright, the covers dropped to her waist, and his gaze traveled to her bosom, betraying his desire, which thrilled and emboldened her. “Percy, will you do something for me, to restore my faith, unreservedly?”
“Anything, sweetheart.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “You have but to ask, as I am most definitely at your service.”
“Have I your promise?” She inclined her head. “Whatever I require, you will yield?”
“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 th
e 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.”
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 townhome, 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.”
&
nbsp; “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 nutcracker 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.”
The Nutcracker Reimagined: A Collection of Christmas Tales Page 23