He shuddered as she ran her hands up the satiny smooth muscles of his back, then tore away his neckcloth and cast it to the floor, before lowering his mouth to her bared bosom once more.
Helen moaned as he began bunching up her skirts. At last she could move her legs apart, so that he could lie between them. This time when his hand slid over the tops of her stockings she arched up to meet his questing fingers.
‘Miss Forrest, are you sure?’
She looked up at him in astonishment when he reared up and slowly began to remove his hand. He could not stop now! Not when he was finally touching her where she had been aching for his touch since they had been interrupted the night before.
‘Helen—my name is Helen,’ she managed to gasp, grabbing his hand and holding it still. ‘You cannot address me in such a formal manner while you are doing that!’
‘Sebastian,’ he said, and, as though sealing a pact, he slid one finger inside her.
‘Sebastian!’ she breathed. ‘Oh, Sebastian!’
He began to probe and withdraw. She reached for him then. He sucked in a sharp breath as she fumbled open the flap of his breeches.
‘Helen, are you sure?’ he asked again. And then groaned as she delved inside and tentatively caressed him. ‘Oh, God,’ he breathed. ‘If you don’t stop doing that I shall not be able to hold back…’
‘Good,’ she purred with female satisfaction. ‘I don’t want you to hold back.’ She wanted to shatter his self-control. Make him break through his rigid self-restraint and just once behave completely outrageously!
So she stroked him again, exploring the length of him with inquisitive fingers, revelling in the way he jerked in her hand, his whole body quivering with the force of what he was feeling.
And then he snatched her hand away. Not to stop her, but so that he could take charge. He grabbed her by the hips and tugged her down so that she lay flat on the sofa beneath him. Then pushed one of her legs down to the floor and hooked her other knee up so that she was fully opened to him.
For a moment as Helen glanced down at him she feared it was going to be impossible. She knew, of course, that people had been doing this for centuries. That it brought men and women great pleasure. But when he entered her, just as she had feared, there was such a fierce stab of pain that she thought the pleasure might be gone for good.
And then Sebastian stilled. He kissed her cheek softly, and stroked her hair back from her brow, and told her how much he loved her. The pain ebbed a little. And then he gave a groan and began to move again.
And just like that she forgot the pain as a fresh wave of sensation swamped her. Sensation which built and flooded her as he loved her with his hands and his mouth, his whole body.
But, most importantly, with his heart and soul.
And then she grew quite frantic with need, writhing and bucking under him, until it rose into a crescendo of ecstasy and every part of her throbbed with untold pleasure.
And Sebastian came with her, shuddering and throbbing deep within her.
Leaving her feeling complete. At peace.
And boneless.
He seemed to be feeling much the same as her, since he collapsed on top of her, his head buried in her neck.
‘You are so generous,’ he said at length, when he had got his breath back. ‘I noticed that about you from the start,’ he murmured into her ear, ‘that you have a kind heart.’
‘The start?’ she said, lazily running her hands across the width of his shoulder.
‘Was that while I was shouting at you to make yourself useful?’
He reared up and looked down into her face, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
‘That incident certainly served to make me take notice of you,’ he said. ‘After that I could not help watching out for you, to see what you might do next. Most girls of your age would do nothing but complain about their lot. But you never did. Not once. All you seemed to care about was your aunt’s health.’
‘Well, I love her.’
‘You have a loving disposition,’ he agreed, his eyes growing dark. ‘I want that love for myself,’ he said. ‘I am greedy for it.’
‘You have it.’
He kissed her then—not wildly, as he had done earlier, but with a tenderness that made her heart melt.
‘So,’ he said, after a short interval, ‘now we have a wedding to plan.’ His face abruptly fell. ‘You know what this means?’ he said.
‘No,’ said Helen, a shiver of foreboding slithering down her spine. Surely he had not had second thoughts?
‘It means giving a grand ball. Half the county will have an excuse to come traipsing through Alvanley! And more than half of those currently staying up at the Hall will use it as an excuse to stay on for at least another month!’
He sat up and began to restore order to his clothing.
‘You…you do not need to give a ball on my account,’ said Helen. ‘We can get married quietly. I only want a simple ceremony, with my aunt as witness. I do not care about anyone else…’
‘Oh, no,’ he said grimly. ‘You deserve better than that. If I do not throw a ball and celebrate our union publicly people will think I am not proud of you. And I am,’ he said gruffly. ‘I want to show you off. You are going to be such an asset to me, and I mean to show everyone right from the start that this is no convenient marriage I am entering for dynastic reasons, but a love match that I enter into with my whole heart.’
‘And so you will throw a ball…?’
He nodded, his face set.
‘And invite your family to stay on while the banns are read?’
He squared his shoulders. ‘I will.’
Helen giggled. ‘Oh, Sebastian, you must love me very much to go through all that for my sake.’
He looked down at her where she lay, her white limbs still spread against the red velvet, her hair tumbled across the cushions, and his heart turned over.
‘I do,’ he said. And then, with a wry twist to his lips, ‘Just think if that bank had not collapsed, and your aunt had not lost all her money, you would never have come here for Christmas and I would never have met you. I would still be cold and lonely and utterly without hope.’
She sat up, put her arms round his neck, and laid her head on his shoulder.
‘And if you were not so determined to honour the season each year, in spite of wanting to have nothing more to do with the family that caused you so much unhappiness, I would never have found you.’
He turned and hugged her tight. ‘When I was a very small child I had a nurse who told me that Christmas is a time for miracles. And somehow, deep down, I don’t think I ever quite let go of the notion that it was the one time of year when hopes and dreams might come true. Every year when I came back here I wondered if this would be the year when things would change for me. And this year—thank God—at last it has. For this year you came. And brought love with you.’
‘Thank God, then,’ she agreed soberly. ‘Thank God for Christmas.’
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7620-2
A COUNTESS BY CHRISTMAS
Copyright © 2010 by Annie Burrows
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at [email protected].
> ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
*Silk & Scandal
A Countess by Christmas Page 23