A Regency Christmas Pact Collection

by Ava Stone

  Unable to help himself he held his hands in front of her. “May I touch you?”

  She jerked her head in a nod. His sweet Lilly, so warm yet so afraid. He slipped his hands slowly up her arms and cupped her face. “Do you still want to try a kiss again?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was a husky whisper.

  With gentle care he pressed his lips to her warm soft ones. The kiss was the most provocative he’d ever experienced. He moved his lips over hers then pulled back to trace the soft fullness of her mouth with his tongue. She shuddered underneath his caresses. The desire to protect her and keep her with him forever took hold. As her lips parted for him and he entered her hot, moist mouth something intense flared through him.

  He ended the kiss and pressed his cheek to her forehead. They sat for a moment, entwined in each other’s arms and panting. Gathering his will, he gently pushed her away and stood. If he didn’t go now he was going to beg her to stay. The fact that he shouldn’t, that he didn’t deem himself worthy of her was becoming less and less important every moment that he was with her. “It’s late.”

  She rose and moved towards the door. Almost out in the hall she glanced at him, all rosy cheeked and sinfully disheveled. “Will I see you tomorrow or do you need to work?”

  He should say no. Claiming to want to be her friend was preposterous. He wanted so much more. He longed to teach her all the things a loving parent would have or would have ensured a tutor or nanny did. “I’ll work early. Meet me at ten in my study.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said with a beaming smile that confirmed his worst fear. Lillian already had a place in his heart. The question was whether he was so selfish he’d give into his desire and try to win her, or whether he could let her walk away as he’d vowed.

  On Friday Nick sat outside in the unusual warmth of the winter sun and waited for Lillian to come out. They were to paint today. He’d strategically planned this. They would be too busy painting to touch or even talk. If he could just stay strong today, he had a chance to keep to his vow to never fall in love with his wife.

  He turned his face toward the sun and stared at the bright blue sky. The color reminded him of Lillian’s eyes. Then again, everything reminded him of Lillian. He was exhausted from trying to keep her from further capturing his affections. The more he pushed to harden his heart the softer it grew.

  Tuesday had been a most enjoyable day cozied up in his library with her and a winter picnic of wine, bread and cheese. They’d sat pressed close on his settee while he tried not to notice how Lillian smelled like lilies and how warm and soft her skin was. Breathing deep had helped.

  He’d entertained her with childhood stories and his family’s history while they ate. He smiled, thinking how she’d traced circles over the top of his hand the whole time he talked, though she’d clearly been unaware of the intimate way she touched him. Thank God, she’d not noticed just how much he wanted her.

  Wednesday had been a little easier to resist her. They’d toured the portrait gallery, and he’d told Lillian the best kept family secret of how his grandfather won over the duchess to become his bride. Then he’d been called away for business, which probably explained why the day had been less difficult to resist his charming bride.

  Thursday had been hell. The day had started with Lillian asking him about Amelia. He’d told her the whole sordid story, and she’d tried to convince him Amelia’s death wasn’t his fault. Then when he’d attempted to teach her how to fence he’d discovered Lillian had a deep aversion to swords. After a bit of coaxing he learned Derwent had sometimes used a sword to slash her clothing from her body. Nick wanted to kill Derwent. Yet Lillian’s admission further proved her bravery and his admiration grew.

  When the iron gate to the garden creaked Nick opened his eyes and stood. Lillian strode toward him with her head held high. He struggled to ignore how happy he felt with her near. “Are you ready to paint?”

  “I suppose. Please remember, I’ve never painted.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t criticize you.”

  After a few basic instructions Lillian picked a simple object and worked for a bit in silence. Unable to resist stealing a glance at her easel, Nick suppressed his laughter. “That’s lovely.”

  “Liar.” Amusement filled her voice. She looked up and smiled, the glow of her happiness warming him. Cocking her head, she said, “I hear the amusement in your tone.”

  “I vow I’m not laughing at your, um, say…are those flowers or trees?” Paint pelted him on the cheek. Her wicked grin made him chuckle. “You’ll pay for that.” He flipped the edge of his brush. A dollop of green paint landed on her nose. Within minutes they lay in the grass laughing and covered with paint.

  Their gazes locked and the truth slammed him in the chest. He wanted to make Lillian fall in love with him because damned if he wasn’t already in love with her. However much he didn’t deserve to be happy after the way he’d used Amelia, he wanted happiness with Lillian. He’d dedicate his life to bringing her joy, if only she would let him.

  He prayed he wouldn’t regret what he was about to ask. “Stay with me, Lillian.”

  She frowned. “I thought you said you had to work this afternoon.”

  Nick sat up and drew her to him. When she didn’t pull away hope filled his chest. “I mean forever.” She tensed in his arms, but he forced himself to continue. Everything hinged on this moment. “I love you.”

  Her wary look twisted his insides. He had to make her understand. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I know we had a bargain, but you’ve changed me. Meeting you has changed me. I’m a selfish ass. I want you. Every part of me loves you and I swear I’ll never do anything to hurt you.”

  “Oh, Nick.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Being with you has changed me too. You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

  “Then don’t go.” He didn’t give a damn that he was begging.

  When she struggled out of his arms and stood, hollowness filled him.

  Tears slid down her cheeks and left tracks in her paint-caked skin. “I think my heart is dead,” she choked out. “I’m scared.”

  He surged to his feet and pulled her against his chest. “I’m scared too. Together, we’ll be brave.”

  She shoved away while shaking her head. “I can’t think with you near. I need some time.”

  He struggled to control his pleased grin. “Take as much time as you need. I won’t bother you at all for the rest of today or all day tomorrow until the evening. I have a surprise for you, so I’ll need to see you at seven.”

  Lillian glared. “I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you, and I hate that. Damn you.” With those words, she turned on her heel and disappeared through the iron gate and into the house.

  Nick grinned. It didn’t matter that she was angry. What was really important was that she didn’t want to fail him. It was a small step in the right direction. If she truly had a dead heart as she claimed, she wouldn’t care at all how she made him feel.

  Lillian stayed in her room for the rest of the day and night. On Saturday she awoke with every intention of remaining there like the coward she was until she was summoned downstairs, but when the servant came to clear the luncheon tray and made an offhanded comment that his lordship had gone to Town on business Lillian jumped at the chance to escape her room. She was feeling as if she was trapped in a cage, never mind she knew perfectly well it was one of her own making.

  She wanted to be happy and in love, but to love Nick and allow him to love her she had to trust him and forget Lord Derwent. How could she do either of those things? True, Nick already had much more of her confidence than she’d meant to give him, but could she take that final step and give him her whole heart?

  After dressing, she left her room and wandered Nick’s house. Every servant she encountered smiled and several offered tales of how much they loved Nick and how wonderful he was to them. Lillian bit her lip on a smile as she made her way to the garden. Clearly, the servants knew som
ething was amiss and they were trying to help Nick. That spoke volumes in her mind for his staff to adore him so much they would try to persuade her to see his gallant side. That was not the problem. Every action Nick had taken since the day he met her had shown her his goodness. She didn’t doubt him. It was herself she questioned. Could she make herself whole once more? Did she really want to try? There was safety in going along alone as she had.

  Once outside, she made her way to the garden, laughing at the paint still splattered on the grass from their antics yesterday. And an easel was still standing. It was rather odd that the servants hadn’t cleared away the mess, but the closer to the easel she came, she realized by the fresh smell of paint in the crisp, winter air someone had recently painted. It had to have been Nick.

  Her heartbeat quickened as she stopped in front of the canvas. A strangled cry of joy escaped her. Trembling, she read Nick’s signature scrawled at the bottom then moved her gaze over her own face he’d painted. It was her, but surely not. This woman was exquisite with high cheekbones, flawless skin, a chin tilted up in determination and eyes glowing with life. She wanted to be as Nick saw her. Strange and disquieting thoughts whispered through her mind growing louder and more comforting with each passing second. She could be that woman. All it would take was a leap of faith.

  Nick’s gut clenched as he waited at the foot of the stairs for Lillian to come down. He’d not seen her since yesterday, but she was still here, so that was good. Tonight was his last chance to impress upon her how wonderful their life could be together. This week had shown him it didn’t take long to fall in love. All it took was the right person. His throat ached with the need to tell Lillian he loved her once again. Maybe tonight when they were sitting in his box at the theatre.

  All he wanted to do was make her happy, even if, God help him, it meant letting her go. Please, God, let her want to stay.

  Footsteps above him drew his attention. Mrs. Prewitt, the new lady’s maid he’d hired for Lillian, and his butler Dickens descended, each wearing matching frowns. Uneasiness made Nick stiffen. “Is Lady Edgeworth still dressing?”

  Mrs. Prewitt shook her head and came to stand in front of him. Her right eye twitched as she extended an envelope to him. He glanced at the envelope, noting the elegant way his name swirled across the paper. Lillian. A cold knot formed in his stomach. He took the paper even as he asked, “Where is Lady Edgeworth?”

  Mrs. Prewitt pressed a hand against her chest, as if to contain herself. “I don’t know, my lord. I went to help her dress several hours ago, and she declined my assistance.”

  “And?” Nick tried not to roar the question at his distraught servant.

  Mrs. Prewitt wrung her hands, her gaze darting to the letter he held. “When I went to get her just now that letter was on her bed.” He glanced at the envelope, afraid to open it and learn she’d left him. What if this was a goodbye letter? Damn her. He loved her, and he didn’t believe for a minute she didn’t love him too. She was afraid, that was all. He wouldn’t let her live the rest of her life in fear. He ripped open the letter and scanned the writing.

  I can’t go forward with my future until I put the ghost in my past to rest. Please

  understand. Yours forever, Lillian.

  Sheer black fright swept through him. Derwent was the ghost of her past, or at least he was the only person alive she could put to rest. Christ. Had she gone to kill Derwent? “Bring my goddamn horse around.”

  At Mrs. Prewitt’s gasp he paused mid-stride towards the door and faced her. “Begging your pardon.” He turned without waiting for her to respond, thundered down the hall and flung open his door. If anyone was going to send Derwent to his death, it was going to be him, not Lillian. He prayed he wasn’t too late to protect her from risking her life or succeeding and then having to live with the guilt he knew she’d feel.

  Lord Derwent, pinched-faced and pale, leaned back in the chair opposite Lillian and offered her a thin, cynical smile. She forced herself not to react. She was safe. He was moving slowly, due to his injury, and besides that, the theatre was her domain. Martin, her props mover, waited nearby in case she called for him. Steeling herself, she met Lord Derwent’s dark, assessing gaze. His irritating smile widened. “I must say, I’m surprised you summoned me, but I knew you wouldn’t last long without wanting to see me.”

  She wanted to spit in his face. Instead, she smiled and prayed it appeared serene. “Did you?” Thank God her voice didn’t tremble.

  “Of course.” He struggled to his feet and pressed his palms against the desk to bring his face came inches from hers. “Your sudden marriage shocked me when I heard of it. Especially since you always declined my offer of marriage, but then I figured it out.”

  She jerked to her feet, not wanting to be so near him. What she had to say didn’t require having to smell his sweat or feel the draft of his fetid breath on her face. She strode around the desk and positioned herself where she could escape if need be. He may be injured, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. “What did you figure out?”

  “You may now be married but you can’t forget me. Can you? You called me here because Edgeworth’s prick doesn’t satisfy you after having me inside you. Don’t worry, sweeting, once I’m recovered I’ll gladly fill you up.”

  She barely held in her bile as he jerked towards her, his cane scraping the floor with his effort. Withdrawing the pistol from the folds of her dress where she’d hidden it, she said, “Don’t take another step. I didn’t call you here to kill you, but I can’t say I’ll regret it if you force me to it.”

  A satanic smile spread across his lips. “You dirty little whore. You think you’ve enough guts to shoot me?”

  She nodded, though her hands shook.

  “I’ve the guts, Derwent,” came Nick’s ruthless voice from the doorway. “And as luck would have it, I brought my favorite pistol. I guarantee you’ll feel it when my bullet is inside of you.”

  Lillian’s pulse leaped. She would have whirled around to face Nick, but she didn’t want to turn her back on Lord Derwent. He was a snake. Nick stepped close to her, a firm, possessive hand on her shoulder. She didn’t mind one bit. It had been stupid not to tell him what she was doing, but she was afraid he wouldn’t want her to do it. She loved him so much, she wasn’t sure she could have gone through with her plan if she’d known it upset him.

  “Edgeworth.” Lord Derwent blanched. “I, that is, I wasn’t aware―”

  “Be quiet.” Nick’s fingers tightened on Lillian’s shoulder. “If you keep talking, I’m definitely going to shoot you again.” His emotionless tone left no room for doubt. Lillian stepped closer to him, her back coming up against his hard body. He stroked her arm. “My dear, I assume you arranged a meeting with Derwent because you’ve something you wished to say to this worthless weasel and not because you want to kill him.”

  “As usual you know my mind, dearest.” She hoped Nick understood how much she appreciated that he hadn’t barged in and tried to take charge of everything. His presence and understanding gave her confidence. She raised her chin and stared at Lord Derwent. “You did unspeakable things to me. But know this, I’ll never think of you after today. Nick has shown me what a real man is like. I thought all men small, rutting pigs because you were the only man I ever knew in intimate ways. But my husband has shown me what a real man is made of.”

  Lord Derwent opened his mouth to speak but Nick waved his pistol. “Please talk, so I can put a hole right between your eyes. Shooting you in the leg wasn’t near as satisfactory as I thought it would be.”

  Lord Derwent pressed his lips into a tight line.

  Lillian understood something about him with abrupt clarity. “You crave power.” His face contorted. The chains of shame and fear that he’d burdened her with fell away. She pointed a finger at him. “You have no power over me anymore. My father forced me to you, and he’s dead. I would have never gone to you of my own volition. Get out. I’ve already forgotten you.” She kept her g
aze on him. Courage and strength unlike anything she’d ever known were like a rock inside her.

  He started to hobble past them, but Nick grabbed his arm. “Don’t forget what I told you before. I’m going to be watching you, listening for any word of misconduct towards a woman or even the tiniest hint of a rumor I don’t like. Do you understand?”

  Lord Derwent jerked his head, and when Nick released him, he limped out the door. Lillian faced her husband. The shadows of fear that had held her back from giving her heart to him disappeared amid the bright light of his caring eyes.

  His tight expression relaxed into a smile. “So you’re not leaving me?” The muscles at his jaw quivered.

  She ran a finger down that strong jaw and slid it farther down his chest and over his heart. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last night, but first I had to learn to leap. I think I fell in love with you the very day I met you.”

  “That’s very good to hear.” His husky voice made her tingle all over. “I love you irrationally. A little bit ago, when I received your note, I was prepared to break my vow to myself to let you go, even if it was what you wanted.”

  “What were you planning to do with me if I wanted to leave you?” She loved that she wanted to tease him and taunt him. Elation coursed through her.

  He drew her tight against his chest. “I was going to kidnap you, like my grandfather did my grandmother. And then I was going to show you, with painstakingly slow, sensual caresses, how exquisite and empowering two people coming together could be.”

  When he dropped his gaze from her eyes to her shoulders to her breasts, her heart jolted and her pulse pounded. “Well, my lord, you won my heart this week with your kindness and tenderness. Now I’d like to see how you win my body.”