And poor, pathetic, yearning creature she was, she’d offer up her soul on a carving plate to him if only he’d say the words. Even once.
She shook off the bleakness. Her husband planned a wicked interlude. She refused to brood on what couldn’t be and spoil what promised to be a memorable encounter. “You’re feeling the pinch?”
“Most definitely.” His low, insinuating laugh made her shiver with familiar excitement.
His expression intent, he backed her toward the closed door. She had fond memories of that door. The first time he’d kissed her, she’d been leaning against it.
He kissed her again, with a desperation that jangled with his light-hearted tone as he’d lured her in here. Eager hands tugged at her bodice and they both sighed with satisfaction as he fondled her breasts. He slid her skirt higher, then with a couple of deft movements, her drawers fell to the floor. His exploring hand quickly discovered that she too was needy.
“Don’t make me wait,” she begged, clinging to his shoulder with one hand while she fumbled at the fall of his trousers. A year had taught her a few husband-managing skills of her own. Soon her fingers curled around the heavy, virile weight. He groaned and tilted his hips forward. Anticipation fizzed like champagne in her blood.
Philippa moaned encouragement as he hitched her up against the door. The oak was hard against her back, then she was only aware of miraculous, hot fullness as Blair pushed inside her. Her body quickly adjusted to the unfamiliar angle and pleasure forked through her like lightning. Through a year of nights and days, the glory of their joining had never faded.
Pressing his face into her hair, he began to move with relentless purpose, building the conflagration until she cried out and shook in his arms. For a long, shining time, she rode the waves of her delight. A liquid rush filled her womb before she tumbled back to her feet, legs near to collapse.
As she and Blair slid in a heap to the floor, he kissed her with more of that thrilling desperation. He mightn’t love her, but he wanted her to the point of madness.
With a satisfied sigh, he leaned against the door and she sprawled across him, too exhausted after her shuddering release to move. During the wild encounter, her hair had collapsed around her face and she brushed it back as she fought to regain her breath. Every time they made love, he turned her world to fire. His mere presence lit every day to flame.
He shifted to fasten his trousers, although she could have told him not to bother on her account. She loved every inch of his superb body. To her chagrin, she loved every inch of his soul, too. But that was her burden and one she intended to bear in silence. What point risking their happiness with demands for what he couldn’t give?
Eventually the heart beneath her cheek calmed from its frantic race and his breathing steadied. “That was…better than I imagined. And I’d imagined something unforgettable.”
She stirred, but his grip tightened, keeping her close. When she raised her head, she expected to see triumph in his face. After all, she’d succumbed to his seduction without a hint of hesitation.
He didn’t look like a conquering hero. Instead he looked strangely vulnerable.
Because of that expression, she could no longer keep silent about the truth she’d discovered a month ago. “Blair, I’m going to have a baby.”
She wasn’t sure how he’d react, although she assumed he’d be pleased. But he straightened and stared at her, green eyes unreadable and long, expressive mouth unsmiling.
The pause extended. And extended. Until Philippa shifted uncomfortably and moved away. She immediately felt the absence of his touch.
“Say something,” she said, her voice fracturing. She wanted to return to their usual joking flirtation, but the words emerged as raw demand.
Still he stared at her.
Dear heaven, what was wrong? She frowned. “After what we’ve done all year, you can’t pretend you’re surprised,” she said sharply. “It’s not like I managed this by myself.”
He swallowed and his hands opened and closed on his thighs. “You don’t sound pleased.”
There was no trace of his familiar humor. Something moved in his eyes, something she didn’t understand. Her belly clenched with apprehension, although what could she do? She wanted this child with a fervor that astonished her.
“Of course I’m pleased,” she snapped.
He tilted one black brow, his fierce expression lightening a fraction. “Really?”
“Yes.” She glared at him, challenging him to object. “Are you?”
A shuddering breath expanded his chest. Somewhere in their passion, she’d tugged off his neck cloth and his shirt lay open, revealing dark hair over the hard, powerful muscles of his torso.
“I love you,” he said flatly. “I want you to be happy. If this baby makes you happy, then I’m overjoyed.”
“Of course this baby makes me—” She faltered into an astounded silence. Surely there was some mistake. He couldn’t have said what she thought he had. Particularly in such an unlover-like tone. Pregnancy must play with her mind. “What…what did you say?”
“I said I’m overjoyed. When is the child due?” he asked, sounding much more like himself. He hadn’t sounded like himself when she’d heard him say that he loved her.
Still distracted, but unable to gather the courage to pursue the issue, she answered. “June or July, I think.”
“And how are you feeling? Will you be able to travel tomorrow? We can stay here until the baby arrives, if you think it best.”
In spite of the fraught moment, she couldn’t restrain a dry laugh. “Now I know you must be excited about the baby, if you’re offering to extend your time with my family.”
He’d told her he loved her. Had he?
“I can’t bear to lose you.”
That was no surprise. He’d said things like that before. From their earliest days together, she’d been in no doubt that he valued her. Her qualms about trapping him in a marriage he didn’t want hadn’t lasted beyond the night in Salisbury.
She basked in the way his overriding concern for her outweighed his male urge to procreate. Perhaps he might love her after all. Still she shied away from asking him if she’d heard him right. What if she hadn’t? “You won’t lose me. I’m as healthy as a horse. I haven’t even been sick, although I gather I should have been by now.”
“Should we go to London and see a doctor?” He sounded unsure. Again, not like himself. She rather liked seeing her lordly husband in a sweat. “Balcannon only has the village midwife.”
The impressively competent village midwife on his estate had confirmed that Philippa was indeed expecting a child. “Let’s wait and see.”
The blankness receded from his expression. She realized now that his silence had been shock. His eyes brightened and he smiled at her. “What a clever girl you are.”
She sucked in a relieved breath. “Well, I had help.”
“Yes, I take all the credit.” He was definitely back to sounding like the man she lived with day in and day out. Not like the stranger who had told her he loved her.
“Not all the credit.”
“A baby.” His smile widened. She was reassured to see that he appeared remarkably cheerful. She dearly wanted him to look forward to this child with her. “In the summer.”
She started to smile, too. After all, she was excited to start their family. “Yes.”
“A little girl for me to spoil.”
“Or a boy to continue the family name.”
He gave a sudden shout of laughter. “Well, damnation, that’s wonderful news!”
He reached out and seized her, hauling her into his arms for a kiss that combined passion with celebration. It was unlike any kiss he’d ever given her. Beneath the elation lurked something she’d never felt in him before.
Eventually she pulled away. “I’m so glad you’re happy.”
“Of course I’m happy.”
He kissed her again, then stopped. “What’s wrong? You’re not getti
ng into the spirit of things.”
She was such a fool. Against all the odds, they were contented with their life. And now fate granted them the child she’d prayed for. Any reasonable woman would leave it at that. What was the point of crying after the moon? But if it was true that Blair did indeed love her, her joy would be complete. Philippa could stifle the question no longer. “Did…did you say you love me?”
“Of course,” he said lightly.
She grabbed his hands in a trembling grip. “Don’t joke. I can’t bear it if you joke about this.”
He frowned. “Is losing your mind a symptom of having a baby? If so, we’re going to have an interesting few months.”
She swallowed to ease a tight throat. He acted as if all of this was so unimportant, yet the rest of her life hinged on what he said next. “Is it true?”
Blair sighed with impatience and tugged his hands free. “Philippa, what bat has got into your belfry? You know I love you.”
“No, I don’t,” she said emphatically, shaking her head. “You’ve never told me.”
He looked surprised. “I didn’t know I had to. You must know you’ve had me in a complete spin from the moment I saw you. It took me a while to identify the problem, but that’s the result of my slow masculine brain, not to mention that until I met you, I’d never been in love before.”
If he kept saying things like this, she could almost forgive him for torturing her. Almost. “I know you want me.”
He cast her an unimpressed glance. “Of course I want you. Even a girl only half as clever as you could work that out.”
“That doesn’t mean you love me,” she said stubbornly, wondering why she argued when she’d longed for his love every day of the last year.
He laughed drily. “In my case, it certainly means that.”
“Tell me once more.” She paused and swallowed again. She felt like a boulder the size of Ben Nevis blocked her throat. “Tell me like you mean it.”
She prepared for another mocking response. But after a pause, he raised his hands to cradle her face so that she couldn’t evade that searching stare. He’d touched her like this their first morning together, when she’d been such an absurd muddle of doubts and confusion.
The light in his eyes warmed her to her bones. He beheld her as if she was the dearest treasure in the world and he knew he was a lucky man to have her. At that moment, whatever he said next, she believed he did love her. She thought she’d been happy before. But finally knowing that her husband returned her love made her feel like she stood in bright sun after a long, dark winter.
“Philippa Hume, my dearest wife, I love you with every beat of my heart and every breath I take.” To her astonishment, his deep voice cracked with emotion. He sucked in an unsteady breath before he continued. “And to hear that you’re having my baby makes me the happiest man since time began. I bless the day you came into my life and I thank whatever grace allowed me to make you mine. You’re the center of my life and I worship the ground you walk on.”
Oh, dear… Be careful what you wish for.
This was almost too much. She wasn’t worthy. Moisture stung her eyes. It was her turn to be lost for words.
“There, I said it.” He smiled at her with breathtaking tenderness as his thumbs brushed the tears from her lashes. “Don’t you want to say something to me?”
Her laugh was husky. “How about, ‘Kiss me, Blair’?”
“How about ‘I love you too’ or something along those lines?” Her self-confident husband looked unsure. As ever when his feelings were strongly engaged, his brogue deepened. “I’ve just laid my soul at your feet. You could at least tell me whether you want it or not.”
She gulped, trying not to burst into tears. She was too happy to cry. But her silly eyes didn’t seem to agree. “I want it,” she forced out.
His eyes sharpened on her face. “And?”
She could tease him again. But the moment was too profound for games. She turned her face to place a kiss on his broad, capable palm. “And I love you. I think I loved you from the first, too. I definitely knew I loved you on our wedding night.”
“Oh, my darling…” He drew her into his arms and held her close to his thundering heart.
The tears she’d fought so long gushed out at last. “I’m crying all over you.”
“I forgive you,” he said, his voice rich with love, his embrace tightening.
“After everything, it seems too good to be true that I love you and you love me and we’re having a baby,” she muttered into his chest.
“Altogether a most satisfactory outcome,” he said gently and kissed her with more of that heart-shattering tenderness. She was dazed with wonder when he finally raised his head. “Let’s celebrate in bed.”
Her laugh was unsteady. She was still in the grip of poignant emotion. “You’re such a man.”
He laughed back at her. “I am indeed.”
He drew her up with him, his hands clasping hers with a firmness that she couldn’t doubt. It seemed the marriage that had started so chaotically turned into a match made in heaven. And if she knew the expression on her husband’s face—and she did—now a more physical form of heaven awaited. What a wonderful way to welcome the first Christmas Day of their married life.
Misty eyed, she watched him turn toward the door. Less misty eyed, she watched him tug uselessly at the doorknob. “Blair, don’t play the fool. I loved reliving our courtship, but my plans for tonight involve more space than we’ve got here.”
Instead of facing her, he slumped against the door, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “My darling lassie, history repeats itself. The door’s jammed. We’re stuck here until Mills comes to let us out.”
She stared at him, not quite as horrified as she should have been. “Truly?”
He drew himself up and faced her. “On my honor, truly. I’d have thought your uncle would get the lock fixed after last year’s fuss.”
“Perhaps he’s hoping to catch Caroline an earl, using the tactics that worked for me.”
Blair gave a huff of laughter. “God help the poor fellow, whoever he is. But what the devil are we to do now?”
She found herself smiling at her dark and dangerous husband as if he’d given her the best Christmas present in the world. After all, when he said he loved her, he had. “It seems, beloved, that you and I must find some way to occupy ourselves until Mills comes to the rescue.”
Acknowledgements
There’s one person above all who deserves thanks for the existence of HER CHRISTMAS EARL - blogger Danielle Gorman from Ramblings from This Chick (http://ramblingsfromthischick.blogspot.com). Dani runs a great romance site and hosts some of the most imaginative and enjoyable events in the blogosphere. Every year, I participate in her Christmas party where she invites writers to create a short scene on a theme she suggests related to the Holidays. In 2012, my prompt was a wardrobe malfunction on Christmas Eve. As a result, I wrote the first few pages of HER CHRISTMAS EARL where Erskine and Philippa are trapped in that closet with the threat of scandal hovering over their heads. I immediately fell in love with the characters and their dilemma and the rest is history, as they say in the classics.
About the Author
ANNA CAMPBELL has written nine multi award-winning historical romances for Grand Central Publishing and Avon HarperCollins and her work is published in sixteen languages. Her next full-length release is book four in her Sons of Sin series, A SCOUNDREL BY MOONLIGHT, in May 2015. Anna lives on the beautiful east coast of Australia where she writes full-time. For more information on Anna and her books, please check out her website: www.annacampbell.info
Anna loves to hear from her readers. You can find her at:
Website: http://www.annacampbell.info
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AnnaCampbellFans
Twitter: @AnnaCampbellOz
GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/296477.Anna_Campbell
Continue reading for an excerpt from:
Will a chance meeting on Christmas Eve…
Alicia Sinclair, Countess of Kinvarra, cannot believe that fate has been so cruel as to strand her on the snowy Yorkshire moors with her estranged husband as her only hope of rescue. During their rare encounters, the arrogant earl and his countess act like hostile strangers. Now that Alicia has fallen into Kinvarra's power, will he seek revenge for her desertion? Or does the dark, passionate man she once adored have entirely different plans for his headstrong wife?
...deliver a second chance at love?
Sebastian Sinclair, Earl of Kinvarra, has spent ten wretched years regretting the mistakes he made with his young bride, but after long separation, the barriers between them are insurmountable. Until an unexpected encounter one stormy night makes him wonder if the barriers of mistrust and thwarted desire are so insurmountable after all. When winter weather traps Sebastian and his proud, lovely wife in an isolated inn, could the earl and his headstrong countess have a Christmas miracle in store?
Chapter One
North Yorkshire, Christmas Eve, 1825
THE CRASH OF shattering wood and the terrified screams of horses pierced the frosty night like a knife.
Sebastian Sinclair, Earl of Kinvarra, swore, brought his restive mount under control, then spurred the animal around the turn in the snowy road. With icy clarity, the full moon lit the white landscape, starkly revealing the disaster before him.
A flashy black curricle lay on its side in a ditch, the hood up against the weather. One horse had broken free and wandered the roadway, harness dragging. The other plunged wildly in the traces, struggling to escape.
Swiftly Kinvarra dismounted, knowing his mare would await his signal, and ran to free the distressed horse. As he slid down the muddy ditch, a hatless man scrambled out of the smashed curricle.
Her Christmas Earl Page 10