“ ‘Broken, aching heart,’ ” he repeated his earlier thought with disgust. “Sounds like something Jane would say, does it not, Reginald?”
The donkey’s furry ears pricked up at the sound of his mistress’s name and he brayed three times in quick succession.
Lucas patted Reginald’s soft, hairy head. “No, my dear friend, your mistress is presently entertaining one Lord Needles—perhaps even accepting his proposal of marriage. You may have a new master in your future, in fact.”
They’d reached the lake and turned to take on the hill. “And it won’t be me.”
The three climbed in silence. Horatio snorted with impatience, his long, powerful legs clearly itching to simply run up the incline and be done with it. Reginald lowered his head and plowed forth, his short, squat bulk proving valuable against the fearsome wind and snow. And Lucas walked between the two, the muscles in his thighs burning with effort, his arms aching from keeping a firm hold on both equines.
Mother Nature was attempting to tell Lucas something, he felt sure of it. As he struggled to stay upright, his extremities pricking with a thousand needles, parts already completely numb, his body and mind begged him to abandon the consuming anger and sense of betrayal that had led him out into the storm to begin with. At last they reached the top of the hill and Lucas could just make out the tiny cottage in the distance.
He paused, catching his breath and allowing his fellow wanderers to do the same.
He had no one to blame but himself. Jane could have been his wife long, long ago. But Lucas had squandered time, traveling the world in search of his life, never realizing that everything he’d ever longed for could be found at Juniper Hall.
Yes, he could feel disappointed in Jane. He still believed that she’d felt something in his kiss—knew it in his bones, though they’d all but turned to ice. But she owed him nothing. He’d given her no reason to pursue those feelings.
He could not be angry with her. Jane’s family had nothing left to save them but a favorable marriage. She would have been a fool to ignore the opportunity Lord Needles represented.
“You stupid, short-sighted ass,” Lucas mumbled, defeat settling on his exhausted chest. “Not you, Reginald. Me.”
The wind shifted suddenly and the sound of pounding hoofbeats reached Lucas. He turned in the direction of the thuds, narrowing his eyes to see the horse. A rider sat astride a large draft, the horse’s powerful legs eating up the space between him and the trio.
“Lucas, wait …” the rider yelled, each word warped by the capricious wind.
The animals spooked at the ghostly sound, both releasing a squeal of fright.
Lucas turned back around just in time to see the white in Horatio’s eyes before he bolted for the bottom of the hill, Reginald rearing up on his hind legs, then scrambling after the Thoroughbred.
Lucas held on to the donkey’s halter as his knees connected with the ground and he began a fast, slippery descent down the hill. “Stop … this … instant!” he bellowed.
They were the last words Lucas spoke to the ass before a sudden and definitively violent jerk parted the two of them.
The world began to spin as he took the hill end over end. Rocks of all sizes connected with his flesh, sending a stinging sensation throughout his entire body. He forced his arms to his sides and rolled onto his back, his greatcoat acting as a flying carpet of sorts. The wind tore at his eyes and whistled through his ears as he picked up speed and crossed an outcropping of small boulders, becoming airborne, then landing hard just behind Reginald.
It occurred to Lucas that it would have been good fun, if not for the loose livestock.
He dropped the heels of his boots and employed them as a makeshift rudder, successfully steering himself around the donkey.
He offered Reginald a charming grin as he passed, before concentrating on the fast-approaching cottage.
It was too late. If he’d only remained a gentleman and refrained from taunting Reginald when he’d taken the lead.
But he hadn’t.
Regret overtook his senses the precise moment before he crashed into a snowbank.
Chapter Eight
Jane held tight to Fickle’s reins as the big draft horse raced down the slippery slope, her eyes focused on Lucas at the bottom of the hill.
He wasn’t moving.
Her horse lumbered past Reginald and Horatio, and Jane glanced quickly at them. Both horse and donkey appeared to be in one piece still—if somewhat dazed by their recent ordeal.
Jane urged Fickle on. “Lucas!” she cried out, willing him to move.
She pulled Fickle to a sliding stop and kicked her foot free of the right stirrup, swinging her leg over the draft’s back before dropping the second stirrup and sliding down to the ground.
“Lucas!” she yelled again, rushing to where he lay, unmoving.
She bent over him, overjoyed to see his eyes were open. “Lucas?”
“There’s no need to shout, Jane.” His familiar dry tone reassured her as little else could have. “I am, after all, right here.”
Jane watched him sit up and brush at the ice and dirt covering his clothing. “You …” she began, wrestling internally with the relief she felt for his safety and the formidable ire his statement stirred.
“This is all your fault,” Lucas informed her, rolling to his knees and staggering to stand. “If you’d kept your mouth closed rather than screaming like some crazed banshee back there on the hill, the horses never would have spooked—that is ‘horse.’ One horse, and an ass.”
Jane pushed a sodden lock of hair from her face and narrowed her eyes at him. She was colder than she’d ever been before. Her legs ached from straddling Fickle’s monstrously wide back. And now that she’d destroyed any future with Lord Needles, this was as good as life was going to get. In fact, it might only grow worse. “My fault? Is that so? Well, perhaps you’ll keep your hands off my ass from now on?”
Lucas pulled at his greatcoat to examine a gaping hole situated directly between his shoulder blades. “You think I’m responsible for Reginald’s escape? Hardly! I was just the poor, unfortunate chap who found him. If not for me, your donkey would have frozen to death.”
He yanked his coat off and flung it to the ground, exposing the clothing beneath. Jagged tears mapped the wild ride Lucas had taken from the top of the hill, not one stitch of fabric having remained unscathed. And he was wet from head to toe.
And slightly blue.
Panic rose in Jane’s throat, overriding her extreme discomfort and abject irritation with Lucas. “We must get you inside at once, before you freeze to death.”
Lucas examined his appearance as if he’d not been aware of the risk. “Not without an apology.”
“You cannot mean to play with your own health? Go inside. I will see to the horses,” Jane countered. She turned and called to Reginald and Fickle. The donkey began to trot toward her, then slowed, deciding instead to walk on and stop in front of the barn’s double wagon door. The draft followed closely behind.
Lucas put two fingers in his mouth and an ear-splitting whistle sounded. “Apologize.”
Horatio tore across the snow-covered ground and circled Lucas before joining Reginald and Fickle at the gate.
“They are tired and hungry, Lucas,” Jane implored, walking to the animals. “As am I. If it is an apology you require, then you shall have one.”
Jane breathed in deeply, the pungent scent of snow, wet horse, and sodden wool filling her nostrils and settling her sense of defeat squarely on her heart. “I am sorry you were the one to find Reginald. I am sorry for shouting in an attempt to gain your attention. I am sorry the horses spooked and caused you to sail down the hill in a most undignified manner. I am sorry for all of it, Lucas. Absolutely everything.”
“Well,” he replied, shifting his gaze to the frozen ground. “That was quite thorough. I accept your apology.” He cleared his throat and gestured at the horses. “I’ll help you get them settled.”
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Jane hurried around Reginald’s hindquarters and reached for the gate. “You will not,” she said firmly. “I gave you an apology. It is your turn now to do as I asked.”
“What would Lord Needles say if I were to abandon his betrothed to the elements?” Lucas asked, adjusting his filthy cravat. “He’d challenge me to a duel, perhaps. Or force me to engage in a conversation concerning his work.”
Jane had had enough. “I’m not his betrothed, nor will I ever be,” she ground out, freeing the door latch.
“You surely cannot say so with finality,” Lucas replied, walking her way.
She clucked impatiently at Horatio, Reginald, and Fickle to move back so she might open the entrance. “I can—and I do,” she answered, pulling the door with such force that it slammed against the unpainted sides of the barn.
The animals spooked at the sound and raced inside, narrowly missing Jane.
“He is, at this very moment, celebrating Christmas with your family—”
“Stop!” Jane cried, holding up her hands defensively. “Lord Needles asked if … if I loved another. I tried to lie—I wanted to more than anything. But I couldn’t.”
“Jane.”
“Please, let me be. I’m begging you. If you ever cared one whit for me, go.”
Humiliation washed over Jane and she dropped her head, unable to bear the sight of Lucas. “Go. I will see to the horses and join you shortly.”
God, but he’d been a fool. Lucas took a knife to his sodden breeches and ripped the seams, letting the pieces fall to the floor. He moved on to his cravat, one nick of the blade splitting the ruined fabric, then his shirt.
If only he’d told her of his feelings sooner. It would’ve saved them both torment and sorrow. Lucas shrugged out of his coat and removed the shirt and cravat. He stood there naked, only the cold air in the cottage reminding him to move. He’d allowed fear to cloud his judgment and now Jane was paying the price.
Lucas walked to the hearth, no more than five steps across in the small, humble house occupied by his family’s tenant, Mr. James. The fire crackled in the stone fireplace and warmed his frigid limbs. He took a frayed quilt from the only chair in the room and wrapped it around his waist.
Just then the front door opened and Jane appeared. She hesitated on the threshold, staring at his bare chest as if it frightened her.
“My clothes were wet, and ruined beyond repair,” Lucas explained, crossing his arms over his chest. “I would have borrowed something from my tenant, Mr. James, but he is less than half my size.”
Jane nodded, then cast her gaze to the floor as she stepped all the way inside and shut the door behind her. “And where is he?”
“With his daughter’s family in Liverpool for the holiday,” Lucas answered, frustrated by the trivial conversation.
“Well, I’m sure his daughter is glad to have him.”
She fumbled with the bonnet ribbons knotted beneath her chin. When both refused to give, she set to work on her boots, bending down to unlace the ruined leather shoes.
“Jane,” Lucas murmured, his heart beginning to beat faster. “There is a real possibility we will be stranded here until the storm passes. I, for one, do not intend to waste time with idle chatter.”
She stepped out of the right boot, steadying herself against a small table before removing the left. “There is nothing of importance to discuss, Lucas, I assure you.” She turned her concentration back to the bonnet ribbons, but once again failed to part them. “Let’s not speak of things that could ruin our friendship. I cannot be without you. I must have you—as my friend.”
He took one step toward her and then another.
She retreated until her back settled against the door.
“I don’t believe such a plan will work,” Lucas replied, his pulse throbbing in his ears. Fear prickled the back of his neck and he lifted a hand to massage it away
“And why is that?” Jane asked, a tremor in her voice.
“Because I cannot have you only as a friend, Jane. I want you as my wife—no, I need you to be my wife,” he answered, close enough to touch her.
He gently moved her hands away and took up the ribbons, deftly unknotting the wet silk and removing her bonnet. “I am terrified of my feelings for you, Jane. Have been since that night in London. That’s ridiculous, isn’t it? God, I’ve been such a coward. Can you forgive me?”
“I don’t know that I can,” she murmured, looking up at him with her eyes full of wonder. “Do you mean to tell me that all of this,” she paused, gesturing with a sweep of her hand to indicate the cottage and the snow-covered landscape beyond its small, square windows. “Nearly freezing to death, riding in my morning gown atop Flicker … coming within moments of allowing a man I do not love to court me. All of it could have been avoided if only you’d not been so afraid?”
“I cannot say how sorry I am,” Lucas answered, bowing his head with regret.
Jane lifted his chin with her finger and forced him to look up at her. Tears danced just at the corners of her blue eyes. “No. I do not want your sorrow, Lucas. I’ve waited all my life for you to realize how perfect I am for you. Such patience deserves a monumental declaration of love—complete with groveling at the end, if deemed necessary. And it must begin with ‘I love you, Jane Merriweather.’ ”
He blew out a breath in sweet relief and grinned like a silly, foolish schoolboy. “I love you, Jane Merriweather. I do. Though it has taken me a very long time to realize just how perfect you are for me, please know that my fruitless search the world over for happiness only makes this moment that much more important. I want to take care of you, to build a life with you, to grow old with you, Jane. You are my home, if you’ll have me.”
Jane placed her soft, delicate palms on his face and drew him to her, her tears now flowing freely. “You do not need to ask, Lucas. I love you. That will never change.”
He reverently touched his lips to hers, drinking in the truth and sheer beauty of the moment.
Jane shivered against him and leaned in closer, her sodden pelisse touching his bare skin.
Lucas backed up, taking Jane with him. “Come warm yourself by the fire. I’ll find a quilt for you.”
Jane untied her mantle and let it drop to the carpet. “But you already have one,” she replied, removing her sodden gloves. “Surely it is big enough to share.”
Lucas watched as she slowly turned her back, then looked at him over her shoulder.
“Will you see to my buttons?”
His cock hardened at her words. “Jane …” His mouth seemed entirely separated from his brain, logical thinking far beyond his capabilities. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” she answered simply.
Possessiveness roared to life in Lucas, every muscle in his body begging to take hold of her. To claim her as his own.
“Lucas, please tell me you want me,” Jane said quietly, turning her head to fully face the fireplace once more. “I cannot endure not knowing.”
He restrained himself, his hands shaking with need as he set to work on her buttons. “It is requiring every last ounce of my willpower to stop myself from ravaging you, right here, on the floor, Jane. I want you with everything I am, but I will not have your first time be without gentleness and love.”
He finished with the tidy row of buttons and her gown sagged at her shoulders. Jane yanked at the fabric as well as her shift, pulling both down, over her hips, until they pooled at her feet. “I’ve loved you for years, Lucas. And in that time, do you know how often I wondered what it would be like to make love with you?”
Lucas lowered to his knees, then reached for her garter. “You are playing with fire, Jane.”
“Too many to count,” she continued, her voice breathy with desire.
He snatched the garter, untying it with one pull. “Jane,” he murmured. Begged.
He freed the other garter and rolled both stockings down her legs.
She turned to face him. Steadying herself w
ith one hand on his shoulder, she stepped out of the silken fabric, then knelt down, her breasts skimming the sensitive flesh on his chest. “I want all of you, Lucas. And I want you now. Burn me. Brand me. Make me yours.”
Jane untucked the quilt at his waist and froze, staring with wide eyes.
Lucas lifted the fabric with both hands and tossed it so that it covered the worn carpet. A low, guttural growl was all he could offer in reply. He needed his mouth on her sweet skin. His cock nestled within her tight folds.
He caught Jane up and lowered her to the quilt, then rolled her beneath him, grinning when she gasped with surprise. “I warned you,” he teased, bending to caress one perfect, firm breast with his mouth.
He swirled his tongue around the rosy-hued tip, the sensitive skin pebbling in response to his sensual onslaught. She tasted of bergamot and crisp winter air. Of desire and deep, fiery need.
Jane gasped a second time and arched her back, her breath catching when he lightly grazed her nipple with his teeth.
He moved to the other breast, mercilessly blowing cool air over the creamy skin until the nipple hardened. He took it in his mouth, feasting on the tip as Jane writhed beneath him.
She pressed her palms to his chest, her fingertips exploring his skin. Each touch drew his arousal tighter, his cock nudging against her belly, demanding more.
Lucas nipped and licked a tortuous path up the slim column of her neck to reach her lush, full lips. His tongue caressed the seam until she acquiesced and opened her mouth to his. He stroked her tongue with slow flicks that soon turned to heated plundering. She matched his enthusiasm with unschooled vigor, sucking, laving, touching, teasing.
Lucas smoothed his hand down her lush curves and found the hot, damp folds between her legs, brushing his thumb over the sensitive hidden bud.
Jane’s hands clutched frantically at his waist as he massaged the slick mound. She parted her legs, her knees bending as she thrust in time to his wicked assault.
Lucas broke their kiss and stared into her sultry eyes. “Two can play at that game,” he murmured, nudging her tight, wet opening with his cock.
One Perfect Christmas (Short Story) Page 5