He’d made the choice to lay his allegiance with the Union—much to the chagrin of his Southern family, but they’d supported his decision—while Alexander had joined the Rebels. Fighting, after all, was a personal choice. Elizabeth had never uttered a word of censure for his roots, nor had she protested when he’d told her about his wolfish nature the last time he’d seen her. She’d accepted him for the man he was.
He couldn’t ask for more than that in a lady.
Elizabeth reminded him why he was fighting and put in mind the future he wanted to preserve—a nation of freedom and opportunity for every man, woman and child, regardless of their skin color or what side of the economy they found themselves on. Though he’d spent a handful of days with her over the course of their courtship—and all of those had occurred during one visit—he knew Elizabeth was the perfect woman for him, and he hoped to drive home that point tonight. Besides, they’d corresponded by letters for a year. In the course of reading her writing, he’d come to know Elizabeth on a deeper level than he could have achieved from months of regular courting. He hoped his letters had done the same for her.
Please God let her accept.
And then she cast a casual glance over her bare shoulder. As her gaze alighted on him, her brown eyes went wide while surprise and joy flickered through her expression. Her lips formed his name seconds before she pivoted around and came toward him, dodging and sidestepping the people in her path.
He let his gaze skate down her body. His groin hardened at the sight of her bared shoulders and creamy cleavage. In the year since he’d known her, Blake had never seen her in party clothes. Of course, he supposed mending clothing and rolling bandages for the war effort didn’t lend itself well to fancy attire. Once, he’d had the opportunity to sit down with her during a family dinner, but even then, it wasn’t the lush affair that this Christmas party was.
Elizabeth was upon him, ending his musings. “Miss VanHaussen.” Desire roughened his voice. Did she recognize it? He captured one of her hands in his and lifted the gloved fingers to his lips. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”
“As are you, Captain Harrison.” Her smile widened. “I wasn’t sure you’d come, and so early too.”
“It’s one of my special Christmas surprises for you.” He drew her hand through the crook of his elbow. “May I claim a dance?”
A blush stained her cheeks a pretty rose. “I had hoped you’d ask.” A breathy quality entered her voice. “I must tell you I could hardly wait until midnight, though now that I think on it, I’m not sure the back garden gazebo is the smartest of places for a rendezvous in winter.”
“Smart as well as beautiful. I’m a lucky man indeed.” Blake escorted her farther into the drawing room and took an empty spot on the floor. Though he wanted nothing more than to crush her in an embrace, he had to wait due to the polite society around them. “It had just begun snowing as I rode up. I would imagine the gazebo is quite cold at the moment, far too cold for what I have in mind for a Christmas tryst.” How would she react to his plans?
“Oh?” Her eyes sparkled in the bountiful candlelight. “What do you have in mind? Surely not poetry reading or a request for me to tell you how I’ve spent my time since I last saw you?”
“Hardly.” He slipped a hand to the small of her back while she placed a hand on his shoulder. Their free hands clasped each other as if it were habit. Blake pulled her as close as he dared, their cheeks almost touching. “After dancing, I’d like to find a quiet nook away from this crowd.”
She arched a feathery brow. “And?”
He forced a swallow down his dry throat. Might as well tell her the truth as their time together was limited. “I’ve dreamed of seeing you alone, of kissing your sweet lips, touching your skin, caressing your body as I undress you.” The silk of her dress slid beneath his glove. Oh, how he wished he could feel its texture on his fingertips. He smiled, and the twinkle in her eye sent hot need crashing through him.
“I’ve dreamed of being with you in that way too.” Her breath warmed his ear, her lips just brushing his lobe. “Let’s hope the dance goes quickly. As my uncle says, time is precious during war. I don’t want to waste it.”
As the strains of the “Lover’s Waltz” filled the room and the couples on the floor set into motion, Blake grinned. “Well, the constant threat of not knowing when men will return from their campaigns and battles is enough to make decisions in an instant that normally take months.” He gave her what he hoped was a significant glance. Her blush deepened, and she merely smiled as they spun around the room.
Blake refused to think of the future. Instead, he gave himself up to the visceral feeling of holding Elizabeth in his arms. The heat from her body seeped into his. Her faint lilies-of-the-valley scent inflamed his senses more than the expensive French perfumes other women wore. With each turn, her skirts rustled, her legs brushing his. Her milky bosom caught his attention with each breath she took, threatening to spill it from its confines. What he wouldn’t do to let his lips, his hands, glide along that tempting skin. Silky strands of her blonde hair escaped from an upswept style and clung to his shoulder, but her deep brown eyes held him captive. The invisible bond between them pulled tighter, winding around him until he wanted to remain in her arms forever.
She squeezed his hand. When they twirled around the opposite side of the room, the farthest away from matchmaking mamas and hawk-eyed guardians, the tip of her tongue darted out and skimmed her bottom lip. She lifted one eyebrow, provocative in its simple innocence. His heartbeat tripped into double time. His stomach clenched as need climbed his spine.
Never had he felt such intense desire for a woman, and what was more, her deliberate teasing meant she might be receptive to what he had in mind for later in the evening. Thank God!
Seconds, minutes, hours later—time had no meaning in her arms—the waltz ended and Blake escorted her to one side of the room. “Would you care for some refreshment, Miss VanHaussen? Or perhaps you’d enjoy dancing with one of the other young gentlemen?” The tricky maze of social niceties had to be observed at all times, regardless of what he wanted, and there were countless young bucks hovering about. Elizabeth wouldn’t remain unescorted for long, and his internal wolf growled. He didn’t want any other man looking at her, let alone touching her. Blake curled one hand into a fist then forced himself to relax. It wouldn’t do for him to act overly possessive in public.
“Punch would be lovely, Captain Harrison, but I believe I saw someone in the foyer I simply must talk with. If you’ll excuse me?” Heavy meaning clouded her eyes.
“Of course.” He gave her a slight bow. “Thank you for the dance.”
“You’re welcome. Perhaps you’ll join me in fifteen minutes or so? I’m sure I’ll be settled by then and my acquaintance will have moved on leaving me ready to focus my full attention on partaking in a refreshment.” Her wink was almost imperceptible. “Perhaps we can indulge in a sweet or two together?”
“I look forward to it.” Warmth surged through Blake’s chest as Elizabeth exited the drawing room. He adored her use of the double meaning. There was no acquaintance waiting for her in the foyer. He’d bet his next paycheck on it. In fact, Elizabeth would no doubt use the lead time to furtively dart upstairs, perhaps to avail herself of an empty guest room, and wait for him. The knowledge made him smile as the opening strains of another dance—a quadrille this time—broke over the buzz of conversation and laughter.
A young lady jostled his elbow, by accident or design he couldn’t tell. He murmured an apology just the same. It really didn’t matter. If she’d bumped him by design, he’d decline anyway. His heart belonged to Elizabeth.
Quickly, he turned to a male acquaintance and talked of vagaries such as the weather and the state of the war. The last thing he wanted was an obligation to take one of the young, simpering misses out onto the floor. He had no interest in the company of a female who wasn’t Elizabeth. His wolf had found her compatible and worthy, and he knew w
ithout a doubt she was the one for him, and while he didn’t believe in fated mates, the human man he was wanted to take her for a wife no matter the obstacles he, she or the nation faced.
He would claim his woman tonight.
Blake stifled an irritated sigh. Would the time for their rendezvous never arrive?
****
Elizabeth’s heart raced, pounding so hard she feared it might break free of her body. She’d made her way upstairs as nonchalantly as she could, going the most circuitous route she could think of, so no one would guess her destination. Had Blake understood her veiled hint? Would he seek her out here, in her private rooms—the bedroom in her uncle’s house she used while in residence?
Flutters filled her belly. Of course he would. She’d seen the spark of need in his eyes, read the desire in his expression. It was the same way she felt. Heated embarrassment jumped into her cheeks and chest. Had it really been she who’d acted so forward downstairs, practically offering herself up for his ravishment in front of everyone?
Oh yes, it had!
Over the last year, through their correspondence, she’d come to know and understand him much deeper than others of her acquaintance knew their beaus who they saw in person on a regular basis. His personality had shown through his writing and was as sterling and timeless as the most valuable keepsake. She’d irrevocably fallen in love with Blake in real life six months before, when he’d come to dinner while passing through the area, but she’d known he was her soul mate after the first few months of letter exchange. There’d been a certain intimacy in exchanging letters, in discovering little tidbits about him that she’d never have hope of doing under constant supervision during a face-to-face courtship. It made the bond between them that much stronger. Her fondest wish was that he felt the same way.
She stripped off her gloves and then after opening the door a crack, dropped them in the hall as a breadcrumb. Once she’d closed the door, she moved across the room, her slippers silent on the old floorboards. Not daring to light an oil lamp and thereby possibly alert curious family members, she threw open the drapes. The soft, silvery moonlight glowed with the snow cover and provided romantic illumination.
Oh Blake, please hurry!
A scratching at the door alerted her to someone’s presence. The panel creaked, indicating it swung inward. Elizabeth spun, and as if he’d heard her unspoken cry, Blake slipped into the room then closed the door behind him. He clutched her gloves in one hand.
“You came.” She kept her hands behind her and clutched at the cool windowsill.
“How could I resist?” He turned the key in the lock then tossed her gloves on the bureau top. “This is our time, Elizabeth, a culmination of what we’ve come to mean to each other through letters.”
He does feel the same!
She swallowed around the lump in her throat even as she savored the charming Southern drawl that had clung to his words. Elizabeth cleared her throat. “You are aware what this night means?”
Am I? As she raked her gaze over his form, she nodded. Most definitely I am.
She continued her perusal. He looked so dashing in his dress uniform. Brass buttons decorated the dark blue jacket along with a gold-embroidered patch on one shoulder. The buckle on his belt gleamed in the dim light. The crimson sash at his side gave the somber clothing an air of gaiety and joy.
The saber at his side jingled as he rested a hand on the hilt. “I am and have thought of nothing else on the ride here.” Blake glanced around the room. “Are you? It’s a weighty decision for both of us, and one I’m not willing to engage in if only the physical is in play.” His long-legged strides carried him to the connecting door of her dressing room. “I refuse to use you merely to alleviate a need.”
A shiver raced down her spine. A twinge of uncertainty chased about her stomach, but she banished it. Now was not the time for her virgin fears to overshadow his visit. Throughout the course of their correspondence, his words had made her feel emotions she’d never experienced with any man. How often had she dreamed of being intimate with him? “Perhaps I have a need too.”
“I understand.” He closed the door and turned the key, effectively insuring their privacy. “After all, I’ll be your first. If you are afraid, tell me now. The future of our relationship does not hinge on physical intimacy.”
Her heart trembled. He’d always put her wants ahead of his own. “I know this.” Despite her inexperience, heat pushed between her thighs. “I have no regrets, and I want you to know I’m giving myself to you freely.” She moistened her lips as he stared at her, his eyes glittering. “It’s my Christmas gift to you since—” Sudden tears sprang into her eyes, blurring her vision. She blinked them away, not wishing to mar the evening.
He closed the distance between them and cupped her cheek. “Why, Lizzie?”
Her heart quivered a bit more, from the nickname only he used or his touch she couldn’t say, and she didn’t want to analyze the cause. Elizabeth covered his hand with hers and then pressed her lips to his palm. “Our future is uncertain. Even you can’t deny that.” She smiled, though it wobbled. “I refuse to send you back to the war without first knowing the wonder of having been loved by you.” Was it really her saying such bold words?
One of his dark eyebrows inched toward his hairline. “I do love you. Surely you have guessed that by the tone of my letters.”
“Yes, but there’s something more that words on paper can’t provide. I want the physical culmination of that love.” She stepped into the willing circle of his arms, thrilling to feel his hands at her waist. “I want to experience the wonder of what a man and a woman share once the heat consumes them.” She held his gaze while she clasped his arms. “Give me this gift in the event you don’t return. Let me remember you as the man, in addition to the letter writer, who has stolen my heart.”
His eyes darkened. “I won’t lie and say your words haven’t made me feel beyond ecstatic.” He pulled her as close as her crinoline would allow. “I’ll admit, being with you in person and talking to you face-to-face is wonderful indeed, but having the opportunity to worship your body will be a happy side effect.”
“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this exact moment. I couldn’t wait to be with you, couldn’t wait to feel your kiss and caress.” Tingles tickled her heart and ebbed through her chest seconds before Blake crushed her in his arms and fit his mouth to hers. They’d shared an embrace six months ago, but it was nothing like this, and it had been in parting besides. Now, she gave herself up to the firm feel of his lips as he moved over her mouth, confident, determined, sure while he nibbled at the corners or playfully nipped at her bottom lip. His fingers played along her spine, working the row of tiny crystal buttons on her gown.
When the dress sagged open and the bodice hung loose, Elizabeth sighed. She burrowed more fully into his embrace and pulled his head down for another kiss. Deep, lingering, drugging, the kiss set fire to her blood and played havoc with her insides, confirming what she’d already known. He belonged to her. Heat pooled between her thighs while a foreign throb started deep inside. She whimpered, not knowing how to alleviate the ache, but desperate to find out.
Blake wrenched away, his breathing uneven. “Damn, Lizzie, I knew you were passionate. Reading your letters always put me in the moment you’d written them, but I had no idea how powerful it could be with that passion behind an embrace.”
What did he mean? “Is that a good thing?” She frowned and a niggle of worry inched its way into her chest. “I’m trying to follow your example by doing to you what you do to me. Am I not kissing correctly?” She clutched the sagging bodice to her breasts.
“Oh, love, it’s a very good thing, and yes, you’re doing exceedingly well.” He set her at arm’s length. “Will you allow me the honor of undressing you?”
“Yes.” Her one-word permission floated on a breathy sigh even though her heart felt as if it would burst from her chest, it raced so fast. “Please hurry. You’ve made me f
eel… urgent, as if I might break apart if I don’t kiss you, touch you again.”
In fact, she couldn’t wait for him to remove the uniform. What would he look like, smell like, taste like? She fought a blush. Yes, she intended to kiss his skin. She craved him no matter that it might be frowned upon in polite circles. If this was her only chance to experience love making with him, she wanted to enjoy it.
He sat on the trunk at the end of the bed and removed his shiny dress boots before carefully aligning them on the floor. A soft smile played about his sensual lips, in direct contrast to the intense stare he pinned her with. “You’re adorable in your innocence.”
Blake stood. He eased her hands from her tight clasp on her dress and helped her out of the gown, pulling it up and over her head. Yards and yards of fabric slid over her skin before he dropped it nearby on the floor. “Yet also in that innocence is the soul of a woman crying to be claimed by her man. It humbles me.”
“Yes, but I want to do the same with you—claim you.” She trembled as his fingers unbuttoned the embroidered petticoat. He tugged that over her head and tossed it aside. “I hate there is so much fabric to keep you from me.”
Blake’s baritone chuckle resonated in her chest. “I am doing my best not to tear your clothes as I’m certain rationing means no supplies for new gowns. But if you continue to tempt me, I might not be as careful.”
“You’re very considerate.” She didn’t want to think of the war and its difficulties. She wanted him. His proximity caused her to fumble at the strings of the crinoline.
He brushed her fingers aside and finished the task. “One layer closer to the prize.” His eyes twinkled in the dim light. “To you.”
A Wolfish Tryst at Christmas Page 2