An Affair in Winter (Seasons Book 1)

by Jess Michaels

  “Or to be given wings.” Rosalinde faced Celia again. She’d never seen her sister so open or so calm when speaking about emotion. Celia smiled. “It seems you cannot have one without risking the other.”

  “You think I should tell him?” Rosalinde asked.

  Celia nodded. “Yes. And I think you should tell him before you wed.”

  “Before?” Rosalinde repeated. “But we are just an hour away.”

  “Exactly. If you tell him now, you’ll go into this ceremony with your eyes wide open and be best prepared for what happens next. The longer you wait, the harder it will become. For both of you.”

  Rosalinde’s heart began to pound. “He’s probably in his chamber,” she whispered.

  “Perfect. You’ll have privacy.” Celia took her hand and the two of them moved to the door. Her sister pushed her out into the hallway. “I’ll keep everyone away from you and give you even more.”

  “Why are you so determined to have me do this?” Rosalinde asked.

  “Because making the biggest decision of your life should not be a sacrifice. Because you deserve to be happy, and I think you can be.” Celia shrugged. “Because Stenfax and I made a wager that you would figure out you’re in love before you wed, and I want to win.”

  “Celia!” Rosalinde gasped at the last.

  Her sister laughed and pushed her down the hall gently. “Go!”

  Rosalinde gave her a glare, but she didn’t argue. She walked down the hall shaking her head at her sister’s unexpected encouragement. But the more steps she took toward Gray’s door, the more nervous she became.

  What if she spilled her heart and Gray told her he didn’t feel the same? Oh, he would be gentle about it, she was certain of that. And his answer wouldn’t, couldn’t change the fact that they would wed. It was too late for that. But it would start their union on a note of pain she wasn’t certain she could survive.

  So she stood outside his door, staring at the barrier between them, contemplating whether she should run or stay.

  In the end, she didn’t have to make the decision. The door opened and Gray almost walked right into her. He was devilishly handsome, dressed in his wedding finery. His crisp, white cravat made his fine jawline even more defined.

  “Rosalinde!” he said, staggering back so he wouldn’t trample over her. “What are you doing—”

  He cut himself off and stared at her. Just stared, his gaze easing down from the top of her head to her feet. He was shaking his head, mouth partly open, eyes wide with pupils dilated.

  “Why—why do you look at me like that?” she whispered.

  He drew in a long breath. “You are beautiful.”

  Rosalinde lifted her hand and touched the silken gown she had all but forgotten she was wearing. “Thank you.”

  He blinked, as if trying to gather himself. “But what are you doing here? Nothing is wrong, is it?”

  “No, I just…I needed to speak to you. Well, I wanted to speak to you,” she corrected herself as her nerves returned. Now that she was looking at him, so handsome as he smiled, she was even less certain she wished to ruin this day. “But—but it can wait. It will keep until—”

  He motioned her into the room. “I was just going to look for Lucien, he was meant to come up and let me know that the vicar had arrived. But I’m sure he’s handling it. Please, let’s talk.”

  She entered the chamber she now knew so well. Here he had made love to her. Here he had proposed. And now here she would spill out her heart. If she could find the courage to do so.

  He shut the door, and she shivered. “What if Stenfax arrives? Won’t he be shocked to find us alone?”

  Gray laughed, a low, rough sound that sent answering vibrations of pleasure through her body. “He might be. And there would be consequences.”

  Her eyes went wide. “What kind of consequences?”

  He leaned in. “I suppose he might force us to wed. But I’ll risk it.”

  She smiled at his quip even though her ears were filled with the sound of her own rushing blood and her hands shook.

  “Rosalinde, you’re trembling,” Gray said, coming toward her as his smile fell. He filled up her vision as he took her hand, smoothing his thumb over her flesh. This did not make what she had to do any easier.

  “I’m sorry. I just needed to speak to you,” she said, and blushed at the clumsiness of those words. Ones she had already spoken.

  “Yes, so you said,” he replied, and guided her to the settee. “What is troubling you?”

  Rosalinde stared at him. Right now things were perfect. He was tender with her, sweet. If she told him she loved him, there was a chance he might recoil. Even grow cold in an attempt not to mislead her further. Did she want that?

  “Er, I was just thinking what an expensive bargain you’ve made,” she lied. “After all, Celia had most of her things here already since she was to wed and move here, but I-I have lost more than half my wardrobe. I don’t know if it is fair to ask you to replace so much.”

  Gray blinked at her, as if confused. “You came to my chamber an hour before our wedding to talk to me about how unfair it is that I must pay for new clothing for you?”

  “And…and Gertrude and Lincoln will be an added household expense,” she continued. “And we’ll have to find a place for them in your home in the north. Plus, there’s the issue of—”

  Gray cupped her cheeks and dropped his mouth to hers, silencing her ramblings in the sweetest way possible. At first the kiss was gentle, just a brush of lips on lips, but that didn’t last. It never did. The passion that always seemed to flare the moment they touched rose to the surface once more. He angled his head for better access, sweeping his tongue across the crease of her lips.

  She opened. Of course she did, for denying him was an exercise in futility. He tasted of mint as he delved inside, stroking and tasting and teasing until she went boneless and needy from her head to her toes.

  Only then did he release her. He smiled at her bleary-eyed stare and smoothed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. “I don’t give a damn about money, Rosalinde. I have plenty. I’ll buy you ten new wardrobes just because it pleases me to see you in pretty things. My home in the north is small, yes, but once we arrive we will buy a new one. Or build something on the land I own there. Or both. The arrangements are not a concern, though this conversation is.”

  “Is it?” she asked, still shaken by the power of his kiss.

  “Yes. Because I don’t believe you decided to come all the way to my room to talk to me about this.” He tilted his head. “So what do you really want to discuss?”

  She reached up and closed her hand around his. “How do you know me so well?”

  The corner of his lip quirked up. “Come now, Rosalinde, confession time.”

  She let her breath exit her mouth slowly, trying to slow her racing heart. Of course it was to no avail. She was sitting next to Gray, her hand in his, her heart was going to race.

  “The past day and a half has been such a whirlwind,” she began. “Between the events in Stenfax’s office, to our decision to wed, to Celia’s broken engagement. I’ve hardly had time to breathe.”

  He nodded. “It has been quite an experience. I felt like I hardly saw you at all yesterday with all the insanity involving the special license and your fittings and the like.”

  “Yes. But though I’ve been caught up, I have still had time to think.”

  He had been smiling slightly, and now that expression fell. “Think? Please don’t tell me you want to change your mind, Rosalinde, because I don’t think we could mitigate the damage done if you did that on the day we are to marry.”

  “No, I have no desire to stop this wedding,” she reassured him. “But I do think we must go into it honestly. With both of us knowing exactly where we stand.”

  His jaw was tightening with every word and he slowly withdrew his hand from hers, like he was expecting an attack. “What is it you’re tr
ying to say, Rosalinde? Just be honest and come out with it.”

  She shifted. His withdrawal didn’t make this any easier, but now she had started and she couldn’t go back.

  “I love you,” she said, her voice breaking. She cleared her throat and repeated it with more strength. “I love you, Gray. And I wanted to tell you that before we married, so that you know where I stand. Now, I don’t expect you to return those sentiments. But I wanted you to understand my heart so that we start out correctly.”

  The words were out and there was a part of her that felt free in saying them. But the other part looked at Gray, who was just staring at her, his expression unreadable, and wished she had kept her feelings to herself.

  “Please say something,” she whispered when he was silent for what seemed like an eternity.

  “You love me?” he said, and his voice was rough as sandpaper.

  She nodded. “I-I do. I have for a little while now. Before everything happened with my grandfather and the broken engagement.”

  “You love me,” he said again, this time slower, like he was rolling it around on his tongue to test the veracity of the words.

  “Yes,” she said. “But as I said, I have no expectation that you—”

  “Oh, please don’t launch into a longwinded speech that excuses me from making a decision regarding this matter,” Gray said with a shake of his head. “Let me respond before you talk me out of what I do or do not feel.”

  Rosalinde forced her lips together to keep from rambling.

  He cleared his throat. “Emotion has never been easy for me. I never made a connection with a woman, certainly. After watching my brother crushed beneath the weight of what he thought was love and my sister nearly killed by the same, I shunned the emotion. And not just shunned it, I did my level best to shut it off. I even denied myself physical pleasures in the belief they would make me weak.”

  Gray had touched on those subjects over the weeks, so they weren’t a surprise to her. She wanted to say something but forced herself to remain quiet and let him continue.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “And then came you.”

  There was something accusatory in his tone, and she flinched. “Me.”

  He sighed. “Yes. When you walked into that awful inn, snow blowing around you, cheeks pink, you woke me up. I didn’t want to be awake, but I had no choice. I thought I could walk away and pretend that night hadn’t happened. When you arrived here, I realized I had to face what I wanted. What I need.”

  She bit her lip. “Wh-what do you need?”

  “It turns out what I need is you,” he said. “As much as I fought that, as much as I tried to deny it, as much as I pretended it was for some ulterior motive, the fact is that I couldn’t walk away. Even when I tried, you were always there, pushed into my heart and my space and my everything.”

  “You sound like that is a bad thing,” Rosalinde whispered. “Something you regret.”

  “Am I not making myself clear?” He dropped to his knees before her and leaned up into her. His arms came around her, tugging her close until there was nothing but breath between them. “I love you, Rosalinde Wilde. I may have tried not to love you, but I do.”

  She smiled, joy swelling up in her. She cupped his cheek, stroking her fingers over the harsh lines of his cheeks, his jaw, her thumb across his lip as if to memorize the feel of him in this moment. “You aren’t just saying it?”

  He shook his head solemnly. “I may be many things, but I’m not a liar. I love you.”

  “But you still frown,” she whispered, leaning in to press her lips to that frown.

  He returned the kiss briefly. “I do. Because I don’t know how to do this. To love you so that I won’t hurt you. So that I won’t disappoint you. So that I won’t make you regret giving me the precious gift of your heart.”

  Gray’s whole body hurt from the weight of the words he had just spoken. He’d never allowed himself to voice that fear. To allow himself to imagine that he would hurt Rosalinde. But now that she had given her heart so freely, now that he had accepted it because it was so precious, terror gripped him.

  Rosalinde tilted her head and speared him with a loving yet questioning glance. “That’s what you fear? That you might hurt me?”

  He nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice cracking with the weight of those words and the consequences they might hold.

  She touched his face, her fingers so light against his skin, so warm. “Gray, you will hurt me.”

  He flinched and tried to pull away, but she held him steady with a deceptively strong grip.

  “Don’t run. Pain is inevitable in this life. But if you never risk the pain, you will also never find the joy or the pleasure or the true connection. You’ll never hurt me with ill intentions, never with cruelty. And I may hurt you in return out of misunderstanding or by accident. But more often than not, you’ll heal me. You’ll complete me. And I hope to do the same for you. That is life, that is love.”

  He mused on that for a moment before he stroked his hands along her spine. He felt her shiver beneath him, felt his own body react to the press of her, the weight of what they had just said to each other.

  “Celia once told me you live your life with your arms wide open,” he said, his voice soft and rough. “It is one of the things I have loved about you. Will you teach me how to do that?”

  She nodded. “It’s easy enough, my love. Just trust that you’ll survive the flight or the fall. And trust that I’ll always be there to catch you.”

  He pushed her back against the settee, his mouth finding hers, his body nudging between her legs. He had wanted her too many times since he’d met her, but never more than now. Now he wanted to feel her wrapped around him when he knew he had her heart. When he knew she held his.

  “We have less than an hour before we are declared man and wife,” he whispered as his lips dragged against her throat. “Just enough time to show you how much I love you, just enough time for us to try out our wings together.”

  She hesitated. “I want more than an hour.”

  He laughed even though her words made his cock even harder. “Mmm, one more thing I love about you. This time will be fast, but I promise you that tonight, when you are my wife, you will know it in every way.”

  “I know it now,” she said, drawing him closer. “I know it forever.”

  He pushed up her skirt with one hand, splaying his fingers across her satiny flesh, marking it as his as he inched higher and higher. He so wanted to strip her bare, to take his time worshipping her, but that was not to be this afternoon.

  Still, he had the rest of his life.

  He smiled as he pushed his fingers through the slit in her drawers and stroked them over her sex. She was wet, hot, ready.

  “Thank God,” he groaned, covering her mouth as he unbuttoned the flap of his trousers. Her fingers tangled with his, and together they worked to free him.

  She made a soft sound against his lips as she stroked him once, twice, then guided him to her entrance. He pulled away from the kiss as he slid forward, breaching her, feeling her slick folds tighten around him and welcome him home.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  She smiled up at him, her eyes filled with tears, but happy tears. Joyful tears. “I love you.”

  He drove forward on those words, taking her slowly, rotating his hips to give her the most pleasure. He watched her face as he moved, marking every hitch of her breath, every gasping moan, every contortion of her face as her pleasure built.

  Finally she buried her face against his shoulder, her entire body shuddering as she lifted hard against him in release. That was the permission he needed. He increased his pace, surrendering to the pull and grip of her body, the spasms from her orgasm milking him until he grunted and spent inside of her.

  She smiled as she drew him down, his body covering hers, her hands smoothing over his shoulders.

  “Today we’ll say vows,
” she whispered against his ear. “But that was my wedding. My stolen moment to become yours.”

  He pulled away, smiling down at her. “They were never stolen moments, Rosalinde,” he murmured. “They were always ours to take. And they always will be.”

  Then he dropped his mouth to hers, claiming her once more.

  Epilogue

  Four months later

  Rosalinde stood aside as yet another servant passed by with a trunk. From her place in the foyer, she watched out the window as Celia directed the young man, who would place it on the wagon leaving for London in less than an hour.

  Suddenly warm arms slid around her from behind and she smiled, leaning back into the solid chest of her husband.

  “Celia is running the show,” Gray murmured against her ear.

  Rosalinde shrugged. “I think she’s nervous about returning to London for a Season. Everyone at Caraway Court was kind about the breaking of the engagement, but you never know what the Town biddies will say or do.”

  Gray let out a long sigh that made Rosalinde turn toward him. He was frowning, his gaze distant as he watched out the window with unseeing eyes.

  “Lucien arrived in London a week ago,” he said. “His latest letter said he’s encountered no resistance due to the broken engagement. It bodes well for Celia.”

  Rosalinde searched his face. In the months since their hasty wedding, they had returned to his home in the north, Celia in tow. In that time, she had truly come to know her husband. Not only as the giving lover and the kind brother, but as the fair employer and brilliant mind. She had fallen further and further in love with him the more she became able to judge his moods.

  Right now he was pensive.

  “Did Stenfax’s letter include reference to anything else?” she asked.

  Gray’s dark gaze focused on her and the corner of his lip quirked up. “What have we talked about, Rosalinde? You shouldn’t read my mind where the servants could hear. They’ll start calling you a witch.”