Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

Her entire body blushed a bright red. Though she had known intimacy with the first man she had loved, it had not been like this. Lord Rupert stripped her of defences and roused a decidedly wanton side of her, Verity hadn’t known she possessed. Coupling wasn’t always done in the dark as she had assumed. It wasn’t always sweet and tender. It was this—so raw and provocative, so passionate.

  His body dipped, and his tongue stroked that sensitive place at the back of her knee before he sucked the spot. Then he went up with his mouth licking and nibbling, creating a trail of fire. She stared down at him in stark shock.

  He wouldn’t!

  “My lord…I…Rupert!” she gasped.

  Then he did, Lord Rupert placed a kiss against her aching sex. Verity collapsed against the sofa, slapping a hand over her mouth to contain the wild cries he was ripping from her with his very wicked and skilful tongue.

  Verity’s heart was pounding so hard inside her chest she couldn’t get breath into her lungs. The hot, moist flick of his tongue against her tender sex made her whimper, and she clutched his shoulders. Nothing had ever felt that good, nothing had ever felt so necessary.

  Something raw and primal tightened inside of her, so tight she felt as if she would snap in two. Her skin felt sensitized, and the piercing delight his tongue evoked had her trembling, breathless little cries coming from Verity. Her entire body jerked upward; a muffled cry wrenched from her throat at the astonishing pleasure speared upward and blossomed through her entire body. She burst apart on a wild cry, her fingers tearing at the cushions as Verity felt such shuddering bliss.

  Her dress was gently lowered, and Lord Rupert’s forehead rested on her knees. She could feel his struggle for control, and she admired him even more for it, for with a blush, Verity admitted she had lost all sense of herself.

  He came up beside her and gathered her into his arms. Verity went, a lump forming in her throat. It astonished her the remarkable intimacy she had allowed and that she did not feel ashamed.

  What did he think of her incredibly wanton responses?

  There was a deep part of her that felt uncertain. Only a week ago, he hadn’t been in her life, and everything had meandered along the same expected path, even if her life had felt bereft of true contentment. She should dismiss all thoughts of the new baron and their mutual flirtation, there could be no future in it. She must dismiss her impossible hopes of marriage and children, especially with so eligible a rake as the young baron.

  But what if his vow to marry her was genuine? And this…this was not a flirtation and seduction game for him? Did she even believe he could be this callous or was she simply scared it might be real? Because for so long she had hoped…

  “I can see the doubt in your eyes,” Rupert said, peering at her, his expression sombre. “I would not have dared taken you in my arms like that without the most serious of intentions.”

  Verity flushed and tucked a wisp of damp hair behind her ears. “I…”

  “What is it? You look almost terrified.”

  Had he sensed her sudden and inexplicable unease? She was so used to composing her emotions even Mary sometimes complained about not able to discern Verity’s moods.

  She laughed shakily. “Perhaps I am.”

  “I fear I startled you with my unchecked passions,” he answered truthfully.

  “I wasn’t frightened,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. “And if I were rattled, it wasn’t because of you.” I terrified myself. “I am more afraid of what all this means. I am a bit unsure of your certainty in marrying me, and the feelings that are brewing in my heart for you.”

  Delight lit in his expression. “And what feelings are those?”

  “The ones that made me act in such a reckless and wanton manner just now!”

  She glanced away from him, taking the time to regain her composure. When she looked back at Rupert, his expression was carefully contained, yet his gaze was tender and a bit resolute. Her mouth parted to tell him about Richard and the kind of love they shared, but the words would not come.

  Rupert gently took her into his arms, and she did not resist.

  “We might have to search the chapel and the grounds tomorrow,” he murmured. “The rain is showing no signs of easing.”

  She nodded and snuggled into the warmth of his embrace even more. “I will be here.”

  “Do you promise it?”

  Her fingers trembled in the light grasp of his. “You doubt my word?”

  He made no reply but pressed a kiss against her hair. They stayed snuggled together for a very long time, listening to the patter of the rain on the roof and windows.

  Chapter 7

  The former Ellesmere priory had once been a successful and profitable monastery that thrived until the reformation when it had been deliberately laid to waste. The estate had, in those days, belonged along with considerable further lands to the church. The estate after the monks’ expulsion had been gifted to one of Henry the eighth’s sycophants. As the priory had been deliberately devastated, he built his manor house on the present site. He considered it a more sheltered and attractive position, less at the vagaries of the weather and closer to the main road to Bath. However, he died without issue, so the estate had changed hands down distant family lines and finally ended up with the Rogers.

  Ellesmere Manor had been constructed with much of the stone ransacked from the priory buildings. Wings and a new façade were added during the following centuries. It had managed to become a comfortable, if not particularly ostentatious pile. The original priory building had been built on a stony hill. A quarry had been established, the rock from which had created the priory and subsequently, by default Ellesmere Manor. The quarry had been abandoned in the previous century, and so the path to the chapel was only used regularly by a small flock of sheep and their shepherd.

  Rupert and Lady Verity set off on the path to the ruined priory, accompanied only by Rufus on the following morning. Lady Verity had taken the precaution of wearing sturdy half-boots and was warmly wrapped as the day had started frosty and chill. She had worn her most practical and plain bonnet for such a trek.

  Verity blushed when Lord Rupert took her arm and led her to the side of the manor house where the path to the ruins began. They hadn’t spoken of the wicked way he had made love to her with his mouth yesterday, and he wisely kept silent, not wanting to scare her or ruffle her sensibilities. After Rupert had escorted her home, he had spent last night wondering if he had been too wicked with his seduction. Had he scared her off?

  It was clear to him she did not believe he would marry her. Rupert smiled. He felt saddened by her disbelief at his certainty at times, but the idea of not marrying her seemed even stranger. In the wee hours of the morning, he had methodically plotted a campaign on how to make her fall in love with him.

  Daily walks had been at the top of his list. Daily kisses were another given, and he had written down several questions to ask about her likes and dislikes. Then he had turned his mind on what to do if she decided to stop helping him find the treasure. Despite his worry, Lady Verity had returned this morning, her eyes bright with awareness and her cheeks red with her blushes. Whenever he caught her looking at him, she would quickly glance away, and a secret smile would hover on her mouth.

  Hiding away his own smile, he squeezed her fingers through her gloves gently. They walked along the path, their gaze sweeping over the untamed beauty of the land. Most of the land around the ruins had been separated from the estate over the centuries but no one appeared to have much wanted the land it occupied as it was not particularly good or easy to farm. The late baron had used it only to graze a few hardy sheep, letting the land return to nature in its own way.

  “I used to love this walk as a boy, especially as Maurice hated climbing and preferred more modern romanticized follies disdaining genuine historical ones. So when I was small, I could guarantee some peace from his persecution by coming up here. It has some of my favourite views, I could happily spend all d
ay up there. Once upon a time, there was another road to the priory which headed for Glastonbury, but that too has become disused, so there is no easy way to get there by a carriage. It would be possible to ride down the old road but it means a diversion of some miles by road to reach where it used to join the Yeovil road,” Rupert told her as Rufus scampered ahead of them.

  “It is a lovely hike, we can already see all the countryside around, look you can see my house and the estate owned by my brother, in the direction,” she pointed out. “How wonderfully picturesque.”

  “Oh, is that your family home? It is a very gracious house,” Rupert said, resting beside her as the hike was steep.

  The bonnet shaded her expression from him as he peered down at her. “No, the main Hansard estate is further away nearer to Chippenham in Wiltshire, where I was brought up. This estate was normally intended for the eldest son, but after my father’s death, my brother administers both at least until he has an heir of age to live here.”

  She took a few more steps up, staring at her home. “My brother leased me the house, which is part of the estate, I believe it was previously used by an agent or steward,” she murmured. “When family arguments arose after my fiancé, Richard died, I wanted to live alone to avoid the pressure from my mother to return to society and find a new prospective groom. Unfortunately, she is in residence at present and keeps descending on me and is pressing for me to return to Town for next year’s season.”

  Verity was obviously distressed explaining to him her situation. Rupert took her hand between both of his and squeezed it to comfort her.

  “It was good of your brother to allow you some independence and stand against your Mother’s determination to get you married off. I understand your desire for independence, but do you not want marriage and children?”

  Was it that she was still in love with her dead fiancé, and perhaps couldn’t imagine moving on without him? The thought left Rupert distressed.

  Her gaze dropped to his, and the breadth of emotions he spied in her eyes briefly robbed him of breath.

  “I would love a husband and children, but only if I could love him in return,” she said softly. “I know you say you want to marry me, but I could never be happy with a man who would be unfaithful to me. So you must be very sure that marriage is what you want because I do not wish to be humiliated by a husband who would have mistresses. You need money to put the estate to rights from the sounds of things, and my dowry is small. My father lost a lot of the family money, one way and another, and although my brother is working hard to restore the family fortunes. I could not expect him to increase my dowry under the present circumstances.”

  Rupert’s heart jerked at the turn in their conversation. “I would want to marry you if you came to me penniless. I have never wanted a woman as much as you.”

  She laughed a bit at that, seeming as if she did not know if she should be delighted or sceptical.

  Rupert stepped scandalously closer to her, inhaling deeply of her unique fragrance of jasmine.

  “I have never wanted to marry anyone before, but since the moment I kissed you under the mistletoe, I have dreamt of nothing but you. At my side, with our children, and in my bed. I feel as if my life will be empty and meaningless without you. Do not doubt my sincerity, I am totally in your thrall.”

  Once again, she appeared frightened. Verity lifted her fingers encased in gloves to the corner of his mouth.

  “We have not known each other for long, so do not make promises you can’t keep.”

  “Verity—”

  “No, Rupert. Perhaps tomorrow you will discover your commitment is not as firm as you believe. I would rather you had some time to make sure your feelings are really engaged and that you do not only have physical attraction towards me that will not last.”

  He took her hand and pressed it over his heart. “Your physical attractions and sensuality are a distinct distraction to me, but what I feel is more than that, I like you as a person and I think I know myself that I am not going to change my mind. I am not fickle. I will not let you down. However, if we do not get moving again, I will remove that ugly bonnet of yours and kiss you senseless. So it is probably better if we finish the climb because I find you very hard to resist.”

  She blushed and took his hand without hesitation.

  “Come on, it is not far now,” he pulled her forwards and they ran upwards for the final stretch.

  The view from the top of the hill was stupendous, the sky was clear and they could see the panorama all around. They were puffing with exertion after the last dash up the hill, Verity’s face was shining and her bonnet was hanging by its ribbons, her hair ruffled and coming undone in the wind cutting across the hill.

  The top of the hill was grassy and he led her towards the ruins. Most of the ruins were only a few small pieces of walls, but the path led towards the chapel which although obviously medieval in construction had been repointed and reroofed with more modern materials at some time in the past. Rufus raced off gambolling around the ruins and decorating some of the ancient stones with some fluid. They laughed as the small red dog scampered, his ears flapping in the breeze. He had left his humans to their own devices.

  Rupert headed for a slightly larger piece of ruined architecture, a remaining arch which led into an angle of almost two whole walls which had obviously formed part of the main priory.

  In the corner between the two walls was a rustic wooden bench which was where he led her to sit and recover from their arduous climb.

  Rupert reached over and untied the tangled ribbons, removing the despised bonnet and placing it carefully on the grass beneath the bench.

  “It is breathtakingly beautiful, Rupert,” Verity said with a soft gasp.

  The bench was sheltered from the breeze and caught the sun so was warmer than the ambient temperature of wintry weather. Sitting there was a clear view of half the country around, including Ellesmere Manor and her own house.

  He shrugged from his long coat and rested it on the thick, verdant grass beside the bench. “You could repose on my coat if the bench is not comfortable.”

  Without hesitation, she lowered herself onto his coat, and stared up at the sky. The rays of the sun gleamed over her lovely features and his breath caught in his throat.

  “May I come beside you?” he murmured.

  “Yes.”

  He lowered himself beside, uncaring he was more on the grass than onto his coat.

  “Even the clouds are beautiful,” she said. “I see an entire ballroom with lords and ladies dancing.”

  “I see a carriage being pulled by a team of four. I think they might be engaged in a race.”

  He loved hearing her laugh.

  “Rupert?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I…there are things you do not know about me.”

  He kept his attention on the clouds while he turned over her words. “There is a lifetime to get to know them, unless you wish to tell me now.”

  She was silent for so long that he turned his head on the grass to watch her.

  “You do not have to tell me anything, Verity.”

  “I am simply afraid it might change your opinion of me.”

  “That, my sweet, is impossible.”

  He tugged off his gloves and reached for her hand that was closest to him. Rupert removed her gloves and laced their fingers together. Finally, she turned her head to his. Something flickered in the depths of her eyes, something unknown that he could not touch.

  “I like you too,” she confessed so softly, for a wild moment he though he misheard. “You have been occupying every space in my thoughts.”

  “You like me,” he repeated slowly.

  “Yes, so very much it scares me. Nothing should feel this profound so soon.”

  His fingers tightened on hers and he wanted to shout his happiness but contained himself. “My father knew my mother was for him only two hours after he met her. In his youth Uncle Frederick met a young lady who had lived i
n the village and he knew right away that his life was with her. She died before they could get married. But we Rogers seem to have that natural instinct which knows when we meet someone that she is the one.”

  “Ah, so that is why you are so dashingly romantic.”

  He grinned. “I’ve known many women…as friends and lovers. Never have I felt this knowing that I have with you.”

  A look of wonder suffused her lovely face. “I…I was engaged before.”

  “I know.”

  “I loved Richard, but it took months, almost a year of courtship for my heart to race upon seeing him.”

  And Rupert heard the unspoken words in her soft, confused plea.

  “And your heart is racing now,” he said gruffly.

  “It pounds…just to know you are holding my hand, that you are so close to me, that you want to marry me…how it thumps and longs for every dream you are promising.”

  With a rough groan, he released Verity’s hand, rolled into her, coming above her on his elbow, and cupping her cheek with his other.

  “Verity—”

  “I am not chaste,” she confessed in a rush, her eyes wide and shocked.

  Rupert froze into astonishing stillness.

  “I am not chaste,” she repeated. “The night before Richard left to war…we…we…” her throat closed, and she swallowed tightly. “I do not regret it.”

  This was said with fierceness and a challenging glare.

  “But I understand if you feel that—”

  He pressed a kiss against her mouth. Rupert lifted his head. “I am not chaste either, Verity.”

  Her eyes went even wider.

  “And I am glad you got to celebrate the love you felt for Richard before you lost him forever,” he said gruffly. “There is a memory to cherish that few people ever get to hold onto.”

  A wide smile trembled on her lips, and her eyes glistened brightly. “Not many gentlemen would feel as you do.”

  “Uncle Frederick often lamented I am one of a kind.”

  Verity lifted a hand to his face and tenderly traced a line over his cheek. “Not lament,” she said softly. “I believe your uncle celebrated it.”