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

by Collette Cameron

  She tensed beneath him. “Then what do you want? You never did name your prize should the seduction succeed.”

  Eyes that had been dark and mysterious in the aftermath of his pleasure suddenly hardened. “I want you, Callista. Don’t pretend you don’t know that.”

  Though a fist clenched tight around her heart, Callista kept a smile on her lips. Sliding out from underneath him, she rose from the bed. “You just had me, darling.”

  She walked across the room to the washstand. Though she tried to avoid his reflection in the mirror above it, the image of him sitting strong and proud at the edge of the bed, his hair delightfully mussed, his feet planted wide and firm on the floor, his gaze burning a hole in her back, would forever be imprinted in her mind.

  She took her time wetting the cloth before smoothing it over her body, wiping away the lovely smell of him. Of her. Of the two of them together.

  “Callista, I…”

  She really couldn’t allow him to go on. The tone of his voice already suggested what he might say, and if she heard him say the words, she might actually want to believe it. And then she’d be doomed for certain.

  “I must get back to my guests. You can dress in the other room if you’d like. I imagine you can find your way out.”

  The silence that followed her words was as cold as any winter she’d endured in her poverty-stricken youth.

  It was best if he decided to hate her.

  They could go on in their prospective business endeavors, never having to cross paths again. If he happened to see her in the street or at the theater, he could avoid her with a scowl of disgust and eventually she wouldn’t even be bothered by it.

  “That’s it, then?” he asked thickly.

  Lifting her hands to twist her hair up into something resembling a proper coiffure, she replied, “What else could there possibly be?”

  He didn’t reply. And after a while, she risked glancing in the reflection at the room behind her.

  It was empty. He’d left.

  Chapter 11

  “Hiya, Lissy.” Mason sauntered into Callista’s personal study. It was a rare occasion her brother visited Pendragon’s these days now that he had a family to care for and protect. But when he did, it was always unexpected and usually at the worst possible time.

  Today was no exception. It was the morning after her grandest party of the year…the morning after her night with Erik Maxwell…

  Though she’d changed into a slightly more comfortable day gown, she hadn’t slept yet and her mood was growing more atrocious by the minute.

  “What the hell do you want, Mace?”

  Her brother’s expression was one of false shock and insult. “Can’t a man visit his only sister for no reason?”

  “Not you,” she snapped.

  He grinned. Settling his overly large, muscled frame into one of the chairs facing her desk, he tilted his head and arched his brows. “What’s the matter? You’re particularly prickly today.”

  “It was a long night.”

  “Right! The event of the year. Not the success you’d hoped?”

  “It was a crush,” she replied flatly. “Early estimates suggest it was the most profitable night in Pendragon’s history.”

  “Hmm.”

  She didn’t like it when Mason made that sound. It meant he was thinking. And that was never a good thing. Whenever he used that clever brain of his, he ended up saying something she didn’t want to hear.

  “It’s that Maxwell bloke, isn’t it?”

  Dammit.

  Something in her expression must have confirmed his assumption since Mason burst into laughter. It was a rich and hearty sound that warmed her despite herself.

  He’d had too little cause for laughter as a boy. She’d been born twelve years before her little half brother, and though she’d tried to shield him from the worst of their shared father, she hadn’t always succeeded. And then she’d been forced to leave. Eventually, she managed to get Mason out of the hovel they’d come from, but she’d always wished she could have done more in his youngest years.

  But now he had Katherine. And Claire and Freddie. Her brother was doing all right.

  Some might suggest he was doing even better than she was herself.

  Rising from her seat behind the desk, she wandered across the room. It was a foolish attempt at avoiding the conversation looming ahead of her. Foolish because Mason was not likely to let the topic die.

  And because a part of her actually wanted to talk about the man who’d been haunting her thoughts since he’d risen from her bed.

  “Talk to me.”

  Looking over her shoulder, she noted her brother’s stern countenance and the shadow of concern in his green eyes, just a couple shades darker than her own.

  For so long, he’d been the only person she’d truly cared about.

  Of course, she cared for the women who came under her protection, but in the way of benefactor, guardian, and mentor. Her feelings for Mason were different. He was her only family. Her blood. Looking at him now and seeing his protective, supportive demeanor, she had to admit that although she’d helped him in a myriad of ways, she had never been very good at showing him what he meant to her.

  Her chest ached with the acknowledgement. Damn, but she was terrible at this emotional shite.

  Mason rose to his feet and rolled his head atop his broad shoulders. “Do I need to go have a talk with the arsehole?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No.” The next breath she took caused the ache in her chest to tighten rather painfully. “But I might be long overdue for one.”

  He appeared startled for a moment before he stepped forward, his hands rising as if to offer an embrace. But then he recalled himself and lowered his hands to his sides. “What’s this about, Lissy?”

  Meeting her brother’s intent gaze, she felt a prickling pressure behind her eyes she hadn’t known in decades. “I fucked up, Mace.”

  It was almost comical how Mason looked at her, as though she’d suddenly become a different person. And in a way…she had. “What’d you do?” he asked, his tone slightly incredulous, slightly wary.

  “I chased him away.”

  “So, get him back.”

  She scoffed. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Sure, it is,” he argued. “You want the man?”

  Want him? Yes.

  And more.

  With a rough sound of frustration, she whipped her skirts aside and crossed the room. “What’s the blasted point? It cannot last. Nothing like that ever does. It’s a fool’s illusion.”

  “So, be a fool. Take the bloody risk. It’s fucking worth it, Lissy.”

  Keeping her back to her brother, she shook her head. She’d avoided that kind of risk all her life. Starting with her own mother, Callista had seen far too many times what a woman’s love got her—beaten, sold, degraded, lost to the desires and demons of men.

  Of course, she’d also encountered men who were noble and honorable. But as a whole, they were rare creatures. Despite his rough edges and crude demeanor, Mason was one.

  And Erik. He was one.

  But that didn’t guarantee a thing.

  “Listen,” Mason said behind her, setting a hand on her shoulder to turn her back to face him. His brows were furrowed and his gaze met hers with surprising compassion. “Whatever this is, you’ve gotta play it through to the end. And if he turns out to be an arsehole…or if you end up being the arsehole, you deal with that when it comes. Sometimes it doesn’t work out.” His eyes darkened and she suspected he was thinking of Claire’s mother. But then his mouth tilted in an irreverent grin. “But when it does, Lissy, it’s pretty fucking amazing. Don’t cheat yourself out of that possibility just because you’re a little scared.”

  Callista narrowed her eyes at that last comment, which he’d obviously added just to provoke her. Mason knew damn well she was not afraid of anything.

  But then again… Was fear holding her back?

  The answer hi
t her like a fist to her sternum. Dammit to everlasting hell. That wouldn’t do at all.

  Giving Mason a look that would turn most men to stone, she noted in a dangerous voice, “You know what? I’m pretty sure you’re the arsehole.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “That and more, as my duchess would no doubt attest.”

  “I don’t know how that woman puts up with you.”

  His smile then was full of pure male arrogance. “The lady loves me.” He lifted his fists and curled both arms to flex his biceps. “And these. She fucking adores these.”

  With another roll of her eyes, she turned and walked away. “You know the way out,” she offered over her shoulder as she continued from the room, his laughter echoing behind her.

  Maxwell’s butler greeted her at the door with a shallow bow and a sweep of his arm toward the stairs. “You’ll find him in his sitting room, madam.”

  She’d suspected on her last visit that Erik had given instruction to allow her free entrance, but now she was sure of it. Why hadn’t he rescinded the order after last night? She would have if their situations had been reversed. She honestly never would have wanted to see his face again if he’d treated her the way she’d treated him.

  Heat flowed across her nape and her low belly twisted. This was going to be harder than anything she’d ever done.

  Though a hollow feeling settled in her chest—she refused to call it fear—she made her way up the stairs to the concealed doorway.

  During that first visit, she’d guessed his reason for so readily revealing the secret passage to his private rooms was to demonstrate his consideration of her—the great Madam Pendragon— as a business colleague. A professional equal. Having his butler lead her through the secret passage to his private rooms hadn’t been a careless choice. She knew him well enough now to be assured that Erik Maxwell did nothing carelessly. At the time, she thought it a clever if presumptuous move. Madam Pendragon had no equal and she’d been anxious to enlighten him on that basic fact.

  But now, as she triggered the latch to open the panel, a new understanding dawned.

  She’d come to Maxwell’s nearly a fortnight ago, prepared to stand toe to toe with him, to threaten him if necessary. He’d been yet another man who endangered her business, her very livelihood, and most importantly, her power.

  She had consistently ignored his assurances to the contrary and construed nearly everything he did as a manipulation to get what he wanted from her.

  And what was that exactly? What had he wanted?

  Just her.

  He didn’t need her power and influence. Nor her wealth. Nor her clients.

  He wanted her. And blast it all—she wanted him as well.

  Her steps lengthened with purpose as she headed toward the room where they’d shared the bottle of brandy. Striding through the open door, she saw him standing before the fireplace, staring into the flames. He was still in his evening wear from the night before though he wore no coat or cravat and his sleeves had been rolled back to his elbows.

  A combination of hope and fear churned inside her. It was a new sensation, something she wasn’t entirely certain she was prepared to experience. But she was here now and she refused to be a coward. Setting her shoulders and lifting her chin, she started across the room, her skirts making a soft sound as they swished about her legs.

  Alerted to her presence, he glanced over his shoulder. Surprise flashed briefly in his eyes before he turned to face her, putting the fire behind him and his face in shadow. He did not speak as she approached and neither did she.

  When she stopped in front of him, he squared his shoulders and removed his spectacles. She was close enough now to see his face, to look into his eyes. Close enough to draw in his familiar scent. Close enough to desire his touch.

  She steeled herself against the wanting. She’d come here intending to confess her feelings, but first, there was something she needed to understand. Titling her head, she tried to keep her expression as neutral as his as she looked up into his shadowed gray eyes. But an unfamiliar fire burned inside her. A fire she was struggling to contain.

  After a moment, he spoke, his voice quiet but strong. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

  Callista made a dismissive gesture before replying, “I assure you; I didn’t expect to come here.”

  He lowered his chin and met her fierce gaze with one of calm intensity. “Then why did you?”

  “Before I answer that, I’d like you to explain something to me. And I’d like you to be completely honest.”

  “Always.” The single word rang true and poignant through her being.

  “What was your true intention when you offered to seduce me?”

  The corner of his lips twitched. “Getting you into bed was not a proper enough motivation?”

  Callista smiled in return. A practiced, knowing smile. “Of course it is. If it’s the only one.”

  There was pause. Then his voice was thoughtful as he replied, “I’m prepared to answer you in full honesty. But it won’t matter if you’re unwilling to accept the truth.”

  She narrowed her gaze, daring him with a hint of danger in her eyes. “Try me.”

  Another twitch of his lips. “From the moment you appeared in the doorway to my office, I knew something remarkable had just entered my world. I was undeniably intrigued by your cunning mind and bewitching manner. I was determined to know you better.”

  “Do you feel you accomplished that goal?” She arched a brow imperiously. “Do you know me, Mr. Maxwell?”

  His silver-gray eyes sparked from beneath a furrowed brow. “I know your success was hard-won and that your business is much more to you than financial security. I know you have a hard time acknowledging that, despite your strength and influence, you still experience loneliness. I know you prefer to lead the way in your personal relationships and I suspect it’s because you’ve been disappointed in the past. People have taken from you—or have tried to,” he corrected with a tilt to his lips.

  Lifting his hand, he traced his fingertips across her temple as he swept a tendril of hair behind her ear while his gaze remained locked with hers.

  “You are clever and crafty beyond anyone’s understanding. You’ve hardened your heart to protect it and you do not believe in love because you’ve witnessed how the emotion can be falsified and manipulated.” His focus dipped to her mouth and his words thickened as he added, “Your lips taste like heavenly sin, your skin is softer than silk, and your moans of pleasure twist me into knots.”

  Callista parted her lips as something intense began to snake through her, stirring up emotions she struggled to identify. She wanted to refute his claims but his words rang too true. Every one of them.

  His gaze lifted to hers again as the flat of his thumb gently brushed over her cheek. “But there is still so much I want to know about you. I want to know how you take your tea or if you prefer coffee. I want to know how your eyes look upon waking. I want to know what amuses you and what infuriates you. I want to discuss your hopes and dreams and fears over breakfast every morning and talk to you about the weather and the latest town gossip every evening.”

  She didn’t realize she’d begun to shake her head until his hand slid away from her face. His expression darkened as a furrow of disappointment clouded his brow. “You don’t believe me,” he stated in a low voice.

  That was the problem. She did believe him.

  She didn’t know what to think of everything he’d just said, but she couldn’t deny how she felt about it. Elated. Terrified. Hopeful.

  Turning away, she crossed to the windows, where heavy drapes blocked out the light of day. She pulled one of the drapes aside to gaze over the white and wintery scene. Carriages rolled along the snow-covered street as people bustled about, bundled in furs and wool. So mundane. So domestic.

  For so long, her world had been contained within the walls of Pendragon’s.

  Mason dared her to take a risk.

  But how
did one go about risking their very heart?

  She felt his presence as he silently came up behind her. “I don’t know how to do this,” she murmured quietly.

  “Yes, you do,” he assured.

  Letting the curtain fall back into place, she turned around. His gaze met hers and within them she saw a quiet conviction, calm confidence, and heated longing. His lips were pressed into a firm line, but it didn’t stop her from hungering for them. And suddenly, kissing him was all she could think about.

  That, at least, she knew how to do.

  Slipping her gloved hand around his neck, she pressed her body to his as she rose up to place her mouth against his.

  Though she wished he would, he didn’t encircle her waist with his arms or pull her in tighter. He stood there, patiently accepting whatever she was willing to give, leaving it up to her to push it further.

  And just like that, in a flash of certainty, her fear was gone.

  Wrapping both arms around his neck, she deepened the kiss. With passionate intent, she slid her tongue along his then drew his lush bottom lip between her teeth. Finally, his arms came around her and the satisfaction of being held secure in his embrace filled her with warmth and desire.

  Pulling back just enough to murmur against his lips as she looked into his lovely eyes, she said, “I know you didn’t want a concession, but I’m giving it to you anyway. You’ve got me.” His eyes blazed and she smiled. “Now what are you going to do with me?”

  He answered by shifting his hold to sweep her up into his arms before heading toward the door. “Now,” he replied with sensual intent, “I’m going to make love to you until we are both so exhausted we fall asleep with limbs sprawled and sweat cooling on our skin. And when we wake up, we’ll start again and again and again.”

  Her laugh was husky with anticipation. “And then?”

  At the end of the hall, they entered a large bedroom decorated in jeweled tones of sapphire and emerald. He carried her straight to the bed, where he followed her down to the mattress. Settling atop her, he took her face in his hands. His voice was rough and low as he answered her question in a thick murmur. “I’m going to devote myself to convincing you that love is real and wonderful and yours for the taking.”