Once Upon a Christmas Wedding

by Scarlett Scott

  “How do you know that?” She lowered her eyebrows.

  “Because I haven’t made love to you yet.”

  “How is that logical?”

  He shrugged. “It’s as logical as you telling me that you aren’t.”

  Merry unfurled and rubbed her face against Rose’s. “I think I must be nervous. Thank you, Merry. That helps.” With that, Rose stood, and carrying the cat, walked over to Ian and settled on his lap. “Is it too early to retire for the night?”

  “Many of the servants had the day off, being Christmas. Your bath water is heating and as soon as that’s done, we’ll go upstairs.”

  With a contented sigh, she snuggled close into him. Today he had discovered emotions he didn’t know he had, like joy and hope. Finally, he received the nod from the butler that the servants had finished unpacking and that his rooms were now ready for his wedding night. Given enough food, his suite was large enough to live in for a few weeks, encompassing two bedrooms, separated by a large dressing room complete with a marble bath. Although he didn’t know why, she had decided that intimate relations were more important to her than to him.

  She needed find out that loving her came before making love to her.

  Chapter 10

  A rap sounded from the inside of the dressing room door as a signal that Ian had moved through to his own room. The day had been long. As yet, Rose knew neither the servants nor the normal routine of her new home. She had more to learn than simply running her own household. The maid who had been temporarily allotted to help Rose disrobe in her bedroom held the door open, smiling discreetly. “Your bath is ready for you, my lady.”

  With a nod of approval, but not surprised, because Ian had promised her a relaxing soak, Rose stepped into the room lined with panels of ornately carved oak, behind which her gowns had been carefully stored. Her hats sat in a separate compartment, where long flat drawers stored her under garments and gloves. Having inspected these arrangements, she turned to a rack of thick towels standing beside the bath. The maid, Ally, discreetly left as Rose slipped out of her trousseau robe. Wafts of steam drifted from the petal-scattered water.

  The man who thought he wasn’t romantic had ordered this adorable treat for her. Her mouth a curve of appreciation, she slid into the perfumed warmth. Although she looked forward to the delights of the bedroom, she was naturally apprehensive. She prayed that the breaking of her virginity seal wouldn’t hurt. After all, she had told Ian she had experience.

  Just as she had begun to soap herself, Ian entered the dressing room. Her first instinct was to cross her arms over her breasts, but he smiled and took the soap from her. “Let me help,” he said, dropping to his knees and lathering his hands.

  “Thank you,” she said in a hesitant voice. Her neck tensed, and her eyes fastened on the naked chest exposed by the gap in his exotically patterned, black silk banyan.

  He smiled at her, slipping a hand down her spine and carefully soaping her, which was quite enjoyable, until his hands moved to her front and over and around her breasts, evading her pebbled nipples.

  Her skin tightened but she loved watching his gentle hands sliding over her body. She leaned back while his palm moved lower and lower, over her belly and then between her legs. The soap dissolved and she closed her eyes, sucking in a shivery breath, hoping he would find her pleasure spot, but he leaned over to touch his mouth on hers, his expression languid as he lifted her out of the water. She helped him dry her, not breaking the silence with her nervous emptying of her lungs. Anything she said would break the spell.

  While he watched, she donned her loveliest nightgown, one that she wanted to wear at least once. When she had finished, he gathered into his arms again and carried her onto the bedroom. He lowered her onto the bed and then swung himself up beside her. If he shared her apprehension, she certainly saw nothing but tenderness on his face. “What do we do now?” she asked carefully.

  “Whatever we want,” he said, with a casual smile.

  “Tonight will be a little awkward, I imagine.”

  His eyebrows arched eloquently. “You haven’t been particularly shy with me so far. I recall the last night at the inn. You were quite forward, in fact. And now I can reciprocate. First I will remove that pretty scrap of a nightgown, because you have no use for it now. Sit up, my petal. I don’t want to rip the silk. The laundry-maid would take back her good opinion of me.”

  She helped him undress her, discovering that the night air was cool, but Ian’s skin was toasty warm when he completely enveloped her in his arms. Fortunately, he was already naked. He didn’t bother to turn down the lamps. The man had confidence in his body, and rightly. She appreciated his fit and healthy, smoothly muscled shape.

  He tucked her head beneath his chin, which helped a little, for she was still nervous, and her over-confident act could not possibly last when she was about to face the unknown. She tried breathing deeply but the flutters in her chest didn’t go away until he ran the flattened palm of his hand over her back in a soothing manner. Right then she knew he didn’t expect more from her than she could manage. If he loved her, and she believed he did, he would be patient.

  However, his soothing brought a need in her to hold him closer. She wanted to touch all of him, beginning from the planes of his cheekbones, to his bristled jaw. She spread her seeking palm to the ridges of his strong shoulders, momentarily lingering over the smooth firmness of his muscles.

  He reciprocated by splaying his fingers across her back in a possessive but tender way. That same warm hand slid to her buttocks and shaped her roundness, while his lips rested on the junction between her neck and her shoulders, finding a spot that made her shiver deliciously. He moved his kisses to her chin, her cheek, and then slid his mouth across to hers. Although she tried to keep him there, he kept moving from here to there and back again.

  Finally she rose above him and placed a palm on each side of his face and began kissing him the way he had kissed her. He let her for a moment and then his mouth got in the way of hers. Before she knew what was happening, his lips took hers with a deep kiss that had her crawling all over him.

  Her skin heated and her breaths grew shorter. When she stopped, he glanced at her face. His lashes half shaded his eyes and his mouth curved. The sensuality in his quick glance at her made her heart race. “You are not teasing me again, are you?” she asked in a mischievous whisper.

  His mouth curved in a slumberous smile. “I’m teasing both of us. Our first time needn’t be hurried or uncomfortable.”

  She settled her mouth across his again, taking nipping, stop-start kisses, until his mouth had to chase hers. She hoped for another proper kiss on her mouth, but he appeared to be content to breathe into her hair.

  The man certainly didn’t intend to hurry her deflowering, which she appreciated. In fact, after his slow seduction, she doubted she would be able to stop wanting him inside her. She throbbed with need. Somehow, he sensed what she craved, for he parted her legs and rolled her over onto her back.

  Having his weight on top of her was somehow more delightful than crawling all over his manly form. Now she was at his mercy, almost, for he possibly had more mercy than she. Although she experienced his enormous cock pressed into her belly, she made a slight movement that put him where her body wanted him. He huffed out a sound between a groan and a laugh.

  Then the beautiful man lifted to his elbows so that his chest no longer touched hers and he slid down and began to lick her nipples. Within moments he had taken a bud between his lips, and he sucked. While he lay above, she shifted until she had him nestled between her legs. Her urge to touch him was irresistible, although he hadn’t let her do so in the inn. Tonight was the night she would reach down and do as she wished.

  The hot hardness of him in her palm caused her heart to tumble inside her chest. While he teased her other nipple with his lips, she slid her hand up and down on him, knowing by his urgent withdraw and return that he appreciated her attention. Finally, when she tho
ught she would faint from the pleasure he was inflicting, he used his fingers on her.

  The slip and the slide moved her wetness to the spot that made her twitch. He kept his fingers teasing her until she panted and huffed and said his name over and over in a breathless whisper. No amount of begging him to stop or start, pleased her. She seemed to be a needy wretch whose pleasures were out of her reach.

  Finally, when she was so wet that his fingers sliding into her was not enough, he moved lower down her body. For a moment, he lifted his head and glanced at her. “Allow me,” he said, as he nestled his head between her legs.

  She spread her fingers through his hair but he lifted her knees slightly and carefully began to lick her. At first, she gasped and wriggled but he had no intention of stopping until he had well and truly pleasured her. Finally, her little bud wanted to flower and she began to squirm. Her breathing came faster, and she began to beg, herself or him, she didn’t know whom.

  Her heels met together across his back and she arched hard into him. Finally, her body began to rock, and she gave an agonized cry. “You beast,” she said in a high voice. “What a shocking thing to do to me.” She slumped, breathing hard, unable to do anything but close her eyes.

  He lifted himself back up the bed, lay beside her, and pulled up the quilt to cover them both. Tired and half asleep, she turned into him and settled again his wonderful body. “I have nothing more to say.”

  “In that case, we shall have to do that often.”

  She said, “Hm,” trying to sound disapproving, but a laugh formed inside her. Finding his enormous, silky smooth cock with her hand, she began to fondle him, but exhaustion overtook her.

  Sometime during the night she awoke and found herself clasped in his arms. His cock was still hard and pressed against her belly. Soundlessly, she lifted her leg over his hip. He rolled her over and when she lay beneath him, he kissed her neck, her jaw, and then her lips. This had been the part she feared, knowing that the size of him was far larger than his fingers. She tensed, but he placated her by taking her mouth again. He took his time with his deep, passionate kisses, until she lifted her knees either side of his hips. Then he slid in her wetness. Frustration built inside her, but Ian appeared to be in no hurry until the tip of him began to expand her entrance. Using his fingers on her again, he slowly entered. She seemed to be full of ridges inside, but he withdrew and entered again and again until she had grown slick and smooth and was arching her back with need.

  She wanted more so badly that she dug her fingers into his rock-hard buttocks. He made a soft sound like a groan and moved inside her until she needed to bump her hips to keep him continuing. He increased his strokes with his kisses.

  Suddenly her body bucked, out of control. She held on to Ian so tightly that she had to hope she wasn’t hurting, but the pleasure she experienced at that moment was impossible to describe. He stopped and held her until she could breathe again and he removed himself and held her until she slept. Sometime later in the darkness, he took her again. Amazingly, she was as enthusiastic the second time as the first. But again, her body and mind sated, she drifted off to sleep.

  Ian watched Rose’s relaxed face as the sun arose. Her long eyelashes sat flat against the pearly skin of her cheeks. Her beautiful hair was a bird’s nest, her tender young skin had been slightly abraded by his bristles, and she was the most wonderful sight he had ever seen in the morning, with her expression one of total relaxation. Last night she had been far from relaxed. He appreciated that she had made light of her first time with a man.

  He knew without a doubt she had never belonged to anyone other than him. His possessiveness, a trait he didn’t know he owned until last night, had grown by leaps and bounds this morning. Although his wedding vows had been simple, in his heart he had sworn to protect her for the rest of his life. She had given herself to him with an open heart and a great deal of dedication to her wifely duties in his bed. His duty was to take care of her, and he would do no less.

  Promising that he would forsake all others had been no chore. The thought of keeping his mistress after marriage, which so many of his peers did, was not for him. He wanted no one but the generous beauty he now had in his bed, sleeping peacefully.

  Unable to break the habits of a lifetime, he swung out of bed, knowing his valet wouldn’t enter this room again. He also knew Rose wouldn’t spend her nights in the room divided from his by the dressing room. She would sleep by his side forever. This morning, his valet and her dresser could use the outer door when Ian rang. He sat up, but a sleepy voice said, “Before you go, Ian ...”

  He raised his eyebrows in query.

  “One more time, if you please.”

  He hesitated, and finally shook his head, unwilling to wear out his welcome on the second day of their marriage. First, she needed to be nurtured.

  She offered him a glance of disbelief. And then her expression changed to a slow, sultry examination of his face.

  Keeping his expression casual, he slid out bed, strolled into dressing room, and rang the bell for his valet. Carr brought up the hot water himself, and agreed to have breakfast for two to be sent up. After a leisurely wash, and a shave, Ian donned his black silk banyan and re-entered the bedroom as the breakfast trays arrived. His beautiful bride leaned back against a bank of pillows. Two maids flurried about, one placing a tray on Rose’s lap and the other on the space he expected to occupy. Rose eyed him. “What a lovely treat,” she said in a voice of utter surprise.

  When she had finished and the trays had been taken, he carefully removed her nightgown and made love to her again. This time, she slowly reached another shattering peak with him. A man could have no more than this, a wife who enjoyed the pleasures of the marriage bed, who laughed when he did, and who would be loved by the whole household within a week.

  As he was thinking about dressing and doing something other than loving Rose, the bedroom door snicked open. A tiny black cat bounced into the room and gave a flying leap onto the bed, landing on Ian’s chest. He automatically stroked the little pest, who set up a purr that vibrated through him. “I thought we had lost you to the kitchen maids,” he said as he scratched her beneath her chin.

  When she had finished with him, Merry strutted over to Rose, and rubbed her head beneath her rescuer’s chin. “We don’t mind sharing, Merry,” Rose said tenderly. “We have enough love for everyone.”

  He laughed. Rose was Rose and would never be anyone else, unreadable, intriguing, and with a heart big enough to share. He had no idea of her true depth until he’d had the opportunity to be alone with her for two days. If the reckless beauty hadn’t insisted on him sharing his carriage, he might never found his greatest joy.

  About Virginia Taylor

  Virginia Taylor trained to be an artist before switching over to gain a diploma as a nurse/midwife. She then veered again, and worked as a theatre set painter and designer while following the tortuous path to be published as a writer of contemporary and historical romance novels.

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  A Wicked Wedding

  by Laura Trentham

  Chapter 1

  Miss Diana Grambling was well and truly stuck with no plan to extricate herself from her numerous thorny problems. Her immediate difficulty consisted of disentangling herself from a set of brambles and getting in front of a warm fire with hot tea at home. Not that she was likely to be missed. It wasn’t that her family didn’t love her, but there were just so many of them it was difficult for her parents to keep track.

  Eight brothers and sisters. She wasn’t the oldest or the youngest—her brother Piers was twenty-five and a solicitor in London, and her sister Maybelle was six. Diana wasn’t even the prettiest. That honor went to Rose, her beautiful, graceful, k
ind sister with perfect manners. With a dewy complexion and honey-blond hair, Rose was the definition of an English rose.

  Unlike Rose, who took after their mother, Diana had inherited her father’s unruly dark red hair. Her face wasn’t displeasing in spite of her light freckles, but her mother was forever reminding her not to smile so widely or laugh so loudly. It wasn’t considered ladylike, as she’d discovered last spring when she and Rose had traveled to London to take in the sights and attend a small number of social functions accompanied by Piers.

  The goal had been, of course, to find Rose a suitable husband. Older than Diana by a mere ten months, Rose was the family’s hope of bettering their connections. She might even attract an offer from a man so lofty as a baronet. Diana had acted as a companion-chaperone, and although no one would hurt her feelings by mentioning it, she hadn’t given Rose any competition.

  Although bagging some boor to marry was not high on her list of wants, she had hoped to at least meet and socialize with interesting people. Instead, she’d spent her time watching everyone else. Not that she was ready to be courted. Far from it.

  Which was her other thorny dilemma. Just that afternoon, Mrs. Hambridge, the old vicar’s widow, had thrown her son, Hamish, in Diana’s path in a most obvious way. Groomed from a young age to take over pastoral duties on the Earl of Linley’s estate from his father, Hamish had settled in as vicar and was proving to be popular. The estate provided a well-appointed cottage and a willing flock to guide. All Hamish needed was a wife of good stock.

  Good stock. Like a cow or horse. Diana let out a bark of dismay and pulled harder at her cloak, only managing to ensnare herself worse. Although it was only late afternoon, the shadows under the copse of hardwoods grew long under winter skies. She set her basket on fallen pine needles, pulled her gloves off, snatched her straw hat from atop her head, and fumbled with her cloak. In her haste to begone from the not-so-subtle hints being dropped by Mrs. Hambridge with regard to a union with her son, she had managed to knot the ties.