The Earl’s Mistletoe Bride (12 page)

But that was not at all what Beth wanted. She understood that, even while his fingers slithered over her hip bone and started down her thigh. She wanted him to smooth his hands over her skin. Without the intrusion of petticoats. She laid her hands on his cheeks and ran them gently down over the line of his jaw, his neck, and the taut muscles of his chest. She could go no further, for his body was resting on the bed beside her. She pushed against him with the flat of her hands. ‘I…I want to see you.’ Her whisper was barely audible, even to her own ears. ‘And for you to see me.’

He took a deep breath and touched his mouth to the side of her neck, below her ear. ‘It shall be exactly as you wish,’ he whispered against her flesh, the words vibrating through her whole being. He kissed his way up to her ear lobe and began to nuzzle there. At the same moment, with featherlight touches, he was untying the
ribbons of her chemise and pushing it carefully from her body. Soon, she was completely naked, apart from her stockings. A gentle hand lifted away the chemise and began to stroke up the side of her calf, teasing at the weave of her stocking and sending shivers through the flesh beneath.

Beth groaned out his name. He responded with a sound, low in his throat. She had never heard the like before, but she recognised it as male satisfaction, and anticipation. And then his questing fingers reached the naked flesh above her garter. That single touch was electrifying. He stroked his hand round to her inner thigh and let it rest there, while his lips nuzzled a path across her cheek to find her mouth.

‘Oh, Beth. You are so very desirable.’

Her own desire for him was becoming almost impossible to endure.

He kissed her, deeply, on the mouth and then continued to kiss his way across her cheek and along her jaw, down her neck to the little indentation at the base. He paused there to flick her skin with the tip of his tongue. Then on, down, to the valley between her breasts. He took one breast in each hand, weighing them reverently, rubbing his thumbs back and forth across her aching nipples until they rose, hard and proud against his touch.

‘Mmm.’ Beth felt the low rumble against her flesh. Then he was rolling one nipple between his thumb and forefinger while he sucked the other with such force that she felt the pull all the way down to her womb. She gasped aloud at the strange, elusive pleasure of it.

Jon raised his head from her breast and murmured
something she could not catch, before transferring his mouth to her other breast. This time the sensation was even stronger, as if her womb was contracting in response to his sucking mouth. Was this what it was to be loved by a man? It was almost more than she could bear.

Then Jon was kissing his way down her body, from the crevice between her breasts to her navel, and on, and on. She thought she cried out, but he hushed her and returned his wicked fingers to her breasts, pushing and rolling the nipples until they rose even more.

‘Ah! Jon!’ He had pushed himself down her body until his head was resting between her legs. She could feel the beginnings of his stubble against the tender skin of her inner thighs. And then… Heavens! He was kissing her. There! Oh! It was too much. Building, building, in great waves of feeling that she could not control. It was going to overpower her. She let out a long scream and tumbled into darkness.

Jon dropped one last kiss on her damp curls and pulled himself up to cover Beth’s motionless body with his own. He settled himself into the cradle of her hips, making sure he was taking his weight on his elbows so as not to crush her slight form. He found himself gazing anxiously down at her flushed skin, luminous in the firelight. At the moment of ecstasy, she had fainted away. That was almost proof enough that she was still a virgin. Almost, but not quite. Beth herself would never accept it.

For one fleeting second after she had lost consciousness, Jon had been about to take her, to spare her the
pain of first penetration. But he had not done it. He could not. He had to allow Beth the chance to refuse him, even now. Anything else would be a violation.

He bent to kiss her parted lips and then the purplish shadows on her closed eyelids. His taut flesh was straining towards the hot, moist entrance to her body, but he would not yield to its clamouring. There would be no union between them unless Beth herself decreed it should be so. No matter what it cost him. He kissed her mouth again and ran the tip of his tongue along the length of her lower lip. ‘Beth. Come back to me, little one.’

It was like a fairy charm. Her eyes opened. She stared up at him, unfocused at first, and then all too knowing. ‘Was that…?’

‘No. No, my sweet Beth. That was ecstasy for you alone.’

‘Not for you?’

‘No, my dear. That was for you, to let you feel what lovemaking can become.’

‘But it proved my virginity?’

He shook his head and touched a finger to her cheek. ‘I wish— No, Beth. It was not proof.’

‘But—’ She was trying to shake her head. ‘Jon, that was not our bargain.’

‘You still wish that?’

‘Yes.’

He took her mouth then, plunging deep, and insistently, until her response became more and more frenzied, and as feverish as when he had taken her, all alone, to the heights. Only then was he sure that she was ready for him.

‘Beth.’ He pulled his lips from hers and raised his head. ‘Look at me, Beth.’ She opened her eyes in response. ‘Do you trust me?’

She gazed up at him, wide-eyed. ‘Yes.’ A whisper, but determined.

Jon drove into her with one long, powerful stroke. It was exactly as he had known it would be. The barrier of her virginity broke before his thrust. A sob rose in her throat and her face contorted in pain. Shocked, in spite of himself, he held himself very still within her, waiting, wishing he could absorb her suffering.

At last, her anguished face relaxed enough for her to look up at him. Even in the dim light, he could see that her eyes were sheened with tears.

‘Oh, my poor Beth.’

‘No. It is done. It is proved. And the pain will never come again, I know. Kiss me, Jon.’

He obeyed her, gladly. But as his lips and tongue moved on her mouth, so the rest of his body moved too, driven by ungovernable desire. It was impossible to prevent it, and yet he did not want to hurt her again. He should withdraw. He must.

But it seemed that Beth had other ideas. She wrapped her stocking-clad legs around him and began to kiss him even more passionately. It was too much. His driving thrusts became stronger, until they were both gasping for breath and Beth was bucking against him.

He could not. Oh, God, he must not! In a moment, it would be too late. With his last ounce of conscious control, he pulled himself from her embrace.

One moment, she had been soaring. The next, she had plummeted back to earth. Her body felt like an
overwound watch spring, brittle enough to snap at a touch. ‘Jon? I…I don’t understand. Why—?’

He took a long shuddering breath, rolled on to the bed alongside her and drew her into his embrace. She felt his hand on her breast and his lips on hers. Skilful fingers trailed down her belly and began to stroke the innermost folds of her hot flesh. She groaned aloud. In an instant, she was soaring again. Soaring. She could see a bright light. Distant. But coming closer.

And then it exploded.

W
hen Beth opened her eyes, she was alone on the bed. How long had she been asleep? She had no idea. But she had clearly been dead to the world for some time, since her naked body was now warmly wrapped in the padded velvet bedcover. The crackle of a branch drew her eyes to the hearth. The fire had been made up and was burning fiercely. Where the folly room had been comfortably warm before, it was now becoming rather too hot.

‘Jonathan?’ He must be here somewhere.

The only response came from the fire, spitting like a snake as it consumed the dry logs. Beth began to shiver uncontrollably, as if she had been drenched in icy water. She was alone. Jon had taken his pleasure. And then he had left her.

At least he took the trouble to ensure you would not be cold as well.
Her cynical internal voice pecked at her conscience like a vulture.

That single thought was enough. She refused to lie helpless like a victim. She was her own mistress, and she would take responsibility for everything she had done. Even this. The slight ache in her belly was real enough, a reminder of her own complicity. She would not regret it. After such bliss, she could not. But her reputation must not be lost along with her virginity. She must be safely back at the rectory before first light.

The prospect of making her way across the expanse of Fratcombe Manor park in the dark was daunting. She would have only starlight to see by, for there was no moon. Still, it could have been worse. If the sky had been clouded over, there would have been no light at all.

She sat up, struggling to free herself from the velvet folds. She must find her clothes. Thank goodness she had had the sense to dress warmly.

As Jon had warned her to do. Had it been his intention, from the first, to leave her to walk back to the village alone? Was he so callous, so calculating?

‘Beth.’ A draught of freezing air swept across the room, turning the flames bright orange.

He is still here. As I should have known he would be. He asked me to trust him and, faint-heart that I am, I failed to do so. I shall not do so again.

‘I did not think you would wake so soon.’ He was beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms, caressing her hair.

Beth tried again to free herself from the bedcover. She was desperate to return his embrace, to prove to him—and to herself—that she trusted him completely. ‘Oh, bother, I—’ She growled in frustration.

Jon responded by tightening the covers around her, pulling her even closer, and kissing her very thoroughly. Yet he was laughing at the same time. ‘You must not get cold, my dear,’ he murmured as he broke the kiss.

‘But you—’ It was only then that Beth saw he was fully clad. He was even wearing those confounded boots!

She turned her gaze to the fire. ‘Is it time to leave?’ she asked quietly. She could feel the colour rising on her neck. The thought of returning to the rectory, even with Jon’s careful help, was reminding her of just how far she had strayed from the path of propriety.

‘No, not yet. There is something I wish to show you first.’

Beth whipped round to look at him. He looked more relaxed, more at ease, than she had ever seen him. The fine lines on his face seemed to have been smoothed away and there was a slight curve about his mouth…Not a smile, exactly, but a sign that he was content, at peace with his world. Was she, Beth, responsible for that?

He stood up and, in a single powerful movement, lifted her into his arms. Wrapped as she was, she could not resist. In truth, she had no desire to. She did try to free her arms, for she needed to touch him. Very much.

‘Don’t fight me, Beth. It is too cold for that.’ He dropped a kiss on her forehead and started for the door.

Beth was too astonished to say a word. Jon shouldered the door open and carried her out into the night. He had been right about the cold. Under the cloudless
sky, the air was almost freezing. If Beth had not been so warmly held, she would have shivered. As it was, she sank deeper into Jon’s arms. She did not care where he was taking her. It was glorious simply to be held so.

He carried her round to the back of the folly. She heard noises, scuffling movements on the ground, and whiffling. Saracen, of course. He must be stabled somewhere near. To Beth’s surprise, Jon ignored the horse and started to climb some stairs. She had not realised they existed.

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘On to the roof.’

‘Why?’

They had reached the top of the stairs. Jon strode across to the middle of the roof and planted his feet firmly so that he could adjust Beth’s position in his arms. ‘Look up, and you will see.’

She leant her head back on to his shoulder. ‘Oh. Oh, how beautiful it is.’ The sky was not black, as she had expected. It was a deep rich colour, somewhere between darkest blue and purple. And the stars were strewn across it like daisies in a meadow—except that these daisies were twinkling and they would never fade and die, as mere flowers did.

‘Have you never gazed at the stars before, Beth?’

‘N…not like this.’

He laughed, low in his throat, and tightened his grip. ‘It is a little unusual, I admit. But when we are married, we can do it again. Only if you wish it, of course,’ he added, sounding apologetic.

‘Is that why you come here? To look at the stars?’

‘Mmm. In the wilds of Spain, the night sky always
seemed immense, and magical. So I had the folly refurbished as an observatory. I come here at night. And not for the nefarious purposes you suspected yesterday, Miss Prim.’ His white teeth flashed. He was trying to make his grin look like a leer, but it was not working. He was laughing too much.

‘Fie on you, sir! To call me “Miss Prim” when I am here in your arms and we have—’ She stopped. Even with their new-found closeness, she could not quite say the words.

Jon’s reply was to carry her over to one corner of the roof where he sat down on a wooden bench and settled Beth on his lap. ‘From here, you may see most of the park, as well as the stars.’ He gestured towards a fine telescope and a small stool behind it.

Beth snuggled against him. Was this what their life together would be? He had talked of companionship, but she had never imagined it could be so close, so warm, so trusting. She was right to love this man, even if he would never be able to love her in return.

The back of her head was on his shoulder. His arm was around her, holding her snugly, safely against his body. Then he rested his cheek against her hair so that she could feel his breath on her skin. She closed her eyes to savour the moment. She wanted to remember this for ever.

‘I’m afraid that gnarled old tree rather spoils the panorama.’

His prosaic comment shattered Beth’s reverie. She opened her eyes and followed his pointing finger. ‘You could always cut it down, if it offends your notion of perfection,’ she said, a little sharply.

‘Oh, no, I could never do that. It is the only tree on the whole estate with mistletoe growing on it. I never saw a single sprig of it in Spain.’

‘Mistletoe?’ Beth suddenly felt very, very cold. It made no sense. She was as warmly wrapped as before, and just as secure in Jon’s arms.

‘It is my childish fancy, I fear, but I know you will not betray my weakness. An earl is not supposed to feel affection for such things. But, when I was a little boy, mistletoe seemed to be the symbol of Christmas. It was a truly happy time for all of us, especially for Henry and me, as we were so close in age. We played such games together! We— Sadly, he died, and I became the heir. Nothing was quite the same afterwards. George and I—’

Jon’s bleak grimace was telling. In her sudden concern for him, Beth pushed the image of mistletoe from her mind.

‘He is a great deal younger than me and we…we have very little in common,’ Jon said in a low voice. ‘You will meet him soon, of course.’

Jon’s brother was bound to attend the wedding, however quickly it took place. ‘Shall you invite him here?’ She could not bring herself to mention the wedding itself. If she dared to assume it was going ahead, some demon might appear and snatch it from her fingers. ‘No!’

Beth could not believe how much anger there was in that single word. Did Jon have reason to hate his brother?

‘No. George does not come to Fratcombe Manor.’ He kissed her hair, breathing deeply. When he spoke
again, his anger was leashed. ‘You will meet him—and my mother—at King’s Portbury. But only after I have made you mistress of it. Which requires a wedding. A very
private
wedding. As soon as I can arrange it.’

‘You mean here?’

‘Why, yes. I assumed you would wish the Reverend Aubrey to perform the ceremony? Was I wrong?’

She shook her head. Her throat was too tight for speech and she could feel the beginning of tears in her eyes. To be married to Jon, and by the dear man who had protected her against so much pain and loneliness…It was much more happiness than she deserved.

‘Excellent. I shall speak to him tomorrow. Or rather—’ he glanced up at the sky, but it was still quite dark ‘—later this morning.’

‘What if he will not agree? What if—?’

‘He will agree, I promise you.’

‘But—’

Jon silenced her protests by putting his lips to hers and kissing her hungrily. Soon passion was beginning to consume them both, just as before. For Beth, everything else was forgotten.

She tore her mouth from his at last. ‘I need to touch you.’ She was wriggling within her velvet. ‘I don’t care if I freeze in the process.’

‘But I do,’ he said, on the thread of a laugh. He rose easily to his feet and started across the roof, still holding Beth securely wrapped. ‘Let us return downstairs where it is warm. We have hours yet before I must take you back. A long, long time, Beth, in which I promise I shall let you do exactly as you wish.’

Jon strode so quickly along the hallway that Mrs Aubrey’s little maid was left a long way behind. ‘I will announce myself,’ he called over his shoulder. Better to have this done quickly. He rapped on the library door and threw it open, without waiting for the rector to respond.

‘Jonathan!’ Mr Aubrey had been sitting behind his desk, quill in hand, gazing vacantly out of the window. He threw down his pen and started to his feet, smiling broadly. ‘What brings you to see us so early?’

Jon paused in the open doorway to bow politely, before closing it quickly and coming forward into the small book-lined room. A good log fire burned in the grate, warming the library against the autumn chill, just as Jon had warmed the folly room last night…

‘Jonathan?’ The rector’s smile had become a little uncertain.

Jon dragged his wandering thoughts back to the business in hand. This should be a straightforward interview, a matter of plain dealing between two men who knew each other very well. So why did memories of sweet-tasting skin and sighs of ecstasy keep trying to intrude and divert him from his purpose?

Because this was more than a business transaction now. Those last blissful hours holding Beth in his arms, uniting their bodies till they were sated with loving, and yet still yearning for each other… In one night, Jon had learned that their physical union could be more satisfying than he would have dreamt.
Could be?
Rather, it
would
be, for both of them, provided there was no impediment now.

‘Good morning, sir. I have come to ask your permission to marry Beth.’

The rector’s mouth dropped open. He stared. No wonder. Jon had blurted out his request like a panting, love-sick boy, rather than a grown man. What had become of the Earl of Portbury’s hard-won self-control?

The rector cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. ‘It is perhaps a little early in the day,’ he said carefully, ‘but I think I should welcome a glass of Madeira.’ He crossed to the little table where the decanters stood. Stopper in hand, he half-turned back to Jon. ‘You will join me, I hope, my boy?’

Jon forced himself to respond as if this interview were the most normal thing in the world. ‘Thank you, sir. With pleasure.’

By the time the rector had set down the glasses and resumed his seat behind the desk, they had both had time to collect their thoughts. Jon took the visitor’s chair opposite the rector’s and allowed himself a small swallow of wine. It was only Madeira, but it burned its way down to his empty stomach. After returning to the folly to remove every last trace of Beth’s presence there, he had stopped only long enough at the Manor to change his clothes.

The rector set his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. ‘You are asking my permission to marry Beth?’

‘Yes, sir. As soon as may be. We hope you will perform the ceremony, too. If you agree, I plan to post up to London for a special licence.’ He had not said as much
to Beth, but it was the only sensible way to proceed. She would accept that. She was nothing if not sensible.

‘Jonathan, I… My boy, I do not see that I can give you what you seek. Beth lives here as our adopted daughter, it is true, but I have no authority over her, especially not in something as important as this. She is a grown woman and her own mistress.’

Jon nodded. ‘I am aware of that, sir. And I am proud to say that she has already accepted my proposal of marriage.’

‘Indeed? You surprise me.’

Jon bristled. ‘May I ask why?’

The rector laid his hands flat on the desk and leaned forward, frowning. ‘Beth has great common sense, and great delicacy, too. She knows—as you and I do, also—that she is a lady born and bred, but a lady with neither name nor family. A nameless female cannot marry a peer of the realm. I cannot believe that she would have agreed to such a thing.’

Jon swallowed his surging temper. This old man was his friend, and Beth’s protector, to boot. If he could not be brought round to see the advantages of the match, no one else would, either. ‘Beth has your name, sir, and that is quite honourable enough for
this
peer of the realm. Allow me to be open about this. I may be an earl, but I do not seek another great match, for I have learned how disastrous they can be. What is more, I have seen the available candidates. Believe me, sir, I could not abide any of them for even a week.’ He forced himself to relax a little, and tried to smile winningly. ‘Beth and I have an understanding. She will bring me the peaceful, comfortable home I have been longing for and—God
willing!—the children I need to carry on my line. In return, I will give her my name and the position she has lacked since her unfortunate accident. Once she is the Countess of Portbury, no one will dare to question her past.’