A Sinful Regency Christmas

Chapter Four

The light from the window pierced through Ian’s dreams, pulling him up out of the darkest, most peaceful sleep he could ever remember having. He groaned and rolled onto his back, throwing his forearm over his eyes to block that icy-white light.

The rumpled sheet slid low on his naked hips and he caught a hint of lilac perfume from the soft linen folds. Cassie. It hadn’t been a dream. It had been wonderfully real, Cassandra under his body as he slid over her, inside of her, as she came apart with pleasure around him.

“Cassie,” he called as he pushed himself up. But the bedchamber was empty and cold.

Ian rubbed his hand over his bristled jaw. Maybe it was a dream, born of the lust he had tried to suppress for her for so long? Yet his body felt relaxed with the perfect satisfaction that only came from sex, and there was that perfume. No dream could be that vivid.

He had to find Cassie.

Ian swung his legs off the bed and stretched. Pillows and blankets were tossed on the floor in a haphazard pile. Under the edge of one cushion he glimpsed a crumpled pale blue dressing gown.

He picked it up and ran the soft fabric through his hands, remembering the way Cassandra’s skin felt under his caress, her hair sliding over him. Her soft sighs and cries as he brought her pleasure. The faint scent of her perfume rose from the silk folds and made him grow hard all over again.

Ian cursed and tossed the gown onto the bed, turning away to stride to the window. He braced his hands on the polished ledge and stared out at the cold, white scene below. Snowdrifts covered the gardens like a soft, pale blanket, and the trees were coated with ice that sparkled like diamonds in the gray-bright sunlight. It looked like a different world outside—a new, clean, bright fairyland where anything could happen. Even the impossible—like him winning Cassandra.

He closed his eyes and saw again the first time he glimpsed her. Ian was a man who liked women, who enjoyed their company, and they enjoyed his, as well. Yet he had never been in love. He couldn’t even imagine what love could feel like. There were too many lovely, fascinating women out there in the world for him to think of settling on one. He was simply enjoying his life far too much.

Then he was invited to his friend Charles’s wedding. Charles had always been the most serious of Ian’s friends, so it was no surprise he chose to marry so young, and to one of an impoverished country earl’s four daughters, too. Ian waited with the rest of the congregation in that country church on a hot summer day, the scent of roses heavy in the air, the mother of the bride crying happy tears in her pew as Charles smiled nervously at the altar. Ian had shifted in his seat, wondering if he could possibly make it to a party that night to meet with the luscious red-haired widow he’d had his eye on.

The church doors opened, and a young lady appeared there on her father’s arm. She wore yellow muslin and white lace, like a ray of summer sunshine brought into the stuffy church. Her dark hair was loose on her shoulders, crowned with a wreath of yellow flowers, and she smiled shyly as she studied the gathering.

That was the moment Ian knew love was possible in the world. When he looked at the woman who was about to marry his friend, and everything else went still.

He didn’t go find his widow after all. He spent that night getting quietly drunk.

In the years that followed, he pushed down and ignored his feelings, convinced himself they didn’t exist. He befriended Cassie, learned of her sweetness and intelligence, which only made her more beautiful. And he searched for solace in other beds, other pursuits. He almost convinced himself he didn’t care for Cassie in that way.

Until he kissed her in the rain, and all those feelings came roaring free. After making love to her, tasting her passion—passion that equaled his own—he couldn’t let her go. Even though he knew he should, that she deserved far better than a rogue like him.

He glanced back at her gown on the rumpled bed. She had run away from him last night. But he wouldn’t let her run for long.

Cassandra slid down low on the settee by the library fireplace and tried to concentrate on the book she held in her hands. She had thought she could hide in there, both from Melisande’s other guests and from her own worries over what she had done last night.

Everyone else was engaged in a wild game of hide-and-seek along the corridors and up in the attics, so they weren’t likely to look for her, especially in the library. But her own thoughts … those were harder to escape from.

Every time she looked at the page, she saw Ian’s face as he leaned down to kiss her. Instead of the warmth of the fire through her thin muslin gown she felt his touch. Last night had been wondrous, beyond anything she could ever have imagined. She had never known pleasure like that could exist in the world. And to find it with Ian …

Cassandra snapped the book shut with a sigh. Last night with Ian was perfect. But when she opened her eyes to the light of dawn and saw his peaceful, sleeping face on the pillow beside hers, she was beset with doubts and fears. What if it was too perfect? What if he turned away from her again?

So she fled to her own chamber, not even going back when she realized she’d left her dressing gown behind. She had to decide how to behave, what to say, when she saw Ian again. Running to him and throwing herself into his arms as she longed to do couldn’t be an option.

There was a soft knock at the door. Glad of a distraction, Cassandra called out, “Come in.”

It was Smithers, Melisande’s butler. He held a folded letter in one hand and her fur-lined cloak in the other. “I beg your pardon for the interruption, my lady, but this message came for you.”

“A message for me?” Cassandra said, puzzled. Who would be sending her letters here? Her sisters were all scattered about the countryside with their families for the holiday, her parents off at Brighton with the youngest. Surely nothing had happened to them?

Smithers gave her the note and she ripped it open. It was very short, written in a dark, spiky scrawl, and definitely not from her sisters.

Meet me outside the front door in fifteen minutes. If you say no, I’ll just come in and find you. Ian.

Cassandra swallowed hard as she read the message a second time. He hadn’t run from her after all. He was waiting for her just outside.

She couldn’t run from him.

Smithers gave a discreet little cough and held out her cloak. “I was told you would need this, my lady. And these.” He produced her boots and gloves.

“Thank you, Smithers.” In a dreamy haze, she quickly donned her outdoor garments and hurried out of the library and through the front door.

Ian was indeed waiting for her there, holding the reins of a small white-and-gold sleigh drawn by two white horses. It was a beautiful conveyance, seemingly made for a snow queen, gleaming and opulent in the silvery sunlight. But surely the most beautiful part was the flash of Ian’s smile as he waved at her.

“Come for a ride with me, Cassie,” he called. “It’s a gorgeous day, is it not?”

Cassandra laughed. “If you enjoy freezing your nose off, I suppose,” she said, but she let one of the footmen help her up onto the narrow seat beside Ian. Ian tucked the fur-lined robes around her and slid a hot brick under her feet.

“It’s perfectly warm. See?” he said. And he kissed her lightly, his lips sliding over hers.

Indeed it was. She couldn’t remember ever being so warm, so tingling with heat, before. Everything else vanished.

But when she reached for him, he slid away with a teasing grin. “I have a surprise for you,” he said. He flicked the reins and set the magical little sleigh into motion. Silver bells rang out in merry music as they glided over the snow.

“I’m not sure I like surprises,” she said as she snuggled down into the blankets. The scenery flashed by in a glittering white blur.

“You’ll like this one,” Ian answered. “Though probably not quite as much as I liked my surprise last night.”

Cassandra felt her cheeks turn warm, and she ducked her head to hide her blush. How could she tell him she hadn’t meant to surprise him last night? That it had all been a fortunate mistake?

One surprise at a time was surely enough for now.

They drove down a narrow track through a wooded area, where the ice sparkled on the tree branches like diamonds. It was so quiet there, so magical with the snow piled all around and not another living being in sight. Cassandra put her arm through Ian’s and rested her head on his shoulder as they continued their journey.

At last he turned down a circular drive and drew up in front of a cottage. It looked as if it belonged in a fairy tale with the sleigh, a tiny dwelling of rosy-red brick with old-fashioned mullioned windows gleaming in the light, reflecting back the gray sky and the snow. In the summer it was probably covered with climbing roses, but even in the depth of winter it was charming, so cozy and inviting. A gray plume of smoke curled from one of the chimneys, but there was no other sign of life.

“Who lives here?” she asked as she studied the windows.

“We do,” Ian said. “At least for today.” He came around to help her from the sleigh, but instead of putting her down on the snowy ground he swept her up in his arms. He carried her through the garden gate and up the path to the front door. “It belongs to Melisande and happens to be between tenants at the moment. She loaned it to me.”

Cassandra laughed and held on tight to his neck as he swung her down a narrow corridor and through a low doorway into a sitting room. She gasped when she saw what was there. A bright fire burned in the grate, and spread before it was a picnic arrayed on a fur-edged blanket. Bread, cheese, cakes, hothouse strawberries and wine, with flower petals scattered across the floor to cast their sweet scent into the air.

“Oh, Ian,” she whispered. “Is this the surprise?”

“I thought it was time we were properly alone at last,” he said, and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Is this a surprise to your liking?”

“Oh, yes. Very much to my liking.”

Chapter Five

“That was the most delicious meal ever,” Cassandra sighed as she lay back on the fur-edged blanket. She felt so warm and content, with the heat from the fire dancing over her skin and the wine she had drunk winding through her body. How long had it been since she had felt so deeply content, so very right?

Never, she realized. She had never felt like this before, as if she was exactly where she was meant to be. And it was all thanks to Ian.

She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her arm to study him as he lay stretched out beside her. He was the very picture of indolent, masculine grace, a jungle panther stretched out to sleep in the sun. He had shed his coat and cravat and his shirt fell open to reveal a deep vee of glistening, smoothly muscled skin and the strong column of his throat. In one hand he held a half-full glass of wine while the other stroked the folds of her skirt.

A half-smile touched his lips. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. So you decided you like surprises after all?”

“I like your kind of surprises.” Cassandra reached out and gently traced her fingertips over the chiseled angles of his face. His sharp cheekbones, the rough bristles over his jaw, his closed eyes and the silken sweep of his brows. He lay there, very still, his eyes shut, and let her touch him.

Until she swept a soft caress over his sensual lips, and he suddenly caught the tip of her finger between his teeth. She laughed in surprise, but the laugh faded to a sigh as his tongue swept over her skin and he nibbled lightly on her fingertip. A flash of heat swept through her, like lightning. She pressed her palm to his cheek and wished they could be here like this forever, just the two of them.

Ian put down his glass and wound his arm around her waist, lowering her down onto the blanket. His palms planted to either side of her as he held himself over her on his arms. His dark eyes were hooded and intent as he stared down at her.

Cassandra let her hands fall to the floor above her head, leaving herself spread out beneath him.

“Why did you run away this morning?” he said quietly.

“I didn’t …” she began. But something in his eyes, in the still, taut way he held his body, made her realize she couldn’t hide. Not from him, not from Ian. “It was almost dawn, and I wasn’t sure what to do. What the—the etiquette is in such situations. I didn’t want to be caught sneaking out of your room.”

“Understandable,” Ian said. “But that wasn’t the only reason.”

“No.” Cassandra turned her head to the side so she couldn’t see his eyes watching her so carefully. As if he could see all her secrets there. “Oh, Ian. Last night was so amazing. I never knew it could be like that. I’d dreamed about you for so long, wondered what it would be like. And it was beyond anything I could have dreamed of. But then …”

“Then?”

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid of me?” he said, his voice so appalled. He pushed himself off her and started to turn away, but Cassandra grabbed his hand to hold him with her. “I was too rough. I let my own need overwhelm me.”

“No!” she cried. “You were perfect. I was only afraid of myself, of the way I felt with you. I’ve never felt like that before, so—so wild and free. I was afraid of myself, and afraid of losing you as I did after we kissed in the garden. I couldn’t bear it if you turned away from me again, Ian. I …”

She nearly said “I love you,” but she bit her lip to hold those words back. She let go of him and turned around to cover her eyes with her hands. It was a shocking realization—she did love Ian, more than she had ever loved anyone. Even Charles.

But saying those words would surely drive him away forever.

“Oh, Cassie.” She felt his hands gently touch her shoulders, smoothing a light caress over her arms. He turned her around and drew her close against his chest, his arms tight around her. She buried her face in his shoulder and inhaled deeply of his familiar, delicious scent.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Cassie, I stayed away after that kiss because I didn’t want to hurt you. I was your husband’s friend; I thought you would be disgusted by my attentions. That if you knew the true depths of my desire you would hate me. I couldn’t bear that.”

“No, no,” she murmured against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. “I thought I disgusted you. That you thought of me only as a friend, and that if you knew the dreams I had been having of you, you would leave me.”

“Cassie, Cassie,” he said, laughing. “What a pair we have been. I’ve needed you for so long.”

He took her face between his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks as he raised her eyes to his. She peeked up at him, everything blurry through the sheen of her unshed tears, and she saw that he smiled down at her tenderly.

His lips met hers, softly at first, as if this was their very first kiss. Then he pressed deeper, the tip of his tongue tracing the curve of her lower lip until she moaned. His tongue slipped inside, twining over hers, tasting her deeply. She felt his fingers in her hair, tilting her head so he could kiss her even deeper, more intimately.

He tasted so wonderful, of wine and fruit, and of that dark essence of himself that she had come to crave. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and pressed herself even closer to him. Her breasts pillowed against his hard chest.

He groaned against her lips, and his arms tightened around her to carry her down to the blankets. His kiss turned harder, wilder, and something in her answered his need with a burning passion of her own.

She reached for the hem of his shirt and dragged it up so she could touch his naked, ridged chest, running a caress over it as she felt his muscles tighten against her. She wanted to feel all of him, see him, know him.

His lips slid from hers to kiss her cheek, the pulse that beat in her temple, the curl of her ear. His teeth nipped lightly at her earlobe, brushed over that tiny, sensitive spot just below. He traced a ribbon of open-mouthed kisses along her arched neck and drew away the bodice of her gown to lick the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her soft breast.

“Ian,” she sighed.

As if the sound of his name unleashed something inside of him, he pulled off her dress, snapping the fastenings. Her chemise followed, and she lay beneath him only in her stockings. Feeling that wondrous sense of freedom sweep over her, she stretched her arms above her head and arched her body against his as his stare swept over her like a starving man would look at a feast. She had never felt so very beautiful, so desired.

And she had never wanted anything as much as she wanted him.

He tore his shift off over his head and lowered himself over her, their bodies pressed together. His head bent and his mouth closed hard over her aching nipple, his tongue swirling around its tip, his teeth lightly nibbling. Cassandra gasped and twisted her fingers in his hair to hold him against her.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, her heels pressed to the curve of his buttocks, sheathed in tight woolen breeches. His mouth moved to her other breast, kissing and suckling it until she gasped. Her eyes closed as she felt his hand slide down over her torso, the flare of her hip. His fingertips feathered lightly over her skin, teasing, closer and closer to her womanhood but then sliding away.

She twisted her head back, writhing under his hands, his mouth. “Touch me, Ian!” she cried. “Please, touch me now.”

With a rough laugh, he gave her what she wanted. One finger slid deep inside of her, his thumb brushing against that one most sensitive spot.

“Do you like that, Cassie?” he said tightly, as his mouth moved up over her neck again. “Do you like it when I touch you there?”

“Yes,” she said, and sobbed as he slid two more fingers into her, thrusting them deep. Her legs fell away from him so she could plant her feet on the floor to either side of his hips to hold herself to the earth. She was half-afraid she would soar off into the sky.

“Ian, please,” she moaned. Suddenly, his hands closed hard on her waist and he turned her over. She cried out at the loss of his touch, but then she heard the rustle of fabric as he unfastened his breeches and felt his hands drawing her hips up and back. She spread her legs further apart and almost sobbed as he thrust into her.

Being joined to him felt so very right, so perfect. She braced her hands to the floor and pressed back against him to bring him even closer.

“Cassie,” he said hoarsely. He held her hips and began to move, a fast, hard rhythm punctuated by their harsh breath, the damp sound of skin against skin. His hips slid along her backside as he thrust faster, deeper.

Cassandra closed her eyes and reveled in every movement, every feeling of him against her. That hot pleasure she remembered from last night gathered in a tight knot deep inside her, expanding with every thrust of him against her. She reached out further, further, until at last it burst and she felt like she was being showered with bright sparks of hot, wild joy.

Behind her, Ian shouted out and she felt his body go taut and still against her. He gave one more hard thrust, moaned her name.

Then he collapsed beside her on his back, his forearm flung over his eyes. Cassandra sank down onto the blanket and rolled onto her back, trying to catch her breath. She felt his hand cover hers, their fingers twining as they just lay there together in silence for long, perfect moments.

Ian raised her fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. “Do you still fear I would be disgusted by your desire, Cassie?”

She laughed and curled her hand tighter around his, still too weak to move. “I think that coming to your chamber last night was the best mistake I ever made.”

“It was no mistake, Cassie,” he said with a naughty-sounding chuckle. “I switched the room assignments once I realized what you were up to, with a little help from Melisande. I wasn’t going to let you get away from me again.”