A Christmas Keepsake (17 page)

Only the mildest reproach showed in Wickes’s face as he stepped aside to permit his master to enter. “Are we settled this time, sir?”

“We have only moved twice, this night,” James pointed out, amused.

“Indeed, sir.”

Wickes set about removing his boots, and in a very short time James dismissed him. After finishing his preparations for bed, he extinguished the candles and settled in a chair with a glass of brandy. Lord, what a night this had been. He wasn’t at all sure what he was doing here, either. Miss Campbell and her preposterous stories. Yet the print in that book
... his
book... None of this made sense.

And there went his primary argument against Miss Campbell’s claims she came from the future. Logic and sense played no part when it came to her.
Damn
the chit! She had him behaving as if he
believed
her. And what was worse, he realized the next moment, he actually did.

He glared into the hearth, annoyed with himself. How could he be so gullible, so—

The soft creak of the handle turning cut across his thoughts. He rose, reaching for the fireplace poker, as the door inched open. A pale round face, surrounded by a cloud of dusky ringlets, peeped inside.

With a sigh, Miss Campbell slipped through the opening and closed the door behind her. “Thank heavens! I
thought
this was your room, but if I’d been wrong—” She giggled, and clutched a muslin wrapper about her. “Wouldn’t you have liked to see Sir Oliver’s face if I’d waltzed in on
him
?”

James returned the poker to its stand and glared at her. “Please leave, Miss Campbell. You have no business being here,”

“Well, that’s a fine welcome. I just came to make sure you were all right.”

“And why shouldn’t I be? This is my cousin’s house.”

“That’s exactly why. I don’t trust him. There’s something peculiar going on. All those men, particularly Lord Brockenhurst, kept staring at you. It was enough to give me the willies. I couldn’t sleep.” Her bare feet made no sound as she crossed the carpet to stand before the blazing hearth. She shivered, and inched closer.

The thick mass of her hair fell well below her shoulders, the tight curls haloing about her head in a riot that made him long to run his hands through them. What else it made him want to do registered itself in a very marked manner.

A rush of heat surged through him. Lord, she was lovely, so full of life and vitality. And so very desirable. Unable to resist, he brushed her hair back from her eyes. Such beautiful eyes. A flame danced in their depths. Reason told him it was the reflection from the firelight, yet his heart cried out it was her passionate nature. His hand buried itself in her curls, clasping the back of her neck. Those lips...

His mouth brushed hers, testing with a feathery soft touch. She swayed toward him, her arms encircling his waist, her fingers tracing a tantalizing pattern up his back. Her lips caressed his chin, and a low groan rose from the depth of his being as his control wavered on the brink.

With an enormous effort, he set her aside. “You have assured yourself as to my well-being, Miss Campbell. You may now leave.”

He turned away, cursing himself for a fool. Never had he wanted a woman so much, never had he faced so wrenching a choice between honor and passion. The females who usually stirred his desire belonged to a very different order, were his—or any man’s—for the taking. But not Miss Campbell. Not ... Christina.

From behind him, her arms crept about his waist once more, and he stiffened. “Miss Campbell.” He grasped her hands and loosened her hold, knowing his action was the opposite of what he wanted, and knowing his willpower—and his self-respect—hung by a very thin thread. It would be so easy to give in to the need that raged through him—and so unforgivable for taking advantage of a lady under his protection.

“This isn’t why I came here.” Her cheek pressed against his shoulder blade, and her body molded itself to him. “I honestly only meant to check on you. But—James?”

The huskiness of her tone battered the walls of his defenses. “No.” His voice rasped in his throat. “You can have no idea where this will lead, my dear.” He faced her, clasping her hands between his own. “No lady should ever come to a gentleman’s room. The situation can get out of control far too rapidly.”

“Good.” She barely breathed the word. “James, I—”

Once more, the eerie creek of the handle reached him. He grasped Miss Campbell’s wrist and shoved her behind the curtains which surrounded his bed. “Keep down and keep quiet!” he hissed. He grabbed up the discarded poker and swung around to face the door as it inched silently open.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Christy opened her mouth, then shut it as the soft rustle of satin reached her. Someone entered the room.

She tensed, then drew her legs under her so she crouched. The bed curtain might provide a hiding place for her, but if this intruder dared harm James...

“Ah, you are still awake?” St. Ives’s silken drawl reached her. “Dear Coz, I thought you would have been asleep by now.”

“Did you? What a peculiar time to call upon me, then.”

St. Ives laughed, though it sounded somewhat tense. “I fear it was not the pleasure of your company I sought. Rather, to assure myself of your safety.”

“Indeed?”

The earl sighed. “Yes, as odd as it may seem, I do find I have a certain fondness for you. And a certain interest in keeping you alive. I came because I thought I heard someone moving about the house. The stairs are in the most dreadful habit of creaking, you must know. Has anyone come near your door?”

“My man came a few minutes ago,” the major lied easily. “Might it have been him?”

“I suppose it is possible, but the person I heard used the main stairs, and I did not hear him leave.”

“Ah. A mystery then. A ghost, perhaps? After all, it is Saint Thomas’s Eve.”

“More likely the house settling. Very well, if you are quite safe, I shall bid you good night.” His muffled footsteps crossed the rug. “Lock your door after me,” the earl advised. A soft click indicated his departure.

Christy rose from behind the bed to see the major turn the key in the lock, then toss it on the table. He placed his ear against the door and waited. She inched forward, wondering if the earl peered in through the keyhole. Just in case, she stayed out of the direct line.

The major waved her back, and she stopped, then sank down on his bed. Two minutes passed, ticking by their slow seconds, and at last James nodded to himself. He gestured Christy to silence, crossed to the fire and poked at the embers. He threw on another log.

At last, he came to her side and bent close. “I didn’t hear any retreating footsteps.” His voice made the merest thread of sound. “It will be best if you wait for a few minutes before leaving.”

“Fine. I don’t trust him.” His nearness set her pulse beating erratically. She forced her concentration back to his danger. “What if he hoped to find you asleep? What’s to have stopped him from killing you?”

“A sense of family?”

His breath fanned her cheek, and an aching longing seeped through her. “He doesn’t like you,” she managed. She caught his hand, and temptation proved too great. She drew him down beside her. “That scared me when he came in. I really thought he’d come to attack you.”

“No.” He stroked her hair, soothing. “It’s all right.”

Closing her eyes, she reveled in the sensations caused by his simplest touch. She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Now it is,” she agreed.

“Miss Campbell—” He set her aside.

No, she couldn’t bear it if he withdrew from her. Not now, not tonight, not when he filled her world, when the sound of his deep voice sent a thrill through her very being. She’d never felt like this before. She’d never felt such depth of emotion, such certainty she had found the one man...

She gazed into his eyes. The smoldering glow she encountered there robbed her of breath. He felt it, too, this desperate need, this sense of oneness between them. They belonged together, but he’d fight against it...

This was too important to let his ridiculous noble instincts rule his heart. She slid her arm across his broad chest, then pushed hard, so he fell back on the comforter. She stopped his struggles by pinning him by both shoulders.

“Miss Campbell—”

“Christy,” she whispered, and trembled with nerves at her audacity. “I’m doing this for your own protection, you know.
Someone
needs to stay with you tonight. Just to make sure you’re safe, of course.”

In spite of himself, his lips twitched. “And who’s to make sure I’m safe from you?”

“Do you really want to be?”

For a long moment he remained silent, gazing at her. At last, he said: “What I want and what is right are vastly different things.”

“No, they’re not! James, it’s not like this at
all
where I come from. I haven’t been brought up with these ridiculous constraints. The rules of your time just don’t apply to me, so don’t judge me—or us—by them.”

His fingers brushed across her curls. “It couldn’t have changed that much.”

“Oh, yes it could. You need a lesson in our modern ways. Now—in your time—no one thinks the worse of a man for sleeping with a woman, do they? In
my
time, men and women have become equal that way. If what we share is as
special
as this...” She broke off, unable to put the feelings and sensations into words.

“You are under my protection. I cannot take advantage of you.”

“I’m over the age of consent and capable of making my own decisions.”

“And apparently mine, as well.” A gleam lit the depths of his dark eyes, and he pulled her to him. His mouth brushed across her cheek, then found her lips.

She closed her eyes, savoring the fierceness of the pressure. His hands moved over her shoulders and back, tantalizing and teasing, as he deepened the kiss, demanding an even greater response from her. She gave it. His arms tightened, crushing her against him, and the passion flaming between them sent wonder surging through every part of her.

He released her slowly, lingeringly. His hand slid to her cheek, then cupped the nape of her neck. “Does that measure up to the standards of your time?”

A shaky laugh escaped her. “Beats them all hollow,” she assured him. “Maybe I’m the one who needs a lesson.”

His finger trailed down her throat to the scooped neckline off her muslin wrapper. “This is your last chance to withdraw.”

“Are you kidding? And miss my chance to learn from a master?”

A slow smile of purely male triumph spread across his features. “You desire me to instruct the instructress, then?”

“Very much,” she breathed. “I think you’ll find me a very attentive student.”

“Then let us begin the lesson.” With a gentle tug, he freed her sash, then eased her shoulders and arms free of the flimsy fabric. For a long moment he gazed at her, then with a groan, he dragged her once more to him in a crushing embrace.

“I’m going to like your homework,” she murmured as he lowered her against the pillows.

Christy awakened slowly to the feel of James’s arms still wrapped about her. She sighed, and stretched in luxurious contentment. Predawn light seeped into the room, bathing the bed in a soft glow. It was tempting—so
very
tempting—to remain right here, touching him, reliving the joy of the love they had shared. If they were discovered, though, he would never forgive her.

With a regretful sigh, she eased herself away from him, drew on her robe, then gazed down at his recumbent figure. He lay sprawled in the massive tester bed, the bedclothes all askew. His deep, even breathing assured her he remained fast in much needed sleep. She kissed the top of his auburn hair and slipped quietly from his chamber.

Noises from below stairs announced the fact the servants were up and about. If she ran into one, James would be furious with her. She grinned at the thought of the so—proper major explaining what had occurred between them to his cousin. Almost, it was tempting. James needed some loosening up. Dear James. Dear, wonderful, sexy—beloved—James.

She reached the next floor down and made her way to her chamber, where she built up her fire before climbing into her cold, empty bed. She’d much rather be sharing his, still. Damn his sense of propriety. But his lesson last night had been heaven itself.

She drifted into a hazy dose, from which she was disturbed over two hours later by an indignant Nancy. The girl swept into the room, a tray in her hands, talking as she came.

“The hours the gentry keeps, Miss Christy. We’d of been up and doin’ long ago, what with our tasks. Such idleness!” She set down her tray, and her impish smile flashed. “And don’t I just wish I could be one of ’em!”

Christy laughed and picked up the cup of hot chocolate. “Boy, I’m hungry. Any hope of breakfast anywhere?”

Nancy sniffed. “Not for another hour, at least. Mr. Wickes says as the gentry don’t leave their rooms until noon.”

Christy rolled her eyes, then settled cross-legged on the bed with her cup in hand. “What do you think of this place?” she asked.

Nancy turned from the cupboard with Christy’s sprigged muslin. “I knows a few cracksmen what would give their right arms to mill this ’ere ken.”

Christy blinked. “Mill a—You mean rob it?”

“
I
wouldn’t,” came the affronted reply. “I told you, I don’t ’old with that no more.”

“What do you think of the people?” Christy tried again.

To her surprise, a dull flush crept up the maid’s cheeks. “Oh, they’s all right, as flash culls go. Can’t say as I’d like to work for that ’atchet-faced twiddlepoop what walks about on cat stalks, cousin of the major’s or no. But some of them others, they ain’t so bad.”

“Oh?” Christy’s gaze rested on her. “Any one in particular?”

Nancy sniffed. “No matter what Mr. ’Igh-and-Mighty Wickes says,
some
gentlemen don’t sneer just because a girl don’t talk flash.”

That one of the guests had set himself out to charm Nancy, Christy felt certain. She could guess with what purpose in mind, and it angered her. Nothing further, though, would Nancy divulge, leaving Christy to worry whether the girl would abandon her plans to join the respectable ranks of the upper servants in favor of a temporary and far less respectable liaison with an upperclass roué who knew how to turn a girl’s head.

When Christy at last made her way to the breakfast parlor, the morning was considerably advanced. To her pleasure, only one other member of the house party as yet had emerged.