An Affair in Winter (Seasons Book 1) (30 page)

Gray’s whole body hurt from the weight of the words he had just spoken. He’d never allowed himself to voice that fear. To allow himself to imagine that he would hurt Rosalinde. But now that she had given her heart so freely, now that he had accepted it because it was so precious, terror gripped him.

Rosalinde tilted her head and speared him with a loving yet questioning glance. “
That’s
what you fear? That you might hurt me?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice cracking with the weight of those words and the consequences they might hold.

She touched his face, her fingers so light against his skin, so warm. “Gray, you
will
hurt me.”

He flinched and tried to pull away, but she held him steady with a deceptively strong grip.

“Don’t run. Pain is inevitable in this life. But if you never risk the pain, you will also never find the joy or the pleasure or the true connection. You’ll never hurt me with ill intentions, never with cruelty. And I may hurt you in return out of misunderstanding or by accident. But more often than not, you’ll heal me. You’ll complete me. And I hope to do the same for you.
That
is life, that is love.”

He mused on that for a moment before he stroked his hands along her spine. He felt her shiver beneath him, felt his own body react to the press of her, the weight of what they had just said to each other.

“Celia once told me you live your life with your arms wide open,” he said, his voice soft and rough. “It is one of the things I have loved about you. Will you teach me how to do that?”

She nodded. “It’s easy enough, my love. Just trust that you’ll survive the flight
or
the fall. And trust that I’ll always be there to catch you.”

He pushed her back against the settee, his mouth finding hers, his body nudging between her legs. He had wanted her too many times since he’d met her, but never more than now. Now he wanted to feel her wrapped around him when he knew he had her heart. When he knew she held his.

“We have less than an hour before we are declared man and wife,” he whispered as his lips dragged against her throat. “Just enough time to show you how much I love you, just enough time for us to try out our wings together.”

She hesitated. “I want more than an hour.”

He laughed even though her words made his cock even harder. “Mmm, one more thing I love about you. This time will be fast, but I promise you that tonight, when you are my wife, you will know it in every way.”

“I know it now,” she said, drawing him closer. “I know it forever.”

He pushed up her skirt with one hand, splaying his fingers across her satiny flesh, marking it as his as he inched higher and higher. He so wanted to strip her bare, to take his time worshipping her, but that was not to be this afternoon.

Still, he had the rest of his life.

He smiled as he pushed his fingers through the slit in her drawers and stroked them over her sex. She was wet, hot, ready.

“Thank God,” he groaned, covering her mouth as he unbuttoned the flap of his trousers. Her fingers tangled with his, and together they worked to free him.

She made a soft sound against his lips as she stroked him once, twice, then guided him to her entrance. He pulled away from the kiss as he slid forward, breaching her, feeling her slick folds tighten around him and welcome him home.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She smiled up at him, her eyes filled with tears, but happy tears. Joyful tears. “I love you.”

He drove forward on those words, taking her slowly, rotating his hips to give her the most pleasure. He watched her face as he moved, marking every hitch of her breath, every gasping moan, every contortion of her face as her pleasure built.

Finally she buried her face against his shoulder, her entire body shuddering as she lifted hard against him in release. That was the permission he needed. He increased his pace, surrendering to the pull and grip of her body, the spasms from her orgasm milking him until he grunted and spent inside of her.

She smiled as she drew him down, his body covering hers, her hands smoothing over his shoulders.

“Today we’ll say vows,” she whispered against his ear. “But
that
was my wedding. My stolen moment to become yours.”

He pulled away, smiling down at her. “They were never stolen moments, Rosalinde,” he murmured. “They were always ours to take. And they always will be.”

Then he dropped his mouth to hers, claiming her once more.

Four months later

Rosalinde stood aside as yet another servant passed by with a trunk. From her place in the foyer, she watched out the window as Celia directed the young man, who would place it on the wagon leaving for London in less than an hour.

Suddenly warm arms slid around her from behind and she smiled, leaning back into the solid chest of her husband.

“Celia is running the show,” Gray murmured against her ear.

Rosalinde shrugged. “I think she’s nervous about returning to London for a Season. Everyone at Caraway Court was kind about the breaking of the engagement, but you never know what the Town biddies will say or do.”

Gray let out a long sigh that made Rosalinde turn toward him. He was frowning, his gaze distant as he watched out the window with unseeing eyes.

“Lucien arrived in London a week ago,” he said. “His latest letter said he’s encountered no resistance due to the broken engagement. It bodes well for Celia.”

Rosalinde searched his face. In the months since their hasty wedding, they had returned to his home in the north, Celia in tow. In that time, she had truly come to know her husband. Not only as the giving lover and the kind brother, but as the fair employer and brilliant mind. She had fallen further and further in love with him the more she became able to judge his moods.

Right now he was pensive.

“Did Stenfax’s letter include reference to anything else?” she asked.

Gray’s dark gaze focused on her and the corner of his lip quirked up. “What have we talked about, Rosalinde? You shouldn’t read my mind where the servants could hear. They’ll start calling you a witch.”

She laughed but swatted his chest. “Don’t tease.”

“But I like the sounds you make when I tease,” he whispered.

Her cheeks flamed and the hand swatting his chest curled instead to stroke there. “So do I, but you are changing the subject.”

He grunted in displeasure. “I was trying to, but you are too smart. If you are asking if Stenfax has seen Elise, it seems he has not.”

Rosalinde nodded. “It isn’t surprising. Lady Kirkford will be in mourning until the fall probably. By then, Stenfax may retreat back to Caraway Court, or maybe he’ll even be courting a new love.”

Gray’s lips remained thin, and she knew that he didn’t believe her. She didn’t really believe that either. But she couldn’t change what Stenfax would do, nor could her husband.

So she slid into his arms, smiling up at him in comfort.

“Are you worried?” she whispered.

He stared at her a long moment and the tension bled away from his face. He smiled down at her, his eyes glowing with love and passion and all the things that made him the only home she’d ever need.

“Worried?” he asked. “I have you. I couldn’t worry.”

Then he bent his head and kissed her, and all was right with her world.

Coming next from USA Today Bestselling Author Jess Michaels:

A wedding that cannot happen…

A man who is not what he seems…

A woman who betrayed for love…

And a couple who can never be.

It will all happen during one year of passionate
Seasons
. Turn the page to read an exclusive excerpt of Seasons book two - A Spring Deception, coming September 6, 2016.

Seasons Book 2

Celia smiled as she looked out over the dance floor and watched Gray and Rosalinde swirl by in the crowd. Gray’s hand was firmly pressed into Rosalinde’s hip and their gazes were locked on each other, proof once again of their loving bond.

“She does look happy.”

Celia started and looked at the two young women who had stepped up beside her. She’d known Miss Tabitha Thornton and Lady Honora for as long as she could remember. They were old friends and ones who had stood staunchly beside her before, during and after her ill-fated engagement. She appreciated that beyond measure.

“She does,” Celia said, addressing Honora, for it was she who had made the statement. “She is. Lucky her.”

“Indeed, for Mr. Danford cuts a fine figure,” Tabitha sighed. “And I’ve heard he’s worth a fortune, even if father does turn up his nose that he made it by work and not inheritance.”

Celia shrugged. “I don’t care what he does to earn his keep, as long as he takes care of my sister. Which he does in spades.”

“So you don’t regret breaking your engagement to Stenfax at all?” Tabitha asked, curling a loose blonde lock around her finger.

Celia pursed her lips. Her friends had kindly danced around that subject since her return to London a week before, but here it was. She found herself searching through the ballroom and found the tall, stern figure of the Earl of Stenfax. He was talking to a few other men in a corner. He was very handsome, of course, but he had never moved her, nor had she moved him.

“I do not regret it,” she said and meant it. “Things have worked out exactly right.” She cleared her throat and looked around. The women who were not dancing were all gathered in clumps it seemed, and there was a crackling electricity in the air that made no sense to Celia. “Why is everyone so odd tonight?” she asked, hoping for a change in subject.

Honora grasped her arm in both hands, her face lighting up in excited pleasure. “You mean you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” Celia asked, shaking her head. “What is there to hear that would inspire
that
expression?”

Honora leaned in, as did Tabitha. “The Duke of Clairemont is making a return to Society tonight.”

Celia wrinkled her brow. “The Duke of Clairemont. I vaguely recognize the title, but why does that matter? We’ve a room full of stuffy old men as it is. One more duke is hardly any matter.”

“Oh my lord, she doesn’t know!” Tabitha squealed and now Celia was being held by both her arms, one for each friend. She rather hoped they didn’t try for a tug of war.

Honora all but bounced. “His Grace is
not
an old man,” she said, trying for a whisper but not really accomplishing it in her excitement. “He is barely above thirty and rich as Midas, himself!”

Tabitha tugged on Celia’s arm none too gently. “His father died a decade ago and he took the title, but since then he has been a recluse, hiding away in his country estate, Kinghill Castle. No one has seen him in years and years.”

“There are so many rumors about why he hid so long, Celia,” Honora continued, pulling her back to her side. “Some say he was scarred in an accident-”

“A fire!” Tabitha said. “I heard it was a fire.”