An Improper Holiday (16 page)
Read An Improper Holiday Online
Authors: K.A. Mitchell
“By far.” Ignoring the old stable floor smell of him, Ian took him by the shoulders, with both real and phantom hand, then leaned in until their foreheads touched. “But above all else in this world, I have come to prefer you.”
~ * ~
The King and Queen of Misrule had declared Ancient Greece as the theme of the Twelfth Night
celebration, placing the bedding supply of the household in grave jeopardy as everyone sought to drape themselves in sheets.
As they headed for the musicians’ platform in the gallery, Nicky leaned in to whisper in Ian’s ear. “I can’t wait to see Father go out and pour Negus on the trees dressed like that.”
Lord Carleigh had wrapped himself in what looked like gold velvet bed curtains. Ian suspected
Simmons had no part of Lord Carleigh’s costume, though Simmons had aided both Ian and Nicky by
providing passable chitons cut from nightshirts, cloaks pinned to their shoulders. In Nicky’s case, the cloak was a blue woolen blanket, since Lady Anna felt he was still susceptible to chill.
Charlotte and Emily met them at the platform, Emily nodding as Charlotte placed her hand in
Nicky’s.
Lord Carleigh and Lady Anna had been told ahead of time and waited to lend their support. Nicky
raised his cup as they stood on the dais, and the party fell silent. “I wish our friends to be the first to hear that Lady Charlotte Stanton has consented to be my wife.”
“A toast to the future marchioness.” Lord Carleigh raised his own cup.
Nicky turned to offer his cup to Ian who drank and then passed it to Charlotte.
As they accepted toast after toast, Ian felt something brush his hand where he stood at Charlotte’s
side. He looked down to see Nicky’s fingers reaching out from the arm he had around Charlotte. Ian put his own arm behind Charlotte and they locked hands. At first the touch was simple reassurance, and then Ian had to pinch his lips closed against a gasp as Nicky’s fingertip teased the inside of Ian’s wrist. In such a public moment, there was no way to stop him without creating undue attention. As he caught sight of
Nicky’s grin, Ian suspected he would spend much of his life in similar straits. The thought had him smiling.
After the toasts, Nicky led Charlotte in the first dance, and Ian watched from his spot near the dais.
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K.A. Mitchell
“I wish you many months of happiness before Nicky’s better sense asserts itself.” Julian Lewes had
managed to find something dark red to use as a tunic. With a gold belt and a coronet of evergreen, he
looked impossibly fashionable for a man wearing a blanket.
Ian smiled. “And I wish you many months of happiness before it rots completely and falls off.”
Lewes laughed. “I must say, Stanton, you surprised me. I would have laid steep odds against such an
amiable arrangement.”
“Then I am sorry I did not lay a bet on the other side.”
“And what of all your protestations of honor and duty?”
Nicky strode toward them, cloak swinging with the force of his hurried movement. “Please tell me I
am not too late to prevent a dawn appointment.”
“Not at all.” Ian forestalled another spur of Lewes’ wit. “I think I will leave such matters to those who feel they need to prove their honor, as it is not apparent to an outward gaze.”
“You wound me to the heart, Stanton. If you are still looking to lose some of your hard-won earnings,
stop by Hylas House. There will be a book on those months we spoke of.”
“I look forward to collecting my winnings.” Ian held the other man’s gaze.
With a slight twist to his lips that might have been disgust or approval, Lewes nodded and quit the
field of engagement, pausing briefly at the spot where Charlotte was surrounded by excited feminine
company.
Whatever Lewes offered as he bowed over Charlotte’s hand brought a sharp laugh from Charlotte and
a deep blush to Mrs. Collingswood’s cheeks. She stepped closer to Charlotte, and Lewes bowed over the
widow’s hand as well, sending Charlotte into peals of laughter.
As delighted as Ian was in his sister’s happiness, he did wish she would make less of a show about it.
He could see Lady Anna bearing down on her at that moment, as swift as light cavalry. Mrs. Collingswood took up a flanking position and Ian thought Charlotte might be able to stand her ground. He knew just
having Nicky beside him was as reassuring as the backing of the best of His Majesty’s artillery.
“I thought to rescue you, but it appears there was no need,” Nicky said.
Scoring one off Lewes had been surpassing fine. Ian smiled in triumph. “No. You will have to redeem
your obligation at another time.”
“Then perhaps we could retire someplace private to work out the particulars of the marriage
contract?”
“If you think you can be spared.” Ian had already started for the side doors.
“Somehow I don’t think I’ll be missed.” Nicky looked back at the group buzzing about Charlotte.
“The hunting cabin is in good repair and very well-provisioned. I think the first thing we should do is plan a proper holiday.”
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An Improper Holiday
The thought of having Nicky to himself for several days had Ian fervently wishing for the foulest of
weather. “Well-provisioned, is it? Even down to a dependable stock of that lavender oil?”
“You’ll have to take that up with the quartermaster.”
“And where would I find him?”
“I’ll show you.”
Ian paused briefly to look back at the party.
Nicky beckoned him on with his smile. “All will be well. Can you trust that?”
Ian could trust the man before him to hell and back. Indeed, Nicky had already led him back the once.
“I believe your sovereignty has a few hours left. Does the King of Misrule have any final edicts?”
The hall Nicky had led them to was damp, dark and chill. “I hope I have already secured the future of
my kingdom.”
After a quick glance about, Ian pushed Nicky against the wall. “Then might I crave a boon, sire?”
“Crave away, Mr. Stanton.”
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About the Author
K.A. Mitchell discovered the magic of writing at an early age when she learned that a carefully
crayoned note of apology sent to the kitchen in a toy truck would earn her a reprieve from banishment to her room. Her career as a spin control artist was cut short when her family moved to a two-story house, and her trucks would not roll safely down the stairs. Around the same time, she decided that Chip and Ken
made a much cuter couple than Ken and Barbie and was perplexed when invitations to play Barbie dropped off. An unnamed number of years later, she’s happy to find other readers and writers who like to play in her world.
To learn more about K.A. Mitchell, please vis
it www.kamitchell.com.
Send an email to K.A. Mitchell a
t [email protected].
Look for these titles by K.A. Mitchell
Now Available:
Temperature’s Rising
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Serving Love
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Diving in Deep
Regularly Scheduled Life
Collision Course
Chasing Smoke
A quirky holiday romance about Faith, Hope, and…er…glow-in-the-dark condoms!
The Dickens With Love
© 2009 Josh Lanyon
Three years ago, a scandal cost antiquarian “book hunter” James Winter everything that mattered to
him: his job, his lover and his self-respect. But now the rich and unscrupulous Mr. Stephanopoulos has a proposition. A previously unpublished Christmas book by Charles Dickens has turned up in the hands of an English chemistry professor by the name of Sedgwick Crisparkle. Mr. S. wants that book at any price, and he needs James to get it for him. There’s just one catch. James can’t tell the nutty professor who the buyer is.
Actually, two catches. The nutty Professor Crisparkle turns out to be totally gorgeous—and on the
prowl. Faster than you can say, “Old Saint Nick,” James is mixing business with pleasure…and in real
danger of forgetting that this is just a holiday romance.
Just as they’re well on the way to having their peppermint sticks and eating them too, Sedgwick
discovers the truth. James has been a very bad boy. And any chance Santa will bring him what he wants
most is disappearing quicker than the Jolly Old Elf’s sleigh.
Warning: This book contains an ocelot, songs by America, Stardust martinis, tinsel, long-lost
manuscripts, Faith, Hope and…Love.
In this world, love can put you on the wrong end of a stake…
Blood and Roses
© 2009 Aislinn Kerry
The last thing Arjen wants is a vampire in his bed. The rest of the world may be enamored of the
creatures, but he doesn’t share the obsession. When local vampire Maikel van Triet pays a visit to the brothel, Arjen tries to slip away—drawing the one thing he doesn’t want: Maikel’s attention. Arjen’s too pragmatic to refuse a paying customer, but Maikel doesn’t want his services. All he asks for is a bed, shelter, and a meal before bedtime.
Arjen’s reticence and open dislike intrigue Maikel, who’s delighted by the jaded young prostitute’s
attitude, so different from the adoration he’s accustomed to. He’s never been a regular patron at any
brothel, but now he can’t keep himself away. He still refuses Arjen’s services though, instead demanding Arjen tuck him in with tales of the daytime Amsterdam he hasn’t known for nearly two centuries. But when Arjen tries to seduce him into leaving, he realizes they’re forging something completely unfamiliar to him: emotional bonds.
It’s equally obvious to Arjen that their arrangement is becoming more than either of them expected,
and the thought terrifies him. Vampires are shallow, fickle creatures, and Maikel could never truly love another—could he?
Warning: Contains blood, vampire bites, unapologetic prostitution, and lots of gay vampire lovin’.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Blood and Roses:
He leaned back against my wall, watching me from beneath a hooded gaze, and his grin turned to a
smirk. “They whisper about us, you know.”
I raised my head. “The girls?”
“Perhaps they started it.” He shrugged, but there was a glint in his eye, and I knew he enjoyed the
speculation. “And told their patrons, and their patrons told their wives, and their wives told their neighbors.
The city herself echoes with rumor.”
I sat back, hands braced behind me on the mattress. He had not even offered to buy my time yet, and I
was humoring him. What on earth was happening to me? “Rumor? About us?”
“Because I ask for you, again and again. You and no other. They imagine a great, torrid affair between us, and I swear I’ve heard no less than half a dozen variations of the tale.” His face was bright with mirth.
“Some say you are aloof, and I return to you because I cannot bear to be denied. Others say that I was charmed by your skill, that you have done what no one else in all of Amsterdam has managed and captured my heart. Can you imagine?”
He laughed at the idea of it as I rose and crossed the room. His laughter broke off abruptly when I
dropped to my knees before him. The smile melted from his face. “What are you doing?”
“And what is the truth of the story?” I demanded, curling my hands around his calves. “Have I done
what no other has managed and captured your heart?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He rocked back, but the wall was behind him and he could not go far.
“Is it the challenge, then? The lure of the forbidden?” I slid my palms up his thighs. “Would you leave me be if I took you to bed?”
“Stop that.” He knocked my hands away. “The forbidden? I have never even asked it of you!”
“No. You haven’t.” I sat back on my haunches, staring up at him, lips pressed tight. “So why do you
return to me, again and again, when there are plenty of beds out there available to you? Why leave a lover’s token if all I am to you is a quiet bed to sleep in?”
“A what?” Every expression slid from his face, leaving it blank with incomprehension. “What do you
mean?”
“Don’t play the fool with me.” I strode across the room and tore my bureau drawer open, snatched out
the rose that he had left and I had hung to dry at Elise’s behest. Its leaves were fragile now, its petals turned dark and brittle. A thorn pricked my finger and Maikel’s gaze dragged toward it, but only for a moment. He stared at the rose, his gaze transfixed with horror.
“What is that?” he demanded unsteadily.
“You should know. You left it for me.”
“Oh God…” He crossed the distance between us with faltering steps. “What have you done to it?”
I frowned and let him take the rose from me. I tried to bring my finger to my mouth, to suck at the
small wound the thorn had given me. But Maikel’s hand stopped me, and he drew it instead to his own
mouth. I shuddered at the warmth of it, at the feel of his tongue gently laving over my skin. “I let it dry, is all. The girls about killed me when I mentioned throwing it out.” Of course, knowing what I now did about the tales they’d been spreading, I was less inclined to think their romanticism as harmless as I had moments before.
Maikel continued to stare at the flower with a gaze that grew darker by the moment. “This… You
should not have done this. What is the point? It is only a skeleton now.” Gingerly, he touched the edge of one desiccated petal. “Some things are not meant to be kept forever.”
“Take it, then, if you want,” I said, bewildered. “Or throw it out. Maikel, you haven’t answered me.” I knelt again and spread my hands over his thighs. When he tried to retreat, I grabbed fistfuls of his clothes and held him where he was. “Tell me!”
He set the rose aside with great care, as though afraid of damaging it. “It is not a lover’s token. You said you liked roses. I thought you would like it, that’s all.”
