Christmas Carol (7 page)

“I see,” Carol murmured. “Financial security
for me in exchange for the use of my body to create your heirs. It
does make practical sense, but it is an awfully cold-blooded way to
arrange a marriage.”

“You agreed to it as cold-bloodedly as I
proposed it,” he said. “In fact, you left me with the impression
that you were, in your own dispassionate way, pleased by my
proposal. And then, there is the matter of your sister.”

“What about Penelope?” She sounded defensive,
but she didn’t care. That sweet girl deserved a big sister who
would defend her if need be. Carol did not pause to question why
she felt that way; she simply accepted the unfamiliar emotion while
she listened carefully to what Montfort was saying.

“On the day we are married,” he told her, “I
will settle a substantial dowry on Penelope, so she can make a good
match. I would not be at all surprised if Lord Simmons makes an
offer for her.”

“So I am marrying you for my sister’s
sake?”

“I did hold out some faint hope that the
arrangement might please you for your own sake.” He now looked more
puzzled than ever. “With only a small dowry, you were unable to
find a husband, and since you are several years past the preferred
age for marriage and have no other likely suitors dangling after
you—” He left the sentence unfinished, but Carol could imagine what
he might have said. This was a time and place in which the only
suitable career for a noblewoman was marriage and motherhood. Lady
Caroline Hyde did not have many choices. Lord Montfort was
handsome, well bred, and rich. It was a perfect match— except that
love did not enter into the equation between these two people.
Carol felt a twinge of pity for Lady Caroline.

“What a neat little business arrangement,”
she mused.

“So I thought, too,” he replied, placing one
finger beneath her chin and turning her face toward his. “Until
this evening, when you were changed into someone I scarcely
recognize.”

“Does the change make you angry?” she
whispered, left nearly breathless by his nearness.

“It intrigues me. I know you love your sister
enough to do almost anything for her sake, even marrying a man you
consider to be something of a rake. I thought I knew you well,
Caroline, and knew what to expect of you. I never guessed that
beneath your proper demeanor you possessed so lively a spirit.” His
mouth was now disturbingly close to hers. Carol knew a moment of
panic.

“I have recently learned more than I care to
know about lively spirits,” she declared.

“Have you? This change in you grows more
interesting by the moment. Perhaps you will allow me to test your
newfound spirit.”

“I don’t think it would be wise.” The
cautionary words came out as more of a gasp than a firm
statement.

“Why not, when I am your promised husband?”
His free arm slid around her waist, drawing her closer still. “Who
would dare to criticize me for sampling that which will soon be
entirely mine?”

Carol was all too aware of his masculine
warmth, and of the muscular hardness of his body. This had to stop
at once. She was appalled to discover that she was not as immune to
the charms of handsome men as she had imagined. And this particular
man belonged to another woman. She prepared to voice a vigorous
protest.

“My lord, I do not—” It was too late. His
mouth touched hers. The fingers that had been holding her chin now
wove their way through her short curls to steady her head so she
could not pull away. The arm around her waist tightened.

It was more than six years since a man had
kissed her, and never had she been kissed with such expert skill.
There was no use in fighting him. He was far too strong. The awful
thing was that she quickly found she did not want to fight him.
With a moan, Carol opened her lips to his thrusting tongue. With a
feeling of helpless despair she put her arms around him. And then
she let her emotions take control of her actions.

Montfort’s mouth was fierce and hot on hers,
and Carol responded to his demands with growing urgency. She was
drowning in his desire. They stood pressed together, with Carol
drawn up on tiptoe to reach his mouth. His hand slid downward to
push her hips against his hardness. Carol did not protest. The kiss
went on and on until she lost track of time and knew only the bliss
of his embrace. When he finally broke off and lifted his head, his
face was taut with desire and his green eyes spoke of needs too
primitive for civilized existence.

“My God, Caroline,” he rasped. “How could I
have been so mistaken about you? I never guessed that you would be
so responsive. Oh, how I want you.”

He buried his face in her bosom, his hands
now at the sides of her breasts. Carol’s arms were still around
him. She held his head where it was, accepting—no, demanding— the
kisses he was placing along the curve of peach fabric where her
gown barely covered her breasts. Her own murmured words sounded
like an echo of his surprised exclamation.

“I had no idea—I didn’t know—oh,
Montfort!”

“Nicholas,” he groaned. “My name is Nicholas.
I wish you would use it.”

“Nicholas,” she repeated, her eyes closed to
better savor what was happening between them. She felt his hand
inside her gown, slipping beneath the chemise, lifting her left
breast. And then his mouth was on her nipple, sucking.

“Ah!” Carol could not control herself. Her
body jerked in response to his tugging, and her hands were tight in
his hair, holding his face against her breast.
“
Nicholas
!”

“Nicholas indeed,” said Lady Augusta’s
disapproving voice. “Montfort, what are you doing to my niece?”

Nicholas lifted his head from Carol’s breast,
and for an instant she saw the primitive emotion in his eyes again,
this time expressed as blazing fury. She knew just how he felt.
She, too, was angry at the interruption. She wanted to scream at
Lady Augusta to go away and leave them alone.

“Well, Montfort?” Lady Augusta’s voice was
sharper than before and from the sound of rustling silk across the
room, Carol suspected that she was coming closer to them.

Nicholas straightened slowly, keeping his
broad shoulders between Carol and Lady Augusta, thus blocking Lady
Augusta’s view. His eyes rested on Carol’s bosom, where one hard
little nipple peeked above the neckline of her gown. Nicholas
cocked an eyebrow, smiling, while Carol hastily stuffed herself
back into the dress. When she was finished, Nicholas turned slowly,
still shielding Carol with his body, giving her time to recover her
wits sufficiently to enable to her to think and act like a rational
person once more.

“Montfort, I spoke to you!”

“I beg your pardon, Lady Augusta. I did not
hear you at first because I was kissing my intended wife.”

“I see.” Lady Augusta shot a questioning
glance in Carol’s direction. Thanks to Nicholas’s delaying tactics,
Carol was able to look back at her with some degree of calmness. “I
trust you enjoyed it,” Lady Augusta said to Nicholas. Her sharp
eyes were still on Carol.

“I found it a most enlightening experience,”
Nicholas replied. “One which I plan to repeat as often as
possible.”

“Caroline, I wish to speak with you.” Lady
Augusta had not taken her accusing gaze from Carol’s face.

“You must excuse us, ma’am,” said Nicholas.
“Caroline has promised another dance to me and I refuse to be
disappointed.” Turning to Carol, he held out his hand.

“My dear lady,” he said, his eyes speaking of
a conspiracy of desire between them, “I believe the next dance is
mine.”

“Yes, my lord.” Carol placed her fingers upon
his wrist, allowing him to lead her past an openmouthed, speechless
Lady Augusta and thence out of the library.

During the rest of the evening Nicholas
danced three more times with Carol. Since they were affianced, this
caused only mild comment from the chaperones, but all the while she
was in Nicholas’s arms for a waltz, or was handed from person to
person during a more intricate dance, Carol could feel Lady
Augusta’s eyes on her. She knew she would have some explaining to
do for that kiss in the library, but she discovered that she did
not much care if Lady Augusta did scold her. The kiss that never
should have taken place had released in her a spurt of rare joy
that lingered for hours afterward, so she was able to smile and
laugh and talk as if- she belonged in the ballroom of Marlowe
House— as if she were born to dance there.

She quickly discovered that the dances were
not as complicated as she had feared. Once, when she was in her
mid-teens, the parents of one of her girlfriends had given their
daughter a square-dance birthday party, complete with instructors
to teach the steps to the young guests. Now Carol found most of the
dances being performed in Lady Augusta’s ballroom were similar to
those square dances, and the steps she did not know she quickly
learned.

“You look so happy tonight,” Penelope
remarked during a brief interval between dances. “Caroline, I do
not think I have ever seen you so lively.” Those soft blue eyes
were a bit too penetrating for Carol’s comfort. She tried to
deflect Penelope’s interest.

“Nicholas said much the same thing,” Carol
responded, linking her arm through Penelope’s. “I told him it was
the excitement of the evening. I hope you are also enjoying
yourself. Has Lord Simmons arrived yet?”

“Oh, yes, and Nicholas was right. Lord
Simmons told me he came here tonight especially to dance the waltz
with me. He even asked Aunt Augusta if he might take me in to
supper.” Penelope’s cheeks were bright pink as she glanced over
Carol’s shoulder.

Curious, Carol turned to find Nicholas
approaching with a man perhaps a year or two older than Penelope.
Once again she was expected to know who an unfamiliar person was,
but from Penelope’s reaction to him it was easy to deduce that this
must be Lord Simmons. Carol studied the young man’s features
intently. Despite the fact that he bore her family name, she could
detect in him no resemblance to any relatives she could remember.
Lord Simmons was tall, fair-haired, and good-looking. Since the two
men were obviously on excellent terms, Carol could not help
wondering if Montfort had made Lord Simmons aware of the dowry he
was planning to bestow on Penelope and if it was that knowledge
that made Lord Simmons so attentive to the girl.

When the next waltz began and she was in
Montfort’s arms once more, Carol asked him about it. To his credit
he did not laugh the question away, nor did he become angry when
she insisted on an answer.

“I am sure Simmons does care for Penelope,”
Montfort said. “However, I know him well enough to believe he would
never displease his overbearing father by offering for a girl who
would bring to her marriage only a small dowry. The settlement I
will provide for Penelope will simply allow Simmons to follow his
heart. It will also give Penelope what she most desires. You cannot
disapprove of this arrangement, since you and I privately agreed to
it weeks ago.”

“I just want her to be happy,” Carol said,
“and not only for a few months or for a year or two, but for the
rest of her life. She is such a lovely, sweet girl. I don’t think
she has ever had an unkind thought about anyone.”

“I agree.” Montfort gave her a deliciously
teasing smile. “However, I regret that I cannot say the same about
you, my dear. I do believe you have, on several occasions, harbored
unkind thoughts about me.”

“I cannot deny it, my lord.” This response
was greeted by a deep, appreciative chuckle.

“Caroline, if you continue as you have been
doing this evening, I will endeavor never again to give you cause
to think unkindly of me.”

“Is that a promise, my lord?” She meant it as
a joke, but the words came out more sharply than she intended.

“A most solemn promise,” he responded at
once. “I find this new quality in your character to be most
remarkably fascinating.” His eyes were a smoky green as they gazed
into hers, and Carol could sense the leashed passion in him. She
could tell that he wanted to kiss her again. And afterward he would
put his mouth on her breast. … She shuddered in memory, and saw
understanding in his face.

“As you are tonight,” he said, “you could
easily fascinate me for all eternity and to the exclusion of all
others.”

“Eternity is a long time,” she murmured.

“Nevertheless…”

The dance ended just then, and Penelope and
Lord Simmons were left standing right next to them, so Carol and
Montfort were forced to break off their too-intimate conversation,
but Carol had the impression that Montfort would pick it up again
as soon as he could. The way he looked at her, and stayed right
beside her when the four of them went in to dinner together, the
manner in which he neatly cut off the attentions other men would
have paid to her, all convinced Carol that the fascination he
claimed to feel for her was no empty compliment. With a bravado
completely out of character for Carol Simmons, and from what she
had learned of the lady, a bravado that would have been beyond the
comprehension of Lady Caroline Hyde, Carol decided that while she
was in nineteenth-century London, she might as well enjoy the
masculine attention.

The dining room was a large space that could
have been coldly formal, but that was on this night made intimate
with decorations of candles and greenery, and with white and red
flowers in honor of the season. Instead of one long table, small
tables for four or six people were set up around the room.

Carol, Montfort, Penelope, and Lord Simmons
occupied one of these tables by themselves. The gentlemen brought
plates of ham and roast beef and salad for the ladies, and then sat
drinking wine while the women ate. Throughout the light, casual
conversation, Carol was conscious of Montfort’s continuing
attention. She was also aware of Lady Augusta’s piercing gaze, and
knew that at some point in the near future she was going to have to
account for her behavior in the library.