Her Christmas Earl (13 page)

“Blair, they’ll hear us.” Her family must guess exactly what the earl and his countess planned for their “early night.”

“Too bad.” Blair turned to haul her into his arms, kissing her with a passion that had only grown more powerful since their wedding. When he raised his head, he regarded her with the narrow-eyed green glitter that warned her she was about to become very rumpled indeed. “Anyway, all attention is on the new Mr. and Mrs. Fox.”

“I hope they’ll be happy,” Philippa said, although right now she hardly cared.

Blair shrugged, kicking the door shut behind him. The huge bedroom that had seemed so daunting last Christmas Eve was empty. Mills had swiftly learned to appear only when summoned. “Your sister looked almost human when she walked up the aisle this morning. Perhaps she’s finally growing up.”

“I hope so.” It was true. Amelia had even complimented Philippa on how pretty she looked in her attendant’s gown. With her sister, that was as close to an apology for her spite as Philippa was likely to get. “And my mother unbent enough to ask my opinion of the flowers in the church.”

“Good God, much more of this, and I’ll stop dreading family gatherings,” Blair said wryly. “Which doesn’t mean that once we’ve done the pretty for Christmas, we’re staying past Boxing Day.”

The Earl and Countess of Erskine had become country bumpkins of the most dedicated sort. They’d spent most of their year together on Blair’s Scottish estates and Philippa had never been happier.

When her husband edged her toward the wall, Philippa frowned. “Aren’t we going to bed?”

He laughed. “What a hussy I married.”

She blushed. Twelve months of dedicated carnal education hadn’t cured her of the habit. “You don’t seem to mind.”

Even in the early months of dazzling sensual discovery, she’d been sensible enough to wonder whether his interest would wane once her novelty faded. But he’d never shown any restlessness. At first that had astonished her. But eventually she’d come to accept that she’d captured that rarest of beasts, the reformed rake. And the rake showed every sign of being content in his captivity.

“It’s Christmas Eve. Time for good little boys to get what they’ve asked for.” He took another step forward.

Frowning in puzzlement, she automatically took another step back. “But you’ve had me all year.”

He stopped herding her like a stray calf and burst into laughter. “Oh, my bonny lassie, you are a treasure. I bless the day that door jammed.”

Could her blush get any hotter? “Well, I’m beginning to think I married a lunatic.”

He stopped laughing and focused that concentrated regard on her face. “Only beginning?”

She dug her heels in, refusing to budge. “What are you up to, Blair?”

He was still smiling. “I’m fulfilling a dream that’s teased me for a year, my dear wife. Brace yourself.”

“Brace—”

He flung open the door to the fatal dressing room and she suddenly understood why he looked like a cat who had taken over a dairy.

His hand closing around hers, he pulled her into the confined space. Immediately Philippa was transported back to last Christmas Eve. A night of dread and uncertainty—and her introduction to the pleasure that had since become a rich strand in her life. Blair’s subtle scent was part of her now, but in the small room, she was overwhelmingly aware, as on that first night, of his essence.

As he tugged the door shut, she noticed the lit candle on the trunk. She cast him a sardonic look. “You’re better prepared this time.”

“Practice makes perfect. I hope you’re not expecting a leisurely wooing, my love.”

Every time he called her his love, she suffered a pang, despite the radiant happiness of the life they’d built together. He used endearments all the time. Darling. Sweetheart. Dearest. But when he said “my love,” she remembered that for all his attention and affection, he’d never said he loved her.

And poor, pathetic, yearning creature she was, she’d offer up her soul on a carving plate to him if only he’d say the words. Even once.

She shook off the bleakness. Her husband planned a wicked interlude. She refused to brood on what couldn’t be and spoil what promised to be a memorable encounter. “You’re feeling the pinch?”

“Most definitely.” His low, insinuating laugh made her shiver with familiar excitement.

His expression intent, he backed her toward the closed door. She had fond memories of that door. The first time he’d kissed her, she’d been leaning against it.

He kissed her again, with a desperation that jangled with his light-hearted tone as he’d lured her in here. Eager hands tugged at her bodice and they both sighed with satisfaction as he fondled her breasts. He slid her skirt higher, then with a couple of deft movements, her drawers fell to the floor. His exploring hand quickly discovered that she too was needy.

“Don’t make me wait,” she begged, clinging to his shoulder with one hand while she fumbled at the fall of his trousers. A year had taught her a few husband-managing skills of her own. Soon her fingers curled around the heavy, virile weight. He groaned and tilted his hips forward. Anticipation fizzed like champagne in her blood.

Philippa moaned encouragement as he hitched her up against the door. The oak was hard against her back, then she was only aware of miraculous, hot fullness as Blair pushed inside her. Her body quickly adjusted to the unfamiliar angle and pleasure forked through her like lightning. Through a year of nights and days, the glory of their joining had never faded.

Pressing his face into her hair, he began to move with relentless purpose, building the conflagration until she cried out and shook in his arms. For a long, shining time, she rode the waves of her delight. A liquid rush filled her womb before she tumbled back to her feet, legs near to collapse.

As she and Blair slid in a heap to the floor, he kissed her with more of that thrilling desperation. He mightn’t love her, but he wanted her to the point of madness.

With a satisfied sigh, he leaned against the door and she sprawled across him, too exhausted after her shuddering release to move. During the wild encounter, her hair had collapsed around her face and she brushed it back as she fought to regain her breath. Every time they made love, he turned her world to fire. His mere presence lit every day to flame.

He shifted to fasten his trousers, although she could have told him not to bother on her account. She loved every inch of his superb body. To her chagrin, she loved every inch of his soul, too. But that was her burden and one she intended to bear in silence. What point risking their happiness with demands for what he couldn’t give?

Eventually the heart beneath her cheek calmed from its frantic race and his breathing steadied. “That was…better than I imagined. And I’d imagined something unforgettable.”

She stirred, but his grip tightened, keeping her close. When she raised her head, she expected to see triumph in his face. After all, she’d succumbed to his seduction without a hint of hesitation.

He didn’t look like a conquering hero. Instead he looked strangely vulnerable.

Because of that expression, she could no longer keep silent about the truth she’d discovered a month ago. “Blair, I’m going to have a baby.”

She wasn’t sure how he’d react, although she assumed he’d be pleased. But he straightened and stared at her, green eyes unreadable and long, expressive mouth unsmiling.

The pause extended. And extended. Until Philippa shifted uncomfortably and moved away. She immediately felt the absence of his touch.

“Say something,” she said, her voice fracturing. She wanted to return to their usual joking flirtation, but the words emerged as raw demand.

Still he stared at her.

Dear heaven, what was wrong? She frowned. “After what we’ve done all year, you can’t pretend you’re surprised,” she said sharply. “It’s not like I managed this by myself.”

He swallowed and his hands opened and closed on his thighs. “You don’t sound pleased.”

There was no trace of his familiar humor. Something moved in his eyes, something she didn’t understand. Her belly clenched with apprehension, although what could she do? She wanted this child with a fervor that astonished her.

“Of course I’m pleased,” she snapped.

He tilted one black brow, his fierce expression lightening a fraction. “Really?”

“Yes.” She glared at him, challenging him to object. “Are you?”

A shuddering breath expanded his chest. Somewhere in their passion, she’d tugged off his neck cloth and his shirt lay open, revealing dark hair over the hard, powerful muscles of his torso.

“I love you,” he said flatly. “I want you to be happy. If this baby makes you happy, then I’m overjoyed.”

“Of course this baby makes me—” She faltered into an astounded silence. Surely there was some mistake. He couldn’t have said what she thought he had. Particularly in such an unlover-like tone. Pregnancy must play with her mind. “What…what did you say?”

“I said I’m overjoyed. When is the child due?” he asked, sounding much more like himself. He hadn’t sounded like himself when she’d heard him say that he loved her.

Still distracted, but unable to gather the courage to pursue the issue, she answered. “June or July, I think.”

“And how are you feeling? Will you be able to travel tomorrow? We can stay here until the baby arrives, if you think it best.”

In spite of the fraught moment, she couldn’t restrain a dry laugh. “Now I know you must be excited about the baby, if you’re offering to extend your time with my family.”

He’d told her he loved her. Had he?

“I can’t bear to lose you.”

That was no surprise. He’d said things like that before. From their earliest days together, she’d been in no doubt that he valued her. Her qualms about trapping him in a marriage he didn’t want hadn’t lasted beyond the night in Salisbury.

She basked in the way his overriding concern for her outweighed his male urge to procreate. Perhaps he might love her after all. Still she shied away from asking him if she’d heard him right. What if she hadn’t? “You won’t lose me. I’m as healthy as a horse. I haven’t even been sick, although I gather I should have been by now.”

“Should we go to London and see a doctor?” He sounded unsure. Again, not like himself. She rather liked seeing her lordly husband in a sweat. “Balcannon only has the village midwife.”

The impressively competent village midwife on his estate had confirmed that Philippa was indeed expecting a child. “Let’s wait and see.”

The blankness receded from his expression. She realized now that his silence had been shock. His eyes brightened and he smiled at her. “What a clever girl you are.”

She sucked in a relieved breath. “Well, I had help.”

“Yes, I take all the credit.” He was definitely back to sounding like the man she lived with day in and day out. Not like the stranger who had told her he loved her.

“Not
all
the credit.”

“A baby.” His smile widened. She was reassured to see that he appeared remarkably cheerful. She dearly wanted him to look forward to this child with her. “In the summer.”

She started to smile, too. After all, she was excited to start their family. “Yes.”

“A little girl for me to spoil.”

“Or a boy to continue the family name.”

He gave a sudden shout of laughter. “Well, damnation, that’s wonderful news!”

He reached out and seized her, hauling her into his arms for a kiss that combined passion with celebration. It was unlike any kiss he’d ever given her. Beneath the elation lurked something she’d never felt in him before.

Eventually she pulled away. “I’m so glad you’re happy.”

“Of course I’m happy.”

He kissed her again, then stopped. “What’s wrong? You’re not getting into the spirit of things.”

She was such a fool. Against all the odds, they were contented with their life. And now fate granted them the child she’d prayed for. Any reasonable woman would leave it at that. What was the point of crying after the moon? But if it was true that Blair did indeed love her, her joy would be complete. Philippa could stifle the question no longer. “Did…did you say you love me?”

“Of course,” he said lightly.

She grabbed his hands in a trembling grip. “Don’t joke. I can’t bear it if you joke about this.”

He frowned. “Is losing your mind a symptom of having a baby? If so, we’re going to have an interesting few months.”

She swallowed to ease a tight throat. He acted as if all of this was so unimportant, yet the rest of her life hinged on what he said next. “Is it true?”

Blair sighed with impatience and tugged his hands free. “Philippa, what bat has got into your belfry? You know I love you.”

“No, I don’t,” she said emphatically, shaking her head. “You’ve never told me.”

He looked surprised. “I didn’t know I had to. You must know you’ve had me in a complete spin from the moment I saw you. It took me a while to identify the problem, but that’s the result of my slow masculine brain, not to mention that until I met you, I’d never been in love before.”

If he kept saying things like this, she could almost forgive him for torturing her. Almost. “I know you want me.”

He cast her an unimpressed glance. “Of course I want you. Even a girl only half as clever as you could work that out.”

“That doesn’t mean you love me,” she said stubbornly, wondering why she argued when she’d longed for his love every day of the last year.

He laughed drily. “In my case, it certainly means that.”

“Tell me once more.” She paused and swallowed again. She felt like a boulder the size of Ben Nevis blocked her throat. “Tell me like you mean it.”

She prepared for another mocking response. But after a pause, he raised his hands to cradle her face so that she couldn’t evade that searching stare. He’d touched her like this their first morning together, when she’d been such an absurd muddle of doubts and confusion.

The light in his eyes warmed her to her bones. He beheld her as if she was the dearest treasure in the world and he knew he was a lucky man to have her. At that moment, whatever he said next, she believed he did love her. She thought she’d been happy before. But finally knowing that her husband returned her love made her feel like she stood in bright sun after a long, dark winter.