Once Upon a Christmas Kiss (16 page)

It was a profound realization, but one that she could not pause to examine because, even as the thought rose to the surface, he put his mouth on the center of her, and she cried out.

Using fingers and lips and teeth, he brought her to a place where there was nothing left but sensation. The stroke of his tongue over her bud sent pleasure zinging through her entire body; of their own volition her hips rose up to meet his touch. But she wanted, needed, something more—unable to articulate the feeling into words. All she knew was that she had to move. When he stroked the first finger into her, she sighed with relief, even as she moved against it, her body clasping him for dear life.
More
, she thought as he stroked again, adding another finger, until she realized that what she needed wasn’t just his hands, but him. His body. She needed all of him.

“More,” she gasped, her body unable to keep still as she spoke. “More. Inside me.”

And with all the speed she could have wished for, he stroked over her with his thumb one last time before moving up to kiss her. He tasted different, and instinctively she knew that he tasted of her. Her hands stroked over his hard shoulders, as Lucien braced on one arm above her.

“This will probably hurt,” he said, his mouth tight with checked passion. She saw a flash of worry in his eyes. “I will try to make it as pleasurable for you as I can.”

He kissed her, and as she kissed him back she felt his hardness there, where she’d been craving him. She lifted her knees to welcome him, and inch by inch he stroked into her body. There was a sensation of being stretched too tight, and a flash of pain. But once he was seated fully within her, there was only a wholeness she’d never known before. As if two halves long separated had finally been brought back together.

“How’s that?” he asked though clenched teeth. “Too much?”

Breathless, she shook her head, and with a quick kiss he began to move. When the urge became too much to ignore, she moved with him, soon meeting him stroke for stroke as she felt her body strive to hold him within her. And once again her senses were awash with the novelty of the experience. But his warm breath, the sounds of their bodies moving against one another, every place their skin touched were all overwhelmed by the growing sense of striving toward some far-off precipice. If only she could move faster, clasp him harder, hold him closer, she could reach it. And then, he stroked against her just above where they were joined and like a fireworks display she’d once seen in London, her world exploded into a constellation of light, and pleasure like she’d never imagined flooded her every cell. And even as she felt herself floating, she heard him cry out and give one last hard thrust, warmth filling her as he emptied himself within her, his body heavy as every tension left him.

Satisfaction making her drowsy, her last thought was that she rather liked being crushed by him.

***

After Lucien left her bed at dawn, Winnie had gone back to sleep and, despite a usual tendency toward early rising, slept quite late. She had worried that her nocturnal activities, as well as the extraordinary sense of well-being they engendered, would be writ large upon her face, but no one pointed the finger of shame at her and declared her to be a wanton, so she supposed they were all too immersed in the holiday spirit to pay her any mind.

The gentlemen spent the day hunting, while the ladies did as they pleased. Winnie and Cordelia took the opportunity to share a comfortable morning in one another’s company. Winnie’s ankle was much less painful, and she managed, with the use of a borrowed walking stick, to get downstairs that afternoon, where along with her sister, Lady Emily, and some of the other ladies, assisted Lady Hurst in the preparations for that night’s Christmas open house, wherein they would welcome all the finest families from the area, as well as their tenants and families, to enjoy a Christmas feast in the great hall.

By the time the guests began to arrive, the public rooms of the house were decorated with all the pine boughs and holly that had been collected earlier that week. And sprigs of mistletoe hung in the doorways of the drawing room, provoking a great deal of teasing amongst the ladies.

“If you don’t take advantage of the kissing bough, Miss Winifred,” said Lady Emily as she and Winnie punctured hothouse oranges with spicy scented cloves, “then I will think you a very dull lady indeed.”

“But what of you, Lady Emily?” Winnie shot back with a grin. “For if Lord Stannis does not try to kiss you beneath it, I will own myself shocked indeed.”

The younger lady blushed. “Lord Stannis is merely a good friend.”

“My dear,” crooned Mrs. Cowper from where she sprawled upon a settee watching the others work, “
good friends
do not look at one another as if they wished to devour them.”

Even Mrs. Coweyes and her knowing looks could not dim Winnie’s good humor. And in this instance she was correct, so Winnie could find no fault, anyway. “I agree, Lady Emily. I think there is a very good chance that you will find yourself betrothed before this Christmas party is complete.”

“Who is getting betrothed?” Lady Hurst asked, collapsing into an armchair now that she’d finished hanging holly berries on the mantelpiece. “With Sir Lucien and Miss Winifred that makes two! I shall be the most celebrated hostess in the
ton
. Marvelous!”

“You won’t think it’s so marvelous when you find yourself the object of matchmaking mamas desperate to wrangle an invitation from you,” Mrs. Cowper said with a moue of distaste. “I can think of little more boring than a party composed of marriage-hungry virgins in search of a mate.” Then with a gleam in her eye, she added, “Present company excepted of course.”

“I would hardly call Lady Emily and the Misses Nightingale marriage hungry,” said Lady Hurst mildly. “In fact, I believe they’re the least marriage-hungry ladies in the county. Those types will arrive this evening, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I like
that
!” barked a voice from the doorway. Winnie turned to see Mrs. Green, flanked by four young ladies who could only be her daughters. The lady’s objection to Cordelia’s entanglement with Mr. Beesley suddenly became clear. “When you are saddled with a passel of chits to marry off, Lady Hurst, then I will be quite ready to hear your apology.”

With elegance borne of practice, Lady Hurst rose to welcome Mrs. Green and her daughters. “Of course you know I would never describe
you
that way, my dear Mrs. Green,” she said coolly. “Or your girls.”

“I will admit to being determined to see to it that they are happily wed, of course,” Mrs. Green responded as if Lady Hurst had not spoken. Winnie was interested to note that her daughters looked embarrassed. “Indeed, there are no lengths to which I would not go to make sure they are settled.”

To Winnie’s amusement, the lady did not look in her direction, thanks no doubt to the scold Lucien had read her in the dry goods store. Unable to resist twitting her a little she said, “Is there something amiss, Mrs. Green?”

“I thought you were in bed with a sprained ankle,” Mrs. Green said, finally looking directly at Winnie, aggrieved. “Something about a sledding accident.”

“Yes,” Cordelia said, stepping forward to stand next to Winnie. “She was hurt yesterday, but it wasn’t so bad as all that.”

The woman’s mouth was tight with displeasure but to Winnie’s surprise, it was her eldest daughter who stared daggers. Puzzled, Winnie tried to remember if she’d said something amiss to the girl. But so far as she could recall they’d gotten along well. Or as well as one could get along with a girl who was being constantly overshadowed by her awful mother.

“Where are the gentlemen?” Mrs. Green asked, turning her attention back to Lady Hurst. “I was hoping to introduce my other three daughters to them. After all, it’s not fair that Rose was the only one invited to stay this week.”

It was quite a rude thing to say to the hostess who had limited her invitation to the eldest unmarried daughter—as was customary and proper. But Lady Hurst didn’t reply, only led Mrs. Green and her brood away.

Winnie frowned after them, unable to forget the enmity in Miss Green’s gaze.

“You cannot mean to tell me that all four of the wretched woman’s daughters are out,” Mrs. Cowper said with disgust. “If I didn’t already think her a horrid woman, she must also ignore every rule of polite society by making us learn four names at once!”

“Miss Green certainly seemed to be angry with you, Winnie,” Cordelia said with a frown. “I had thought her to be much more agreeable than her mother.”

“I thought so too,” Winnie said thoughtfully. “In fact, I’d not actually paid much attention to Miss Green until now. She’s always been there, but she is so quiet. Almost sneaky.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised if she were the one who placed the rock in your path yesterday,” Mrs. Cowper said with a frown. “I’d do just about anything to get rid of a rival so I could attach myself to some man
and
get the hell away from that mother.”

As a theory, Winnie thought, it made a lot of sense.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cordelia said with a laugh. “Miss Green wouldn’t harm a fly.”

“Never underestimate the power of a daughter’s mortification at the hands of her mother, my dear.”

And Winnie was inclined to agree.

Chapter Sixteen

Lucien spent the day lost in thought, his mind flashing back again and again to every moment he’d spent learning Winnie’s body. But it was the light in her eyes that filled his heart. He’d known that once he fell in love, he would fall hard, but nothing had prepared him for the power of it. The way the feeling consumed his every thought, his every breath. It was as if he’d been transformed into a newer, better version of himself.

Did Winnie feel this way too? That question haunted him as he tried and failed to concentrate on the day’s hunting. It didn’t seem to matter though, because the wind was damned cold and, really, they’d gone out not because they wished to bag game but because Hurst had warned the gentlemen at breakfast that the ladies would be preparing for the Christmas feast and would wish them out of the way.

When they arrived back, it was to the sound of furniture being moved and the sight of housemaids hurrying to and fro and footmen lighting candles as evening approached. Lucien hurried upstairs to bathe and dress, his mind intent on seeing Winnie again.

He arrived in the drawing room an hour or so later, where the rest of the party, in addition to the neighborhood guests, were gathered. He saw that the ladies had indeed been busy in the men’s absence.

Every available surface was draped in greenery. From the wall sconces to the lamps to the tables to the mantle. He paused to take it all in. The effect was quite pleasing, and he felt the spirit of the holiday entwine with his love for Winnie into full-blown happiness.

“You sly dog,” said Hurst, pounding him on the back as he passed by him and into the drawing room, making a beeline for Helen who stood chatting with the loathsome Mrs. Green.

For a moment Lucien wondered if his night with Winnie had been discovered somehow, but all too soon he realized the reason for his cousin’s words.

“Far be it from me to ignore a man in need. Especially at Christmas,” Mrs. Coweyes—dash it, he thought, Winnie had him thinking of her that way too!—said before she rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him full on the mouth. When she started to twine her hands around his neck, Lucien disentangled himself. Just in time to see Winnie glaring at them.

“I believe the usual practice is for gentlemen to kiss ladies beneath the mistletoe,” Winnie said to the widow, her eyes narrowed with annoyance. “Unless the custom is different in your part of the country.”

“Oh, you mean in strumpet-town, my dear?” drawled Mrs. Cowper. At Winnie’s startled laugh, which she quickly disguised as a coughing fit, the widow shrugged. “I know how I’m perceived by other women, Miss Winifred. In part because I ignore convention when I find it to be contrary to my wishes. But I can assure you that mistletoe, like many other pleasurable activities, goes both ways.”

“I would not wish you to think—” Winnie sputtered, clearly caught between sympathy and pique. But her automatic apology was forestalled by the widow, who took Winnie by the hand and shoved her under the mistletoe.

“There,” she said with a speaking look at Lucien. “Is that better?”

To Lucien she said, “I’ll let you take over from here. Don’t say I never did you a favor.”

Turning to his prize, Lucien saw that Winnie was looking up. “I was angry,” she said, “because I’d intended to lure you under the mistletoe myself.”

“What a hypocrite,” Lucien laughed softly, the chatter around them receding as their eyes locked and the world narrowed into just the two of them.

“She was kissing my fiancé,” Winnie said without shame. “I’d have done a great deal more if you weren’t so obviously eager to remove her from your person.”

“Jealous?” Lucien asked with a grin. “I like it.”

“You’d better like it,” she said wryly, “because I’m afraid you’ll be treated to more of it over the next fifty years or so.”

“I like the sound of that,” he growled, pulling her back against him and kissing her in a way that was not quite polite, mistletoe notwithstanding.

“Now, now.” Lord Hurst’s voice intruded into their private moment, and reluctantly they moved apart. Though Lucien kept hold of her hand as they moved out from under the kissing bough.

“There is a limit to how long one couple can remain beneath the mistletoe.” Jem said, pulling Helen beneath it and taking her in his arms.

“All these rules,” Lucien murmured. “I had no idea that mistletoe had so many rules.”

“They’re in the Christmas handbook,” Winnie said with a grin.

Just then, Miss Green appeared beside them. “Sir Lucien,” she said breathlessly, “I hope you will spare a dance for me tonight. I am quite fond of dancing. As I know are you.”

Turning her gimlet stare upon Winnie, she said almost hatefully, “It’s really too bad you won’t be able to dance tonight, Miss Winifred. But your ankle must still be paining you.”