All I Want for Christmas...is you (4 page)

“Well,” said Bram, “you have been around Rena
enough to know she would never do for those males who either put
women on a pedestal or expect them to do nothing but gossip and
shop. She is expert at riding and shooting, and plays a mean hand
of cards, not to mention the dear thing is quite game for a laugh.
I admit that I am cautious there, just in case your assessment of
Lucas is a bit generous, Rena can hold her own, but I’d hate to see
her fall for a man who wanted the typical ton deb.”

“Trust me,” Jerome straightened and unfolded
his arms, seeing Lucas lead Verena through a door at the end of the
ballroom. “Lucas went after what he wanted when he slaved to save
the family fortunes and improve them for future generations. A man
who is that driven, that focused, and one who has been observing
her for so many years, has some inkling to what he’s risking
rejection for.”

* * * *

The four gentlemen who had been relaxing in
the ivory and blue sitting room rose to their feet when Lucas and
Rena entered. They bowed and quickly set their drinks down, no
doubt noticing the cool stare in his eyes before they nodded to her
also, and left.

Lucas removed his jacket, which was damp from
the fine snow and put it over a chair back, near a blazing white
fireplace. He watched her set the fan down and remove her gloves,
then stand by the mantle warming her hands.

The tie slipped his hair, and he tucked it in
the jacket pocket, scraping those long strands back and feeling
that they were somewhat damp too. He could still hear the music
clearly as his gaze scanned the room, with its two chairs flanking
the fire, two settees facing each other beyond that, and much
seasonal décor in the fat ivory candles on the mantle, silver ones
on tables, with bowls full of orbs made of white rosebuds.

When he looked at her again, she had her hand
upon the mantle and was looking around too. The firelight glowed in
her hair and put a shimmer on that gold gown. Her skin was flushed
from the change of temperature. Her gaze, when it met his where he
stood only two feet away, was a true topaz.

He watched her stare flicker over his unbound
hair and then the simply tied cravat. Something tensed him, as she
seemed to scan across his shoulders in the white shirt and down
him. Then she was meeting his gaze again. Lucas realized that she
thought to have done that visual examination of his assets so
quickly, he would not have noticed.

However, a man who was as aware of a woman as
he was of her, not only noticed, but felt it like a touch. He was
certainly glad he had not let himself go as so many men his age
had, and as he assessed the merest spark of heat in her gaze, he
was doubly thankful for all the physical labor and sports he
applied himself to.

“Will you be in town for the entire week?” He
walked to stand beside her, his hand on the mantle as he flickered
his gaze into the fire.

Her tone was slightly gruff, “Yes. We have
decided to remain in London and not trouble the servants at Brydon
House in the country. The duchess is getting older and well, it is
usually just Bram and I for Christmas any way. If we are in town,
he can amuse himself… And you, what do you do on Christmas?”

He flickered a side-glance at her. “The same
as every other day, I believe.” His grin was sardonic. “I give the
staff that day and the day before off, so I am usually holed up in
the study.”

She tisked and her eyes teased. “That is not
right, my lord. You should at least take Christmas off.”

He savored that teasing look then glanced at
the flames. “I have been on my own since I left school. I suppose
it becomes a habit to occupy oneself…”

“Well. You should join Bram and me this year.
We may not entertain in high style, but I do believe we manage to
amuse some people. I think he has invited Jerome also. The three of
you could get up to cards and what not. Our staff is also off. We
manage to scrounge for ourselves in the kitchens. Bram is a good
cook, though please, don’t put that about, it would destroy his
rep—”

He chuckled and nodded. “Thank you, for the
invite, I may accept.”

“Do.”

He dropped his hand from the mantle and
asked, “Do you have a full schedule for the next few days?”

She winced. “Yes. Two more balls and a supper
at the duchesses, then there is…”

“—perhaps we shall see each other, then,” he
cut in and bowed. “But in case we do not. May I have this
dance?”

She looked up at him. Her expression was
solemn as she nodded and moved a foot closer, resting her hand on
his shoulder, and clasping the other. “If I waltz horribly, 'tis
Bram’s fault. He is the one who insisted I learn the new
dance.”

Lucas had his hand on the small of her back,
her scent, and the feel of their palms stirring him as he began the
gliding steps to the music. “My housekeeper taught me.”

She chuckled and he smiled, looking down at
her. Twirling and turning to the rise of music, which had the
whimsical sound of fairies and falling snow.

Maneuvering them around the furnishings, he
shared her laughter again, as they had to make up their own pattern
to avoid chairs and tables—the statue whose folded arms held an ivy
bough.

Lucas had been right, she moved well, even in
such limited and awkward space. She moved sensually. He felt his
blood surging and felt alive, as he never had with this woman in
his arms.

When she bumped the back of the settee and
stumbled a step, he pulled her closer to him, much closer than
would be allowed in a ballroom. Feeling her breasts in the gown
brush his thin white shirt, he took advantage to sweep his lips
across her temple as he turned his head to direct their next
path.

Somewhere in the next moments, as he felt the
swirl of her skirt, and his head filled with subtle citrus, his
body aware of hers moving under his hand, lightly brushing against
his, Lucas realized she had slid her hand from his shoulder to rest
over his shoulder blade, which kept the contact between their
chests close, at times brushing as he contrived their steps.

The music was slowing to a light lilt of
flutes and softening, so that it faded enough to bring the
crackling warmth of the fireplace and the harsh beat of his heart
to his ears. With that came the thickening and shrinking of the
awareness between them. He heard her breath quaver out and felt a
like tremble in her frame.

Lucas ended the dance by the fireplace, but
for suspended, heavy moments, they did not move. Finally, her head
tilted back and his lifted those inches to meet the gaze he knew
instinctively was coming.

Between his lashes, he eyed that mouth, which
she must have laved recently for the lower lip glistened, then met
her gaze that revealed sheen of sensual heat.

His head was lowering gradually, the pull of
that hunger to kiss her, and the tightening of anticipation in his
body somewhat intoxicating. More so, when he felt her leaning
toward him, her hand sliding down between his shoulder blades.

The abrupt blast of noise and laughter that
came from the door being thrown open, sent them apart as if ice
water had gushed from the floor. Lucas glared at the young bucks
who were on either side of a lady, known for her fast ways and
sexual exploits. Each young man carried a bottle of champagne in
his hands. He was aware that Verena had tuned to the fire and was
looking into it.

The group stopped dead at his icy stare, all
amusement fading from them for a moment, but since they had left
the door wide open, the noise jarred and invaded, shattered the
enchantment and intimacy.

One of the chaps was saying something to him,
the other trying to turn them all around, whilst the intoxicated
Lady seemed oblivious and laughingly played between them.

Lucas turned and collected his coat, sliding
it on before picking up Verena’s gloves and touching her arm,
keeping his back to the rude group while he watched her pull them
on.

Her fingers fumbled, trembled. He felt like
tossing all three misfits out the door on their arses. He could not
bloody believe that he had been robbed of a moment he’d hungered
forever for.

Tucking her hand on his arm, he guided her
around the room, opposite the group, who glanced at him then
shrugged and flopped down on the seating.

Out in the ballroom, the roar of noise was
even more glaring and nerve wracking. Particularly since he felt as
if his skin would burst and could tell she was breathing deep and
calm, trying to perfect the composure she was known for.

Lucas ignored anyone looking at them as he
led her some distance, finding a bit of space by those pillars,
although still having to lean down and speak near her ear to be
heard and be discreet.

“Shall I return you to the duchess or seek
your brother for you?”

She turned her head to husk near his ear, “I
shall be fine and make my way myself. Please, you must join the men
at cards as usual. I do not think the duchess will stay much longer
in any case, her bones ache and the crowd gets too much for her.
Please tell Bram I will get a lift home with her, and see him
later.”

Lucas nodded though held her gaze as he
lifted his head. He conveyed the message that he would rather be
back in that sitting room with her, rather be kissing her, which
was plain since his gaze did flicker to her mouth. He discreetly
found her hand and held it for a few moments before releasing it
and heading off toward the card rooms.

* * * *

When he had gone, Verena braved the mass of
bodies to reach the duchesses side. She caught the hand signal that
the woman wished to leave and helped her up, saying loudly in her
ear that she would be leaving too, and join her. The older woman
smiled and then winced as she took a few steps.

Realizing she’d have to clear the way for
them both, Verena cast a last look over her shoulder as she took
the woman’s arm, seeking and finding that tall and dark hared man
standing just in the doorway.

She nodded and turned to continue her way
before checking if he nodded back. The frustrating trek served to
calm the turmoil in her body and ease some of the heat in her
blood.

Still later as the duchess’s coachman was
taking her home, after dropping off his mistress, she lifted the
window flap and felt the chilly air and kiss of snow, which was
gathering and tumbling down from a dark sky. Rena remembered every
word, every second, every feel of him, from his strong hand to the
shift of his powerful legs when they moved. She remembered his
wintry scent of mint and brandy, and the warmth of his hard chest
against the tips of her breasts. The deep thud of his heart.

She closed her eyes imagining perfectly the
deepened violet of his eyes when he had been inches from kissing
her.

“Please, please…” She lifted her lashes and
whispered in the empty coach, “Let this happen for me. Give me this
one Christmas wish.” She dropped the flap and leaned her head back,
not stirring until the driver stopped and the footman opened the
door. As she smiled politely and nodded to Bram’s servants,
Verena’s mind was chanting repeatedly, let us see each other
again—soon, very soon.

Chapter Three

Lucas awoke late and took breakfast in his
sitting room, having come home in the wee hours of the morning. He
had indeed joined the viscount and Jerome at cards, but his game
was off, his concentration wrecked, and after losing a large sum.
Which Jerome benefited from, he left with the pair to go a less
fashionable address in the east end.

Somewhere in the midst of sitting in a smoky
house of Eros, he had realized the men were above stairs lost in
flesh, so he’d left and absently walked for blocks, half hearing
the orange sellers, street patters, and carolers.

He glanced aside at times, at the young
prostitutes calling from beneath street lamps, or a burst of noise
from the opening and closing doors of the gin houses. He was aware
and not aware, of other well-dressed men who spilled from hacks to
slum, or shadows in alleyways of women plying their trade, the
distant ring of church bells, which announced midnight.

The snow had picked up, wetting his caped
greatcoat and tapping at his beaver hat, but hands in his pockets,
he attempted to walk off the tension in his body, and dampen some
of that intoxicating excitement that went through him whenever he
thought of that look in her eyes, the feel of her in his arms.

Lucas had stopped at some point, leaned
against some dark empty brick building, and lit a cheroot. He lost
track of time then too, replaying those moments with her. And he
began to walk again later, when his mind wanted to picture his
hands easing that gown down and his mouth wrapping around the taut
nipples he could feel through her thin gown.

Once he had reached home, he muttered
something to ease Cubbage’s fussing at his wet coat, and having
obviously been out in the chill a long time according to the
butler.

He sent Feyer away when the valet had offered
to assist him undressing, once he had gained his chambers. He had
stripped to his trousers and sat on the edge of his bed, his hands
rubbing as his face before he lay back, knowing that he would get
scant sleep.

His body and mind were restless, and he
wanted to be past that polite stage. That place where what they
said to each other must be couched in careful language.

Bloody hell, he had thought, sometime in the
night, staring at the ceiling. He knew he must make an impression
that dispelled all that society painted him on the surface.
Moreover, he was no sporting young buck to patiently pay court for
weeks, months and years.

He did not want to waste moments,
opportunity, his chance at sweeping this woman off her feet, and
yet he wanted her. He wanted her. He also wanted to know everything
about her.