A Christmas Seduction: A Regency Anthology (19 page)

The bride and groom couldn’t care less.  They had put in just a brief appearance at the ball and nobody had seen them for some hours.

The matriarchs’ anger was short lived however, when they learned that there was to be yet another wedding between the families, and even though the hour was late and everyone was exhausted from the celebrations, they immediately set about making plans for the New Year.

Hugh, however, put his foot down almost as soon as their twittering started.

“Enough,” he bellowed earning him a cacophony of protests and an abundance of glares.

“The hour is late and my betrothed is cold and tired.” He turned to smile tenderly at her as he spoke, and Louisa couldn’t stifle her dreamy sigh.

“I suggest that all talk of preparations wait until tomorrow.”

The mamas grudgingly agreed and made their way upstairs.

When Louisa made to follow, however, Hugh reached out and snagged her about the waist, pulling her back against his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he whispered in her ear, causing her to shiver.

“Didn’t you order everyone above stairs?” she asked breathlessly.

“Of course I did. How else would I get you alone?”

She turned in his embrace and wound her arms about his neck.

“And why would you want to do that?” she whispered wickedly.

His grin was heated enough to melt every bit of snow surrounding the house.

“Why, to have our very own celebration of course,” he answered before claiming her mouth once again.

And they set about celebrating for a very long time.

MISTLETOE FOR SARA

By Rachel Van Dyken

CHAPTER ONE

J
ACKSON
M
AYFORD HAD NEVER
met a woman he would not tup.

Nor was he ever lacking for any sort of female attention.

As a general rule, Jackson, or Jack as he was so often called, was quite often the apple of every female’s eye.

Save one.

And she was shooting daggers at him across the ballroom. He lifted his glass of mulled wine in good cheer while she scowled coldly in his direction then looked away.

They were the remaining two.

The final soldiers at war, unwilling to put down their pistols.

And he’d be damned if he was going to let a mere slip of a chit — one who’d set him on fire twice now! — escape without punishment.

He completely ignored the fact that swatting her bottom sent waves of heat to all the wrong parts of his anatomy — just like the ignored the fact that it was a definite tie between wanting to strangle her and kiss her senseless, though the first kiss they shared ended up with a singed cravat — not his fault, at least not entirely.

Lady Meredith danced merrily with his brother The Earl of Ashbury while his brother Hugh stole a kiss from Louisa.

Gagging, he stared down into his cup and stewed.

Because really, there wasn’t another word for the lonely, irritating little feeling that seemed to be his constant companion since news of both of his brothers falling in love had been announced.

First Lucas.

Then Hugh.

And that left Jackson — he shouldn’t be surprised, he was always last. Last to be born, last to gain an inheritance, and the last man standing while the rest of his family moved on towards marriage, children, bloody walks hand in hand through the park.

He shivered.

Not Jackson.

Not now.

Not ever.

“You appear pale,” Came Lucas’s voice from the right.” Would it be the youngest sister in question? The same one glaring at you with such spite I nearly ducked behind the pillar?”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Hardly, though it does make one feel leery, the way she keeps standing next to the fire. Does she have no respect for the elements?”

Lucas eyed him up and down, his gaze lingering on the singed waistcoat. “I imagine not.”

Cursing, Jackson tossed back the rest of his mulled wine and straightened his posture. “She’s a danger to society.”

Lucas frowned. “She looks innocent enough to me.”

As if on cue, the bloody woman dipped into a low curtsy reserved for royalty then laughed heartily at something a male guest said. Her blonde curls bounced against her porcelain cheeks.

There was danger in beauty.

And she was simply the most beautiful creature his eyes had ever beheld. Not that it made a lick of difference.

They were at odds.

Two mismatched puzzle pieces that refused to go together.

Oil and water.

Fire and—

“Damn it Jackson, stare any harder and it will be you setting her on fire. Why can’t you just let things lie?”

Jackson gave his brother a dumbfounded look. “She set me on fire.” He explained in a desperate voice. “Twice!”

Lucas chuckled.

“She locked me out of the house two days past. I nearly froze to death!”

“It was hardly freezing outside.”

“Snow!” Jackson sputtered. “At least two flakes on my right cheek. I had proof! And what does she do? She laughs!”

“Women tend to do that, laugh.”

“And then…” Jackson completely ignored his brother’s amused tone. “…During the maze when I tried to help her with the last clue she accused me of putting mice in her room—”

“You
did
put mice in her room.”

“But she blamed me straight away. Me! As if the fault was entirely placed on my shoulders.”

“It
was
.”

“Was not!” Jackson sighed and pressed a finger to his temple. “I simply made you aware that the girls were terrified of rodents and took it upon my hands to acquire some.”

“Right,” Lucas said dryly.

“What the devil are you two discussing so loudly?” Hugh’s booming voice nearly sent Jackson directly into a candle he missed it by a good inch but started sweating nonetheless.

Hugh grabbed him by the jacket and tugged him to safety.”What is this attraction to fire you have?”

Jackson chose not to respond.

Instead he crossed his arms and pouted.

Yes, pouted.

At five and twenty he was pouting in the middle of a ballroom, where tons of available ladies laid in wait for him to crook his pinky finger in their direction.

But he didn’t want
them
.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted.

Other than for things to go back to the way they were.

To return to Town with both of his brothers in tow, sans two-sisters- in-law and an annoying little harpy.

Lucas and Hugh began mindless chatter about the following morning — Christmas.

And what then?

What about the after?

No one ever thought about the after.

After the kiss.

After she says yes.

The ramifications of one’s actions were never thought of in the moment, and if they were, it was almost always a fleeting thought.

And that’s where Jackson was different.

He based his life on the after.

It was how he’d survived so long.

He was good at the after.

After
I kiss you, I shall bid you goodnight.

After
I make love to you, we shall go our separate ways, but we will always have this moment!

After
I bloody set you on fire, we shall be enemies forever.

Yes… He glared at Sara across the room. He was good with afters, because a long time ago, he’d been obsessed with
befores
.

Time had been measured and kept by
befores.

Before
Sara, life had not existed.

Before
Sara, time had merely passed without any sort of feeling or emotion.

Hell, if he were being honest, he now lived his life based on because.

Because
of Sara and the Bright sisters, he was losing his brothers.

Because
of Sara, he had to get a new waistcoat and everyone knew that Jackson had an unhealthy obsession with waistcoats — it was like she’d known this was his favorite.

Because
of Sara — life was now full of afters he could not prepare for.

Damn her.

Damn afters.

Bloody because.

“I need another drink,” he grumbled walking away from his brothers and in the general direction of sustenance, after all, it was going to be a long night and an even longer Christmas. They still had two days left.

And he meant to make the best of it.

Which meant, he’d most likely be foxed during every waking hour.

CHAPTER TWO

W
RONG!
E
VERYTHING WAS SO
completely wrong. Sara had half a mind to burn the entire house down. First Meredith and now Louisa? Whatever happened to family sticking together?

Her sisters had somehow managed to do exactly the opposite of what they’d sworn they would do.

Which was fall for the most rotten creatures on God’s green earth! The frog brothers, as she’d always so eloquently addressed them, were nothing but wolves in sheep’s clothing!

And she knew all about wolves.

For one was staring her down at that very second, most likely assuming she’d fall in her sisters footsteps, blindly marching towards the beat of matrimony as she cheerfully accepted his kiss, as all the while he made moon eyes at every available female within a bloody mile!

Her heart clenched uncomfortably in her chest, she rubbed the spot, the sore spot that seemed to only resurface when Jack gave her attention, almost as if he knew the effect he had on her. Preying on her weak, delicate sensibilities, her dreams of love, her dreams of falling for a man who saw through her happy façade and was willing to do bring her to heel.

Because if she was being truly honest…

That was the issue.

No man dared challenge her.

They thought her delightful! Refreshing! A diverting beautiful woman who not only spoke her mind, but did so with such grace and ease that she would make any a man proud.

Save one.

And he’d let her know it on several occasions.

Many men might desire her.

But Jack only wanted her because she was the only woman who had ever said no.

The soreness intensified.

Ridiculous! That three years ago she’d thought herself in love with him and he with her, only to discover him, not one week later, in the arms of another.

Dratted, horrible man!

Sara glared at him across the room, her fingers slowly imprinting themselves around the stem of her glass as she imagined strangling his pretty little neck. Goodness, her thoughts had been dark as of late, and it was his fault.

It was always Jack’s fault.

Even the fire, though he refused to admit it.

To think! She’d trusted him again, fallen for the charm, the sweet spell of his hypnotic words, and sensual smile. They’d recognized desperation in one another, and set about partnering up to make sure that their parents never again put them under the same roof.

All hell, by all means, should have broken loose.

Instead, it seemed Cupid had made a visit instead of Saint Nicholas.

“Careful,” came Meredith’s cheerful voice.”You’re one more squeeze away from shattering your glass.”

Sara loosened her grip around the crystal and took a deep inhale, the scent of pine and cinnamon danced around her face.

She’d always loved Christmas.

Until
him.

Naturally, her eyes were drawn back to his perfect form, why must he be so attractive? His waistcoat was a dark purple velvet, he should look like a complete fop. Instead the smooth lines merely accentuated his lithe body, strong thighs. A perfect curl of dark blond hair fell across his forehead, two dimples spread across his smooth cheeks as he laughed at something his eldest brother said.

“Sara?”

Drat! “Hmm?”

“If you mean to kill him with your mind, you’re doing a fantastic job, I imagine he’ll go up in flames any moment now.”

As if on cue, he almost fell into the nearby candle.

“Huh, I must be more powerful than I thought.” She grinned.

“Lord help us all,” Meredith grumbled. “When will you cease this fighting and just admit that you care for the young man?”

“Care?” Sara repeated with a laugh. “Care?”

“Said that.”

“Care!” she stated the word again. “I care for the mice he set loose in my room more than I care for him! At least he won’t—”

Meredith’s face softened.

Sara managed a weak smile as part of her armor managed to figuratively clang to the floor. If Jackson were to come upon her, his barbs would aim true, straight for the ridiculous sore spot taking residence where her heart continued to thump, reminding her that yes, even though it was painful, she was still very much alive.

“More cider,” she managed to choke out as she forced a smile across her face and moved swiftly around the edge of the dancing couples.

The minute she reached the table, a shadow cast over her hand.

A very, familiar, sensual, shadow.

“Curls…” The voice held mild amusement. “What are you about?”

“Spiking the cider,” she said in a confident voice. “Though I imagine you’ve already done so by looking at your flushed face.”

“And how would you know my face is flushed?” Jack pressed a hand to the small of her back. The delicious pressure reminded her of the danger behind having him so near, yet she didn’t have the heart to pull away, not yet at least.

With a sigh she turned and faced him. “It’s really quite simple. I was imagining all the ways I could strangle you with my bed sheets, and, unfortunately, I knew if I didn’t at least measure your neck with my hands I’d tie the knots all wrong, and then where would we be?”

“Alive.” His eyes widened in horror. “Dear God, was setting me on fire not enough for your sick amusement?”

She was barely able to hold her laughter in. “Oh, Jack.” She brushed off his right shoulder. “Still upset about getting soot on your favorite waistcoat? You do realize you could have jumped in the pond.”