A Dom for Christmas (3 page)

Locked away?
She lived in the decoration box, and that was kept in the hall
cupboard.

“Angel Dora,” Angie said. “I
need to put it on the tree.”

“Tree?”

“The
Christmas tree.
It goes on every…why are you staring at me like that?”

He walked back to her side and
perched on the bed before he ran his fingers through his hair, spoiling what
Angie decided had been a neat and tidy cut. Then she really noticed his
clothes. He
had
to be going to a
fancy dress ball, surely? She looked down at the heavy cotton garment she was
wearing. Well, unless she was going as a ghost or a fairy, she was in some type
of nightwear. It was so voluminous and heavy, you’d not need blankets on top of
it to keep warm.

“My dear, I fear you
are
delirious.” He spoke in the same
tone you’d use to soothe a fractious child. Angie wanted to kick him.

“I have no idea what a
Christmas tree is,” he continued. “Christmas is good food, a touch of greenery,
church, and of course family. The angel was a betrothal present to you, and as
such was kept safe.
As for the rest?
You were found
unconscious on the doorstep, clutching the angel. It’s December 1818. We’re in
London, though we should be at Camberley Court now. We had to put off our departure.
I’m Camberley. Arthur, William
Epscott
, the Earl of
Camberley.
Cam to my friends.
You are Angelina, my
wife.”

That was it. She sank back onto
the pillows and closed her eyes. She
had
hit her head, and she
was
hallucinating.
1818
indeed.
She let the blackness gather her into its welcoming numbness
once more.

Chapter Two

Cam looked down at the
unconscious woman in front of him and swore under his breath. Just not what the
doctor ordered. “Keep her calm, don’t let her get upset, and try to answer her questions
in a gentle and non-threatening manner.” Well, he’
d
failed miserably in every one
of those edicts and he was disgusted with himself. He knew better, but seeing
her lying so helpless brought out the aggression, and the feeling of failure.
Failure to keep his Lady safe.

Now what
?
Cam spied a small vial
on the chest next to the bed, and heaved a gusty sigh of relief. He picked it
up, opened it, and wafted the smelling salts under her nose.

“Angelina.” He spoke in a
deliberately harsh and dictatorial manner and not at all the tone he would
normally use, either as her Master, or in any social situation. Nevertheless,
drastic measures were needed. “Wake up now. Do you want me to pour brandy down
your throat?”

She spluttered and waved the
bottle away as she coughed, fluttered her eyelids, and opened her eyes. To his
relief the irises were a clear grey, and didn’t seem clouded with pain. “I’d
rather brandy, than that rancid cat’s pee you’re shoving up my nose.”

In spite of his worry, Cam
laughed.
“Rancid cat’s pee?
Where do you learn such
expressions? I’ll have you know that’s the best quality smelling salts
available. Come now, my dear, no more
vapors
. I need
to know you’re on the mend. Otherwise
Dr.
Taylor
will, in his words, have my hide for a sporran.” He rolled his eyes and set the
smelling salts down on the table. His heartbeat quickened as she grinned.

“Ha, and that’s likely—not.
”

Why is she talking in riddles?

“Do you feel well enough to sit
up a little and talk?” Cam asked her.
“If I aid you.”

“Duh.
There’s nothing wrong with
me.” Angelina wedged her elbows into the mattress and started to heave herself
upward.

He frowned as he helped her to
sit up, propped on the pillows. “What sort of word is ‘duh’?”

“Duh?
It’s, well,
duh
.
An
of course, don’t be daft, well…duh.” She shrugged. “It’s
duh.”

Cam smoothed the covers over
her, picked up a flagon of watered wine—he’d foreseen that diktat—and poured
some into a goblet. He poured a tankard of ale for himself, handed her the
goblet, and perched on the bed again. It was not the clearest of answers.

“Tell me what you remember. Why
you insist you don’t know me, and why you think someone would attack you on our
doorstep.”

His wife took a sip of wine and
wrinkled her nose. “
Urgh
, I think water is better
than this.” She handed Cam her glass, and without thinking why, he took it.
Then she lifted his tankard and took a long swallow before he realized what she
was doing. He snatched it back from her and she grinned as she wiped the froth
from her lips.

Damned if I don’t think it should be me doing that.
With my tongue.
Before I give her a
punishment for scaring me
.
The thoughts of what he wanted
to do to her shocked him, and made him all too aware of how hard his cock was.
He turned slightly to rearrange it under his pantaloons
.
Thank goodness for knitted garments and the stretch in them.
Behave,
she’s ill
for heaven’s sake
.
Spanking
or otherwise will have to wait.
He took a long swallow of ale
himself, amused at the way he placed his lips where hers had been. “You were saying?”

“That stuff, whatever it is. It
just tastes off.” She licked her lips.

As her pink tongue circled her
mouth, Cam’s own mouth went dry. It was oh so erotic, and an unconscious
invitation.

“Okay,” Angelina said in a
husky voice. She cleared her throat.
“Cards on the table
time.
Please tell me in words of one syllable
who
I am, where I am, what happened, and who you are. Don’t blow me off, just hit
me with it.” She thumped the bedcovers for emphasis and winced. “That’s stupid.
Me thumping, I mean. It just makes my head sore. I mean argh, well hit me with
the truth. I can take i
t
.”

 
Oh how true that statement was. Angelina was
the perfect sub.
For him and only him.
And Cam didn’t
ever hit. He preferred knife play, wax, or his own homemade flogger. And oh how
she could take
them.
However, he was
worried about her muddled thought process.

“I
’
ve
already told you. You are my
wife, and that, my dear, until you are better, is all I intend to tell you
again. You can remember the rest at will.” Her eyes narrowed, but to his
amazement she didn’t demand he continue with his facts about them. Instead she
gave a brief nod, as if to reassure herself about something or other.

“Hey.” Her fingers stroked the
coverlet.

The sensual strokes sent his
senses on high alert.

“Is this honest to goodness
silk?”

Cam honed in on her last
question. It was by far and away the least complicated one of all she had asked
for him to answer.
“Of course, what else.”

“What else indeed.”

Why was her tone so sarcastic?
Indeed
what
else would it be?

“Right, and the rest, mate.”

It seemed his relief was short
lived. He should have known better than to think she would give in so easily.
Really he was looking forward to when she was well enough to be punished. Cam
wasn’t a cruel man, and all they did was by mutual agreement, but sometimes her
brattiness
went beyond all boundaries of acceptable
behavior
.

“My name, which I gave you
leave to use, is Camberley. Arthur, William,
Epscott
,
Earl of Camberley. Those who are in my circle of friends call me Cam. You, as
my wife, do so. Angelina, please, what is all this?”

She shook her head until the
short curls danced around her face. “All this is crap. My name is Angie
McAllister, not Angelina,
Ang
…okay, it’s Angel. No
‘a’ or even ‘
elina
’ at the end. But you call me that
over my dead body. Angel, I mean. Who on earth wants to be called Angel? Do you
know the teasing I got over that at school?
So start talking,
buster,
er
Cam.
And what’s with the ‘Earl’
stuff? I’m not married to an Earl. I’d remember that, surely?”

“You
are
married to an Earl. You’re my Countess. Lady Angelina
Epscott
. We were married in April at the chapel at
Camberley Hall. Three weeks ago, on the first of the month, you, accompanied by
Esther, your maid, were about to go to
Hatchards
Lending Library, and thence to your dressmakers. You said because it was a mild
day, you’d walk there and had arranged a time for your carriage to pick you up.
We were due to return to the country the following day, to host our mid-winter
house party, and you decided to take some reading matter with you. I teased you
that I could entertain you much better than a novel, and you reiterated it
wasn’t possible when we had guests. I assured you it was. As you reached the
bottom of the steps you realized you’d forgotten the book you wished to
exchange, and Esther returned inside to collect it.”

“Okay, I’ve no idea who Esther
is, but a library book is familiar.” Angie pleated the silk under her hands and
then smoothed it out with her fingers. “Carry on.”

 
Cam narrowed his eyes. He gave the orders, not
her. However, in the circumstances, he’d let the infraction go for no
w
. “Before she
rejoined
you, Perry, our major domo, saw a ruffian approach
you and knock you to the ground. He was trying to prise something from your
hands. Perry, as the good major domo and ex-pugilist he is, set to and foiled
him. However, once Perry saw you were injured, you became his prime concern and
the villain got away. Nevertheless, Perry is certain he recognized him,
although at present he can’t put a name to the face. If he sees him again he no
doubt will, and will find out what’s going on.”

“Okay. That doesn’t account for
the fact you say
it’s
1818 and I’m married to an Earl.
Where’s my ring?” She waved her left hand in the air.

Cam fumbled in his pocket and
pulled out a plain gold band. “Here.” He lifted her hand and began to put it on
her finger. To his dismay, his wife pulled back as if she’d been bitten by one
of the monkeys in the Royal Exchange.

“That’s not mine. My wedding
ring is white gold with tiny hearts engraved in it. Cam had… Oh fuck.
Cam.”
Her eyes widened and she bit her lip.
“Oh my Go
d
.
Cam
.”

 
Now he was worried. Why did she say his name
in such an agonized way? “Angelina, this is your ring.” He held it to her
finger. She crooked it so he couldn’t get the ring on further.

“Then where’s yours?”

“My dear, men don’t wear a
wedding ring. We wear our signet here.” He showed her his little finger. “With
the seal of our house engraved in it.”

“No.
But…
Ah…” She seemed incapable of finishing a word off. He waited until she heaved a
great sigh.

“Angelina, believe me, we were
married in church, before the Bishop, in the sight of God. We have consummated
our marriage. It is all above board. Why even now you might, if the good Lord
is willing, be carrying my heir. We spent a very,” he couldn’t stop the grin
appearing, “shall we say invigorating
sennight
at the
Hall before we returned here. We—I—have certain proclivities I like to engage
in and, praise be, so do you. It was a joy and a delight to introduce you to
more than we could indulge in before we were wed. Never could I have hoped for
such a willing and able pupil. However, we had to return to the capital whilst
I cleared up some business. As I mentioned, we were due to return to the Hall to
host our seasonal festivities, but fate intervened.”

“Fate as in my lack of knowing
what the fuck is going on?”

He inclined his head, even as
he wondered where she’d learned to speak in such a way. She really needed to
clean her mouth, for if she didn’t, he’d do it for her.

****

Angie picked up the glass of
watered down wine and thrust it at the man who sat beside her. “Oh never mind.”
Her brain was so frazzled she reckoned even if he did explain things in words
of one syllable, she
’
d have trouble following him. “I
’
ll
figure it out—or not—at some
point. Can I have a cup of tea, please?” She’d prefer wine, but somehow she was
under no illusion about him. Even not knowing him, she knew enough to accept
that if the doctor said watered wine, he wouldn’t give her anything stronger.

“Tea?”

“Yeah, tea.”
She wished her head didn’t
ache, so she could try and sort out whatever was going on. Strange though it
seemed, was she really dreaming she was living in 1818? With a hot-as-hell
hubby called Cam. Who stared at her as if she’d asked for the crown
jewels.
“Well, unless you have some brandy handy.” She
mentally rolled her eyes at the rhyming words, but her brain wasn’t up to
sorting any better phrasing out, not yet.