Miss Featherton's Christmas Prince (The Marriage Game Book 9) (27 page)

After her grandmother’s confession, he needn’t have said anything, yet she was glad he had. After all, he had promised there would be no secrets between them. “I am relieved to know we will not run out.” She rose, giving Damon a little tug. “We have some things we should discuss alone.”

When they reached the corridor, she turned left.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” She opened a door, pulled him inside, and shut it. “We are going to make a tour of the kissing balls.”

He glanced up and grinned. “What a wonderful idea.”

L
ater that night, Damon sat in a chair next to the fireplace, an untasted glass of brandy in his hand. He still had trouble believing his luck. The only thing that could make this day better was if he had Meg with him now. More than anything, he wanted to make her truly his. He wanted to wake up next to her as he would be doing for the rest of their lives. There would be no separate bedchambers for them, and he didn’t care how unfashionable they would be seen to be when they spent most of their time together.

The door to the corridor opened, and a wraith dressed in white and rose slipped into his room. Meg’s thick sable hair tumbled in waves down over her shoulders almost to her waist. He had never dared hope it was that long. He was afraid to move, or even to breathe, lest she disappear.

“Damon.” Her voice, a low whisper, caressed him. “I want more than kissing lessons.”

He set the glass on a small table and rose. God, she was going to be the death of him. “Anything.” His mouth was suddenly dry. “Anything you want.”

“That is excellent.” She sauntered forward. Where had she learned to be such a siren? “For I found that I want quite a lot.”

He stood stock-still, watching her hips sway under her rose-colored wrapper. A moment later she reached him. One hand slid slowly up over his silk banyan, grasping the back of his head. The other caressed his exposed chest. “I have been wanting to know what you felt like under your clothing.” She rubbed her thumb over his nipple, and his cock immediately stood at attention. Still he waited, wanting her to begin the seduction.

Her tongue trailed lightly over his lips, and he opened his mouth, inviting her in. Meg moaned as she slipped her tongue between his teeth. Kissing lessons. She had learned them well. His resolve hung by a thread. Finally, she wrapped her arms around his waist and stroked. Her fingers lightly skated over his bottom, and he groaned.

“Damon, I want you.” Her sultry voice wrapped around his senses, making it hard for him to think. “Hold me.”

The thread snapped and he gathered her into his arms. “Are you sure? There is no going back after this.”

“Very sure.”

He untied the cloth belt of her wrapper, allowing it to hang open as he cupped her breasts, reveling in the feel of her silky skin. “Were you not afraid of being caught in nothing but your robe?”

“No.” She pushed his banyan over his shoulders. “Everyone is asleep or, at least, in their rooms.” The robe fell to the floor, pooling around his feet. “Kiss me.”

He tilted his head and pressed his lips to her as he removed her wrapper. “This will be much nicer in bed.”

“Will it?”

“I’ll show you.” He swept her into his arms. A few long strides had them to the bed, where he had dreamed of her being. Carefully, he placed her in the center, and just as he had fantasized, her hair covered the pillows. He should have lit more candles. Damon feasted on the sight of her as he climbed into the bed. “Beautiful.”

Smiling, Meg propped herself on her elbows, causing her perfectly rounded breasts to push out. “So are you.”

He reached out, touching her with one finger, tracing the line of her jaw and neck before taking one dusky-rose nipple in his mouth, licking it. “I have dreamed of this.”

“If I had known about it, I would have too.” She shuddered and made little mewing noises. “That feels so good.”

Damon switched to the other breast, sucking it lightly as he moved to straddle Meg, coaxing her legs apart. “I want to kiss every inch of you.”

“I think I’m about ready to explode.” Her breath was rough.

Soon she would be panting with need. He caressed her rounded stomach, down to the soft curls of her mons. Then he dipped his finger into the wet heat. With a cry of pleasure, she arched up to meet him.

Frissons of heat and need speared through Meg as she clung to Damon. Her body seemed to know what she wanted and what to do to get it. Her breasts had become instruments of bliss that Damon knew how to play; her tightly budded nipples ached for his attention, and she had wantonly pressed them into his mouth.

She should be doing something for him, but she’d discovered how greedy she could be, taking his caresses as her due. Tension wound through her as he stroked between her legs, and her hips moved with him, encouraging him to continue. He slipped his finger into her, and her legs fell open, wanting. Her breath came in short bursts as he stroked harder and deeper. Then she began to tremble and felt as if she would explode. She did, and every nerve, every sensation in her body, coalesced in one place and took her up in flames. Damon swallowed her cry with a kiss. Yet that was not all. There was more. Meg wanted it, wanted him and his love.

She wiggled down, touching the tip of her tongue to his flat nipples. He groaned, and his body went rigid. Smiling to herself, she rubbed the other one, copying what he had done, stroking her fingers over his taut belly, reaching lower until she reached his shaft, surprised to find the skin so soft.

“Meg, my love.” Damon gasped as if in pain. “I need you.”

Once again, he bent his head to her breasts. The desire rose again even stronger than before, and his shaft rubbed between her legs. “Now. Take me now.”

He entered her, moving in and out, each time going deeper. As before, her hips rose to meet each stroke. Then he stopped. “Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart. I hope that will make it hurt less.”

She did as he said, and he made one hard thrust. The pain was sharp but less than she thought it would be. Damon stilled, waiting. “I’m all right.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled at him. “Yes.”

He moved in her again, using the same short strokes he had before. The tension and heat returned, but this time he was with her. Kissing her as he plunged deep into her body. She rose up to welcome him, until she was once again consumed by the flames. A moment later, Damon’s mouth covered hers, taking her in a searing kiss as he thrust one last time.

He cupped her face and stared down at her, his dark eyes telling her everything he was feeling. “I love you, Meg Featherton, soon to be Hawksworth.”

“And I love you, Damon Hawksworth, soon to be my husband in the eyes of the world.”

“Not soon enough.” If Damon had had any idea of how different and how wonderful being with Meg would be, he would have insisted they marry to-morrow. As it was, they would have to wait for over a week.

The sweat on their bodies was cooling, and he lifted Meg, tucking them under the warm bedding. Her head was on his chest, and he held her securely next to him. “If your father and step-mother had remained here, we could have been married sooner.”

His father and Catherine had gone to tell Lord Aylesbury that Damon would not be marrying the man’s daughter after all. “He will not return until just before the wedding. I am not sure we could have tolerated him if they had remained.”

“True. He would not have been happy about our wanting to marry before Twelfth Night, in any event.”

“He would have cut up stiff over that.”

“At least your brothers and sisters will be able to be here.”

“That is a blessing. You’ll like them.” Damon kissed her hair.

Meg yawned and snuggled into him. “We should get some rest.”

Before he could answer, her breathing deepened and she was asleep. But a thought that all was not as it should be kept Damon awake long into the night.

 

Austin Smithson had just returned from putting a delighted Carola on a ship to France. He was in his study at his house on Mount Street when his butler announced Tarlington. “Come in, come in.” Austin poured two brandies, handing Tarlington one of them. The man’s face was bruised as if he’d been in a fight. “I did not expect to see anyone. Please, sit. How have you been?”

His friend took a large drink of brandy, and focused his gaze on the fireplace. “You know I told you that the Duke of Somerset paid me to abduct Miss Featherton?”

Austin had not been pleased about that. “I regret I was even a part of giving you information about her. You said you merely wished to speak with her.”

“Yes, well.” Tarlington had a sheepish look on his face. “I didn’t have a choice, really. He’d bought up enough of my debts that I could not refuse. After failing to accomplish the task, I was fortunate that he gave them to me. In any event, it all worked out for the best. Meg has found a gentleman who truly loves her, and I shall be able to move into my town house by next Season.” He touched his mouth and winced. “Not only that, but I have wonderful news. I am married.”

Who the devil had he found to wed him in such a short period of time? “Congratulations. Who is the lucky lady?”

His smile grew. “Maria.”

Maria? Who the hell was Maria? Austin had to exert his tired brain before he came up with the answer. “Your mistress?”

“Yes, but, well, after the first six months, she was not actually my mistress.”

Smithson tossed back the rest of the brandy in his glass and poured another. “I’ve had a long few days. Perhaps you had better explain it to me.”

Tarlington set his tumbler down and leaned forward. “To my shame, I married her in a sham wedding. She is half Scottish, and even though she was gently bred, I knew my father would never approve. But I had to have her, and she would not be with me unless we were wed. A few months later, we traveled to Scotland and lived as a married couple. Under Scottish law, we are married and have been since before my son’s birth.”

“I thought you had to say vows of some sort.”

“No. If one lives as a married couple and holds themselves out as a married couple, then under Scottish law they are married just as if they had said vows over an anvil or in a church.”

Sitting back against the chair, Austin shook his head. “I do not understand. You need to marry money, but you are happy that you are wed to Maria?”

“Yes, it was really the only thing I ever wanted. Now I no longer have to try to find a rich wife.”

Austin was more confused than ever. Tarlington wasn’t making any sense at all. “I fail to see how that settles your financial problems. Not only that, but how did you not know you had wed?”

Tarlington laughed. “I’m not explaining this well at all. After I botched the thing with the heiress in France, I was in my cups and bemoaning that I would never be able to survive. That I had failed Maria and the children. That was the first Maria knew anything about my trying to marry money. You see, I had hidden it all from her. I didn’t want her to worry.” He took another sip of brandy. “She called me daft, and said she had an uncle who could help us if we needed it. Then she explained about the marriage.” His smile belonged on a church figure. “She knew the original wedding wasn’t legal, but when we lived as man and wife in Scotland, we would be legally married. She knew I was strapped for funds, and never complained about not having fine clothing, or entering Polite Society, or having sufficient servants. She was trying to protect my pride.” Tarlington ended on a note of wonder.

“Well, that is a jolly Christmas present.” It wasn’t exactly what Austin should have said, but he’d been having a bloody horrible holiday.

Tarlington stood. “It is a wonderful present. I must be getting back home, but I wanted to thank you for your help, and tell you that it has all worked out for the best. I believe I have truly experienced a Christmas miracle.”

Austin shook his friend’s hand. “Merry Christmas to you and your family.”

The silly smile was still on Tarlington’s face. “There was one other thing I forgot to mention. Swindon is dead.”

“I can’t say he will be missed. How did he die?”

“He was whipped to death by a woman he had relations with.”

“That makes me think there is justice in the world after all.”

Tarlington nodded. “Well, Merry Christmas to you. Maria and the children are waiting for me.”

 

“I smell a rat.” Constance took another sip of tea.

“A large, stinky one.” Lucinda nodded. After due reflection, she had come to the conclusion that the duke had given in much too easily. When she, Constance, and Almeria had met for breakfast in Lucinda’s apartments, she had voiced her concern. “One might say that Somerset had been thoroughly routed.”

“And one might be wrong.” Almeria stirred another lump of sugar in her tea. “If we were dealing with a reasonable man”—she sighed—“but we are not.”

Lucinda dipped her piece of well-toasted bread into a baked egg. “What are we going to do? We cannot act on a feeling. We must have an idea of what we are up against.” She turned to Constance. “When did you begin to form a suspicion that he was up to something?”

“When he said he was going to see Aylesbury to smooth things over. It would not occur to Somerset that he should even bother. What about you?”

“When he said he would take care of his guest list himself. That was when I knew he would invite someone we would object to. Almeria?”

“When he sent Catherine back home by herself. He hates to travel, and he does not like her traveling alone.”

Chewing slowly, Lucinda let her thoughts flow until they coalesced around an idea. “He must plan to somehow disrupt the wedding by making it impossible for either Meg or Hawksworth to marry the other.”

“Or both,” Almeria said. “That would suit his plans perfectly.”

 

The next several days passed quickly. Meg was kept busy with invitations to the wedding ball, and she pressed Damon into service as well. Although there was no snow, it was cold enough for the ornamental lake to freeze, allowing them all to skate.

They moved their practice for the Pantomime to a room with a raised platform that had been built for the play. Trunks had been brought down from the attic, and they selected their costumes. As Viola, Meg had to wear breeches. It was now only three days before their wedding and the performance.