Compromised by Christmas (22 page)

These young women were the best that Fanny could
assemble on short notice. They all seemed so insipid. Then there
was Roxana, who could alarm him to no end, yet he could allow
himself to relax with her because she had no expectations of him
and welcomed honesty. She also welcomed Mr. Breedon's attentions,
and Max could not help but think she had managed to force her
affections to follow her less-than-noble ambitions.

The Breedons had cash and income. Max had wealth that
was tied up in his vast holdings. A blackness curdled in his soul.
If he was even to consider marriage, he too needed to marry a woman
with a large dowry.

Max glanced over at his stepmother where she sat
chatting with the older women of the group. The two Misses Ferris
talked across him, hardly needing more than an occasional nod from
him. Lady Malmsbury turned in his direction and gave him a dirty
look. Had she attempted to find him in his room last night? He
tossed a smile in her direction.

"I am sure you will not wish to go sleighing, since
you despise the cold, Lady Malmsbury. Everyone who wants to brave
the cold should assemble in the front hall in one hour. Breedon,
Scully, Lord Hampton, and Mr. Allensworth are all of you gentlemen
up to driving sleighs?"

When they gathered outside, the snow continued to
fall as single horses were harnessed to the sleighs. The bells on
their reins jingled as the grooms led the animals into their
traces. Roxana had not yet joined the bundled and scarfed group of
the younger members of the house party waiting for the sleighs by
the drive. Max was tempted to send her back inside if she did
appear. He did not need her freezing to death, even though the
sleighs were well equipped with lap robes and heated bricks for the
sleigh riders' feet.

The door opened and Roxana appeared with Julia and
Thomas by her side. The three of them scrambled down the newly
swept stairs with Breedon huffing down behind them.

As they joined the group at the bottom of the stairs,
Max counted heads. Scully was noticeably absent, so only four men
were present. Each would have to drive a sleigh continuously.

The Misses Ferris jumped up and down, clamoring to go
first.

Roxana knelt at the foot of the stairs, checking the
fastenings of Thomas's coat and rewrapping his scarf. Thomas
tolerated her fussing with barely contained impatience.

"Do stop. I can barely move," protested Thomas.

"You will be glad of my wrapping when the wind is in
your face," Roxana cautioned.

She turned to Julia, who smiled brightly at Roxana's
care. Max went still, achingly aware of the loss of his own mother
and that Fanny had not been prepared to be a mother to the
self-contained boy he'd become by the time his father brought her
home. Roxana would make a superb mother when the time came.
Unfortunately she'd probably be wiping the noses of Breedon's whiny
spawn. Max shuddered in distaste.

"Let us let the youngest go for the first ride," said
Roxana. "It is only fair."

"Oh, yes," said Miss Ferris, clapping her gloved
hands together. "Then I shall be first to ride with his grace."

"I can take both of you," Max told Julia and
Thomas.

"May I handle the ribbons?" asked Thomas eagerly.

"We shall see," said Max. "Let me make one circuit to
show the best path, first."

The groom held the horse until the three of them were
packed into the narrow seat. Max watched Roxana and Breedon head
for the last of the sleighs. Was she dressed warm enough?

A gust blew her blue cloak against her and failed to
show the perfect curves of her form. He was as much disappointed as
he was relieved that she had layered on more clothing. Had her
poverty prevented her from owning a proper winter coat? Or had she
sacrificed her comfort for fear of appearing less than
au
courant?

Then they were off, the horse prancing, the bells on
the harness merrily ringing and the horse's snorts lifting into the
crisp air in white puffs. Max led the sleigh down the drive,
turning off to cross the flattest part of the park. After
completing the circuit and starting down the drive for the second
time, Max handed the reins to Thomas.

A few of the other sleighs turned off the drive
earlier, taking a more daring path down a drainage ditch beside the
drive. He could hear the laughter, interspersed with the festive
jingling of the holiday harnesses. Lady Angela began to sing a
caroling song and many of the others joined in. Their voices lilted
over the snowy parkland.

Thomas snapped the reins and Max put a hand on his
arm. "Remember, the horse has to contend with snow, and pulling a
sleigh can be more taxing than pulling a wheeled vehicle."

Julia looked over her brother's head and smiled. "I
am so glad that Roxy thought of us."

As they neared the group of waiting riders near the
house, the young women cheered them on. A few of the older couples
had joined the crowd on the steps. Max looked back, calculating how
many circuits the horses would need to make.

"This should be our last time. We want to make sure
our guests are all able to get their turn."

"We cannot stop now." Thomas jerked the reins. The
sleigh bumped off the drive down the slope of the ditch.

"Thomas, look out!" shouted Julia.

Max swiveled around to see another sleigh flying
toward them. Roxana and Breedon traveled a collision course.

Roxana screamed, "Right."

Breedon jerked the reins hard to his left. The
horse's head jerked sideways, its eyes rolling with pain. The
bells' steady rhythm clanged with discordant fury as Thomas tried
to stop the careen of the sleigh. The horses avoided each other by
the narrowest of margins, while Thomas hauled back on the
reins.

"Hold on!" Max shouted, fearing the inevitable
collision between the two sleighs would send his sister and brother
flying.

But the opposite sleigh tilted up on one runner. The
slope of the ditch beside the drive provided the
coup de
grâce.
The carved sleigh upended in a flurry of snow and
flailing limbs. Roxana squealed and Breedon yelped as they were
flung sideways.

His heart in his throat, Max jumped from his slowing
sleigh. Was Roxana hurt? He would never forgive himself if she got
hurt. It was all his fault. He should never have allowed Thomas to
take the reins.

Devlin loitered in the passageway, waiting for Fanny
to return from her mission to be sure plenty of blankets and warmed
bricks were supplied to the sleighs. Catching her alone was so
hard. When she had lingered outside his room last night, her
candlelight casting odd shadows through the gap under the door, his
hopes had soared.

When she walked toward him, he drank in the sight of
her. She was beautiful, but her continued wearing of her blacks
made him wary of the unspoken message she was sending. Had she
buried her high-spirited side when she buried her husband?

"Fanny, love, would you take a sleigh ride with
me?"

"Scully, I—"

"Oh, now I am 'Scully,' and no longer your faithful
'Dev'?" He caught her arm before she fled from him as she had last
night, and he propelled her back toward an anteroom.

"You can hardly claim faithfulness," she said.

All right, she had a point. He hadn't exactly been
faithful in deed, only in his heart. Which was a point he would
knew he never win with a female. He opened the door and prodded her
inside the room. "Does a sleigh ride offend your station?"

"I am too old to—"

"Hardly so. You are barely a day older than the day I
first fell in love with you."

She rolled her eyes. "Another untruth."

Devlin didn't know what he was doing wrong. He had
tried to give her space to come to him, to indicate that he wanted
more than physical intimacy, although he wanted that more than
anything. And damn Max for suggesting he could not invade her
bedroom without an offer of marriage, when he did not even know if
Fanny had the least amount of interest in continuing their
relationship.

"You used to believe my protestations." For God's
sake, he had just told her he loved her, and she assumed it was a
lie. He did not know whether to laugh or cry. "So you are a decade
older and so am I. You are just as beautiful as you ever were."

Her gaze dropped and her arms folded across her
middle as if she were protecting herself. "You know that is not
true," she whispered.

"More beautiful." He took a step toward her.

She turned and her hand drifted on the air in
protest. "I am afraid the bloom is off the rose."

"Hardly so. I'd say the rose is finally in full
bloom." He leaned forward and caught her shoulders in his
hands.

She made a move to shrug him off.

"Don't, Fanny." He leaned over to brush his lips
against the nape of her neck. "For God's sake, don't send me away
again."

He felt her shudder. Sliding his hands down her arms
he nuzzled her neck. She tilted her head, giving him access to the
strip of skin between the high neck of her gown and her mobcap.

Impatient, he stripped off the headdress. She broke
contact, but he could see from her wide blue eyes and her quickened
breathing, his kisses affected her. She backed away. He followed
until his chest brushed hers. He had a great deal he meant to say,
but her mouth beckoned him.

"I mean to have you again, you know," he said as he
leaned toward her. "I don't care how long it takes to persuade
you."

"But—"

He cut off her protest with a kiss. Oh, God, he loved
the feel of her mouth, the taste of her, the lush feel of her
curves pressed against him.

She shoved against him. "I am too old for this."

"Fanny, if you feel too old then do something young
and rash like go for a sleigh ride with me. I promise you will not
feel old when we are done."

She stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

He plunked her cap back on her head, settling it just
so over her curls. "Promise me, if you will not go for a sleigh
ride today, that you will agree to go for one after your guests are
gone, or if the snow has melted, for a wild carriage drive or a mad
gallop on horseback. I need to hear you laugh again."

She ducked around him. "I don't understand what you
want from me."

"I want to delude myself with the idea that I could
make you happy, Fanny."

Her hand on the doorknob, she paused. He was using
the words of a formal declaration. Surely, she could give him a
hint of her mind.

"I think I did once."

She slowly turned around, "Dev?"

Shouts and screams from outside made them turn to the
windows. Dev felt like screaming, he was so close to breaking
through with her.

*~*~*

Roxana tried to lean against the uphill side as the
sleigh tipped, but Mr. Breedon had too many stone on her for her
weight to be an effective counterbalance. She did not have more
than a couple of seconds to react before she cartwheeled over Mr.
Breedon.

As her weight landed against him, he let out an
oomph.
Her first inclination was to giggle. She flayed in
search of a handhold to grab. She caught Mr. Breedon's coat. Then
the stark thought that one of them could be hurt flashed in her
mind.

For a second she thought everything was all right,
before she realized the horse continued dragging the overturned
sleigh. The carved headrest bumped her head, skimming over her. Mr.
Breedon's bulk took the brunt of the sleigh's impact. She tried to
push up the heavy wood before it injured him. Then the sleigh
ripped away from her hands and Max scooped her up into his arms. He
cradled her against his chest, one arm beneath her knees, as if she
were a small child instead of a grown woman.

His clamp on her was tight and her feet dangled above
the ground. That he could pick her up as if she weighed no more
than a pillow startled her.

His brown eyes were stark with panic. "Are you
hurt?"

"I don't think so." Roxana swiveled. "Mr.
Breedon!"

Gregory lay on the snow, crunched up in a ball. Was
he hurt? He groaned and rolled to his back.

Max tightened his grip on her, restricting her
movements. Panic tightened her throat. She hated to be restrained,
and Mr. Breedon could be injured.

Roxana struggled and shoved against Max's chest. "Let
me down."

For a second a mulish look crossed his face and he
glanced up the drive as if he would carry her away to the house.
The thought of him removing her slippers and socks forcefully
flushed heat through her body. A primitive look on his face made
her feel as if he meant to carry her off, as if rescuing her
conferred rights of conquest on him.

As soon as he let her down, she ran toward Gregory.
She dropped down to her knees, beside Mr. Breedon. "Sir, sir, are
you all right?"

Thomas came up beside her and said, "I am so sorry,
Roxy, sir."

Mr. Breedon groaned. "I am killed."

However, he moved every one of his limbs slowly, as
if certain one of them would not function properly.

"Where are you hurt?" asked Roxana.

"I am trying to see," said Gregory peevishly.

Roxana studied his face, looking for hints of pain.
His moon face was smooth as ever, his eyes closed but not clenched
shut. His breathing was easy and not a single wrinkle that would
signify a wince was present.

Max gave a hard look at the man lying in the snow,
then tracked after the horse. The animal stood head down, sides
heaving, less than fifty feet away. Apparently pulling the upended
sleigh required too much effort.

Julia held the reins of the upright sleigh.

Roxana patted Gregory's shoulder. She supposed he
meant to milk this for as much sympathy as everyone could muster.
As little as she liked his ploy she leaned over him, cooing softly
as she would to one of her younger siblings after they had taken a
tumble.