Compromised by Christmas (30 page)

He knocked on the weathered wood door and a girl with
blond hair and freckles and Roxana's blue eyes opened it. She
stared at him while wiping her hands on her apron.

"I beg pardon for my interruption. I am looking for
the Winstons." Max had the horrible suspicion he had found
them.

She looked over her shoulder and then dipped her gaze
to the floor. "Won't you please come in, sir?"

"I'm Trent," he began.

Her gaze shot up and he was again reminded of Roxy.
Yet this girl was younger and less self-assured. He could see from
her startled reaction she recognized his title.

"Let me get my mother, your grace," she said with a
curtsy. "Jonathon, come take the duke's horse."

"Is your father home?" Max removed his hat.

She shook her head and then scrunched her nose. "Is
Roxy with you?"

Max paused in looking around the tiny parlor crammed
with broken and worn furniture.

A boy scrambled by him, coughing.

Max stopped him. "Tell me where I might put him up,
and I'll take care of him. You go back inside."

The girl pulled her threadbare shawl tighter around
her narrow shoulders. Max was suddenly aware that he was letting
out the heat and it was undoubtedly a precious commodity for a
family living in complete poverty.

No wonder Roxana had asked for money. Seeing this
wretched existence, he marveled that she had not stolen his
mother's jewelry. Instead she had entrusted her maid to return it
to him with Roxana's thanks and an apology that she had not had
time to write a proper note.

Where the hell was she? Fear gripped his heart and
squeezed hard.

*~*~*

Fanny dismissed her maid and settled into bed. Scully
assumed Max's duties as host after Max left, telling everyone he
had to escort Miss Winston home. It was as if a new outburst of the
plague had begun, the exodus of people needing to leave because of
"sick relatives" on Christmas morning had been so massive. Other
than the insatiable curiosity of the remaining guests, Fanny was
relieved.

She was glad of Scully's support, but she did not
think she could put him off much longer. He was growing
increasingly impatient with her unwillingness to change her mind or
discuss why she did not want to marry him.

Yet she could not believe he really wanted to marry
her, and he had dropped off to a campaign of hand kisses and
touching the small of her back in a way that made her shiver,
although she had to think it the grossest overreaction. He was
probably counting the days until he could leave and forget that he
had made such a rash offer.

For several nights she had stayed awake waiting for
him to come to her room, but he had not. And she was too old to
make do on so little sleep.

She hovered in that land of nod.

Suddenly she startled awake. Had she heard a tap on
her door or only dreamed it? Her body didn't differentiate. Her
flesh came alive, hungry for Dev's touch.

The door opened and Dev came in holding a nightlight.
He bent and put the candle on her nightstand. And she was still not
sure it was not a dream.

"Sleeping, love?"

She struggled to sit up in her bed. She bit her lip,
fearing to say anything that might make her wake.

Dev flopped onto the bed beside her. "I am exhausted.
How does Max manage all this host duty stuff and nonsense?"

All right, she was awake. If she were making this
dream he would behave like a lover, not an overgrown boy. "Dev, you
should not be here."

He toed off his shoes and they thumped on the floor.
"I'm tired of trying to court you gently. I want more than
that."

Had he been trying to court her gently?

"You want me too, Fanny. You know you do. I have seen
you watching me across the room. I shall be glad when everyone is
gone and I can be free with my affection."

He scooted up on the bed and raised himself on his
elbows.

"I was not aware you were using—"

With hardly any warning, he kissed her.

"—any restraint."

He kissed her again as if he meant to devour her.
After a whimper of surprise she kissed back with the hunger she had
been trying to hide. Every pent-up emotion she'd felt for the last
ten years came out in her response. The taste of him swirled in her
mouth, and he breathed harder and faster.

He pushed her nightcap off and slipped his hands
through her hair. He eased back, nibbling at her lips and
murmuring, "So sweet, love. You taste so sweet. Let me stay with
you tonight."

He stared down at her, his blue eyes begging.

Fanny did not know if she could fight herself any
longer. She found herself shivering with longing every time he drew
near to her, every time he tossed his smile in her direction, and
his touch made her mindless.

"Put out the light," she said.

His grin flashed, and she closed her eyes, fighting
back the urge to treat this too nonchalantly. This was too rare an
event for her to partake lightly. Letting him stay the night in her
bed would change her life forever.

His weight shifted away from her and her eyes popped
open. Fear that he might leave made her heart choke.

He slid off the bed and shed his jacket and
unbuttoned his unmentionables. His urgency to draw his shirt over
his head and step on one pantaloon leg to draw off the other leg
made him tip and hop sideways.

A giggle bubbled up from deep inside her and the
sound startled her as it left her mouth.

"Ah, there is the Fanny I know and love."

His small-clothes dropped and her giggle ended. His
male member jutted proud and erect in front of him. He stood still
for a minute as if letting her soak in the sight of him naked.

When she was finally able to draw her eyes away from
the thick length of him, rising from that dark thatch of curls, she
noticed other things. She drank in the strength of his thighs, and
the rippled expanse of his stomach—so much for the paunch he had
claimed. Her gaze forayed up his lightly furred chest, with the
whirls of hair around his flat dark nipples. Every change to his
body marked his new maturity and his strength. Her mouth
watered.

Dev watched her silently, obviously waiting for signs
of acceptance. He had not been near so patient the first time, the
only time, they made love. He reached over and slowly pulled back
the covers. He slid in beside her and rolled to settle on top of
her. His weight pressed her into the feather mattress, and she
noticed the care he took to mount her gently.

His body had changed, but the changes marked him as
more mature. His shoulders were broader, and she thought he might
be bigger in other ways.

He nibbled at her lips and a sigh left her. She
wished the changes to her body had been improvements.

"Fanny, love, as you can see, I am ready for you, but
there is no hurry."

He was clearly no longer a boy and she was no longer
dealing with the play of an impatient young man.

He shifted to nibble at her neck. As his body slid
along hers, she felt his hardness pressed into the juncture of her
thighs. Through her nightrail, she felt the probe of that part of
him. She turned her head to the side to allow him to taste her
neck. The candle flame flickered in front of her, too bright.

"You forgot to blow out the light," she
whispered.

"I didn't forget," he said, and then he kissed her
deeply.

His hands dropped to her shoulders, and she winced.
Fear gnawed at her stomach. She wanted the light out so she did not
have to see him gulp down disappointment. His hand slipped lower
and he eased her nightrail up her legs. She reached to hold it
down.

"Fanny!" he protested.

"The light," she whimpered.

"You would starve me of this pleasure? I want to see
you. As you looked your fill of me." He tugged at her nightrail,
but she refused to lift her hips.

"Please, Dev."

He straddled her locked-together legs, and pushed up
to his knees. "Are you still scared of me seeing you in the
altogether?"

His hands made a leisurely tour of her body before
slipping to the neck of her gown.

"Please put out the light." She might be able to
tolerate his touch, but his looking upon her naked was too much.
Her anticipation cooled.

"I love you," he whispered. Then he ripped her
nightgown down the center.

A squeal left her mouth, and she lurched upward. A
burst of heat scorched through her body.

He pushed her back down into the bed. Peeling back
the fabric, he let it skim over her skin with a teasing stroke. The
shock of cool night air against her heated skin raised
gooseflesh.

"Dev!" She did not know if she protested the way he
made her melt or the destruction of her nightclothes.

He grinned. "I'll buy you a new one. I'll buy you a
whole new wardrobe. I'm tired of seeing you in black." His eyes
roved over her flesh, and he brushed the scraps of her nightgown
away. Yet as she watched him, the warm twinkle did not fade from
his eye, nor, more importantly, did his erection wither.

She fought for bravery, to rise above the flush that
heated her cheeks. "I'll have you know that black is quite
slimming."

He laughed. "Ah, there is that hidden practical
streak in you." He cupped a hand around her breast. "I shall call
you my baroque beauty."

He skimmed his fingers down over her midsection.
"Look how lovely and soft your skin is."

She put an arm over her face. She wasn't that
brave.

He pulled the edges of her ripped nightgown over her
flesh and waited until she lowered her arm. Then he pushed them
away again, taking special care to tease her skin with the frayed
edges of the gown. His eyes sparkled like fine crystal and he
leaned over and brushed his lips against hers.

"How could you ever think I would not savor looking
upon you? You are so beautiful, my heart is full."

"Hush," she whispered, and decided to believe
him.

The increasing hitch in his breathing poured faith
through her. And his touch was so slow and thorough she could not
doubt him. He lowered his head, nipping at her flesh, molding her
with his hands, and touching the tip of his tongue to her nipple.
But then his head sank lower and he tasted her navel and dropped
lingering kisses all across the quivering flesh of her belly.

He seemed determined to look at every inch of her as
he urged her legs apart.

Then his head dipped lower, and he had not lied about
kissing every inch of her, only she was lost to everything but the
gluttony of pleasure.

*~*~*

Max stared at the ceiling of the cottage. He lay in
the bed in the single bedroom. Lady Winston insisted he sleep here.
She took Roxana's bed in the attic. He would have refused, but with
Jonathon sleeping in the parlor on a sofa too short for the growing
lad, no other space was available for Max. He could not force the
girls out of the attic. He would have slept in the stables with his
coachman and accompanying outriders, but the idea of it mortified
Roxana's mother.

What would he do with them?

He had bought them food and supplies, and then a
letter from Roxana arrived with a ten-pound note in it.

Where had she gotten that kind of money? And why was
she in London? Lady Winston seemed as upset and surprised as he was
that her daughter had not returned home.

Did she still intend to catch Breedon? Alone in
London, all the care he had taken to preserve her reputation was
for naught.

His offer to take the Winstons back to his home had
met with a refusal. "Lord Winston would not like that," said Lady
Winston primly.

Max hardly cared what Lord Winston liked, since he
had provided so ill for them. As he stayed longer he learned that
the family had moved to the cottage so they might let the main
house and dismiss all the servants.

Brought up to believe that the lord of any county had
an obligation to keep the locals employed, Max could not understand
their philosophy to economize. Besides, without proper upkeep a
house like Wingate Hall would deteriorate and could not fetch a
decent rent.

If he had the money, he would turn Fanny loose on
renovations for their home while he concentrated on maximizing
production of their farms and fields. But he suspected they would
balk at the idea of charity, especially since he had no claim to
them.

Roxana had refused him. The thought stabbed through
him. She did not want to be married to him, not even to be free of
this poverty and to rescue her family from it.

As he stared into the dark he made plans to install
caretakers in Wingate Hall and convince one of his outriders to
stay behind and do the work they needed a man to do. He felt an
obligation to be sure that Roxana's family was cared for. He had
ruined her, forced her to flee to London, and he could not leave
her family to suffer on in this pitiful existence.

Still, the ache in his chest spread until he wished
only for oblivion to ease the pain. Not even her dire background
had prompted Roxana to think that marriage to him would be better
than whatever life she could have with so little in the way of
family fortune.

What could he do but honor her unspoken plea to stay
out of her life?

*~*~*

Devlin resisted the temptation to complete the union
of their bodies. Fanny whimpered as he teased. He had brought her
to the edge of satisfaction and then moved away to kiss her belly
and breasts, then her neck. Her hands slid to his hips and tried to
draw him in.

"Say you love me, pretty Fanny," he whispered.

"Dev, please."

"Say you love me," he demanded again.

"Please, I need you," she moaned.

Her hips swiveled and he could not wait for her to
say the words he had waited half his life to hear from her. But
then as he buried himself into her dewy body the rapture of the
moment had control of him. She moaned, and the spasms of her
release brought him to heaven and he followed her down in the fall
back to earth.