Her Christmas Pleasure (6 page)

Damien didn’t dare look at her.

Not now, not while standing in the midst of her late husband’s family during their annual Christmas celebration. The earl stood on one side of him and the countess on the other. The earl’s younger brother and his immediate family were still in attendance. The house was overrun with children and adults, chattering and laughing and having a wonderful time.

At least there was no pianoforte playing. Yet.

Theo was in heaven, running about with his younger cousins. Celia stood on the far side of the room with another female cousin, chatting animatedly. Occasionally she cast Damien a warm glance from over her shoulder, a secret smile curving her lush mouth as she stared at him unabashedly.

He had to look away, for seeing her was his undoing. Just a glimpse of that coquettish look, and he wanted to grab her. Haul her over his shoulder and flee the room. Throw her on his bed and tear her clothes off. Take her ferociously until the last drop of his seed filled her body. Until the both of them were completely spent, and they fell asleep together in an exhausted, tangled heap.

Yes, indeed he was demented. Absolutely beyond repair. All because of a woman he loved like no other.

That realization alone made his heart thud to a frightening dead stop. He rubbed his hand against his chest absently, nodding in agreement with whatever the earl just murmured to him. The countess left them and made her way across the room toward Celia.

“I say, Morton, are you unwell? You don’t look so good.” The earl shook his head, making a low tsking noise.

“Er, I’m a bit tired, my lord.” He’d made love to Celia throughout the night. And when she’d slept like the dead he’d lain there watching her, unable to sleep. Too desperate to savor the final moments of sharing his bed with her.

Damnation, he didn’t know what to do. To be with her one more time would only be a sick sort of torture. A reminder that soon it would be over and he would leave.

Never to see Celia again.

“She’s a vision this evening.” Urswick’s comment startled Damien from his thoughts.

“Your wife? She is, indeed, lovely tonight.” The countess was clad in a festive green gown, and her smile could light up the room.

“No, not the countess, son, though I appreciate the compliment.” Urswick chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m speaking of Celia. There’s a special glow about her this evening.”

Indeed there was always a special glow about Celia, but Damien had to concede that the earl was right. She was even more beautiful than usual, wearing a crimson velvet gown that clung to her curves lovingly, the vibrant color complemented her creamy complexion to perfection. A whimsical circle of ivy sat atop her head, around a pile of intricate curls. Her cheeks were rosy, as was the skin on her chest, and her tinkling laugh made his heart tumble over itself.

She was quite simply breathtaking.

“Don’t you agree?” Urswick prompted.

“Undoubtedly.” Damien bobbed his head like a fool.

Urswick cast him a strange look. “You two seem to be getting on quite well as of late.”

Had the earl noticed the lusty glances he sent Celia’s way when he believed no one else was looking? The last thing he wanted was to offend his host, a man he looked up to and considered a father figure. A man he never wanted to disappoint. “We have always been…friends.”

“And nothing more?” Urswick’s brows rose.

“Absolutely not, my lord.” Damien stiffened his shoulders. What did the earl suspect?

“Does she not interest you?”

He didn’t know how to answer. Words clogged his throat, and he couldn’t speak.

“My wife believes Celia has taken a fancy to you,” the earl continued. “The countess is unsure how she feels in regards to that fact. Her loyalty to Lawrence is expected.”

“Sir, I could never—” Damien started, but Urswick cut him off with a look.

“Do you protest because she was married to my son? It’s not necessary, you know…depriving yourself of a woman you may care for because you’re afraid of offending me.”

“Lawrence was my best friend.” Damien’s heart was heavy. “Even if—if I
were
interested in Celia, I wouldn’t want to overstep that boundary.”

“He is gone. He’s been gone for a long time. And I hate seeing young people deny themselves those they want.” The earl gave him a pointed look. “I have a suspicion that despite your denials, you might hold a bit of interest where my daughter-in-law is concerned.”

Damien remained silent, absorbing the Earl of Urswick’s words. He’d tried his hardest to be discreet but perhaps he had been too obvious in his feelings for Celia.

“If you care for our Celia, I suggest you inform her of that immediately. Before you leave the country and her indefinitely.”

“But Theo…” Damien cleared his throat and continued. “Theo deserves and needs a father who can guide him properly. A titled gentleman who understands the intricacies of the nobility. A subject I have no knowledge of whatsoever since I am a mere servant’s son. And your servant, I might add. If only for a few more days.”

“Pish-posh, Morton. You speak such nonsense, which surprises me, I must say. I have always considered you like a second son. Your father was the most trustworthy man I knew, and you’re just like him. And I see the way you are with Theodore. He adores you.”

“And I adore him.”

“Of course you do. Perhaps not as much as you adore his mother.” The silence after Urswick’s statement was telling. He knew. Somehow, he knew of Damien’s love for Celia.

And he was giving his unspoken permission for Damien to pursue her.

Damien stayed quiet. No matter what the earl said, he still wasn’t comfortable confessing his feelings. Not yet. He needed to consider everything first.

His gaze went unerringly to where she stood. She watched him in return, a sweet smile curving her lips. Candlelight from the chandelier above shone upon her, and she
glowed. She was an angel,
his
angel.

The countess stood at her side and watched the two of them stare at each other, a conflicted expression on her face.

Damien frowned. He didn’t want to upset the countess. He wanted her approval. But what if she never gave it? What if she believed him poaching the widow of her beloved son?

“The countess has her doubts,” Urswick said, “but never fear. I shall turn her around. I can be quite persuasive when I put my mind to it.”

Damien turned to find the older man smiling and shaking his head. “I would never want to offend her.”

“Trust me, you won’t. She’ll come around. Especially when you and Celia provide her with those grandbabies she secretly yearns for.”

And with that final tidbit, the earl stalked off, humming a festive tune.

Leaving Damien rather perplexed. What was he supposed to do, approach Celia while everyone watched? Confess his love for her, drop to one knee and ask for her hand in marriage?

His skin tightened, and he breathed deeply. The pressure was enormous. He couldn’t ask for her hand. Not yet, not like this. He hadn’t even spoken to her today—besides the mundane good-mornings and how-are-you-today murmurings, that is.

She laughed again at something the countess said; the sound swarmed him, heating his body from within. He loved her laugh. He loved everything about her.

And he must tell her. But he needed to do so in private, not among her family during their celebratory gathering. Perhaps in the privacy of her bedchamber or his.

If he got her alone, though, there would be little talking involved.

Smiling, he started toward the refreshment table, which was laden with a plethora of delicious food and, more importantly, stiff spirits to drink. Liquor would surely calm his nerves and be just the thing. For his life was about to change for the better.

Hopefully.

Damien was so dashingly handsome, just the sight of him made her heart melt. He was impeccably dressed in a dark gray suit, his snowy white cravat emphasized his masculine jaw and the darkness of his hair.

How she wished she had the right to stand by his side. Thread her arm through his and offer her cheek, her lips to him for a kiss.

But alas, she did not.

Celia tore her gaze from him and smiled politely at the countess, who’d chosen this particular moment to become melancholy, recounting long-held memories of Lawrence.

Not that Celia could blame her. This time of year had always been especially hard, what with family gathering close and reminding her that Lawrence was no longer with them. She’d shaken herself out of her sadness last year when she realized how important this time was to Theo. She needed to make happy memories and create new traditions for her son to carry with him as he grew older.

Perhaps she could also create new memories and traditions with Damien.

“Are you finding yourself in need of a man’s company, Celia? I’ve noticed you’ve spent an inordinate amount of time with Damien since he arrived.” The countess shook her head, sadness etched in her expression. “Do you not miss Lawrence anymore?”

“Of course I still miss him. He was my husband, the father of my son.” Celia stared into the distance. Perhaps the countess sensed there was something between Celia and Damien. And her senses would be most accurate.

But Damien was leaving. They’d never discussed his plans during their time together last night, and those unknown plans weighed heavy on her mind. Having finally found such blissful companionship with Damien, only to lose him? She didn’t think she could bear it.

Her chest hollowed, and she exhaled shakily. She was afraid the blow of Damien’s departure might affect her even greater than the loss of Lawrence.

“But you’re spending so much time with Damien… Oh, I know he’s a good man. He treats Theo with such kindness. Lawrence would approve undoubtedly.” The countess gently touched Celia’s arm. “I honor the memory of my son every single day. I pray hope you do the same.”

“I do.” Tears pricked the corners of Celia’s eyes. She didn’t want to cry. She’d shed enough tears after her husband’s death. “But I cannot mourn him forever. I must go on, don’t you agree?”

The countess sniffed, her eyes shining with tears. “It pains me to say it, but yes. You’re young, Celia. You have your whole life ahead of you. It would be wrong of me to think you should wish for Lawrence only and never find someone else to love. Someone who could take care of you and Theo.”

“I thank you for your consent. It means more to me than you’ll ever know.” They embraced. Celia pressed the countess close before releasing her. “I believe Damien would take fine care of me and Theo.” If she could only convince him to stay.

“I…I must agree.” The reluctance in the countess’s voice was still clear. It would take her time. It was such a horrendous blow, losing her only child. Celia couldn’t imagine it.

“He’s a good man. Very thoughtful and caring.” Memories of last night flooded her, and her cheeks heated. He’d done such wondrous, passionate things to her. She’d believed her marriage passionate.

What she’d shared with Damien had been so much more.

She didn’t feel disloyal to Lawrence thinking so, either. Not when there was so much love in her heart for Damien. But her caring for him could go to waste if he left her. Celia couldn’t bear the idea of him gone from her life.

“You’re frowning.” The countess touched Celia’s arm. “Are you not feeling well?”

Perfect. She could beg off because of illness and somehow get Damien alone. Then she would tell him he couldn’t leave. She needed him to stay with her and Theo. “I do have a touch of a headache.” Celia purposely made her voice go weak. “Perhaps I should lay down for a bit.”

“Ah, the festivities are getting to you. I understand. Go, take a short rest, but do come back and soon. There are activities planned throughout the night and so much food! I do believe cook thought we were feeding an army.”

Celia smiled and left the countess where she stood. She searched the room, looking for Damien, and found him not far from the refreshment table, bringing a bite of food to his mouth right as their gazes clashed.

With the subtlest tilt of her head toward the hall, she widened her eyes. Hoping he would get the hint that she wanted to speak with him. Alone.

Turning on her heel, she exited the room and entered the long hall, heading
toward the staircase. She kept her steps slow, deliberate, occasionally glancing over her shoulder. But the corridor remained abandoned, the cheerful ring of voices growing distant with her every step.

Disappointment crashed through her. He hadn’t gotten the hint. Or perhaps…perhaps he wasn’t interested any longer. Had he only wanted one night to remember her by before he fled the country? She’d laid her heart out for him to capture, but maybe he didn’t want it. Maybe he only wanted her body instead.

She wanted more. She wanted all of him.

If he was so inclined, she wanted to be Damien Morton’s wife.

Pausing at the foot of the staircase, she set her hand on the banister and sighed. It would be best if she did rest for a bit. Gathering her thoughts and shoving her feelings deep inside sounded like just the thing her before she faced Damien once more. Oh, what a fool she was for believing he could love her.

She started up the stairs, gasping in shock when he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her toward that unmistakable, thrillingly large body she’d so intimately been pressed against the night before.

“You didn’t wait for me,” he murmured close to her ear just before he kissed it.

She nudged away from him, not wanting the distraction. Not yet. “I couldn’t have walked any slower.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know we were leaving together.” He moved to stand right beside her, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his mouth. His lips drifted across her knuckles, his tongue offering an errant swipe.

She sucked in a harsh breath. “I don’t believe they would say a word. I must confess, the countess is worried we grow too close.”

His dark eyebrows rose as he dropped her hand from his mouth but continued to hold it. Fingers intertwined, they started up the stairs together. “The earl implied he wants us together.”