Christine Merrill - A Yuletide Invitation - The Mistletoe Wager / The Harlot's Daughter

If they had not married in haste, things might have been different between them. She should never have accepted Harry Pennyngton’s offer when she had still been so angry with Nicholas. She had been almost beyond reason, and had hardly had time to think before she had dispensed with one man and taken another.

But Harry’s assurances had been so reasonable, so comforting, that they had been hard to resist. He had said he was of a mind to take a wife. And he had heard that she was in desperate straits. That her parents were returning to Bavaria, and she must marry someone quickly if she wished to remain in England. If so, why could it not be him? He had described the house to her, the grounds and the attached properties, and told her of his income and the title. If she refused him he would understand, of course. For they were little better than strangers. But if she chose to accept everything he had would be hers, and he would do all in his power to assure that she did not regret the decision.

He had laid it all out before her like some sort of business deal. And although he had not stated the fact outright, she had suspected that she would not get a better offer, and would end up settling for less should she refuse.

That should have been her first warning that the marriage would not be what she’d hoped. For where Nicholas had been full of fine words of love and big dreams of the future, Harry had been reason itself about what she could expect should she choose to marry him.

It had been quite soothing, in retrospect, to be free of grand passion for a moment, and to give her broken heart a chance to mend. Harry had been willing to give without question, and had asked for nothing in return but her acceptance.

They had been wed as soon as he’d been able to get a licence. And if she’d had any delusions that he wished a meeting of hearts before a meeting of bodies, he had dispelled them on the first night.

Elise had thought that Harry might give her time to adjust to her new surroundings, and wished that she’d had the nerve to request it. For intimacy had hardly seemed appropriate so soon. They had barely spoken. She hadn’t even learned how he liked his tea, or his eggs. And to learn how he liked other things before they had even had breakfast? It had all happened too fast. Surely he would give her a few days to get to know her new husband?

But as she had prepared for bed on her wedding night, she had reached for her nightrail only to have the maid pull it aside. ‘Lord Anneslea says you will not be needing it this evening, ma’am.’

‘Really?’ She felt the first thrill of foreboding.

‘Just the dressing gown.’ And the maid wrapped her bare body in silk and exited the room.

What was she to do now? For clearly the staff had more instruction than she had over what was to occur. And it was not likely to be a suggestion that they live as brother and sister until familiarity had been gained.

There was a knock at the connecting door between his bedroom and hers. ‘Elise? May I come in?’

She gave him a hesitant yes.

He opened the door but did not enter. Instead he stood framed in the doorway, staring at her. ‘I thought tonight, perhaps, you would join me in my room.’ He stepped to the side and held a hand out to her.

When she reached to take it, his fingers closed over hers, and he led her over the threshold to his room.

It was surprisingly warm for a winter’s night, and she could see that the fire was built to blazing in the fireplace. ‘I did not want you to take a chill,’ he offered, by way of explanation.

‘Oh.’

Then he helped her up the short step that led to his bed, and jumped up himself to sit on the edge beside her. He brushed a lock of hair off her face, and asked, ‘What have you been told about what will happen tonight?’

‘That it will go much faster if I lie still and do not speak.’

His face paled. ‘I imagine it will. But expediency is not always the object with these things. If you wish to move at any time, for any reason, then you must certainly do it. And by all means speak, if you have anything to say. If I am causing you discomfort I will only know if you tell me. And if something gives you pleasure?’ He smiled hopefully. ‘Then I wish to know that as well.’

‘Oh.’

‘Are you ready to begin?’

‘I think so, yes.’ She was still unsure what it was that they were beginning. But how else was she to find out?

He kissed her, and it was a pleasant surprise, for other than one brief kiss when he had proposed, and another in the chapel after the wedding, he had offered no displays of affection. But this was different. He rested his lips against hers for a moment, moving back and forth, and then parting them with his tongue.

It was an interesting sensation. Especially since the longer he kissed her the more she was convinced that she could feel the kiss in other parts of her body, where his lips had not touched. When she remarked on it, he offered to kiss her there as well, and his lips slid to her chin, her throat, and then to her breast.

It was wonderful, and strange, for it made the feelings even more intense, and he seemed to understand for his lips followed the sensation lower.

She scrambled away from him, up onto the pillows on the other side of the bed. Because she understood what it was he meant to do, and it was very shocking. It was then that she realised her robe had come totally undone and he was staring at her naked body. The feeling of his eyes on her felt very much like the intimate kiss she was avoiding, so she wrapped the gown tightly about her and shook her head.

‘I have frightened you.’ He dragged his gaze back to her face and looked truly contrite. ‘Here, let us start again.’

He climbed past her on the bed, and reached for a pot of oil that rested on the night stand. It was scented with a rich perfume, and he took a dab of the stuff, stroking it onto the palm of his hand.

‘Let me touch you.’

She tensed in anticipation of his caress. But he sat behind her this time. He slipped his hands beneath the neck of the robe to stroke her shoulders, kissing her neck before rubbing the ointment into the muscles there.

‘See? There is nothing to be afraid of. I only mean to give you pleasure.’

And there certainly did not seem to be anything to fear. It was very relaxing to feel his hands sliding over her body, and she found it almost impossible to resist as he pushed the fabric of her robe lower, until he could reach the small of her back.

She was bare to the waist now. And even though he was behind her, and could not see them, she kept her hands folded across her breasts. But soon she relaxed her arms and dropped them to her sides. When he reached around her to touch her ribs, the underside of her breasts and her nipples, she did not fight him. It felt good. And then she leaned back against him and allowed him to play.

When he heard her breathing quicken he put his lips to her ear and kissed her once, before beginning to whisper, in great detail, just what it was he meant to do next.

For a moment her eyes opened wide in alarm, but his hands slipped down, massaging her belly, as his voice assured her that it would be all right. He nuzzled her neck. One hand still toyed with a breast, while the other slid between her legs and teased until her knees parted. The sensation was new, and intense, but he seemed to know just how to touch her until she moaned and twisted against him.

He explained again how wonderful it would feel to be inside her, and demonstrated with his hand, his fingers sliding over her body, inside and out again, over and over, until her head lolled back against him and her back arched in a rush of sensation.

He released her and turned her in his arms, so that he could kiss her again. And then he laid her down on the pillows. And she could see what it was that had been pressing against her so insistently as he had stroked her. She enquired after it.