Regency Christmas (Holiday Collection) Read online

  Leaving the curtains open, Devlin turned to face her and crossed his arms, a faint smile capturing the corners of his mouth. “I will have one readied for you immediately.”

  Not trusting the mischievous glint in his eye, Sarah said, “Of course it will be a very private bath.”

  “Of course,” he agreed readily.

  “And the change of clothing…”

  “You will have your choice of nightgowns and robes.” At Sarah’s raised brow, he chuckled. “Very high necked nightgowns and robes fit for a grandmother. Not to worry. You shall be covered head to foot. I can assure you, Lady Dawson, I am not as much of a scoundrel as you seem to think I am.”

  Saying nothing, Sarah merely pursed her lips.

  “Well, perhaps I am a bit of a scoundrel. But nothing the right woman could not fix.” On that rather enigmatic note, he left the room. Through the closed door Sarah heard him requesting hot water to be drawn and the claw foot tub in the corner of the master bedroom, half concealed by a silkscreen, to be filled.

  Telling herself she would only doze until it was ready, Sarah closed her eyes… and fell instantly asleep.

  When she woke the room was dark save the flickering light that danced out from a fire someone had started in the hearth. Staring at the flames helped Sarah remember where she was, for her family was not so wealthy they had fireplaces in every room, let alone the master bedroom.

  The throbbing in her skull had subsided to a dull ache, and when she gently touched the lump on the back of her head she was relieved to discover the swelling had already begun to subside. That would make going home in the morning all the more easier – as long as the weather cooperated.

  Grasping the edge of the blankets, Sarah tossed them aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed. That was when she could not help but notice she was not wearing the dress she had fallen asleep in.

  The pale blue nightgown was made of the softest cotton she had ever felt against her bare skin. It was quite beautiful, with delicate ivory lace along the neckline, and very modest as well, just like Devlin had promised – although he had not said anything about getting her changed in her sleep!

  A piece of parchment on the nightstand caught her eye. The scrawl was unfamiliar, but she instinctively knew it was Devlin’s handwriting even before she read his signature at the bottom.

  If you are reading this, it means you are

  awake. Ring the bell, no matter the hour.

  If you require assistance. I will be

  there at once. Yours fondly,

  Devlin

  Sarah reread the short note twice, then once more for good measure, seeking some

  hidden nuance that would tell her the viscount’s hidden thoughts. If she did not know any better she would say he was attempting to woo her. The signs were certainly there: whisking her away to his private residence, putting her in his very own bedroom, caring for her every whim, speaking to her kindly – no, flirtatiously – at every turn. She strummed her fingers against her chin as she considered the small silver bell he had left beside the note. There was nothing she required, per say. She was a bit hungry, but could easily wait until breakfast. She had no reason in the world to ring the bell. Except…

  Except maybe want was reason enough.

  She was not some wide eyed, blushing schoolgirl. Well, perhaps she was rather prone to blushing, but she was most definitely not a girl. She was a woman full grown. A woman who had never known the touch of a man. The feel of a man’s mouth sliding across her neck... The rough texture of a man’s hands as he grasped her hips... The husky murmur of a man’s voice as he whispered all of the decadent things he wanted to do to her…

  And why shouldn’t she know those things? If she was going to be ruined, she might as well make certain she was ruined thoroughly.

  Before she gave herself time to come to her senses, Sarah’s hand shot across the nightstand and she rang the bell.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The seconds that passed between the time she rang the bell and Devlin knocked at the door were the longest of Sarah’s life. Uncertain whether she should be in the bed or out, she hovered at the foot of it, her fingers twisting anxiously behind her back while she fought to steady her breathing.

  At the sound of a hand rapping softly against the door she jumped like a startled doe and had to clear her throat twice before she managed to croak, “Come in.”

  Devlin slipped into the room. The fire cast his profile into shadow, but there was enough light for Sarah to see he had changed clothes as well. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and rolled up at the cuffs, as though he had been working before she summoned him. A lock of dark hair curled over one eye, giving him a rakish appearance, and as he stepped towards her he swept it back with an impatient flick of his wrist.

  “You are awake.” His gaze swept down her body, studying her as intimately as she had just studied him, and Sarah fought the maidenly urge to cover herself. “How do you feel?”

  “I… Much b-better. I feel much better.” Sarah took a step back and bumped into the mattress. Wrapping one hand around the carved mahogany bedpost to steady herself, she managed what she hoped was an entrancing smile and said, “Thank you for helping me. I do not know what would have h-happened if you had not come along.”

  Devlin shook his head. “There is no need to thank me. I hope you do not mind, but I had one of the maids change you out of your dress. I did not want you to catch a chill from sleeping in damp clothing. I can even give you my word I was not in the room at the time.”

  “Did you want to be?”

  “Did I want to be what?”

  Feeling as though a thousand butterflies were dancing in her belly, Sarah bit her lip and blurted, “In the room.”

  Devlin’s eyes widened ever so slightly and for once he was the one who stuttered. “I… That is to say… Is there anything you need, Lady Dawson?”

  It was now or never. Looking Devlin straight in the eye, Sarah drew a deep, steadying breath even as her knees trembled and her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. “You,” she whispered. “I need you.”

  This time there was no mistaking the Devlin’s shock at Sarah’s forwardness. His entire body stiffened and he took one step towards her before he stopped himself, jaw clenching tight. “Lady Dawson, you do not know what you are saying.”

  Now that she had admitted her deepest, darkest desire Sarah felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Of their own accord her feet began to move, carrying her purposefully across the room. As he watched her approach Devlin’s arms remained rigid at his sides, the only sign he was having difficulty controlling himself in the clenching and unclenching of his fists.

  Tipping her chin up Sarah studied the fathomless depths of his stormy blue eyes and what she saw caused her lips to curve and an unprecedented sense of confidence to settle serenely on her shoulders.

  “Call me Sarah.” She raised her hands and pressed them flat against Devlin’s chest. He inhaled sharply at her touch, and her smile grew. Through the thin fabric of his shirt she could feel his heartbeat. It thundered under her palms, revealing Devlin was not quite as composed as he would have her believe. “And I know exactly what I am saying.”

  “Sarah…” He spoke her name on a ragged breath, his expression pained as he gazed down at her. “Are you certain? I do not want you to regret—”

  She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his, effectively silencing him. For a fleeting moment he did not move, and she hesitated, suddenly unsure if she had been mistaken in her assumption that he desired her as much as she did him, but then on a muffled groan his arms closed around her slender body and he pulled her into his embrace.

  For Sarah, whose only experience with kissing came from what she had heard whispered at tea parties and balls, the sensation of having Devlin’s lips contoured to hers was blissfully new and exciting. She had no idea what to do, but he guided her patiently, running his tongue alo
ng her bottom lip, nibbling at the corners of her mouth, and – surprises of all surprises – kissing inside her mouth.

  His hands moved in soothing strokes up and down her spine, slipping lower and lower with every pass. Instinctively Sarah moved closer to him, pressing her body tight against his and winding her fingers up through his hair.

  Firelight bathed them, flickering over their joined silhouette as Devlin easily scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He laid her upon the mattress with reverence, his gaze boldly traveling the length of her delicate frame before he stretched out beside her, wrapping one arm around her ribcage while the other cupped the back of her head.

  “Relax,” he whispered against her ear before he lowered his head to nip at the exposed curve of her neck. Sarah shuddered, then sighed with pleasure as he pressed his mouth to hers and drew her tongue to his. “You taste like honey.” The hand at her waist began to slowly wander up towards the swell of her breasts. He cupped one and then the other, his thumb flicking over her hardened nipples through the soft cloth of her nightgown while she arched her back and gasped in wonder at the feelings he was bringing to life inside of her, as if she were a violin and he a musician, plucking notes from her body she had never known even existed.

  With a deft pull Devlin undid the laces at the top of her nightgown, baring her shoulders and breasts to his hungry gaze. “Beautiful,” he murmured as his fingers trailed over her creamy flesh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Perfect.” When his mouth followed his fingers Sarah’s eyes flew open in shock and quickly darkened with pleasure. She was burning from the inside out, her body aching for someone she could not put into words.

  As Devlin teased her nipples with his tongue her hands began to explore the rest of his body. She trailed her fingertips with cautious excitement down between his shoulder blades, her nails digging into his skin until she felt the muscles bunch and quiver. Gaining confidence she reached further, skimming down across his sides and over the flat plane of his stomach. She felt the button on his trousers, cool and hard against her flesh, and – determined to give as good as she was getting – slipped her hand inside.

  “Oh God,” Devlin rasped out as her fingers tentatively brushed the length of his manhood.

  “I am sorry.” Sarah’s hand retreated as if she had been burned, but on a throaty groan he captured her wrist and wrapped her palm around the hard, hot length of him. She stroked his cock slowly, unsure of how much pressure to apply or even where exactly to touch, but if Devlin’s ragged breathing was any indication she was not doing too poor of a job.

  The power of bringing him pleasure was a thrill unto itself and Sarah grew heady with it until Devlin twisted his hips abruptly away. He braced his arms on either side of her head, his strained expression tainted with disbelief.

  “Are you certain you are a virgin?” he gasped.

  Perhaps it was not the most romantic of questions, but Sarah chose to take it as a compliment. “Quite sure,” she said, her lips curving, and Devlin captured her mouth for another lusty kiss that left her breathless and a bit dazed by the time he reared back and stripped away her nightgown, leaving her bare to his gaze.

  For a moment she was self-conscious and her arms crept down of their own accord to cover her breasts while heat bloomed across her chest. Devlin merely shook his head and gently pulled her hands away, placing them on his now naked shoulders, for he had removed his own clothes as well, a fact that was contributing to the blush that spread like wildfire across Sarah’s collarbone and neck.

  “Never hide yourself from me,” he ordered sternly, his eyes flashing blue black in the flickering light.

  Sarah worried her bottom lip. “I… It is just—”

  “I want to look at you. I need to look at you.” And so began an exploration of her body so thorough, so tantalizingly erotic, that Sarah was quite mindless by the time Devlin was finished. He left no inch of skin untouched. His hands were everywhere, his mouth quick to follow.

  When one finger gently slipped through her curls down there she went stiff as a board, relaxing only when he whispered sweet assurances and began to stroke her as she had stroked him, and oh, how different it felt to be the one receiving pleasure. It rolled over her in waves, intensifying as his finger slipped inside of her, gentle at first, before quickening in pace and depth until she arched off the mattress and cried out his name.

  But everything Sarah had felt thus far was nothing… nothing… compared to the electricity that jolted through her body when his lips replaced his finger and his tongue lapped at the core of her. He nibbled, licked, and teased while she writhed, tossing her head from side to side and tangling her fingers in his dark hair.

  At last, only when Sarah was all but begging for something she could not put into words, did Devlin lift his head and stretch up the length of her body. He adjusted himself smoothly on top of her, and then he was in her, pressing ever so steadily into the tight, narrow recess of her womanhood, whispering soothingly into her ear, stroking her hair, her arms, her breasts.

  The pain was minimal; a quick burning sensation that vanished as quickly as it had appeared for he had prepared her body with expert finesse. She was ready for him. Wet for him. Crying out for him. They began to move in a sinuous rhythm, thrusting and receiving, giving and taking, gasping and pleading, until, in perfect unison, they sought their release together.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next morning Lily came to call.

  With Sarah relaxing in the bath and the entire staff delayed by the storm that had buried London in snow overnight, it was left to Devlin to answer the incessant knocking. He did so with a grimace and a grumble, pulling a shirt over his head seconds before flinging the door wide and glaring daggers at the brunette waiting on the other side.

  “This had better be an emergency,” he snapped.

  “Oh, it is,” Lily assured him before she swept past without waiting for an invitation, trailing snow in her wake. Swinging her cloak off her shoulders she held it out to Devlin as if he were the butler. He took it grudgingly, as well as the hat, gloves, and muff that followed.

  Dumping everything rather unceremoniously in the nearest chair, he wiped his hands dry on the sides of his trousers, crossed his arms, and waited for an explanation.

  Lily took her time with it. She wandered in a circle around the large foyer, studying everything from the ornate chandelier that hung from the vaulted ceiling to the collection of crystal ducks – Devlin had a secret fondness for the odd little animal – that were perched high on a shelf. Only when she had completed her circuit did she finally turned to address him.

  “Sarah is here,” she said without preamble.

  “Yes,” Devlin acknowledged with an annoyed dip of his head. He recognized Lady Kincaid now that she was divested of her outer garments. She had been with Sarah in the park, and then again at the ball. He thought he might have even danced with her once, but he could not be certain. How she had tracked her friend here he had no idea, but he was quite eager for her to leave. Unfortunately, she did not seem in any great hurry.

  “Sarah spent the night here,” Lily continued, lifting one eyebrow.

  “Yes.”

  “Did she spend the night with you?”

  Devlin gritted his teeth. “I believe you know the answer to that question or you would not be here this morning. What do you want, Lady Kincaid?”

  The brunette snapped her shoulder blades together and lifted her chin. “Do not try bullying me, Lord Heathcliff. I am not like Sarah—”

  “I never bullied her!” Devlin interrupted with a scowl.

  “Oh no? What would you call that little incident at Almacks?”

  How his quiet, shy little Sarah and this brash, rude woman were friends was an absolute mystery. Taking a deep, steadying breath to calm himself, Devlin said, “That was a mistake. One I have already apologized for, not that it concerns you.”

  “Everything about Sarah concerns me, including her current welfare. Where is she
? I want to see her.” Without waiting for his permission Lily shouldered past and marched up the stairs, Devlin hot on her heels.

  “Stop this instant,” he demanded, but she waved him off.

  “Sarah!” she called out, raising her voice so she could be heard above Devlin’s blustering. “Sarah darling, can you hear me?”

  The door to the master bedroom opened and Sarah, dressed in nothing save a white robe with her wet hair in tangles around her face, peeked out. “Devlin, what is happen—LILY!” she gasped, clapping one hand over her mouth. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  “Exactly what I want to know,” Devlin growled.

  Seemingly nonplussed by her friend’s lack of clothing, Lily all but flew down the hallway and squeezed Sarah in a tight embrace that left them both breathless. “I had to come see if you were alright, or if that man—” she paused to point an accusing finger at Devlin “—had done something horrid to you.”

  “Now see here,” Devlin protested. “Sarah has come to no harm, in fact she…. Well, she…” Realizing too late he had been about to make a regrettable blunder, Devlin cut himself off as both women pivoted to face him and raised their eyebrows in unison.

  “In fact she… What, Devlin?” Sarah asked in a deceptively sweet voice. “Do go on. Finish your sentence.”

  He looked down at the floor and cleared his throat. “I would rather not.”

  “Why Sarah, I do believe he is blushing!” Lily said with delight. “Oh, how the tables have turned. Let us get you dressed, dear, and you can tell me all about it.”

  When Sarah glanced helplessly at him over her shoulder as Lily all but shoved her back into the bedroom, Devlin shook his head and rolled his eyes. Sarah smiled, as if to say, ‘What would you have me do?’ and the exchange, though small and silent, warmed Devlin’s heart.

  He knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that what he once felt with Moira had been nothing more than a young man’s lust. It had certainly not been love. No, love was what he felt when he gazed upon Sarah.