Читать книгу A Sinful Regency Christmas - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 11

The light from the window pierced through Ian’s dreams, pulling him up out of the darkest, most peaceful sleep he could ever remember having. He groaned and rolled onto his back, throwing his forearm over his eyes to block that icy-white light.

The rumpled sheet slid low on his naked hips and he caught a hint of lilac perfume from the soft linen folds. Cassie. It hadn’t been a dream. It had been wonderfully real, Cassandra under his body as he slid over her, inside of her, as she came apart with pleasure around him.

“Cassie,” he called as he pushed himself up. But the bedchamber was empty and cold.

Ian rubbed his hand over his bristled jaw. Maybe it was a dream, born of the lust he had tried to suppress for her for so long? Yet his body felt relaxed with the perfect satisfaction that only came from sex, and there was that perfume. No dream could be that vivid.

He had to find Cassie.

Ian swung his legs off the bed and stretched. Pillows and blankets were tossed on the floor in a haphazard pile. Under the edge of one cushion he glimpsed a crumpled pale blue dressing gown.

He picked it up and ran the soft fabric through his hands, remembering the way Cassandra’s skin felt under his caress, her hair sliding over him. Her soft sighs and cries as he brought her pleasure. The faint scent of her perfume rose from the silk folds and made him grow hard all over again.

Ian cursed and tossed the gown onto the bed, turning away to stride to the window. He braced his hands on the polished ledge and stared out at the cold, white scene below. Snowdrifts covered the gardens like a soft, pale blanket, and the trees were coated with ice that sparkled like diamonds in the gray-bright sunlight. It looked like a different world outside—a new, clean, bright fairyland where anything could happen. Even the impossible—like him winning Cassandra.

He closed his eyes and saw again the first time he glimpsed her. Ian was a man who liked women, who enjoyed their company, and they enjoyed his, as well. Yet he had never been in love. He couldn’t even imagine what love could feel like. There were too many lovely, fascinating women out there in the world for him to think of settling on one. He was simply enjoying his life far too much.

Then he was invited to his friend Charles’s wedding. Charles had always been the most serious of Ian’s friends, so it was no surprise he chose to marry so young, and to one of an impoverished country earl’s four daughters, too. Ian waited with the rest of the congregation in that country church on a hot summer day, the scent of roses heavy in the air, the mother of the bride crying happy tears in her pew as Charles smiled nervously at the altar. Ian had shifted in his seat, wondering if he could possibly make it to a party that night to meet with the luscious red-haired widow he’d had his eye on.

The church doors opened, and a young lady appeared there on her father’s arm. She wore yellow muslin and white lace, like a ray of summer sunshine brought into the stuffy church. Her dark hair was loose on her shoulders, crowned with a wreath of yellow flowers, and she smiled shyly as she studied the gathering.

That was the moment Ian knew love was possible in the world. When he looked at the woman who was about to marry his friend, and everything else went still.

He didn’t go find his widow after all. He spent that night getting quietly drunk.

In the years that followed, he pushed down and ignored his feelings, convinced himself they didn’t exist. He befriended Cassie, learned of her sweetness and intelligence, which only made her more beautiful. And he searched for solace in other beds, other pursuits. He almost convinced himself he didn’t care for Cassie in that way.

Until he kissed her in the rain, and all those feelings came roaring free. After making love to her, tasting her passion—passion that equaled his own—he couldn’t let her go. Even though he knew he should, that she deserved far better than a rogue like him.

He glanced back at her gown on the rumpled bed. She had run away from him last night. But he wouldn’t let her run for long.

Cassandra slid down low on the settee by the library fireplace and tried to concentrate on the book she held in her hands. She had thought she could hide in there, both from Melisande’s other guests and from her own worries over what she had done last night.

Everyone else was engaged in a wild game of hide-and-seek along the corridors and up in the attics, so they weren’t likely to look for her, especially in the library. But her own thoughts … those were harder to escape from.

Every time she looked at the page, she saw Ian’s face as he leaned down to kiss her. Instead of the warmth of the fire through her thin muslin gown she felt his touch. Last night had been wondrous, beyond anything she could ever have imagined. She had never known pleasure like that could exist in the world. And to find it with Ian …

Cassandra snapped the book shut with a sigh. Last night with Ian was perfect. But when she opened her eyes to the light of dawn and saw his peaceful, sleeping face on the pillow beside hers, she was beset with doubts and fears. What if it was too perfect? What if he turned away from her again?

So she fled to her own chamber, not even going back when she realized she’d left her dressing gown behind. She had to decide how to behave, what to say, when she saw Ian again. Running to him and throwing herself into his arms as she longed to do couldn’t be an option.

There was a soft knock at the door. Glad of a distraction, Cassandra called out, “Come in.”

It was Smithers, Melisande’s butler. He held a folded letter in one hand and her fur-lined cloak in the other. “I beg your pardon for the interruption, my lady, but this message came for you.”

“A message for me?” Cassandra said, puzzled. Who would be sending her letters here? Her sisters were all scattered about the countryside with their families for the holiday, her parents off at Brighton with the youngest. Surely nothing had happened to them?

Smithers gave her the note and she ripped it open. It was very short, written in a dark, spiky scrawl, and definitely not from her sisters.

Meet me outside the front door in fifteen minutes. If you say no, I’ll just come in and find you. Ian.

Cassandra swallowed hard as she read the message a second time. He hadn’t run from her after all. He was waiting for her just outside.

She couldn’t run from him.

Smithers gave a discreet little cough and held out her cloak. “I was told you would need this, my lady. And these.” He produced her boots and gloves.

“Thank you, Smithers.” In a dreamy haze, she quickly donned her outdoor garments and hurried out of the library and through the front door.

Ian was indeed waiting for her there, holding the reins of a small white-and-gold sleigh drawn by two white horses. It was a beautiful conveyance, seemingly made for a snow queen, gleaming and opulent in the silvery sunlight. But surely the most beautiful part was the flash of Ian’s smile as he waved at her.

“Come for a ride with me, Cassie,” he called. “It’s a gorgeous day, is it not?”

Cassandra laughed. “If you enjoy freezing your nose off, I suppose,” she said, but she let one of the footmen help her up onto the narrow seat beside Ian. Ian tucked the fur-lined robes around her and slid a hot brick under her feet.

“It’s perfectly warm. See?” he said. And he kissed her lightly, his lips sliding over hers.

Indeed it was. She couldn’t remember ever being so warm, so tingling with heat, before. Everything else vanished.

But when she reached for him, he slid away with a teasing grin. “I have a surprise for you,” he said. He flicked the reins and set the magical little sleigh into motion. Silver bells rang out in merry music as they glided over the snow.

“I’m not sure I like surprises,” she said as she snuggled down into the blankets. The scenery flashed by in a glittering white blur.

“You’ll like this one,” Ian answered. “Though probably not quite as much as I liked my surprise last night.”

Cassandra felt her cheeks turn warm, and she ducked her head to hide her blush. How could she tell him she hadn’t meant to surprise him last night? That it had all been a fortunate mistake?

One surprise at a time was surely enough for now.

They drove down a narrow track through a wooded area, where the ice sparkled on the tree branches like diamonds. It was so quiet there, so magical with the snow piled all around and not another living being in sight. Cassandra put her arm through Ian’s and rested her head on his shoulder as they continued their journey.

At last he turned down a circular drive and drew up in front of a cottage. It looked as if it belonged in a fairy tale with the sleigh, a tiny dwelling of rosy-red brick with old-fashioned mullioned windows gleaming in the light, reflecting back the gray sky and the snow. In the summer it was probably covered with climbing roses, but even in the depth of winter it was charming, so cozy and inviting. A gray plume of smoke curled from one of the chimneys, but there was no other sign of life.

“Who lives here?” she asked as she studied the windows.

“We do,” Ian said. “At least for today.” He came around to help her from the sleigh, but instead of putting her down on the snowy ground he swept her up in his arms. He carried her through the garden gate and up the path to the front door. “It belongs to Melisande and happens to be between tenants at the moment. She loaned it to me.”

Cassandra laughed and held on tight to his neck as he swung her down a narrow corridor and through a low doorway into a sitting room. She gasped when she saw what was there. A bright fire burned in the grate, and spread before it was a picnic arrayed on a fur-edged blanket. Bread, cheese, cakes, hothouse strawberries and wine, with flower petals scattered across the floor to cast their sweet scent into the air.

“Oh, Ian,” she whispered. “Is this the surprise?”

“I thought it was time we were properly alone at last,” he said, and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Is this a surprise to your liking?”

“Oh, yes. Very much to my liking.”