Her Christmas Pleasure (The Merry Widows 2)

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 gon

e 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.