The mistletoe was right above his head. She had made sure every doorway had some pinned to the architrave. The berries hung heavily beneath the leaves and nearly touched the top of his proud head. Her heartbeats thundered in her ears as she rose onto tiptoes and raised her chin.
She fluttered her eyelashes, and his eyes widened. Oh, please, she begged, let him take me. She shaped her lips into a perfect kissable pout and lifted her breasts towards his chest. She slowly traced the tip of her tongue around her mouth, and he finally moved. His decision pleased her immensely.
He lowered his lips and pressed them on hers. The kiss was astounding, quite unlike anything she had imagined. He rested his hands on her shoulders, squeezed them with his fingers, and bore down upon her delicate mouth. She was close to running out of breath—his seal was almost suffocating. She refused to be the one to break away from the frantic embrace. Instead, she leaned inward, allowing her back to arch and her bosom to tuck beneath his ribs. So tall, so powerful, and then she felt it stir—his manhood was pressed against her hip and blatantly erect.
Abruptly, he released her lips and inhaled, tipping his head back as if savouring something in the air.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispered.
“Sweet Jenny,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly.
“This is my gift.”
He lowered his head. “Your gift?”
“Me, for every night, for the next twelve nights.”
“No, Miss Templeton—”
“Please, listen,” she implored, breathless and overheating with the rush of blood swirling throughout her body. Between her legs, where her drawers were loose, she was wet as honeydew. “You need cheering up, Lieutenant Seton. I would be overjoyed to be the one to rescue you from melancholy.”
“I am sorry you find me so disposed.” He took her hands in his. “I did not mean to make you sad.”
“Oh no. I am quite happy, more so than in a long time. I believe it is entirely down to your presence in my life.” She reached up and touched his warm cheek. “I want you, I think, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
He sighed. “This, too, is my desire. But—”
“There are no buts. I am not innocent, sir. But please, I beg you, do not ask tonight why that is so. Just allow me to bring my body to you and let you find peace. I believe you have seen terrible things and I would have you forget them for these days together.”
“Your grandparents—”
“Are far away.” She waved down the corridor. “The servants will sleep late, as it is custom after Christmas Day.”
She shuffled forward and offered her lips once more. This time, when he took them, they both crossed the threshold of the room; she drove herself forward, and he stepped back. The door closed softly behind her back.
“What’s your name, sir?” she asked when he ceased his kisses.
“Elias. I am Elias Seton.” He tugged on his cravat, and it unravelled.
“Elias,” she repeated. “Allow me.”
She plucked at the cravat and tossed it away. With her nimble fingers, she swiftly unbuttoned his shirt and pushed aside the lapels to reveal the smooth skin of his unblemished chest. It rose and fell as quickly as hers.
“I promise to entertain you for twelve nights. Make me yours,” she said, then kissed the dip between his collarbones.
He groaned. “I am a rough soldier, not an accomplished gentleman. I cannot accept such a promise.”
“I don’t want a gentleman,” she whispered. “I want you. My promise is given.”
Granting her wish, he burrowed his nose in her hair and kissed her throat, sucking her taut flesh into his warm mouth. He risked bruising her skin.
“You understand?” he murmured.
“Yes, I do.”
He roved with his hands, lifting her many skirts until he had her bottom cupped in his broad palm. “Such a fine arse.” He gave it a squeeze.
The coarseness of his language did not shock her; she found it stoked her sex into a near apoplexy of spasms. What was he doing to her? His other hand grasped the bundle of her hair, and he sought out and removed the pins. Her long strands cascaded down her back.