Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection
“I know,” she said breathlessly. “I’m beginning to loathe propriety. When will you talk to my father?”
“Tomorrow.” They’d reluctantly decided that Christmas Day wasn’t the best time to approach the vicar about his daughter’s engagement.
“Early?”
“I’ll be there at the crack of dawn if you think it will hasten the wedding.”
When she rested her head on his chest, his gallant heart beat steadily beneath her ear. “Oh, Rory, I’m so very happy. I can’t tell you how much.”
His arms tightened, and he propped his chin on her hair. “I’m the luckiest man in England.”
“And Scotland.”
“And Scotland. And the rest of the world.” He kissed the top of her head. “Merry Christmas, my bonnie countess.”
She buried her nose in his chest, loving the rich, musky smell of his skin. He was so marvelously warm. “Merry Christmas, my dashing earl.”
“I’ve got the present I want.”
Bess raised her head. The light from the house illuminated his strong features—and the roguish glitter in his green eyes. “Perhaps, but you’ll have to wait to unwrap it.”
Rory gave a long-suffering sigh. “Och, and isn’t that just like a blasted Englishwoman?”
Something cold and soft brushed her cheek. With wondering eyes, she stared up at the sky. “It’s snowing. It was snowing the first time you kissed me.”
He smiled down at her. “Aye, and clearly it’s a sign from above that I need to kiss you again.”
“Clearly,” she said drily, stretching up on her toes to brush her lips across his. Then some instinct made her pull away and glance back at the house. “Oh, dear.”
He turned his head to follow the direction of her gaze. The great hall’s tall windows were lined with smiling people, craning their necks to take in as much of the view as they could. Bess saw Dr. Simpson, and Ned White, and her father—looking puzzled—and Mrs. Hallam, and Will and Sally Potts, and all the other local people who had worked so hard to ready the Abbey for Christmas.
Rory burst out laughing and flung his arm around Bess’s shoulders, hugging her into his side. “I think, my bonnie, that our wee secret is out.”
Chapter 9
Rory knocked softly on the dressing room door before he entered the candlelit bedchamber. It was late, nearly midnight, and he was naked beneath his heavy velvet dressing gown.
He and Bess began their honeymoon at a naval friend’s manor on the North Sea near Craster. They’d completed the last hours of the forty-mile journey to this spectacular piece of coastline in the dark. The waves crashing against the shore vied with the thunder in his blood at the sight that greeted him in the flickering golden light.
“My God, but you’re lovely,” he said reverently, once he’d managed to shift the boulder blocking his throat.
Slowly Bess turned from the window where she’d been watching the starlit sea, and the welcome in her smile made his heart swell with joy. “When you look at me like that, I feel lovely.”
Her golden hair tumbled loose around her straight, slender shoulders. She wore a sheer, white nightgown that offered shadowy hints of the curved body beneath.
He swallowed to moisten a suddenly dry mouth. He wanted her so much. “We’ve got the house to ourselves for a couple of days.”
On Rory’s instructions, the manor was provisioned and the staff took a paid holiday. Upon arrival, the housekeeper had greeted them with congratulations, blazing fires, and a bottle of champagne, then left them to look after themselves. At the end of the week, they sailed south for two months in Italy.
“I look forward to seeing everything in daylight.”
“You’ll love it.” He’d kept today’s destination secret, and she’d been thrilled to discover the sea at their doorstep. The wild scenery made a fitting setting for her vivid spirit. “Do you mind doing without a maid?”
A smile tugged at her lips. “I’m rather looking forward to tending my husband like a proper village wife.”
“Och, that’s a pity. I’m rather looking forward to my wife being very improper indeed.”
He crossed the parquet floor and kissed her tenderly. Her lips parted beneath his, but he didn’t deepen the kiss. There would be passion later, but for now, his overwhelming need was to cherish this exquisite creature who gave herself into his keeping.