Her Christmas Pleasure (2 page)

“What’s wrong?” Damien watched as Celia withdrew. Her expression became blank, though her vivid hazel-colored eyes were wide. Wild as she looked around, almost as if she were in a dither.

How he wished she trusted him enough to let him ease her fears. He would wrap her into his embrace and hold her close. Smooth his hands over her hair and kiss her temple, her cheeks, her lips. Drown her with love until she knew nothing else but him.

Him.

“I—it’s nothing.” She shook her head and smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Shall we go, then?”

He nodded and followed as she slowly walked up the stairs, her fingers trailing along the banister. Elegant, slender fingers deftly stroked the polished wood, and he imagined her touching him. Gently caressing his bare skin, her fingers curling about the length of his shaft…

She glanced at him from over her shoulder, her lids lowered. An utterly sensual yet unpracticed look, it sent Damien’s head spinning. His erection strained against the front of his trousers, and he paused on a step, adjusting himself discreetly when she resumed facing forward. Lord help him, becoming aroused by her touching the bloody banister was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever experienced.

He couldn’t help it. Not around her. She was his everything.

Celia didn’t say a word as she walked down the hall toward her son’s bedchamber. He remained mum as well, captivated by the subtle sway of her hips. A cloud of perfume wafted behind her, surrounded him with her scent. How she tempted him…

It cannot be, you damned fool!

She paused before the door and rested her hand on the smooth wood, casting him a quick smile. Here was their problem with being together. The one object he stumbled over every time he even remotely considered it. Theodore was the future Earl of Urswick. The boy was heir to his grandfather’s title and it was one of the more powerful and wealthy holdings in all of England.

How could he be any sort of father to a boy who deserved so much more? He was the son of a lowly servant who had worked almost his entire life at Urswick Manor until he passed nine years ago. The only reason Damien had attended school with Lawrence was because of the earl. He’d funded Damien’s education. Later he’d encouraged both men to fight for their country, believing it would make them finer, stronger men. Ill advice, considering not only the fact that Lawrence left behind his beautiful wife and young son but Lawrence had been the earl’s only child and heir.

And now he was gone.

“Theo,” Celia called as she pushed open the partially closed door of her son’s bedchamber. She walked inside, Damien following directly behind her. “We wanted to come and wish you pleasant dreams, darling.”

“Thank you, Mama.” He sat in bed, looking so very adult with his owlish expression and his mouth set in a straight line. “Hello, Uncle Damien.”

“Hello, my friend.” Damien strode toward the bed, passing by Celia, and he sat on the edge of the mattress. He gave the boy a kiss on the cheek, smiled and chuckled with delight when Theo reached for him.

The boy slipped his arms around his neck and hugged him tight, pressing a kiss on Damien’s cheek in return.

“Your mother and I wanted to say good night.”

“Good night,” Theo whispered, releasing his grip on Damien and sliding deeper beneath the coverlet.

Celia appeared by the side of the bed and bent over Theo, brushing a soft kiss across his forehead. Hugs and whispered I-love-yous commenced. Damien savored the sweetly domestic scene, for it would be one of his last with the two of them. His time with the Danver family would soon come to an end. He would leave England for France and start a new life. Without Celia.

Those two words alone made his heart crack in two.

They both exited the room.

Celia watched while he quietly shut the door. “You’re so wonderful with Theo.”

They stood facing each other in the darkened hall. Only the flickering light from the sconces on the wall shone upon them. It cast Celia in an ethereal glow. She was otherworldly, angelic.

Beautiful.

“He’s a good boy.” Damien took a deep breath. “He shall make a fine earl someday.”

“Indeed he will, and especially with your influence.”

Her words shredded him. How could he tell her he was leaving? And so soon after the holiday?

“The present earl is much more of a strong influence, and a finer one at that. I’m but a mere friend of the family.” He was desperate to downplay any role he might have in the formation of Theo’s character.

“You’re not just a friend, Damien.” Celia took a step closer. Too close. He could reach out and touch her easily. Encircle her elbow with his fingers and pull her to him. Feel her breasts crush against his chest when he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her senseless.

“You
are
a part of our family. And an important part, too.”

He struggled to find an answer, but his tongue grew thick. She moved toward him, the whisper of her skirts sounding loud in the quiet of the hall. Resting her hands on his chest, she gazed up at him, her eyes luminous in the dim light, reminding him of the way she touched him earlier beneath the mistletoe.

“Damien.” The breathy whisper made him release a shuddering breath. “When you kissed me earlier…did you mean it?”

Confusion swamped him. “Did I mean what?”

She smiled. Her simple touch nearly unhinged him. “I must confess I felt…something during our kiss beneath the mistletoe. Something I didn’t expect. Did you?”

“Celia, perhaps we shouldn’t discuss this now.” He protested only because he didn’t know what else to say. His dream was coming true. She was touching him. She’d felt something when he kissed her. The next logical step would be for him to agree and kiss her again. Kiss her until she melted in his arms and begged him to never let her go.

But he couldn’t make that next step. He wasn’t the man for her or her son. She needed to find someone better. Wealthier. Titled.

He could offer her nothing.

“This is the perfect time to discuss it.” She glanced about before her gaze returned
to his. “We’re all alone, and no one can spy upon us. The house has been crawling with people for days. We should take advantage of this stolen moment.” She curled her hands about his shoulders, her admiring gaze locked on his chest. “You’re very strong, Damien. Why have I never noticed before?”

Perhaps she’d never seen him as a man before. She’d only finally realized, and it was too late.

“Celia.” He grasped her about her wrists, trying to stop her wandering hands.

“You’re not making any sense.”

“No, I’m making plenty of sense. Everything fits.
We
fit.” She smiled, and the sight of it momentarily dazzled him. “When you kissed me, it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Not even with—” She stopped.

Her revelation surprised him. It surprised him so much he stood there like a mute fool when she disentangled herself from his grip and wrapped her arms around his neck. She tugged so he had no choice but to dip his head, and their mouths aligned perfectly.

“I want you to kiss me again, Damien.” Her sweetly scented breath wafted across his lips. “Please.”

Where Celia got the nerve to ask Damien to kiss her again, she wasn’t quite sure, but no matter. Not when she had the object of her desire standing before her, his mouth hovered over hers.

Yet he hesitated. He seemed nervous, discouraging even, which confused her. His earlier kiss hinted at barely restrained passion.

And she wanted another taste. A deeper taste.

Her cheeks heated. How she wished she could fan her face.

“Celia.” She loved how he said her name. Low and velvety, the sound rumbled from his chest and set her entire body aquiver. “This cannot happen again.”

“Why ever not?” She hadn’t worn gloves since she was with family, and she was thankful. This way she could touch him with her bare fingers. Feel his silky dark brown hair, the warmth of his skin, its smooth texture. Though she didn’t understand his sudden reluctance, resolve filled her.

It was imperative she give it another go. To see if she’d experience again the same spark she did earlier.

He jerked away. “We’re friends, Celia.”

His curt words hurt, but she refused to show it. She stood straighter and squared her shoulders. “Funny. What we shared beneath the mistletoe earlier didn’t feel much like a friendly kiss.”

“You misinterpreted it, then.” His gaze skittered away, as if afraid to meet hers. She knew he was lying.

It hadn’t been a quick kiss between friends. It had been much more.

Celia sighed. “All this talk of kissing is filling me with an urge, you know.”

His brows lowered. He was so handsome when confused. “What sort of urge?”

“Well, I already declared my request earlier, but I believe you’re denying me by not answering. It’s rather frustrating.” She tilted her head, trying to get closer to his mouth.

“
You
are rather frustrating.”

Before he got another word out she reared up on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his, silencing him. She’d provoked him. Taunted him. He deserved it, what with
the way he denied her. What was wrong with sharing another kiss? It was harmless.

Yet Celia realized rather quickly when it came to Damien, his kisses weren’t harmless whatsoever. They were devastating. Delicious. The soft press of his mouth settling upon hers and his hands coming round her waist. She was surrounded by him. Oh, and the sparks were there, yes indeed. They were exploding between them with every brush of his mouth against hers.

She wanted more.

Parting her lips, she encouraged him to linger by kissing him slowly, languidly, with her eyes closed. Emboldened, she dabbed her tongue against the corner of his mouth and earned a startled exhalation from him, which only filled her with more confidence.

She licked at his slightly parted lips with tentative flicks of her tongue, not sure what to do next to encourage his participation. With Lawrence it had been easy. He’d taken the lead from the beginning of their relationship. Never before had she behaved in such a forward manner.

Unfortunately, Damien didn’t seem receptive. Had she been wrong regarding the awareness flaring between them earlier? Maybe she was the only one who had experienced such heady sensations when their mouths first connected. Perhaps she’d been the only one completely enflamed from his touch, his lips…

A frustrated whimper escaped, and it spurred him into action. His hands tightened about her waist as he whirled her around and slammed her against the wall in an almost brutish—but exciting—manner. He pinned her with his large, strong body, her feet dangling and his hands curled about her waist. She opened her eyes to find him watching her. Her breathing accelerated, her almost overexposed breasts trembling with her every exhalation.

“Your tentative kisses leave something to be desired.” He cocked a brow when he noted her irritated expression. She formed her hand into a fist and gave him a gentle sock on the chest.

His broad, hard and rather alluring chest.

Frustrating man.

“Why would you say such a…rude and inconsiderate thing?” She frowned at the sound of her breathy voice. Who had she turned into? What sort of magic did this man’s touch hold over her? It was rather disconcerting. “Let me go.”

“No.” He smiled and angled his lower body against hers. His erection brushed against her, and an instant ache pulsed between her legs. “You know you don’t want me to.”

“Yes, I do,” she lied, her gaze shifting sideways.

Strong fingers grasped her chin, and he forced her to look at him. “Is this what you wanted, Celia? Me, taking the lead? Me, trapping you with my body like some sort of brute, so desperate to tear your clothes off and take you where you stand?”

Her nipples tightened at his words, chafing against the confines of her shift and corset. It was exciting, thinking of Damien making love to her like this. Lawrence had never been with her outside of his bedchamber. In the bed, at night and in the dark. He’d always been worried about her “delicate sensibilities.”

And here, Damien held her against the wall. Revealing he wanted to take her there—standing up. She hadn’t any idea men and women could
do
such a thing.

Celia frowned. Was she that naive? That uninformed in the conjugal act because of her so-called delicate sensibilities?

“You wouldn’t dare do such a thing. I know you, and you would never push yourself upon me. You wouldn’t push yourself upon any lady.”

His eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened about her waist. “You don’t know me at all, do you, Celia?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

He stroked her. A gentle brush of his fingers along the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip. She felt his touch to her very core.

“I’m only a man. And a weak one when faced with the one temptation that has tormented me for ages.” He sounded in utter agony. His expression matched the unrestrained pain in his voice.

Her heart soared. He’d been tempted by her for that long? Why hadn’t he ever told her? “I didn’t realize I’ve been such torment.”

“Of course you didn’t. Not until some randomly placed mistletoe did you even realize I existed.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That’s not true. Of course I knew you existed.” She’d been aware of him for months. She’d secretly watched him, yearned for him, wished he would notice her too.

Gripping his shoulders, she examined the sheer breadth of him beneath her fingers. He was so broad. He made her feel dainty and feminine. Lawrence hadn’t been much taller than her. And though muscular, he’d been more on the lean side. Not quite as burly and…masculine as Damien.

Warmth speared through her as she imagined Damien unclothed. Would he be even more impressive without a stitch on? Would he take her breath away at the mere sight of him?

“Well, I assume you know I exist now.” His head lowered and his lips brushed against her forehead as he spoke. “Our timing is horrendous.”

“Why?” Her eyes slid closed as he trailed his lips along her temple.