His mouth was upon hers again, more forceful than before and with a hint of wicked intent that thrilled her beyond compare. He gathered her in his arms a few moments later and stood.
The trek to his bedchamber happened with undeniable haste, and the passion that followed burned brighter than the yule log they’d left behind in the library.
“This is by far the best Christmas I’ve ever known,” he murmured when they were curled in each other’s arms later, thoroughly sated between a tangle of sheets.
“Mine too,” she said. “Though hopefully the first of many.”
His heart beat steadily against her cheek while she rested her head on his chest. “I’ll see to a special license first thing in the morning. Until then…”
Fiona sighed in response to his hand creeping over her thigh, and a dozen more times that night. Tomorrow they would prepare for the future they planned on sharing and for all of the Christmases yet to come.
December 16
A Scandalous Dare on Christmas Eve
Seated in the parlor with her mother and sisters, Miss Emma Spencer savored the piece of chocolate–covered marzipan she’d selected while Sarah, her eldest sister, prattled on about married life as if it were the ultimate state of being for all women. If one believed her, being a wife was the best and most satisfying thing in the world. A secretive look shared with Mama along with a deep blush followed this statement.
Emma washed her marzipan down with some tea. Their Christmas dinner had been concluded half an hour earlier, so the men were presently enjoying their after dinner drinks in the library. Emma hoped they would soon join the ladies for she longed to begin the Christmas Eve games, of which charades was her favorite.
“Just wait until she has to give birth,” Jane, the middle sister whispered. She sat directly beside Emma on the sofa while Sarah and Mama occupied armchairs opposite them. “I wager she’ll curse poor Peter to perdition then.”
Emma deliberately flattened her mouth to stop from chuckling. Peter, more formally known as Viscount Farrington, was a lovely man and a welcome addition to the Spencer family. “You’re probably right though I do hope the birth goes well for her.”
“Of course. That goes without saying. But I’ve heard that even the kindest of women can be transformed into a shrew once she goes into labor.” Jane leaned forward and snatched a piece of marzipan from the plate on the table while Sarah began enumerating all the wonderful things her husband did to ensure her happiness. “Speaking of which, I’d say it’s past time you told Mr. Townsend of your regard, lest he chooses another lady to court this coming Season.”
It took Emma a good three seconds to follow Jane’s line of thought from Sarah’s impending motherhood to the tendre she harbored for Mr. Townsend. Only in the privacy of her own mind did she dare to think of him as Benedict.
She took another sip of tea. “I’ve no idea what you’re referring to.”
Jane snorted, prompting a pause in Sarah’s discourse while she and Mama gave their full attention to Emma and Jane. Eyebrows raised, they stared for a couple of seconds before Sarah recommenced talking, this time on the subject pertaining to baby names.
“Don’t you?” Jane murmured while Sarah and Mama proceeded to fling names back and forth as if they were projectiles in a mad game of shuttlecock. “I’ve seen the way you look at him, Emma. It’s as though you’re Wolf and Mr. Townsend a succulent bone being dangled before him.”
Emma promptly choked on her tea. Wolf was the family pet, a two–hundred–pound mastiff that drooled and slobbered with great enthusiasm at the mere mention of a bone. Emma wasn’t sure she liked that comparison to her fondness for Benedict.
He was a lifelong family friend and neighbor. He was also the only person outside the Spencer family who was ever invited to join them for Christmas. Emma’s heart had been his for as long as she could recall, transforming gradually from childish admiration to what could only be described as womanly desire.
Not that it mattered one iota. He’d never suggested an interest in her. Rather, he’d spent a good portion of tonight’s dinner remarking on his decision to start seeking a wife. As expected, Papa had made a glib, albeit well–intentioned, comment about having two daughters for Mr. Townsend to choose from. Worse, Mr. Townsend had said he was certain he’d manage to make an agreeable match once the Season began.
Hence Jane’s comment.
“The last thing I want is for him to think less of me,” Emma said.
“I doubt any man would think less of any woman for taking a fancy to him,” Jane countered. “On the contrary, he ought to be flattered.”
“Perhaps, but if I were to inform him of my high regard and he failed to reciprocate, I’d be humiliated. Worse, our friendship, which I value beyond all, else could be ruined. I fear I cannot risk it.”
Jane pursed her lips as she so often did when deep in thought. Eventually she said, “I understand your concern completely. But maybe you’re wrong to only think of the negative impact of such a confession. Perhaps you ought to consider all you stand to gain if Mr. Townsend returns your regard. What if, having known you since you were in nappies, he’s just as afraid of your rejection as you are of his – of losing the precious friendship you share, as it were?”
Emma hadn’t thought of it like that before, which she now found rather odd. “I suppose it’s possible. But the very idea of declaring myself to him makes me queasy. I…I fear I lack that sort of courage.”
“Then let us make it a dare,” Jane suggested. A wicked gleam lit her eyes. She leaned closer to Emma, whose pulse now leapt. “I dare you to kiss him, Emma. Tonight beneath the mistletoe.”
A gasp was all Emma could manage on the heels of such an outrageous suggestion. No, not a suggestion, but a dare – a Spencer sister dare – which meant she’d have to serve as Jane’s lady’s maid for a week and forfeit her next allowance if she failed to accomplish the feat.
Lord help her but it would appear she’d be kissing Mr. Townsend tonight. Provided she didn’t faint on account of her riotous nerves.
There was nothing Benedict enjoyed more than an evening with the Spencers. Christmas was especially entertaining because of the games they would play after dinner. As an unmarried only child whose parents had both passed before he'd reached his twentieth year, he'd found tremendous comfort with his neighbors, whom he considered family.
Following the enjoyment of an after–dinner drink with the gentlemen – Mr. Spencer, his son, George, and son–in–law, Viscount Harrington – he'd accompanied them to the parlor where they'd joined the ladies. A boisterous game of charades had ensued, resulting in a great deal of raucous laughter and an eventual win for Benedict's team.
"We were so close," Emma said. She’d been on the opposing team and had made a brilliant attempt at conveying ‘overwhelmed’.
Benedict had figured out what her gestures meant right away, but that hardly mattered when the rest of her team couldn't.
"Not close enough," her brother teased, to which she responded by tossing a throw pillow at him.