The Christmas Heiress Read online

  Lord Edward seemed unaware that she was behind him. Fearing she might get separated, Charlotte kept her eyes pinned to the many capes of his dark green greatcoat and did her best to keep up with his long strides. But it was difficult.

  She was very thankful indeed when he suddenly stopped, though she nearly plowed into his broad back.

  "Miss Aldridge! How thoughtless of me. You should have yelled at me to slacken my pace."

  He put out his arms to steady her and Charlotte grasped them, even though her balance was not threatened.

  "Ladies do not yell, Lord Edward," Charlotte said in a steady voice. "Besides, I am unsure you would have heard me if I had been so vulgar as to screech. Your mind is exclusively focused upon the task at hand. Apparently, you are taking this lighthearted competition rather seriously."

  He shrugged. "'Tis the way of men."

  "And small boys."

  He had the grace to smile. Charlotte decided she liked the way his eyes sparkled with amusement and crinkled in the corners. It was very attractive.

  "Take my hand," he commanded. "I do not want to lose you."

  "I would never allow that to happen, sir," Charlotte replied with a flirty smile as she set her hand in his outstretched one.

  He seemed different. Gone was his customary quiet dignity, gone was the cautious attitude she remembered so well when he was a boy. His eyes were bright with animation, his face flushed from the cold and exercise, his manner commanding and determined. He looked virile and handsome and incredibly appealing. Winter, and challenges, suited him.

  Charlotte wondered briefly if this change had anything to do with the sips of brandy she had seen him taking from his silver flask, but she quickly discarded the notion. It was the spirit of the competition that brought out the transformation.

  They walked past a thicket of holly bushes and came to a cluster of stately oak trees. Charlotte tipped back her head to scan the upper branches, unsure if she would be able to see any mistletoe from this great distance. She turned to ask Lord Edward's opinion and discovered he was not looking up into the tree. He was staring at her.

  "You are an extremely lovely woman, Miss Aldridge," he said in a surprised tone, as though he had just realized it.

  She snapped her eyes up to his and caught her breath. He took a step closer and her eyes widened. Then he raised the hand he still held in his own up to his mouth and pressed his lips against the tips of her gloved fingers. His amber-gold eyes were sharp beneath the lazy lids. She gazed into them and then reached over and removed her glove so he could repeat the gesture on her bare flesh. He willingly complied.

  Charlotte sighed, feeling the delicate press of his lips all the way to her toes. Parts of her body that had been chilled in the cold winter air were now heating with warmth. It was the most romantic moment of her life and she felt herself slowly slipping toward a host of new and wonderful sensations.

  Was this how seduction felt? It seemed as if the functions of her mind were now dominated by the feeling coursing through her body. Delightful, exciting, forbidden feelings. And if she leaned forward just a bit ...

  "Oh, look," she whispered in a breathy tone. "You have found the mistletoe. We are standing beneath it."

  He gazed skyward for the briefest instant. "So we are." He laughed. The deep, rich baritone of mirth sent a shiver of anticipation down Charlotte's spine.

  "That means you must kiss me," she demanded.

  "And so I shall."

  He spun her behind the large oak tree. Charlotte's back met the rough solid tree trunk the same moment Lord Edward's lips descended upon hers.

  Warmth invaded every fiber of her being. At first he kissed her with playful bites and nips. She tried to imitate his actions, and then his hands adjusted the angle of her head, holding her in place. The pressure of his mouth increased as the tip of his tongue played with hers.

  Charlotte struggled to control her breathing. His lips were hot and restless, a temptation she was powerless to resist. Her knees began to weaken, yet she kissed him back, willingly allowing the wondrous sensations to wash over her.

  The next kiss was a passionate caress of lips and tongue that filled Charlotte with unfamiliar pulsing heat and need. Something primal within her stirred and her entire body tingled. She slid her arms around Edward's neck to keep herself upright. He was solid and lean and muscular and it felt so good to be pressed tightly against his strength.

  They kissed again and this time she felt the force of his response. It thrilled her to realize she was capable of inciting such passion within him. She could not seem to stop herself from touching him, running one hand over the broad contours of his back while the other gripped his upper arm, fingertips digging into the hard muscle of his biceps.

  He pushed her bonnet aside and began to nibble on the sensitive flesh below her earlobe. Charlotte squealed with delight. Closing her eyes, she arched her neck in invitation, nearly swooning when she felt Edward's lips feathering a trail of kisses down her throat.

  His tongue stroked into the tiny hollow just above the neckline of her gown and a new urgency ignited within her. His warm breath had her squirming against the tree trunk, restless with anticipation. She was trembling, her head was spinning, her heart was racing and she never wanted it to stop.

  When she felt him begin to draw away, Charlotte caught the lapels of his coat, pulled him forward and brought his lips back to hers. Edward groaned and kissed her back, sliding his tongue into her mouth. Charlotte tasted heat and passion and a slight trace of brandy. He moved his lips and tongue boldly and a raw sensation jolted her body. She swayed toward him as another burst of heat slid into her breasts, her womb and down between her thighs.

  Each press of his lips, each seeking thrust of his tongue sent a lick of desire coursing through her, heating her flesh, weakening her limbs. His hand moved lower and cupped a breast, stroking the nipple with his thumb. Even through the layers of heavy clothing, Charlotte could feel the tip peak and distend.

  She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment, but then he did it again and her embarrassment disappeared as the sensations overtook her. He made her feel beautiful, desirable, powerful. Charlotte arched toward his touch and then caught her lip in her teeth to bite back a groan of pleasure.

  "Edward! Miss Aldridge! Are you there?"

  It was Jonathan's voice. The words registered in her brain, but Charlotte was loath to acknowledge the call. If she did, then this magical moment would end. Apparently, Edward felt the same, for he lifted his lips to her ear and whispered, "Shhh, do not utter a sound."

  She nodded. They waited in silence for a long minute, hearing no additional calls. Edward's arms slackened their grip and Charlotte eased herself away. She leaned against the tree trunk and closed her eyes, trying to stop the pounding of her heart. She felt him move farther away from her, but could still dimly hear his breath coming as hard and heavy as her own.

  Merciful heavens! So that was passion, that was desire. It was indescribably marvelous and far more magical than I ever imagined.

  Charlotte licked her swollen lips, drew a deep breath and opened her eyes. Edward was staring at her, his eyes so fiery with passion she nearly felt singed. The daylight cast a glow on his face, outlining the masculine planes and hollows. Her heart skipped a beat. He looked so unbearably handsome, it brought a flood of emotional tears to her eyes.

  "Are you all right?"

  Charlotte slowly smiled. "What? Oh, yes, I am fine. Perfectly fine."

  "Good." An undefinable emotion shone in his eyes, but Charlotte was too pleased with herself to give it much thought.

  "We had best get back before they send out a larger search party," he said.

  "What about the mistletoe?"

  He groaned. "As long as we are here, I suppose I should retrieve some."

  With athletic grace, he swung up into the branches of the tree. He climbed steadily higher and Charlotte's gaze never left his solid frame. Her skin tingled with the memory of his ki
sses and the savage way he had brought their mouths together so impatiently. It had been heavenly, and even more enticing was the knowledge that kissing wasjust the beginning.

  By the time Edward had returned to the ground with a sizable armful of mistletoe, Charlotte was more than ready for another round of kisses. And anything else he cared to teach her.

  "How lovely," she exclaimed. Charlotte reached for a cluster of mistletoe, fully intending to hold it over her head, but Edward held the bunches close to his chest, out of her reach.

  "We need to find the others," he said.

  Though she wanted to protest, Charlotte knew he was right. She offered her hand and he hesitated only a moment before taking it. At his touch, a surge of profound emotions welled up inside Charlotte.

  So this is love.

  There was seldom a time when Edward Barringer's conscience bothered him. He was a man of breeding, of honor, of character, and he prided himself on endorsing and upholding the many standards of decency and following the civilized rules of society with ease.

  This afternoon he had broken those rules. He had kissed an innocent young woman he had no serious intentions toward, had allowed the passion of his body to overrule the common sense of his mind. With Charlotte Aldridge, no less.

  Why her, of all the females available? True, she had been aggressive in her pursuit of him, but that was nothing new. Women often paid undue attention to him. When he walked into a ballroom, many female heads turned to regard him, both the young unmarried misses and their matchmaking mothers.

  He was not offended by their frank appraisal, nor was he conceited by this attention. He was a practical, pragmatic man who understood the true source of their interest was not his person, but rather his title, his lineage, his place in society. It was the way the upper classes had married for centuries and he found no outward fault with the practice.

  It was simply a part of his life, but at this point in time, a part he had no interest in pursuing. Thus he avoided showing any sort of favoritism to any female of marriageable age to avoid speculation or raise expectations. Above all, he strove not to unintentionally hurt anyone's feelings, because he most definitely was not in the market for a wife.

  Then what were those kisses all about? Too much brandy on too little breakfast and a far too lovely, willing female. Edward dropped Charlotte's hand and pulled out his handkerchief. He had broken into a sweat remembering his actions, feeling deeply the terrible weight of regret. Fortunately, she seemed oblivious to his change of mood.

  Once his brow was dry, he promptly thrust his handkerchief and both hands in his pockets. He tried to assume an air of nonchalance, of outward calm and peace, but inside he felt a rise of panic. He chatted and kidded with his brother and Lord Haddon, joking and arguing over who had collected the most mistletoe and whose specimens were the finest. They also teased each other over their tardiness, since theirs was the last group to return. All the other guests who had joined the outing had long since departed for the manor.

  "Oh, look, it has started to snow!" Charlotte's voice rang out with girlish delight.

  They all gazed up to the sky. Indeed, the snow had begun to fall in a cloud of swirling flakes, fluttering steadily to the ground on the chilled breeze. The heavy flakes clung to the branches of the trees and bushes and coated the ground, quickly trans forming everything into a white fairyland of stark, sparkling beauty.

  "Careful. It is starting to get slippery," Jonathan warned, taking hold of Miss Elizabeth Chambers's arm to prevent her from tumbling to the ground.

  Lord Haddon showed Miss Miranda the same consideration, a task more difficult, since he carried all the mistletoe. Edward feared he might have to do the same for Charlotte, but she ran ahead, twirling merrily, arms outstretched, her infectious laughter echoing through the trees. She looked startlingly, vividly young and incredibly lovely.

  "Oh, I do hope there will be enough snow for sledding," she cried. "I have not had the chance to indulge in that pleasure for ages."

  "Well, I hope there is enough snow for a snowball fight," Jonathan said. "It would be worth spending an afternoon in the dungeons just to see Mother's face when I hurl one in her direction."

  "I believe you shall both get your wish," Viscount Haddon commented. "'Tis falling so thickly I can see but a few feet in front of me."

  "The manor house is just over that rise," Edward said. "Fortunately we should reach it within the hour, as I am certain there are several noses pressed against the window glass, anxious for our return."

  But even the threat of heavy snow could not contain Charlotte's excitement. She skipped along, sure-footed in the ever-mounting drifts, laughing and teasing them all to join her. Was it just the cold putting the flush in her cheeks, the glow in her eyes? Or was it something else entirely?

  She was so full of wild, uninhibited joy. There was a light in her eyes that had an irresistible magic, a beauty in her face that captivated and seduced. Edward found himself wondering, most inappropriately, what she would look like as he was making love to her.

  Making love to her! The notion caused him to lose his footing and he barely managed to prevent himself from falling. Charlotte turned and quickly gained his side, latching on to his waist. "Are you all right?"

  "Fine," he muttered.

  Though they were standing in the vast open, the space around him suddenly seemed very small. He was pressed close to her body and suffered from a nearly irresistible urge to lean forward and kiss her. She was staring too, as if considering the same.

  Edward valiantly resisted the lure and cautioned himself against doing anything foolish. He stepped away and blinked through the swirling snow, feeling a profound sense of relief when the manor house came into view. Every window in the house blazed with light, a welcoming beacon of refuge from the storm.

  "We are nearly home," he announced.

  Everyone quickened their pace, buoyed by the promise of dry, warm shelter and a hot, cozy beverage. It was not until they had reached the top of the south lawn that Edward realized how far Charlotte lagged behind. Alone.

  He signalled for the others to continue. Stomping his freezing feet, he waited for her to finally reach him.

  "May we go sledding?" she asked prettily, an alluring smile lighting her face.

  "Perhaps later, if the snow lets up," he answered briskly.

  She dawdled, clearly yearning to say more, but he gave her no opportunity. Grasping her elbow firmly, he propelled her the final feet to the manor, up the front steps and into the foyer. Handing her off to the waiting servants, Edward made a formal bow and hurried away, not even stopping to divest himself of his wet outer garments until he had safely reached the privacy of his chambers.

  Seated before a roaring fire, he slowly sipped a warm brandy, his thoughts in turmoil. There were eight more days until Christmas. How was he possibly going to survive?

  CHAPTER 3

  Charlotte expected everything to change over the next few days. She expected the world to be different, to sound different, to feel different.

  She certainly knew that she was different. Her tangled emotions seemed to always be riding on the very edge, and the constant, fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach swelled to twice its size whenever she was around Edward.

  She was in love.

  Yet she was also frustrated. And impatient. Lord Edward was always kind and polite and attentive to her conversation, but he never sought her out for a private moment. She flirted constantly with him and he always responded with a ready smile, but more often than not he was distant, formal and self-contained.

  Compounding the difficulties were the various holiday activities, which included all the houseguests. During the singing of carols and the tree trimming and the giftwrapping, they were never alone, though Charlotte believed a man as intelligent and clever as Lord Edward should be able to find a way to steal an other kiss or two. Her luck was so bad she had not even been able to position herself beneath the kissing bough when Lo
rd Edward was near.

  The weather too had seemed to conspire against her. The snow had melted too quickly for an intimate carriage sleigh ride or the fun of sledding down the hill in pairs or even a snowball battle.

  Charlotte had no firsthand knowledge of the courting ritual and no mother or close female friends to explain it all to her. At one point she had become so desperate, she had swallowed her pride and asked Jones for advice, but the older maid revealed she had no experience at all with members of the opposite sex.

  The final straw had struck last evening, after dinner. The ladies had retreated to the drawing room to allow the gentlemen to linger over their port and cigars. Once the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, everyone adjourned to the music room, eager to hear the special performance arranged for them by the earl and countess.

  As they crossed the vast foyer, the heel of Charlotte's shoe caught on the edge of the carpet and dislodged. She waited for the others to pass, their believing she was alone, she lifted her gown. As she stooped to fix her shoe, she felt a steady hand grip her elbow, offering assistance.

  It was Lord Edward. He was close enough for her to catch the subtle scent of soap he used, to feel the heat and strength of his body. The experience sent a great rolling wave of desire rippling through her.

  They were alone. Charlotte's heart fluttered wildly. It was the ideal moment to steal a kiss. She was near enough for him to grasp her shoulders and pull her to him, to mold her body to his and clasp her tightly in his arms. To put his mouth over hers and feel the trembling of passion that had overtaken her, to rejoice in the willingness of her heart.

  Yet he had done none of those things. The instant her shoe was secured, he had released his hold on her elbow and taken one step back, away from her. Charlotte moved forward, but the Chambers sisters and Lord Haddon entered the hallway and the moment was lost.