else I can do to convince you and I really do not want to have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to church on Christmas morning.’
‘Oh.’ Hester stared at the document in her hands, then up at the man waiting so patiently at her bedside. ‘Oh, yes, Guy, I-’
She got no further before she was in his arms, being held so tightly she thought she might faint. His face was buried in her hair; through a haze of happiness and desire she could feel his mouth moving as he murmured words of love into the thick brown curls.
Everything inside her seemed to be liquid, hot, aching. Hester wriggled until she could hug him in return, flatten her palms against the muscled back through the thin linen of his shirt, inhale the spicy male scent of him, nuzzle her lips along the line where his hair curled into his frost-cold nape. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you.’ He pulled back to look at her. ‘May I show you how much?’
There was no doubt and no hesitation, although she could feel the colour rising in her cheeks as she moved across the bed to make room for him. Guy shucked off his shirt and began to unbutton his breeches. Hester closed her eyes, cracked them open a fraction, took one look and then closed them again with a little gasp. The reality of an unclothed, aroused man in one’s bedroom far exceeded anything her fevered dreams had conjured up.
The bed dipped, the covers flipped back over her and she was pulled down against a long, hard body. There was a second of breathless stillness then Hester gave an outraged shriek and recoiled. ‘Your feet are freezing!’
Guy regarded her solemnly, only the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips betraying his amusement. ‘You know, Hester, in the frequent, heated and very detailed fantasies I had entertained of making love to you, the need for a hot brick in flannel or a pair of bed socks never occurred to me.’
Hester collapsed on his chest, helpless with giggles. ‘I… could… find a brick,’ she managed to gasp only to find herself rolled over in a very masterful way.
‘Never mind,’ Guy growled in her ear, ‘I will simply have to find a way to heat my blood up.’
After that she found she had little opportunity, or breath, for giggling. His lips were slow and tormenting on hers, demanding, teasing, nibbling until she was gasping for some sort of release. Even then he kept his mouth on hers, biting gently on her full lower lip as his hands caressed down over her breasts, pushing away the thin lawn that covered them.
Hester arched to meet him, her own hands clinging, kneading, stroking down the long back muscles, down over the narrow waist to the flat hips, up to the curve of his buttocks.
He rolled her again, holding her for a moment balanced on his body as he pulled the nightgown free to float disregarded to the floor. Her whole body pressed against his, every inch of it hot now, every inch of it frighteningly, magnificently male.
‘Don’t be frightened, sweetheart.’ His voice was soft in her ear, coming from a long way off as she felt his weight on her, found herself parting instinctively for him, gasping in shocked wonderment as he entered her.
She had not expected it to be like this. Not to feel utterly one with him, certainly not to be swept up in a ravel of overwhelming sensation that was winding tighter and tighter until she felt she could not bear it any more until it burst and she cried out against his mouth, only to feel it swallowed in his own cry of triumphant release.
It was not possible to move. She did not want to move, except that she did not think she could breathe. How long had they lain here, tangled within the cradle of each other’s limbs? ‘Guy?’
‘Mmm?’
‘Can you move, just a little bit?’
‘Mmm.’ He rolled on to his side, bringing her with him to lie in the crook of his arm. His breath tickled her ear as he nuzzled gently along the soft skin of her temple. ‘You taste of vanilla and cream and woman.’
Hester stretched as best she could, then snuggled back. ‘You taste of cinnamon and dark honey and man.’
‘Sounds like a recipe for syllabub,’ he murmured. ‘My feet are warm. Shall we try that again? I feel that practice is essential and I am sure there must be at least six places on your body I have not kissed yet.’
‘Again?’ Hester opened her eyes and blinked at him in the candlelight. His eyes were heavy with a dark heat that stirred new longings deep inside her. ‘Again, tonight?’
‘And again, and again and again.’ Guy’s dark head dipped below the edge of the bedcovers. ‘So soft…’
Hester woke in the clear light of morning and lay unmoving, listening. But there was no one else breathing in the room, and when she stretched out a questing arm the bed beside her was empty. But the hollow in the mattress was still warm and the pillow, when she rolled over and buried her face in it, smelled of cinnamon and dark honey and Guy.
There was a scratch at the door and Susan came in with a cup of chocolate. The two young women eyed each other uncertainly.
‘About last night…’ they began together.
‘I was going to tell you about Ben Aston,’ Susan blurted out, setting the cup down and going to find Hester’s dressing gown to put round her shoulders. ‘Only I thought he ought to come and tell you himself and he said he was bashful.’
‘Bashful? Aston? Well, if you say so, Susan. Do you love him?’ A vehement nod of the head. ‘And he wants to marry you?’ Another nod. ‘Where will you live?’
‘He has a fine cottage, Miss Hester, and a smallholding with a cow and a pig and a good flock of chickens and a large vegetable garden. And he’s a hard worker.’
‘The vicar vouches for him and his lordship has spoken to him and seems satisfied he is good enough for you, which is what matters to me. Oh, come here and stop looking as though you expected me to ring a peal over you for courting! A fine case of the pot calling the kettle black that would be.’
Emerging pink cheeked from Hester’s embrace, Susan perched on the edge of the bed. Hester could feel herself blushing under the clear regard, but she met her maid’s eyes squarely. She might ache oddly, feel quite light-headed and still be half-persuaded that she was dreaming it all, but she was not going to apologise for loving Guy.
‘Is it all right, Miss Hester? I mean, his lordship pinched my cheek on his way out through the kitchen this morning and said I was to look to my needle, but I didn’t like to ask.’
‘Lord! What time did he leave? Maria and Jethro didn’t see him, did they?’
‘No,’ Susan reassured her. ‘Miss Prudhome’s just getting up and I sent Jethro off down to Ben’s for more eggs. Mr Parrott’s looking after most of the wedding breakfast, but I did think as how I ought to make the cake at least.’
‘Wedding breakfast?’ A hazy memory of Guy saying something about Christmas Day floated into Hester’s mind. ‘He isn’t thinking of marrying me on Christmas Day, is he? That’s tomorrow!’
‘You had better get up.’ Susan paused at the door. ‘We had all of yesterday to plan things and Lady Broome and Miss Prudhome have had that smart
‘But that means he knew I’d say yes even before the party!’ But Susan had vanished and Hester was left staring at the door. She gulped the chocolate, jumped out of bed and then back in again when she realised she was stark naked. By the time Susan came back with the hot water she was out of bed, wrapped in her dressing gown and attempting to think coherently-not that that was helped by finding Guy’s cravat on the floor, tangled with her discarded nightgown. If Guy really believed she could be ready to marry him by tomorrow, he must be made to see reason. It was impossible.
But she came downstairs to find Lady Broome already ensconced in the drawing room with the modiste, Parrott and Jethro in earnest consultation in the kitchen and Annabelle Redland and Maria in the dining room creating a bouquet and decorations for the church. It seemed that she, as bride, had nothing to do other than to approve a gown of cream silk with a spencer of holly green, and submit to endless fittings.
‘Now, I have brought some gold velvet, and I could make that up in a trice, if you would prefer, Miss Lattimer,’ Madame Lefevre offered through a mouthful of pins. ‘Although the green does look charmingly.’
‘I found bonnets to match either choice and kid half-boots,’ Lady Broome added from her position at the side of the chair upon which Hester was standing for the hem to be pinned. Oh, yes, and gloves and a veil. Now if you are sure about the green, I think this twisted floss trim at the hem would be best.’
Hester agreed to the green and waited before the
