A Sinful Regency Christmas. Ann Lethbridge
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the rumpled bed. She had run away from him last night. But he wouldn’t let her run for long.
Cassandra slid down low on the settee by the library fireplace and tried to concentrate on the book she held in her hands. She had thought she could hide in there, both from Melisande’s other guests and from her own worries over what she had done last night.
Everyone else was engaged in a wild game of hide-and-seek along the corridors and up in the attics, so they weren’t likely to look for her, especially in the library. But her own thoughts … those were harder to escape from.
Every time she looked at the page, she saw Ian’s face as he leaned down to kiss her. Instead of the warmth of the fire through her thin muslin gown she felt his touch. Last night had been wondrous, beyond anything she could ever have imagined. She had never known pleasure like that could exist in the world. And to find it with Ian …
Cassandra snapped the book shut with a sigh. Last night with Ian was perfect. But when she opened her eyes to the light of dawn and saw his peaceful, sleeping face on the pillow beside hers, she was beset with doubts and fears. What if it was too perfect? What if he turned away from her again?
So she fled to her own chamber, not even going back when she realized she’d left her dressing gown behind. She had to decide how to behave, what to say, when she saw Ian again. Running to him and throwing herself into his arms as she longed to do couldn’t be an option.
There was a soft knock at the door. Glad of a distraction, Cassandra called out, “Come in.”
It was Smithers, Melisande’s butler. He held a folded letter in one hand and her fur-lined cloak in the other. “I beg your pardon for the interruption, my lady, but this message came for you.”
“A message for me?” Cassandra said, puzzled. Who would be sending her letters here? Her sisters were all scattered about the countryside with their families for the holiday, her parents off at Brighton with the youngest. Surely nothing had happened to them?
Smithers gave her the note and she ripped it open. It was very short, written in a dark, spiky scrawl, and definitely not from her sisters.
Meet me outside the front door in fifteen minutes. If you say no, I’ll just come in and find you. Ian.
Cassandra swallowed hard as she read the message a second time. He hadn’t run from her after all. He was waiting for her just outside.
She couldn’t run from him.
Smithers gave a discreet little cough and held out her cloak. “I was told you would need this, my lady. And these.” He produced her boots and gloves.
“Thank you, Smithers.” In a dreamy haze, she quickly donned her outdoor garments and hurried out of the library and through the front door.
Ian was indeed waiting for her there, holding the reins of a small white-and-gold sleigh drawn by two white horses. It was a beautiful conveyance, seemingly made for a snow queen, gleaming and opulent in the silvery sunlight. But surely the most beautiful part was the flash of Ian’s smile as he waved at her.
“Come for a ride with me, Cassie,” he called. “It’s a gorgeous day, is it not?”
Cassandra laughed. “If you enjoy freezing your nose off, I suppose,” she said, but she let one of the footmen help her up onto the narrow seat beside Ian. Ian tucked the fur-lined robes around her and slid a hot brick under her feet.
“It’s perfectly warm. See?” he said. And he kissed her lightly, his lips sliding over hers.
Indeed it was. She couldn’t remember ever being so warm, so tingling with heat, before. Everything else vanished.
But when she reached for him, he slid away with a teasing grin. “I have a surprise for you,” he said. He flicked the reins and set the magical little sleigh into motion. Silver bells rang out in merry music as they glided over the snow.
“I’m not sure I like surprises,” she said as she snuggled down into the blankets. The scenery flashed by in a glittering white blur.
“You’ll like this one,” Ian answered. “Though probably not quite as much as I liked my surprise last night.”
Cassandra felt her cheeks turn warm, and she ducked her head to hide her blush. How could she tell him she hadn’t meant to surprise him last night? That it had all been a fortunate mistake?
One surprise at a time was surely enough for now.
They drove down a narrow track through a wooded area, where the ice sparkled on the tree branches like diamonds. It was so quiet there, so magical with the snow piled all around and not another living being in sight. Cassandra put her arm through Ian’s and rested her head on his shoulder as they continued their journey.
At last he turned down a circular drive and drew up in front of a cottage. It looked as if it belonged in a fairy tale with the sleigh, a tiny dwelling of rosy-red brick with old-fashioned mullioned windows gleaming in the light, reflecting back the gray sky and the snow. In the summer it was probably covered with climbing roses, but even in the depth of winter it was charming, so cozy and inviting. A gray plume of smoke curled from one of the chimneys, but there was no other sign of life.
“Who lives here?” she asked as she studied the windows.
“We do,” Ian said. “At least for today.” He came around to help her from the sleigh, but instead of putting her down on the snowy ground he swept her up in his arms. He carried her through the garden gate and up the path to the front door. “It belongs to Melisande and happens to be between tenants at the moment. She loaned it to me.”
Cassandra laughed and held on tight to his neck as he swung her down a narrow corridor and through a low doorway into a sitting room. She gasped when she saw what was there. A bright fire burned in the grate, and spread before it was a picnic arrayed on a fur-edged blanket. Bread, cheese, cakes, hothouse strawberries and wine, with flower petals scattered across the floor to cast their sweet scent into the air.
“Oh, Ian,” she whispered. “Is this the surprise?”
“I thought it was time we were properly alone at last,” he said, and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Is this a surprise to your liking?”
“Oh, yes. Very much to my liking.”
Chapter Five
“That was the most delicious meal ever,” Cassandra sighed as she lay back on the fur-edged blanket. She felt so warm and content, with the heat from the fire dancing over her skin and the wine she had drunk winding through her body. How long had it been since she had felt so deeply content, so very right?
Never, she realized. She had never felt like this before, as if she was exactly where she was meant to be. And it was all thanks to Ian.
She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her arm to study him as he lay stretched out beside her. He was the very picture of indolent, masculine grace, a jungle panther stretched out to sleep in the sun. He had shed his coat and cravat and his shirt fell open to reveal a deep vee of glistening, smoothly muscled skin and the strong column of his throat. In one hand he held a half-full glass of wine while the other stroked the folds of her skirt.
A half-smile touched his lips. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. So you decided you like surprises after all?”
“I like your kind of surprises.” Cassandra reached out and gently traced her fingertips over the chiseled angles of his face. His sharp cheekbones, the rough bristles over his jaw, his closed eyes and the silken sweep of his brows. He lay there, very still, his eyes shut, and let her touch him.
Until she swept a soft caress over his sensual lips, and he suddenly caught the tip of her finger between his teeth. She laughed in surprise, but the laugh faded to a sigh as his tongue swept over her skin and he nibbled lightly on her fingertip. A flash of heat swept through her, like lightning. She pressed her palm to his