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Midnight
Christmas Eve
Emmaline hid a yawn with her hand as she made her customary, end-of-night rounds through the nursery suite. Charles lay on his back with one arm flung above his head, his chubby cheeks flushed pink, the dark arc of his eyelashes stark against his ivory skin. He’d suffered no ill-effects from his adventures earlier in the evening, and he’d thoroughly enjoyed the boisterous antics of the entertainers. Now he slept like a peaceful angel.
She smiled. How wonderful it was that children were so resilient when it came to obstacles and fears on their path. As well, their curiosity knew no bounds. After stroking her fingertips over his satiny cheek, she readjusted his blanket and then moved to the other side of the large, airy room.
Jane, after having forgiven Emmaline for rescuing her father without her, had enjoyed the festivities hugely with Miss Wickham at her side. Once the governess was left to her own devices, the girl had talked non-stop to Miles and Emmaline about all she’d seen. She’d also done justice to the enormous feast that had been ordered, spending an inordinate time sampling desserts and sweets.
Now, the girl lay on her belly, the tangled masses of her golden curls flowing over her pillow, a smile gently curving her cherub’s lips, her rag rabbit tucked under one arm. Only in slumber was she innocent; upon waking, her mischief would begin again. As it should be in childhood.
Bending over her, Emmaline pressed a light kiss to the child’s forehead, straightened her quilt and then softly wished both of her children a Happy Christmas.
Upon leaving them to their sweet, tender dreams, her heartbeat kicked into an excited flutter when she encountered Miles in the corridor as he came up the stairs. “I assumed you had already retired,” she said quietly and waited for him to catch her up. She hadn’t seen him by the time she’d made her way to the nursery.
“Not yet,” he whispered, and once he had closed some of the distance, he held out a hand. “I had a few things to do in preparation for tomorrow.” When she arched an eyebrow, he continued, “Someone has to encourage and assist the spirit of Father Christmas, after all.” His smile was as enigmatic and mysterious as it had ever been.
“You should be in bed, resting.” She slipped her hand into his, and when he curled his fingers around hers, tendrils of warmth slid up her arm. “You have had enough excitement for one day.” When he’d finally arrived at Archewyne Hall, the greenery had been hung, the Yule log had been set up in the ballroom’s fireplace, and he’d cleaned himself up, he’d insisted on joining her for the entertainment. Even dragged Hudson down with him. She drew the fingers of her free hand along the side of his face, gingerly touching bruises he’d sustained as a hostage.
Even now her heart pounded with remembered terror, the same as it had while she rushed into the snowy night in an effort to rescue him. When she’d come upon that cottage and had seen him bound and beaten... Her stomach muscles tightened. That hadn’t been able to rival the shock when she’d found out that Peterson’s wife—he’d been married? —had meant to kill Miles by hanging.
And he had forgiven the woman. Let her go free without answering for her crime. Her husband was nothing except remarkable, though she would always wonder why. There had been no time for in-depth conversation.
The sound of his voice brought her back to the present. “Oh, I intend to find my bed, sweeting, but it will be with you and we will most definitely not rest... and least not right away.” Wicked promise glimmered in the dark depths of his eyes as he tugged her along the corridor.
Chill bumps raced up her arms. “Do you feel well enough for such exertions?” Her husband was vital with unending enthusiasm for bed sport. It never failed to flatter her even if it amused her. “I don’t wish for you to tire yourself.”
Miles snorted. “I am not in the grave yet, wife. Compared to other injuries I have sustained over the years, a few lacerations and contusions will not greatly slow me.” At the door to his bedchamber—or rather the bedroom they shared—he quickly ushered them both inside. No candle or lamp burned; the only illumination was the silvery glow of a three-quarter full moon reflecting upon the blanket of fresh snow. “The wounds are temporary, and your attention is but a balm for my soul.”
She rolled her eyes and slipped from his grasp. “Ah, now I know you’re having me on. You are not the poetic sort.” He was a man of action. “I assume you’ve ordered Hudson to rest?”
“Yes, and the aggravating man refused to retire until he saw us both abovestairs.” He shrugged. “The man takes his position seriously.”
“As seriously as he does your friendship. You are a special individual, Miles.” She had never been more grateful for Hudson’s protection of their family than she had been this night. Without him, even in an unconscious state, the baby would have succumbed to exposure.
“I’m not certain of that, love. Hudson and I are merely men of determination and high ideals.” He stood with his hands propped on his hips, his form resplendent in his dark evening clothes featuring the military lines he favored, his expression pensive. “I am also a man of changing thoughts. That has been shown to me clearly today. Many people make up our world, many different sides of an argument, many conflicting emotions. There is nothing wrong with revising one’s point of view in favor of compassion.”
“You speak of Mrs. Peterson.” She clasped her gloved hands before her.
“Yes.” He sought out and then held her gaze in the shadows. “It was not my decisions that reduced her circumstances, but my actions afterward were partially to blame. I attempted to do right by her and her son, as an apology of sorts, a new start.” He shook his head. “Will she find peace with what we’ve decided tonight? I am not sure, but then we all must walk our own path, find our own way. It will take time.”
“You’re a good man, Miles. Not many would have forgiven the trespass against you.” She wouldn’t have. In fact, had Jonathan not escorted the boy and Mrs. Peterson back to the house ahead of them, Emmaline was certain she would have neutralized the threat.
“Perhaps, but it was necessary. For my growth and hers. To set a good example for her son... and mine.”
“Oh, Miles.” She stifled a sigh. “Will you now find peace for yourself in the matter of Peterson?” He’d rarely spoken about the betrayal, and even less about the trial and subsequent hanging of his former friend, but occasionally she caught the sadness in his eyes and his moods ran maudlin when he let down his guard. She’d never inquired, not wishing to cause him additional pain and heartache. If he wished to speak of if, he would. If not, then that was his cross to bear.
“I think I will.” He crossed the floor and followed her to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the rear of the property. “I feel that Peterson, and his ghost, has finally been laid to rest, and that we are, once more, square. I... I have given up my resentment toward him for what he did.”
“That is good to hear.” She didn’t look at him, didn’t need to. His face would be as alight with conviction as his voice.
“Christmastide is for peace and granting our fellow man forgiveness when we can.” He slipped a hand to the small of her back, his touch warming her bare skin above the festive bow of her gown. “It is also for hope and love. Without those two, a man has nothing.” His whispered breath tickled along her nape and sent waves of awareness crashing through her.
“England will be all the better with men like you guiding her and changing her.” Tears stung the backs of her eyelids. She didn’t blink them away but let them fall. Every day that went by she was shown how much integrity and honor her husband possessed, and she was exceedingly grateful to be at his side, learning from him. “We somehow manage to fall into scrapes with little provocation these days.”
“Indeed, we do.”
“I love you, Miles. I’m glad I have the chance to continue to tell you that.”
“No more than I love you, Emmy.” He enfolded her into his arms as they both peered out at the winter scene below. “Without you, none of what I am would be possible. You rescued me that long-ago day and you continue to do so.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Never would I have thought you could look like an avenging goddess of old as much as you did when you arrived at that cottage. You quite took my breath away.”
Emmaline smiled. “I’m afraid I have ruined another gown, and the slippers are certainly too soiled to salvage.” She pulled slightly away and lifted the hem of her dress with one hand. He held her opposite wrist as if he feared she’d fly away.
“It is a beautiful frock.” He peered down, his gaze intense. “I appreciate that you have returned to your customary daring cut of gowns.”
“Made an impression on you, did I?” She toed off her slippers.
He shrugged out of his evening jacket and then let it fall to the floor. “Unforgettable as always.” His laughter rumbled in her ear and loosed tingles down her spine. “Shall I give you my gift?”
Emmaline laid a hand on his chest. “What do you have on your mind, besides mischief? You’ve been fairly bursting with it since we arrived at Archewyne Hall.” Perhaps now she would finally discover the secret he’d gone to great lengths to hide.
“It has been deuced difficult to keep it from you.” He released her and moved across the room. While he opened a drawer in a tall chest, she took off her gloves and tossed them in the direction of an ivory-inlaid table near the window.
“You beguile me still after all this time.” Excitement shook her voice. “I enjoy that, of course, but knowing you are safe is the best gift of all.”
“Nonsense, my darling.” As always, he snickered like he did every time he made that joke, for her surname, before she married him, had been Darling. “That is not a proper gift.” He came toward her with a small box in his hand. A green satin bow was secured around it. He held an equally small envelope in his other hand. “Open it. I am quite certain this will be the best Christmas you’ve had in a long while.”
She snatched the box from him as a sense of giddiness bubbled inside her. The ribbon fell away and soon she had the nondescript lid off. A gasp escaped her. “Oh, Miles. It’s wonderful.” The box fell to the floor as she pulled an oval-shaped pendant from it. “I do adore scarabs.” This one was done in lapis-lazuli, caught in fine gold filigree and suspended on a long chain. “A copy?”
“Bite your tongue, woman. This is completely genuine.” His aggrieved expression would have been amusing if he hadn’t been serious. “Before we left for the country, I rooted around Crispin Herrick’s pawn shop.” He paused, hopping from foot to foot as he tugged off his Hessians. “We both spent copious amounts of time examining it. He claims it’s from a newly discovered tomb in the King’s Valley. I couldn’t let it fall into someone’s hands who wouldn’t truly respect it for the relic it is.”
“I shall wear it tomorrow.” The delicate chain was cool as it slipped over her fingers. “Would you like your gift now?”
“And cheat me out of the joy I’ll reap as I reveal the rest of yours?” He held up the envelope with a cocked eyebrow. “Unless you’ve tired of opening—”
“Rogue,” she interrupted and plucked the vellum from his hand. Once she’d rested the necklace on the nearby table, she broke the Archewyne seal and tugged a single card from the envelope. Her hand shook as she held the stationery up to the window and read. Emmaline gasped. Her heartbeat thumped into a rapid rhythm. “What does this mean?” She didn’t dare to hope yet until she had confirmation.
His grin looked as silly as hers felt. “It means that next fall, once Parliament closes, I am taking you and the children to Egypt for the winter. It’s time they were taught about the world beyond what they can see.” He gestured to the card in her hand. “We’ll spend our time digging and cataloging and exploring, my love. I have secured the proper paperwork as well as financial backing.”
“From whom?” She could scarcely believe what he was telling her.
“The newly minted Duke of Litton, of course. We both agree we can only change the future by understanding the past and saving it for future generations.” He winked and tweaked an escaped lock of her hair. “Why else do you think I paid Herrick a visit before we left? He is giving over the running of his shop, for his attention will now be with the title.”
She opened and closed her mouth. Words failed her. This man had given her everything she’d ever wanted. And still he continued to give.
“You would say nothing after such a spectacular gift?” A tinge of concern hung on the question. “You don’t wish to go?”
“I do!” Emmaline tossed the papers in the general direction of the table, and then she threw herself into his arms.
He grunted and held her steady. “And?”
“This is the most wondrous gift anyone has ever given me.” She rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “The opportunity to adventure—with you—and our children is beyond amazing, and in Egypt no less!” When she looped her arms about his shoulders, he folded her into an embrace.
“Where our romance began so many years ago,” he whispered, and lifting her off the floor, he carried her over to the bed. “Before I ever knew how much I needed you.”
Her heart squeezed with love for him. “When fate was set into motion.”
“And our adventure began.”
Emmaline tugged handfuls of his shirt from his trousers. When her fingertips glanced along his warm, flat belly, tendrils of desire curled through her insides. “As much as I adore your gifts, the only thing I want this Christmas is the same thing that I want every day—you.” She gazed up into his eyes and smiled. “Everything else is...”
“...like snow at Christmastide,” he finished quietly for her. With gentle, determined movements, he tugged the gown from her shoulders. Holding her gaze, he pushed the fabric over her hips until it fell to the floor with a soft sigh. “Perfect.”
The chill in the room sent gooseflesh along her skin and tightened her nipples as she stood naked, except for her stockings and garters, before her husband. “Sometimes life doesn’t have to be perfect to be exactly what is best for me.” She undid the buttons on his waistcoat and then sent the garment to the floor at their feet. “I wouldn’t trade it—every little imperfection included—for anything.”
“That is good to hear.” He urged her down on the bed and covered his body with hers. “For I feel the same way.”
Emmaline surrendered into his care with a sigh and answering kisses. No words were exchanged. Instead, communication came in the form of nips and nibbles, caresses and licks. As soon as she manipulated the buttons of his trousers and the front flap fell away, she encouraged his rigid member until it had grown sufficiently hard for her needs.
“At least let me remove my clothing,” he said around dueling with her tongue.
“No.” Before he could say anything else, she straddled him, fitting the tip of him to where she wanted him to be. “We do that too often. This way I can keep you guessing.” She held his gaze and slowly, oh so slowly, took his length into her body until he’d fully impaled her. Tremors of pleasure circled through her. Her eyelids fluttered.
“There is nothing wrong with tradition, love.” Miles tugged her down over his body. He claimed her mouth with a searing kiss, and then his body tensed, and seconds later, her back was pressed between the mattress and the unmovable wall of his chest. “It’s as comforting as a well-worn boot.”
She rolled her eyes even as she clutched his upper arms and drew her legs up to cradle his hips between her bent knees. “And you must be in control at all times?”
“Not at all times.” Miles flexed his hips and she answered with a gasp. “However, in this instance, yes.”
“Why?” Her eyes crossed when he moved and his strokes were deep, fast and exact. God, I love it when he’s like this.
Forceful. Direct. In control.
It meant she didn’t need to be.
“Because sometimes I like being the one to protect you, to provide you with everything you want, everything you need.” He increased his pacing and their breathing quickened. He put his lips to her ear. “It’s what a man does for the love of his life.”
“Oh.” His words, combined with his intent at pleasure, shattered the dam holding back her release. Waves of pleasure rushed through her so intense that she couldn’t cry out, couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything except clutch him to her body while she rode the crests.
“Happy Christmas, Emmy.” Another two thrusts had him falling into his own bliss and when he collapsed on top of her, he nuzzled her skin where her neck joined with her shoulder. “This is, by far, one of the best I’ve experienced while at Archewyne Hall.”
As her heartbeat returned to normal, she placed a palm on either side of his face and then kissed the tip of his nose. “Happy Christmas, Miles. It has been the best one I have ever had anywhere in the world.”
He rolled to his side and took her with him. For long moments they lay silent. The strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her ear that rested on his chest marked the time. Finally, he stirred and traced abstract designs along her hip. “I do have one other gift for you.”
“I don’t need anything else.” She slid a hand down the length of his back and traced her fingers over the play of his muscles.
“You’ll like it.”
“Mmm? What is it?” The only thing she wished to do was fall asleep in his arms.
“I have found what I think is the beginnings of a Roman pavement, perhaps a floor, on the property here.” Excitement threaded in his voice and he stilled his fingers on her skin. “Once it’s fully excavated, I shall dedicate the find to you. Any artifacts we locate will be donated to the British Museum in your name.”
“What?” She squeezed one of his buttocks to emphasize her point. “What?” It bore repeating.
His chuckle ramped her still-buzzing awareness. “Just what I said. It is quite amazing, no?”
Emmaline struggled into a sitting position. She looked down at him as a thousand questions swirled through her head. “This is what you’ve been secretive about?”
“Yes.” His lazy smile held a wicked edge. He tweaked one of her nipples. “Are you pleased?”
She ignored how her body awakened anew at his touch. “I’m properly amazed.”
“Since I’m already mostly dressed, do you wish to see it? No doubt what I’ve uncovered is hidden by the snow, but it would be easy enough to brush away.”
“Now? In the dark? In the middle of the night?”
“Why not?” He shrugged and then slipped from the bed, working his trouser buttons as he went. “You said we need more adventures in our life. Why not start straightaway?”
Why, indeed? Her nerve endings tingled with anticipation. “Allow me the time to dress in something warm and we can be off.” She smacked his hand when he would have touched her breast again. “No more of that unless you wish to be distracted from your mission.”
“I never consider you or your charms a distraction.” He blew her a kiss as he went in search of his boots. “An enhancement, quite so. Never a distraction.”
Emmaline slid from the bed. “I appreciate that, but don’t you want to open the gift I have for you?”
“Haven’t I already had my gift from you this night?” The glitter in his eyes sent heat into her cheeks.
“Behave yourself. I had a new pocket watch commissioned for you in London. One side is engraved with our wedding date while inside I’ve glued a tiny painting of us as a family. Remember, we all sat for it shortly after you and I returned from France.” She headed toward the dressing room door.
Miles intercepted her with one boot on, the other in his hand. “It sounds delightful, Emmy. I shall unwrap it after I show you the pavement.”
“Because your gifts are more impressive than mine?” She didn’t protest when he snaked his free arm about her waist and tugged her against his body.
“No, because I’ll want to show you how thankful I am for that gift, and I cannot do that while in the snow—”
“Or run the risk of waking your adoring geese and having them cluster about you?” she interrupted with a trill of laughter.
Miles continued on as if she hadn’t spoken though his cheeks were stained a faint red, “—for the next time you and I are naked, I fully intend to slowly and erotically tease you until you cry mercy.” He kissed her, and though it was a fleeting display it didn’t fail to flood her with heat. “I rather doubt we’ll see much sleep this Christmas night.”
Emmaline patted his cheek as her mind spun over what he had planned. “There is no better way to celebrate the season than surrounded with gratitude and love.” Then she wriggled out of his hold and sought out the dressing room.
This life, all the good parts and bad, was indeed perfect for her. She wouldn’t have it any other way.