The Christmas Stranger Page 11

  Because she had been made for him. Just as he was made for her.

  He settled into a hard, driving rhythm that sparked a spiraling, craving sensation inside her. Blindly she tilted her hips to meet him, seeking relief from the rising need. But still the tension built, until her breath emerged in harsh sobs. Surely if this went on, she must shatter into a million pieces.

  Joss rose above her, and she felt he went so deep into her body, he became part of her. She released a choked moan and tightened her grip on his hard male shoulders as he drove her higher.

  He slipped a shaking hand between her legs and touched her in that place that made her tremble. A blast of exquisite sensation seized her, and on a flash of blinding light, she tumbled over into the abyss.

  But the abyss was bright and hot, and she was safe in her lover’s arms, even as she soared through space, slicing through the flames like an eagle.

  In the midst of transfiguring joy, she heard Joss give a long, guttural groan. As he plunged inside her, the sinews under her hands tightened. A rush of heat flooded her womb. As she drifted from the sublime heights, she felt him pump into her.

  He groaned again and slumped down, forcing the breath out of her. Maggie didn’t mind. She’d imagined she couldn’t feel closer to him than she had in those transcendent, transforming moments at her peak. But now with him collapsed over her in exhaustion, their bodies still joined, she felt a richer, deeper union with this man she loved.

  His head was buried in the curve of her neck, and he was shaking. She tangled her fingers in the damp curls at his nape and smiled up into the shadows, her mind full of what had happened between them.

  She’d satisfied him. Even in her inexperience, she knew that. And in return, he’d shown her a world beyond her wildest imaginings.

  Eventually he shifted, and Maggie sucked in her first full breath in what felt like forever. He rose above her, his face in shadow. “You’re a miracle, Margaret Carr. I never want to be apart from you again.”

  “Joss?” she asked, more shocked by what he said than by what they’d just done, extraordinary and magnificent as that had been.

  Instead of answering her, he kissed her again. She waited for more passion, but Joss’s lips expressed tenderness, verging on worship.

  When he lifted his head, she was trembling. In the uncertain light, those dark green eyes seemed to send her a message too profound for mere words. “Wait here.”

  She frowned, caught by surprise. Wait here? What on earth was happening? “What’s wrong?”

  “Absolutely nothing, my darling.” He cupped her jaw in his hand. “But I have something important to talk about, and I want to do it right.”

  After another brief kiss, he rolled out of bed and found his dressing gown. More slowly, Maggie sat up and pulled the sheets up to her bare breasts. His unexpected behavior was making her self-conscious, as she hadn’t been since she’d offered herself to him.

  Movement set up a myriad of twinges in her secret places, reminders of the marvelous things Joss had done to her. The skin on her cheeks, neck and breasts stung. During their turbulent passion, his whiskers had chafed her.

  “Why can’t we stay here?”

  She caught the flash of white teeth as he smiled. “Trust me.”

  He’d said that before he claimed her body. Well, that had worked out fine, hadn’t it? She told herself to have faith.

  Joss stepped closer and kissed her with more of that soul-searching tenderness. She’d basked in his passion, but this sweetness left her completely defenseless. Reminded her that while he’d given her so much, he hadn’t given her the promises her aching heart longed for.

  She reminded herself that she hadn’t asked for promises. When she’d arrived at his door, she’d just been desperate to give herself to the man she loved. The man who could so easily be lying frozen and dead out on the hills tonight, instead of standing beside the bed, teasing her.

  But now that she knew what joy they created together, the prospect of Joss moving on and perhaps forgetting her was unbearable. Life had taught her not to be greedy, but when she looked at her bold and vital lover, she felt greedy.

  For more pleasure. For more life.

  For more…him.

  She’d hoped that satisfying her desire would provide memories to compensate for the years of loneliness ahead. But watching Joss as he left the room—a foretaste of his final departure—she realized she’d made a fundamental and catastrophic mistake.

  Because one night wasn’t enough. Even if he stayed until Jane came back, it wouldn’t be enough.

  When a woman loved a man as much as Maggie loved Joss, a whole lifetime wasn’t enough.

  The day he rode away from Thorncroft, he’d leave her life in ruins. And it was too late to do anything to save herself from the coming devastation.

  * * *

  The light from Joss’s candelabra disturbed Maggie’s troubled sleep. She hadn’t heard him return—he really did move like a cat.

  She blinked and yawned. Her forebodings about the future hadn’t kept her awake. She was exhausted after a day of life-changing events and emotional upheaval. Not to mention those energetic hours skating in the cold, fresh air.

  “Joss?” she asked sleepily, rolling onto her side so she could see him standing in the doorway. In his crimson velvet robe, he looked tall and oddly exotic, like a pasha visiting the harem to choose a concubine for a night’s pleasure. “Is everything all right?”

  “More than all right.”

  This was the first chance she’d had to see him properly since her candle had flickered out, all those tumultuous hours ago. He looked younger. And happy. And free from the burden of what she now recognized as unsatisfied desire. She only noted the signs of his tension by their absence. A tightness around his eyes and jaw. A rigid straightness of the shoulders. A certain care with how he moved.

  Now Joss looked like a man at ease in his world in a way he hadn’t since his arrival. How glad Maggie was to know that he’d found joy in her arms.

  She pushed the blankets aside and slid over to make room for him. One thing she’d promised herself before she closed her eyes—she wasn’t going to spoil current happiness with fretting about future misery. “Come back to bed.”

  “That’s a tempting invitation.”

  “I hope so.”

  He strode forward and set her shawl on the bed beside her and her slippers on the floor. Her heart had leaped so high at the sight of him that she hadn’t noticed what he carried.

  “First, I’d like you to come downstairs. I’ve got something to say, and my bedroom isn’t the right venue.”

  She frowned, although she sat up and swung her feet to the ground, grateful that she was respectably covered. Before falling asleep, she’d tugged her nightdress over her nakedness. Without Joss’s incendiary presence, she’d felt awkward, lying in his bed without a stitch to cover her.

  “You’re being very mysterious.”

  If she hadn’t seen his happiness, if he hadn’t told her she was a miracle, she might fear that he meant to say their liaison couldn’t continue. But when he’d opened his arms to her, he also opened the doors of his soul. Now he was being tantalizingly enigmatic, but she didn’t sense any withdrawal from their essential closeness.

  “Aren’t I just?” He dropped to his knees in front of her. She smiled to see the tangled mess of thick black curls, as he bent his head to his task. Her Joss would never be a neat, conventional man. “Let me help you with your slippers. I’d hate your feet to get cold.”

  All impulse to laughter evaporated. Maggie gulped back the emotion that surged to jam her throat. Nobody had looked after her in years. Yet Joss had cared for her from the first. Odd to think back to how angry she’d been when he’d carried her down to the kitchens that first night.

  “I can manage.”

  “Let me.” He slid her slippers onto her feet.

  “You’re smiling.” She reached out to touch the groove of amusement creas
ing his cheek. The fondness in his smile reassured her further. He’d asked her to trust him. It was too late to start building defensive walls.

  “I was thinking if you only knew how frequently white flannel has featured in my fantasies since we met.”

  A low laugh escaped her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you in silk and satin.”

  “I’m not. I’m just glad you came to me at all. You make me so happy, Maggie.”

  “And you make me happy, Joss,” she whispered. At that moment it was true. What ensued in the coming weeks, months, years had no power to destroy her pleasure in his presence.

  With a gentleness that made tears prick her eyes—dear heaven, she threatened to become a watering pot—he lifted one foot and placed a kiss on her instep. The sensation of his lips on her skin made the deepest parts of her body heat and soften.

  Joss raised his head and smiled again. She’d always loved his smile. She loved the way it added flashing charm to his rugged features.

  When they’d first met, she’d thought him appealing, if not exactly handsome. Tonight, after nearly a week in his company, she thought him the most attractive man she’d ever met. She wouldn’t trade an inch of that rugged, quirky, interesting face for the greatest beau in the kingdom.

  “Don’t look at me like that, or I’ll forget good intentions.”

  She smiled back. “I like it when you forget good intentions.”

  His grip on her foot tightened. “So do I.”

  To her regret, he replaced her foot on the floor and rose. He lifted the candelabra and stretched out his hand. “Come with me.”

  Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, she stood. “Won’t you tell me what this is about?”

  “Don’t you like surprises?”

  She curled her fingers around his. “I do, if they’re nice surprises.”

  “I think this will count as a nice surprise.”

  Curiosity ate at her, as they left his room and followed the corridor to the staircase. After the storms, it seemed deathly quiet. The candlelight flickered against the high walls, picking out a distant building in a landscape painting or the gleam of a painted eye in a portrait.

  Maggie shivered. She wasn’t particularly superstitious, but she felt like a thousand ghosts gathered to watch their progress. Away from the fire, the house was freezing, and she moved closer to Joss. His big body radiated heat like a great furnace. “I hope we’re not going far.”

  “Now that’s interesting.” His grip on her hand firmed. “I’m hoping we’ll go very far indeed.”

  She frowned. Was he talking about her sensual education? Or something more permanent? He’d said he never wanted to part from her. Did he mean to ask her to return to London as his mistress? But surely he must know that was a step too far, even for a woman who tonight had cast her bonnet over a windmill.

  Before Maggie summoned the nerve to ask what he meant, they stopped outside the drawing room. Joss released her to place his hand on the door and look down at her with an unreadable expression. “Do you know it’s Christmas Eve?”

  Puzzled she met his gaze. “I suppose so.”

  It must be well after midnight, so of course it was Christmas Eve. As if to confirm the fact, the long clock in the hall chimed three.

  “Christmas Eve is a magical time. A time when wishes come true.”

  “I’ve never heard that,” she said skeptically, used by now to the charming nonsense he spouted about Christmas. Although he could be right about the magic, because this was the first Christmas since her mother died when she’d felt any joy in the season. All because of Joss.

  “Yes, you have. Don’t children go to bed on Christmas Eve, dreaming of presents and all the fun and games to come the next day?”

  It was a long time since she’d had such a Christmas Eve. “I’m not a child anymore.”

  “Everyone’s a child at Christmas.” He leaned in to kiss her briefly, setting off a cascade of pleasure. Would she ever take these spontaneous expressions of affection for granted? “Come with me.”

  He pushed the door open to a blaze of light. Maggie halted on the threshold, lost in wonder.

  Joss must have unearthed every candle in the house. Flickering lights ranged across the mantel above the fire blazing in the hearth. Branches of candles covered every table. Combined with the Christmas greenery they’d had such a lovely time putting up, the effect was like a bower in an enchanted forest.

  He stepped inside the room, and she followed in a daze of love and gratitude. Her shawl slipped to the ground, but the room was so cozy, it hardly mattered.

  “Joss, this is lovely,” she said, touched that he’d taken this trouble for her.

  He strode into the center of the floor, where he’d arranged a circle of fat beeswax candles, all burning bravely against the dark winter night. “Aren’t you glad we got the house ready for Christmas?”

  Before his arrival, how lonely and closed away she’d been. Christmas had meant nothing to her. But right now, her heart was so full of love and gratitude, she felt like that dismal girl was another person entirely.

  She blinked away more tears and spread her hands, hoping he’d understand how profoundly he’d changed her. “You’ve brought the house alive.” She licked her lips and spoke the stark truth. “You’ve brought me alive.”

  His smile radiated such warmth, she felt she stepped into summer. “And you’ve brought me alive.”

  She was coming to terms with such a marvelous confession, when he went down on one knee and held his hand out toward her. “Margaret Carr, my darling Maggie, will you marry me?”

  Chapter Twelve

  * * *

  Joss waited for Maggie to rush into his arms, to say an ecstatic yes, to kiss him. Perhaps even tell him she loved him.

  Because he was certain she must.

  He wasn’t an idiot. Only love made a woman like Maggie Carr give herself to a man. And while she might have kept the words back, her love had illuminated every second of these last incandescent hours.

  But to his astonishment, instead of running toward him, she faltered back. An expression that looked like anguish tightened her features, and all the lovely rosy softness vanished in a blink.

  “Maggie?” he asked uncertainly, staggering to his feet.

  He suddenly felt like a fool. Was he wrong about her feelings? Had his arrogance alone convinced him that she cared?

  The thought that she didn’t love him after all crashed down like a landslide, and for a long moment, he couldn’t breathe. Joss wasn’t a man who prayed much, but faced with her closed expression, he found himself praying that he misunderstood her reaction.

  She avoided his eyes and folded her arms across her lovely bosom in an obviously protective gesture. What in Hades did she need to protect herself from? Surely not him. Good God, he was ready to pledge his life to cherishing her.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said urgently.

  The ragged demand made him wince. An hour—ten minutes—ago, he’d have said they were so close, he knew everything in her head and heart.

  Now she was a stranger.

  She regarded him with the wariness he hadn’t seen since he’d arrived. He hated it. He’d believed she trusted him. Hell, she’d come to his bed. What greater statement of trust could she make?

  Apart from promising him the rest of her life. And from what he could see, that asked far too much.

  “I’m grateful for your offer,” she said in a flat voice.

  “Grateful?” Baffled rage surged. What the devil was going on? “What blasted sort of namby-pamby response is that to a fellow’s proposal?”

  She flinched from his tone. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Have to? What’s going on?” He frowned. “I want to marry you, by heaven.”

  The familiar obstinacy settled on her features. He’d seen it during their first days together, when she’d battled to keep him at a distance.

  Well, he’d demolished it before.
He could demolish it again. But beneath his bravado lurked desolation.

  It was so clear that they belonged together. Why in blazes couldn’t she see that, too?

  “It’s not suitable.” She drew herself up, looking as proud as a queen. “I’m a servant.”

  A servant? God give him strength. He couldn’t imagine a woman looking less like a servant. “Devil take you, of course it’s suitable,” he snapped.

  “Stop shouting at me.”

  Joss wasn’t exactly shouting, but he knew he was acting like a bear instead of a suitor. He struggled to moderate his tone. It was difficult when this meant so damned much—she meant so damned much—and she spouted such arrant nonsense.

  “I’m sorry.” But not as sorry as he was that she hadn’t said yes, blast it.

  “I don’t have to marry you,” she said with a hint of truculence.

  Joss subjected her to narrow-eyed attention. “No, you don’t.” Although God help them, if he’d put a baby inside her, she bloody well did. “Forgive me if I mistook your feelings, but I hoped you might want to marry me.”

  She continued to avoid his eyes. That suddenly struck him as a good sign. The first good sign since his impetuous proposal.

  “We’ve only known each other a couple of days.” In a dance of distress, those slender hands twined and untwined at her waist. “We’re not far off strangers.”

  “Piffle,” he spat out.

  His uncompromising response had her raising surprised eyes to his. He stepped close enough to loom over her. His inconvenient size intimidated most men, but gallant Maggie Carr squared her shoulders and glared. If only she knew how that defiance made her his perfect bride in a way that transcended issues of status or fortune.

  His heart crashed against his ribs as he recalled how perfectly they’d fitted together when he’d thrust inside her. She was a fool to deny that they were fated to be together.

  He went on before she could muster another argument. “If we’re strangers, what the hell do you mean by giving yourself to me?”