The Christmas Stranger Page 7

  “If you insist.”

  “Good.” Taking off his gloves, he dipped to his knees. When he lifted her foot, it looked absurdly dainty in his hold, despite the sensible half-boot. He took a moment to admire her shapely ankle in its black woolen stocking. Deftly he buckled on the skate. Then he repeated the action for the other foot.

  “Stay there,” he said, his voice gruff as he fought the urge to bury his face in her lap. It was cold enough to freeze the balls off a polar bear, yet Joss felt so hot, he could explode.

  He sat beside Margaret, and this time was cautious enough to keep his distance. All this agony was to no purpose, even if she said yes—and that was as likely as that freezing polar bear dancing a gavotte. He could hardly seduce the girl on a snowy bank.

  Once his skates were on and he’d replaced his gloves, he stood and launched into a powerful glide across the ice. He came to a stop and twirled several times before facing her. It seemed he did want to show off.

  Her face was alight with admiration. “My goodness, you look at home.”

  He skated in and held out his hands. “Come on. You’ll like it.”

  Inevitably his mind focused on something else she’d like. To his relief, she wobbled so badly on her skates, he had to put his licentious thoughts aside and concentrate on saving her from toppling over.

  “Go slowly,” she said, at last finding a tottering balance.

  “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

  Devil take it, did everything he said have to sound like an invitation to bed sport?

  He stared into her eyes and waited for her to stand up straight and steady. Very slowly, he backed out onto the pond.

  As he’d expected, she soon found her feet, and her grip on his hands eased from the deathly clutch. “Better?”

  She nodded, although the tense line of her lush mouth told him she wasn’t yet at ease. “Yes.”

  “Can I let go of one hand?”

  Shakily she released his hand, and for a few moments, they skated side by side. With every minute, she gained in confidence. Gradually he built the pace, until they glided smooth and graceful across the ice and the wind lifted his hair.

  He glanced at her face and was delighted to see pleasure had replaced terror. Her cheeks were flushed, and her remarkable eyes were bright. He drew her around in a great swooping arc that sent her skirts belling out.

  “You’ve remembered how,” he said, as she stopped beside him with breathtaking skill.

  “I’d forgotten what fun it is.”

  “We’ve hardly started,” he said, wanting to show her every pleasure in the world. And for once, he wasn’t thinking about what he wanted to do to her in his bed.

  Right now, in her dowdy winter clothes, she was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen. He’d met society’s beauties, and none could hold a candle to Margaret Carr on this hidden, icy pond in the depths of wildest Yorkshire.

  He caught her free hand and turned around fast, surprising an excited laugh from her. Then he caught her waist and skated swift as an arrow down the pond. And damn him, if she didn’t keep up. When they reached the end, she pulled away to skate free. For breathless minutes, he pursued her as she swung off, laughing. When he reached her, he spun her into a wild waltz.

  He’d always remember these blissful hours, dancing across the pond with Margaret. Meeting. Parting. Meeting again. Touching. Breaking away.

  The short winter day drew in around them, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the ice.

  Until finally he caught her by the waist and deliberately overbalanced into a thick snowbank rising above the edge of the pond.

  Laughing, she tumbled down beside him, gripping his hand tight. “Oh, that was a rotten thing to do.”

  Breathlessly he struggled up on one elbow so he could lean over her and stare into her unforgettable face. He watched the laughter fade from her eyes, as they darkened with sensual awareness.

  Knowing he broke every rule, but unable to resist, Joss lowered his head and placed his lips on hers.

  Chapter Seven

  * * *

  Maggie knew Joss was going to kiss her. She even had time to say the words that would tell him not to.

  Except she’d wanted him to kiss her since the moment skating had turned into flying.

  No, that was a lie. She’d wanted him to kiss her yesterday, when they’d had such fun in the woods, cutting the greenery for the house.

  Fun…

  Who knew what fun fun could be?

  Today had been fun, too. But fun spiced with a physical awareness that made every word, every touch feel like the gateway to some profound transformation. When his lips, a delicious mixture of cold and heat, met hers, she arched up in silent welcome and slid her arms around his neck, knocking his hat off into the snow.

  He gave a muffled grunt of amusement against her lips, before everything changed to dark delight. The warmth of his lips turned her bones to liquid, as she sank into a new and glorious world.

  She’d never been kissed before. Her first reaction was surprise at the intimacy. Sharing breath with Joss felt like sharing her soul. Then more surprise when he nipped at her lower lip. The brief sting sent a shock of pleasure rushing through her.

  She gasped. And gasped again when the tip of his tongue slipped through to taste her. He made a sound of appreciation deep in his throat and lifted her higher against his body. This was like being in a bear’s embrace. He was so big and hot and powerful, and she felt so deliciously fragile in his arms.

  Fragile yet strangely powerful.

  She flexed gloved hands against the curls at his nape, striving to etch each sensation into her memory. In the lonely years to come, she would take out this exquisite moment and relive every detail. The subtle movement of his lips, soft yet demanding. The scent of his skin, warm male and sharp air. The press of the snow at her back. The way his arms lashed her into his chest as if he never wanted to let her go.

  This time when his tongue flicked along the seam of her lips, Maggie opened to him. Immediately the kiss changed, flaring from gentle exploration to urgent demand.

  When he slid his tongue into her mouth, she gave a muffled whimper. But the strangeness faded as desire burgeoned. A deep, insistent throbbing started between her legs, and she instinctively tilted her hips toward him.

  Joss groaned and sucked her tongue into his mouth. Despite her innocence, Maggie recognized a blatant invitation to imitate how he kissed her. Feeling daring, she flickered her tongue along his. His salty taste flooded her senses and made her blood pump with wanton heat. She buried her hands in his hair and gave herself up to him.

  His hands stroked along her body, until the barrier of clothing between them became unbearable. She made a soft sound of discontent and bowed up to press against him. His hand caught her breast, and despite all those layers of wool, the shock of the contact made her stiffen. Her nipple tightened in swift, aching demand for more.

  “Hell,” he muttered and wrenched away to collapse flat on his back beside her.

  Maggie didn’t immediately move, although the snow had started to seep through her thick clothing. His kisses had been so intoxicating, she lay lost in a dream of delight. Her lips tingled from the cold air and the pressure of his.

  Then she turned her head and was dismayed to see how wretched he looked. “Joss?”

  “We shouldn’t have done that.” She’d never heard him sound so grim.

  Oh, dear Lord. Had she done something to displease him? She’d loved his kisses, but perhaps her inexperienced enthusiasm had disgusted him.

  Feeling sick, she pushed herself up on her elbows, the better to read his expression. Then was sorry that she had. He looked tormented, and deep lines bracketed his mouth.

  “I thought…I thought you liked it,” she said in a shaky voice.

  He stared up at the trees as if they held the answer to all his questions. “Of course I bloody liked it,” he bit out. “Too much.”

  She fro
wned, not understanding how his ardor had changed so quickly to this bitterness. “Then why are you angry with me?”

  His lips turned down in self-derision. “I’m not angry with you.”

  She shivered at his curt tone. As the afternoon drew in, the air grew colder. When Joss had kissed her, she’d foolishly imagined she’d never feel cold again. “Then what’s wrong?”

  At last he looked at her. The green eyes were dull and unhappy. “You’re not that innocent, Margaret.”

  “Please call me Maggie,” she said quickly, even as she acknowledged that he was right to accuse her of being disingenuous about what they’d done. That hadn’t been a quick, flirtatious kiss to mark the end of a couple of enjoyable hours together. Those kisses said that he meant to bed her.

  “Maggie.” The edge he lent the word in no way conveyed fondness, yet hearing him speak her name for the first time flooded her with forbidden pleasure. “The first moment I saw you, I wanted to kiss you.”

  Shocked, she sat up fully and studied his features. So far she’d known him as a lighthearted companion. But this man regarding her with somber green eyes was a more powerful adversary than she’d ever imagined.

  Adversary? Why on earth did she call him that?

  He wasn’t her enemy. Even if right now, his stare held no hint of softness.

  She shivered again. Nothing to do with the worsening cold. Heaven help her, this new version of Joss Hale was still more compelling than the cheerful, charming companion she’d come to know over the last few days.

  And she’d already lost her heart to that man.

  Her breath cramped in her lungs. Oh, surely that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Could someone fall in love in four days?

  She drank in the sight of him, imprinting him deep in her heart, and recognized that she could. She had.

  “Have I frightened you?” he asked in that austere tone. He raised one knee and rested his arm on it, still watching her like a cat watched a mouse hole.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  At her swift denial, the flat line of his lips relaxed a fraction. “I’m glad.” He sucked in an audible breath. “But now I have kissed you, I need to leave. You see that, don’t you?”

  She bit back a cry to think of him going away. “Do you mean I’ll never see you again?”

  “I’ll come back to you, Maggie. Once Jane gets home.”

  “But it won’t be the same.” She bit her lip and stared out across the ice, blinking hard, telling herself she wouldn’t cry. “I’ll be the housekeeper, and you’ll be the guest. We won’t be…alone.”

  She glanced back in time to catch a hunted expression crossing his face. “It’s us being alone that’s the problem.”

  “Nobody knows,” she said quickly. “Nobody needs to know.”

  “And what if I can’t keep my hands off you?” he asked roughly. “Are you ready to share my bed, Maggie? Because if I stay, that’s exactly where you’re going to end up.”

  She returned stare for stare. “You don’t imagine I can resist you?”

  He shook his head, and at last a hint of his characteristic wry humor appeared. “We can’t resist each other, my darling.” They no longer touched, but she’d never been so conscious of another person’s nearness. “Or are you going to pretend that’s not true?”

  Denying his statement would be too coy for words. This attraction had existed from the start, strengthening with every moment they’d spent together since.

  “No. It’s true,” she said in a subdued voice.

  Triumph flashed in his eyes, and he reached toward her. She leaned in, only to watch him draw away before he made contact.

  “If I touch you, I won’t stop,” he said, and she flinched at the bleakness in his voice.

  What was the point of arguing? He knew how vulnerable she was to him. “I won’t want you to stop,” she muttered miserably, raising her knees and clasping her shaking hands around them.

  “You see?” With unusually clumsy movements, he began to unfasten his skates. “I’ll go back to the house and pack my things.”

  “You can’t go tonight.” She grabbed his arm, as if meaning to keep him by force.

  Gently he caught her hand and untangled it from his black sleeve. “I have to.”

  “But it will be dark in a few hours, and I can smell snow in the air.” How she hated the whine in her voice. Even more she hated the thought of wandering around an empty house that Joss’s company had briefly turned into a home.

  A muscle worked in that lean cheek. “You said it’s five miles to the village.”

  “There’s nowhere to stay,” she said in a thick voice, as she fumbled to unfasten her skates. “I told you. The nearest inn is in Tolbeath, and you won’t get there tonight.”

  He picked up his hat from the snow and placed it on his disheveled dark head. “Someone in Little Flitwick will take me in.”

  “And ask questions. Wouldn’t it be better to stay tonight?”

  Wouldn’t it be better to stay forever?

  But she quailed from asking that question. Joss was attracted to her, she knew, but that didn’t mean he wanted more than a quick tumble. They’d only met four days ago, after all.

  So what exactly did she want of him, apart from more kisses? Passion that went beyond kisses? For all her brave words, she wasn’t ready to forsake the code of a lifetime and share his bed until he returned to London. Stirring, forbidden pictures of Joss’s big body moving above hers in the act of love invaded her mind. A yearning so sharp, it verged on excruciating made her blood spike.

  She couldn’t be his mistress. Did that mean she awaited a proposal?

  That stretched the limits of the possible. Outside the world of fairytales, handsome princes didn’t wed humble maidservants and sweep them back to their palaces for a life of happily ever after.

  Even if Joss contemplated a commitment, she was agonizingly aware of the gulf stretching between them. They might come from similar backgrounds, but over the years, she’d sunk a long way down in the world. It was perfectly clear that Josiah Hale could look higher for a bride than a penniless servant.

  And how did Maggie know that he cared for her beyond a fleeting interest? While all of this was deathly serious to her, he might make a habit of flirting with chance-met girls on his travels. Perhaps she was another forgettable encounter among many.

  But staring deep into his green eyes, she knew that was unfair. For the sake of her reputation, he was about to undertake a difficult, dangerous journey. He understood how much hung upon his actions.

  Joss Hale was a man of honor. He recoiled at the prospect of ruining a virtuous woman.

  The problem for the virtuous woman was his resolve only made him more appealing.

  Holding the skates by their straps, he rose to loom over her. “Maggie, I don’t trust myself if I stay.” He sounded as miserable as she did. Whatever this attraction was between them, it was significant. For him as well as her. “You’re a vicar’s daughter. Giving yourself to me goes against everything you’ve been taught.”

  When he extended his hand toward her, she didn’t immediately take it. Although if she sat here much longer, the snow would soak through to her petticoats. She avoided his eyes and rubbed her gloved hands together to hide their trembling.

  “I know,” she said in a low voice. Every week in church, she spoke the words, entreating the Lord not to lead her into temptation. She’d never before understood what temptation meant. Dear heaven above, she started to understand now.

  Temptation, large, intriguing, irresistible, stood there, watching her, as if he read every wicked longing in her heart. “Come back to the house.”

  She blinked back more tears and struggled to tell herself that she made too much of this. What she felt for Joss must be a passing madness. He was the first man to kiss her, the first man to treat her like an attractive woman. No wonder she imagined herself in love with him.

  A mere four days couldn’t change her fore
ver. And the Margaret Carr who was her parents’ daughter would never crawl into a stranger’s bed, just because she’d discovered the power of a man’s caresses. She was made of stronger stuff than that.

  Maggie lifted her chin and turned to face Joss with a smile on her face. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon—I’d forgotten how much fun skating is.”

  He didn’t smile back. She suspected she hadn’t managed much of a smile at that, but she was doing her best. Instead something that looked mortifyingly like compassion softened his green gaze to jade. “It’s been a wonderful few days, Maggie. I’ll never be sorry I found you.”

  Unfortunately, she could imagine being very sorry indeed. She was a prisoner granted temporary freedom, but who faced a return to grim captivity. Her chains would weigh twice as heavily, now she’d tasted the sweetness of liberty.

  Oh, dear. It was bad enough Joss feeling sorry for her. She didn’t need to add her own self-pity to the mix. It was time to count her blessings, and stop crying for the moon.

  She was safe and sheltered. She’d shared kisses to build her dreams upon. And now she knew how it felt to have a man shaking with desire for her. A man she wanted.

  The problem was that while Joss was here, she didn’t want to waste time storing up memories. She was too greedy for every moment of his company to worry about looking ahead to when he was gone. She wanted more of the raw, passionate experience.

  If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

  The bleak little aphorism didn’t lift her spirits. With a heart that felt weighted down with bricks, she accepted his hand and let him pull her to her feet. After gliding over the ice like a bird in flight, trudging home through the snow seemed an uninspiring way to travel.

  Enough of the countrywoman remained for her to wish him on his way before darkness fell. He’d have a bad enough time reaching Little Flitwick in the remaining daylight.

  He must go, although she loathed admitting it. Big, echoing Thorncroft Hall was too small to keep her apart from Joss, if they remained alone together under its roof.