A Wallflower Christmas (Wallflowers #5)(39)

“Your f-father,” she began, staring at him in concern. “Is he …”

St. Vincent cast an exasperated glance heavenward. “He’ll be fine. The doctors can’t find a thing wrong with him, other than indigestion brought on by rich food and wine. When I left, he was leering and pinching the housemaids, and welcoming a score of obsequious relations who want to sponge off him for Christmas.” His hands moved lightly over her velvet-covered back. His voice was very soft. “Have you been a good girl in my absence?”

“Yes, of course,” she said breathlessly.

St. Vincent gave her a disapproving glance and kissed her with a seductive gentleness that sent her pulse racing. “We’ll have to remedy that immediately. I refuse to tolerate proper behavior from my wife.”

She touched his face, smiling as he nipped at her exploring fingertips. “I’ve missed you, Sebastian.”

“Have you, love?” He unfastened the buttons of her robe, the light eyes glittering with heat as her skin was revealed. “What part did you miss the most?”

“Your mind,” she said, and smiled at his expression.

“I was hoping for a far more depraved answer than that.”

“Your mind is depraved,” she told him solemnly.

He gave a husky laugh. “True.”

She gasped as his experienced hand slipped inside her robe. “What part of m-me did you miss the most?”

“I missed you from head to toe. I missed every freckle. I missed the taste of you…the feel of your hair in my hands…Evie, my love, you are shamefully overdressed.”

And he picked her up and carried her to bed. The velvet robe was stripped away, replaced by firelight and his caressing hands. He kissed the new rich curve of her stomach, fascinated by the changes in her fertile body. And then he kissed her everywhere else, and entered her with teasing skill. Evie jolted a little at the feel of him, so hard and heavy inside her.

Pausing, St. Vincent smiled down at her, his face flushed with desire. “Sweet little wife,” he whispered. “What am I to do with you? Such a short time apart…and already you’ve forgotten how to accommodate me.” Evie shook her head, straining to take him in, and her husband laughed softly. “Let me help you, love …” And he courted her body with careful, wicked thoroughness, until he had entered her fully and brought her, sighing and trembling, into helpless rapture.

Afterward, as Evie reclined on her side and tried to catch her breath, St. Vincent left the bed and returned with a large, rattling leather case. He set it on the nearby table. “I brought the family jewels,” he told her.

“I know,” she said languidly, and he laughed as he saw what she was staring at.

“No, love. The other family jewels. They’re entailed to the future Duchess of Kingston. But I told my father I’m giving them to you now, since he’ll obviously live for a damned eternity.”

Her eyes widened. “Thank you, Sebastian. But I…I don’t need jewelry …”

“You do. Let me see them on you.” He pulled out ropes of priceless pearls, sparkling necklaces and bracelets and earrings wrought of gold and every imaginable jewel. To Evie’s squirmy, giggling embarrassment, he sat beside her and began to adorn her, clasping a sapphire bracelet around her ankle, tucking a diamond into her navel.

“Sebastian” she protested, while he weighted her naked body with enough gold and rare gemstones to purchase a small country.

“Be still.” His mouth searched between strands of pearls, pausing here and there to lick and bite gently at her skin. “I’m decorating for Christmas.”

Evie smiled and shivered. “You’re not supposed to decorate me.”

“Don’t discourage my holiday spirit, darling. Now let me show you something interesting about these pearls …” And before long, her protests had faded into pleasured moans.

CHAPTER 12

Hannah!” Natalie was in bed, drinking her morning tea. A housemaid was stirring the coals and lighting the grate, giggling as if she and Natalie had just shared an irresistibly funny joke.

Having come in from a long walk outside, Hannah entered the room and smiled at her cousin fondly. “Good morning, dear. Finally awake?”

“Yes, I stayed up much too late last night.” A group of the younger guests, including Natalie, had spent the evening playing parlor games. Hannah had neither asked nor wanted to know if Rafe…for that was how she now thought of Mr. Bowman…had been among them.

In the past few days since their astonishing interaction in the parlor, Hannah had avoided Rafe as much as possible, and she had tried not to speak to him directly. She had gone on many solitary walks and had done much soul-searching, unable to comprehend why Rafe had engaged in such an intimate act with her, why she had allowed it, and what her feelings were toward him.

Although Hannah knew little about physical desire, she understood that it resonated more strongly between some people than others. She couldn’t perceive whether Rafe felt the same desire toward Natalie. It made her miserable to contemplate it. But she felt certain he had not made that kind of advance to Natalie, at least not yet, or Natalie would have told her.

Above all, she understood that ultimately none of this mattered. For a man in Rafe’s position, feelings of desire and attachment would make no difference regarding the course he would take. When he married Natalie, he would no longer be the black sheep of the family. In one fell swoop he would please his father, secure his rightful position, and garner a large fortune.