“I’m not the only one with clothes,” Meredith reminded him, as her warm hands slid under his coat and caressed his back through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Damn and blast.” He swore then rose up from the bed and started to remove the offending clothing.
“Slower,” she whispered from the bed, freezing him in the middle of his rapid disrobing.
He swallowed and forced himself to slow down, watching as her eyes took him in. Her posture relaxing on the bed, she smiled as he slowly removed his jacket, then his shirt. He loved how her mouth parted slightly at the sight of his bare chest. Her gaze was like a touch, erotic, and completing.
“Your turn.” He held out a hand to her, and she rose.
“I’m afraid I’ll need more assistance than you.” She gave him her back, and while he undid the buttons on her gown, she slowly removed pins, allowing her tempting locks to flow down, teasing him with their texture and fragrance.
“Are you emotionally attached to this dress?” His voice was strained as he fumbled with the last few buttons.
“Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder, an impish gleam in her eyes.
“Surely you jest.”
“Indeed, I do not.” She hitched a shoulder, then stilled, as if waiting patiently.
Cursing in his head, he undid the last few buttons and made quick work of unlacing her corset, thankful it didn’t have buttons as well.
Soon — yet not soon enough — her dress was exactly where it needed to be, on the floor.
“Turn around,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.
She slowly spun, her hands covering her chest, her eyes wide with wonder. His gaze drank her in, placing his hands over hers, she slowly removed her hands, leaving him covering her, and with trembling hands, she removed the last of his clothing, till finally, there was nothing that could come between them.
He moved his hands, caressing her body, taking in her perfect form. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, filled with reverence and awe. “So perfect.” He couldn’t take it any longer, his eyes had only fed the addiction that she was becoming to his body, and with no longer any need for control, it simply snapped.
Pulling her into his arms, he fused their mouths together in a hot kiss. He lifted her into his arms, and laid her on the bed, joining her, heating her, completing her.
Completing him.
Passion exploded, and for the first time in his life, he understood the aspect of making love, rather than having sex.
It was a joining of souls, rather than simply an act of the body.
It was a completion of two lives becoming one, rather than taking selfish pleasure.
It was the beginning of a life together.
And as his wife lay languid in his arms, he held his most precious treasure.
And to think it all started with a blasted war.
The hags.
The stags.
Once sworn enemies, now the greatest alliance, born of love.
Meredith reached up and caressed his face with love and wonder and newly awakened passion thick in her gaze; he decided that the king and queen of the Frost Ball would, indeed, be very late.
CHRISTMAS KISSES
By Nadine Millard
CHAPTER ONE
“I’VE SAID IT BEFORE and I shall say it again; this is a bad, nay, a terrible idea.” Louisa Bright warned her older sister Meredith, and younger sister Sara as their carriage trundled through the Surrey countryside.
Although they had spent the last two weeks strategizing and preparing themselves for war against the ridiculously handsome but excessively annoying Mayford brothers, Louisa hadn’t forgotten the last time they’d all been together three years ago.
Though she tried not to dwell overlong on it, she distinctly remembered the fire, the soot which took weeks to wash from her hair, the worms, the dirt… The list of the Mayford brothers’ crimes against the Bright sisters was long and revolting.
If she were inclined to being fair, she would admit that the list of their crimes against the bothersome brothers was just as long and probably as bad. But, regardless of it being Christmastide, and therefore the season of good will, she wasn’t inclined to be fair, and so her mood remained foul and her temper remained hot. She would continue trying to get her sisters to back out of this house party that the Duchess of Ashbury was hosting for her horrible sons until they arrived at Wingham, and into the depths of Hades.
“We know, Louisa, you think it a horrid idea.” Sara, the youngest, and possibly the most devilish of the three, drawled in a tone that said she was sick of hearing about it. “But we’re going, so the best thing to do is arm yourself, and prepare for battle.”