My Christmas Knight (The Fairplace Family #1)

Epilogue

Nottingham, December 26, 1856

D ennis tipped the waiter and shut the door firmly behind him. His shoulders relaxed as he turned to face the hotel room—and the the rest of his body tightened again at the sight before him.

Blanche—now Lady Fairplace—sat in a chair at the small table. Before her, fine china, two goblets, a wine bottle, and steaming food lay across the white tablecloth. She wore a suitable maroon dress, the skirts billowing around the legs of the chair. Behind her unfolded the rest of the room—a floor to ceiling window with heavy curtains, cheerful floral wallpaper, and a large four-poster bed with luxurious eiderdown duvet.

He swallowed.

Blanche smiled at him, hands clasped tightly together in her lap. Tendrils of hair fell loose from her chignon, and her shoulders stiffened as he stepped toward her.

“Blanche?” he asked cautiously, pausing halfway toward her.

She smiled, shaking her head. Her shoulders relaxed. “This is all so new. What a whirlwind. Come eat, please. While it’s still hot.”

Relief trickled through Dennis. She was nervous, that’s all. Well, so was he. But he didn’t plan to show it. He grinned. “I’m famished.” He pulled out the chair opposite Blanche and settled.

Silence filled the air for several moments, punctuated by polite little requests for the salt, a comment about the braised beef, and a gesture for wine. How could he reach her? After their passionate display that morning, things had settled as they focused on the practicalities of the day. And now they were here, alone again, but this time of their own volition.

Their wedding night.

He was married . He hadn’t even known her thirty-six hours ago.

The camaraderie from earlier was still there, as was their declaration of love. But some of the intensity of last night’s experience had worn off. Now they had to learn to be together without a dastardly uncle threatening bodily harm.

Blanche took a sip of wine, and her eyes sparkled. She glanced at him in delight. “Ratafia? You asked them for ratafia?”

Dennis shrugged, downplaying the embarrassed pleasure that coursed through him at her expression. “You mentioned you liked it, so—”

“Oh, thank you!” She reached over and squeezed his hand.

Heat shot up Dennis’s arm at her touch, and the odd mixture of tenderness and desire spilled over him again. “You deserve that and more,” he said gruffly.

The wine broke whatever awkwardness had held them back from conversation.

Blanche speared a mushroom as she began to speak. “This is such a lovely hotel. I cannot believe you found us a room on such short notice.”

Dennis would’ve preferred to stay the night at his aunt’s—now his—house, but the solicitor hadn’t been prepared to hand the keys over to him yet. “I’m glad you like it.” Then again, a lovely hotel room for their first night as man and wife wasn’t so bad.

She beamed at him. “You have been kindness itself. I promise to pay it back somehow, simply let me know—”

He shook his head. “We’re married now. There’s no paying it back.”

Blanche flushed. “I know that, I just mean…” she trailed off, growing somewhere between embarrassed and nervous. “I merely wish to be a good wife to you,” she whispered, not looking up from her plate.

Love washed over him, as well as some righteous indignation. “You are a good wife to me.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve been everything I need already. And I’m honored you’re here with me tonight.”

She blushed and patted her mouth with the white serviette. “Thank you.”

Dennis smiled, cutting another bite of meat. “Now, my dear wife, what would you like to do tomorrow?”

“I thought you would be busy all day with legal matters.”

He shrugged. “Yes, but not all day. Not when I’m on my honeymoon.” He admired the way her cheeks turned rosy at the words. “I want to buy you a wedding band tomorrow. Would that be acceptable?”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, this is all so strange and awkward and unexpected!”

Dennis hesitated. “Strange in a bad way?”

Her eyes crinkled with warmth. “Strange in a glorious way.”

God, he wanted to kiss her. Lust made his blood fizz in his veins. He wanted to toss their supper to the floor and take her in his arms and ravish her.

He calmly took another drink of the wine. “And I can show you all my favorite places from childhood—if you’re interested. You don’t need to,” he hastily added. “If that doesn’t appeal I shan’t hold it against you.”

But Blanche nodded. “I would love to see that, Dennis.”

Silence descended again, but it was comfortable and soft now.

Blanche’s bare foot bumped into his under the table. “Oh.” Her eyes flicked to his. “Forgive me.” She withdrew her foot.

Dennis grinned, enjoying the flash of pleasure that came from her touch and her unexpected modesty. He wore only his trouser socks. He slowly slid his foot across the space between them and nudged her foot.

She froze, fork halfway to her open mouth. Her widened eyes glanced down, then back at him.

“We’re married,” he reminded them both. “You can touch my feet if you like.”

“It was an accident,” she whispered, gaze rapt.

Dennis smiled slowly. “But next time doesn’t have to be.”

She bit her lip, and he felt her foot slip over his, resting atop it. “There.”

“There,” he repeated, heart beating faster.

When they moved to dessert, Dennis reached across the table and held her hand. It was small and dainty compared to his callused hand, but he gently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb anyway. Her skin was so soft he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

“You aunt’s solicitor seems a good man,” Blanche remarked. “Mmm, this pudding is delicious.”

Dennis didn’t know the emotion that came over him at those words, but it was thick and inflated his chest with warmth and satisfaction. “You can eat rich foods any time you damn well please,” he declared.

She grinned and licked the spoon.

His cock tightened at the sight of her pink tongue. He adjusted himself in his seat, trying to remember what she’d been saying. “The solicitor. Yes. He was quite professional even though I’d telegraphed him this morning with only a few hours to spare.” The man had met Dennis and Blanche at the station, a brown paper-wrapped box of ladies’ clothing under one arm.

He’d gotten them a reservation at a hotel, which they had promptly checked into. Blanche had bathed and changed into clothing the solicitor’s wife had chosen from a ready-made store while Dennis went to the solicitor’s office to sort through paperwork. Blanche had clutched his arm the entire time checking in, and she’d seemed loathe to let Dennis leave her sight. Dennis hadn’t wanted to leave her either, for the fright of the previous day burned all too recent in their memories.

They’d reconvened in the hotel restaurant for a belated lunch. It was the first time Blanche had ever been in a hotel, let alone a restaurant, and Dennis enjoyed seeing her delight at the experience.

In the afternoon they’d toured his aunt’s house, then stopped at a tearoom. It had been a whirlwind of paperwork, administrative logistics, and planning. Dennis grew tired of it quickly, but Blanche had enjoyed every bit of it, already falling into the role of wife and partner. He hoped he could only do so well.

“Have you received any word from your family?” Blanche asked, gently stroking his foot with hers.

Dennis shook his head. “Nothing yet.” He’d sent another telegram to London, letting them know he’d arrived safely and had married. He could only imagine his mother’s reaction when she read the news.

Blanche bit her lip, nodding.

Dennis squeezed her hand. “My family is going to adore you.”

She nodded halfheartedly.

“My mother will cherish you because she has been so worried about me. She’ll take one look at me and know you’re the cause of my happiness, and it will delight her.”

A small smile played across Blanche’s lips, and he took that as progress. “Truly, they will love you. As soon as they meet you, they will understand why I fell for you.”

“Truly?” Blanche’s smile grew.

“Head over heels.” Dennis leaned back in his chair. If he didn’t distract himself soon, he leap across the table and fall on his new wife like a wild animal. She deserved better than that. She was likely sore from the night before. Or exhausted. Lord knew he was.

Blanche pushed the last dish away. “About tonight—”

“Yes, I have just the thing.” Dennis reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a pack of playing cards he’d purchased. He waved it in the gaslight. “I can teach you so many games now.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped, but she smiled. “That’s…nice.”

Dennis paused, trying to read her. “Do you not wish to play cards tonight?”

Blanche blushed and glanced behind her toward the bed. “Cards sound lovely. I just, um, had imagined us doing something else.”

His brain blanked for nearly an entire moment. “You imagined something else?”

“Well,” she added, “It is our wedding night.”

God damn it, he was already half-mast with just that comment and the bed behind her. He shifted, clearing his throat to buy him a second to think. “Are you not sore?” he blurted. Clearly that extra second hadn’t been put to good use.

She reached up and fingers one of the tresses beginning to fall. “No. I just was hoping to be near you. But if you’re too tired—”

“No!” Dennis was half out of his seat before he even knew it. “No, there is nothing else in the world I’d like more right now. I just wish to be considerate to my new bride.” He flashed an overly exaggerated charming smile. “But if you are interested, my lady, then so am I.”

Her lips pressed together in a futile attempt to hide a smile. “Then shall we retire for the night?”

Dennis fought to control his excitement. “Yes, my love.” He went to her and held out a hand, as gallant as a courtly knight. Playfully, she rose, taking his hand and swishing back her skirts with a grin.

He had never laughed or teased so much before intercourse. He hadn’t known it could feel so natural or right. Dennis led her to the edge of the bed and turned her so he could get to her hair pins.

“I have been dying to get your hair down ever since the solicitor showed up with these dratted pins,” he muttered.

Blanche chuckled, turning her head to assist his reach. “When you have as much hair as I do, these are quite helpful to have.”

Dennis leaned down and kissed the nap of her neck, relishing the shiver that went through her at his touch. “As long as you let your hair loose at night for me.” He licked her neck.

Blanche giggled and wriggled. “Hurry up.”

That enthusiasm made not only his heart thump, but his hands shake. He pulled pins free as quickly as he could without hurting her, and soon the entire glorious mass tumbled free. A pang shot through his chest at the sight of the silken strands shimmering in gaslight. With a groan he sunk one hand into the waterfall.

“Dennis?” Her voice came half amused, half anxious.

“Have you ever stood before a sunset so beautiful it hurt to watch?” Dennis leaned in and smelled the rosewater in her hair.

“Yes?” Blanche tried to turn, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“That’s what your hair is for me,” he said. “But I imagine it’s even better when you’re naked.”

Blanche sighed. “Be careful with your words or I’ll start believing them.”

Anger struck Dennis, hot and hard and completely unexpected. “Believe it,” he growled, parting her hair enough to nip her nape. “I’ll say it every day if necessary. We’re going to make sure your uncle and all his taunts fade away so you only remember how wonderful you are.”

Blanche spun to face him and placed her hands on his freshly shaved cheeks. “Let’s not discuss him,” she breathed. “Tonight the entire world is in this room. Nothing else exists.”

Dennis could agree to that. He gazed down into the beautiful, hopeful face of his wife and kissed her.

Blanche moaned into his mouth and her grip on his face tightened. For a moment she allowed him to kiss her, plying her soft lips with gentle brushes and light nibbles. But then she went to her tiptoes, pressing harder against him. His blood ignited at the feel of her lips hardening against his, her mouth hot and wet and open for him.

He wrapped one arm around her back and the other slid down her side, resting just below her hips at the fullness of her crinolines, and kissed deeper, pressing his need upon her like a brand. “Blanche,” he murmured, unable to come with a single word that wasn’t hers. Blanche, Blanche, Blanche.

Her passion pressed her against him, her fingernails pricking his cheeks in a way that made him welcome the sensation. When her tongue delved into his mouth, her gripped the outside of her thigh through her skirts and stiffened petticoats, pulling up until one of her legs rested against his hip, wrapping around to draw him closer. She was familiar now, and he groaned in pleasure as he realized she’d only grow more familiar with time.

His erection pressed snug against the open spot her widened hips made for him. He might spend in his trousers if this continued for much longer. Without breaking the kiss, he reached for the buttons on her bodice.

One article of clothing disappeared after another, both of them helping one other.

He got her all the way down to her chemise before they paused. “I haven’t seen you yet,” he whispered. “I’ve made love to you but haven’t seen you yet.”

She placed her hands on his bare waist, thumbs stroking the high ridge of his hip bone. “I felt you last night but this is something else.” She looked him up and down, then took one hand and ran her fingers through his chest hair. “I didn’t know you had this.”

Dennis glanced down at the light brown mat of curls. It was thick, but only covered a small portion of his chest. One line trailed down past his navel and into his unbuttoned trousers. “Do you mind it?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Just enjoying getting to know my husband.”

Husband . The word sent a thrill through him. “May I know my wife?”

Blanche nodded.

Dennis pulled her chemise up in one fluid movement, getting it over her shoulders.

“Ouch!” Blanche flinched away from him.

He froze. “Did I hurt you?”

She wriggled out of the last of the chemise, hair tangled. “It caught in my hair.” She made a face. “One of the many downsides of having this rope.”

Dennis pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Forgive me. I’ll learn how to care for your hair.” Snuggling could grow complicated, he realized. But he was up to the challenge and decided right then and there he’d find a way to keep her close without lying on her loose hair. When he pulled back, he slipped out of his trousers and enjoyed watching his wife’s eyes widen. He stood before her in his smalls and trouser socks, nothing more.

Dennis sucked in a breath, because he was finally seeing his wife naked for the first time.

She stood there, half in shadow, with her tresses tumbling over her shoulders and ending just below her knees. He could see the brown curls between her legs, and one dark nipple peered out from the curtain of hair.

He groaned, reaching to part her hair and see the delights hidden beneath. “You’re like Eve from the garden. Pure and holy in your natural state.”

Blanche ducked her head, and he released one half of her hair to cup her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t hide,” he whispered. “This is beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

She raised her chin and smiled. “Am I tempting you to sin, Adam?”

Oh, so very much . His cock was weeping in his smalls at the sight of her. But he bit back the playful, wicked reply—that could come later—and said instead, “Nothing with you could be a sin, Blanche. Loving you and receiving your love could never be wrong.”

Her eyes suddenly shimmered, and she sniffed, one hand covering her mouth.

Ah, shite. I said something wrong. Bloody hell, I meant—

She flung herself into his arms, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

Dennis staggered backward under her unexpected weight. He grabbed her arse, holding her up, and before he could think of something witty she was kissing him again. Across his cheeks, up his jaw, along his nose—even his eyebrows received attention from her mouth.

His cock, trapped between his abdomen and the cleft between her thighs, throbbed at her heat. He shuddered when her fingernails gently scratched down his back. Her hair buried him. He couldn’t see anything but glimpses of her face when light broke through her hair, and he couldn’t have liked it more.

Dennis stalked to the bed and nudged her upward several times as a warning. On three he tossed her. She landed on her back, sprawled across the bedcover. Her hair fanned around, some twisting around her arm and across her body. She smiled up at him, all invitation.

He stared at her while he removed his socks, memorizing every piece of her.

Blanche’s nipples were a dark, brownish pink, puckered and eager for more of his touch. Her elegant torso dipped into her waist, and he admired the way the gaslight played across her hips.

Her smile turned sly as she brought one leg up and planted her foot flat on the mattress, revealing just enough to drive him mad.

“If you keep acting like that, we’ll do this quickly,” he warned. “Perhaps we should savor this.”

“I want to see you,” she told him.

Dennis grinned and shucked his smalls, dropping them to the rug.

Her eyes widened. “I had that inside me?”

He glanced down. “Erm, yes.”

“It’s longer than I expected.”

He gave her his most charming smile. “You always know just what to say.”

She laughed and beckoned, and he went. He would always go to her. He crawled onto the bed, hovering above her. He leaned down to kiss her, but she frowned, distracted by something.

“What’s that?” Blanche stroked a small scar on his shoulder.

“War wound,” he said dismissively, far more interested in the goddess below than rehashing marks on his body.

Her hand spread across his shoulder, then down his chest. “I’m so glad you came back,” she whispered.

Dennis drew his legs closer, reveling in the feel of her skin against his. Just as he leaned down to kiss her again, she pointed down at his legs. “Dennis, what’s this?”

He huffed in exasperated amusement. “The mark on my knee? A whittling accident from my youth.”

“No, Dennis, your foot.”

He froze, then slowly rotated his head to see where she pointed. “Ah. That.” He stared at his foot with four toes. “Frostbite,” he said simply. His other toes had been saved, but he’d not been able to walk for a few weeks until the blisters had reduced and the wounds had closed over, removing any chance of infection.

She stared at him in horror. “Dennis.”

His heart sank. He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice. He sighed and knelt up, arousal mostly fleeing his body. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said.

She pushed up, too, sitting upright to better look at him. “Sweetheart, was this in the war?”

He nodded, some mixture of frustration, shame, and regret rolling over him. This was not how he wanted to spend his wedding night. “It’s been almost a year.”

Blanche reached over and touched his foot. “You brave, brave man.”

The vise around his heart loosened at her words. It wasn’t pity, but admiration in her tone. “It’s not that bad,” he said gruffly.

She stroked her thumb over the place where his little toe used to be. “I wish I knew you then. I wish I could’ve done something to protect you like you protected me.”

“I rarely go barefoot in front of people,” he said apologetically. He wasn’t ashamed of his foot exactly, but he also didn’t want to bare himself to any unkind remarks.

Blanche grasped his foot. “Do you not see how beautiful you are? How even your scars display your character?”

Dennis flushed, tongue-tied. How did she do that? How did she cut through the calcified, irritated shell of his heart and touch the soft part so tenderly?

Then she released him and lay back down, twining her arms around his neck. “Shall we continue, husband?”

He blinked at the sudden change in tone, although it was not unwelcome. He eased down at the gentle pressure of her arms, feeling somehow more naked than just a moment ago. And more loved. He nestled himself between her legs, gasping at the wet heat of her entrance, trailing kisses up and down her breasts.

Her hands stroked his head as she sighed. Her whole body would tense and release, and he loved the feel of her beneath him.

After many long moments he carefully slid his arms beneath her, aware of her hair, and rolled them up to the center of the bed with him lying atop her.

She grinned. “Oh, I like this.”

He flashed a devilish smile and went began licking and sucking down her body. She wriggled, her legs sliding up and down his as he reached her navel, and something about the intimacy of the movement took his breath away. I can have this forever. She’s my wife. I’m not alone.

Dennis slipped even further, until his face was right above the thatch of curls between her legs.

Blanche raised her head, watching him curiously.

“May I lick you here?” Dennis slid his index fingers between her folds, causing both of them to tense at the sensation.

“I…I suppose so,” she said doubtfully. “If you truly wish it.”

He smiled and pressed a simple kiss to her curls. “Darling, I truly wish it. But I believe the point is for you to truly wish it. I’m told most women enjoy it.” He had only had this opportunity twice before, and had liked the novelty of it. Tonight he liked the intimacy.

Blanche gulped and nodded.

“If it’s too odd, let me know,” he told her, and lowered his head.

Dennis wanted to dive in, a starving man at a feast. But he forced himself to go slowly. First, he let her grow accustomed to his breath, taking the time to admire the soft and delicate folds of her skin. He’d never been one to wax poetic about, well, anything. But from this angle he could see why other men referred to it as a glistening flower. He smelled her rich scent and gently stroked two fingers up and down her slit, reaching higher and higher until he found that little button at the top of her sex. As he stroked, she moaned, made him shiver at the exquisite sound. Then he let his lips touch her nether lips, and relished the plump, heated, sex. He started with slow, long licks from the bottom to the top, until every bit of her was wet.

Her hips bucked against his, and her gasps grew more frantic.

“Ah, the feel of you,” he murmured. “You’re drenching my tongue. You’re soaking my cock too, before I even get it in you.” He worked his tongue up to the top, swallowing her juices as she went.

She stiffened, whimpering loudly.

Dennis slid two fingers inside her and stroked, nearly humping the bed at the feel of her clenching his fingers while he flicked his tongue against her nub. “That’s it, come for me. Let me feel how much you want this. I want to drink you up, so give it to me.” He sucked and licked at the same time.

She suddenly arched her back, eyes screwed shut, and her toes curled against his bare shins. Blanche gave a high-pitched cry, then she collapsed in a boneless heap.

Dennis chuckled and sucked his fingers of her essence, then licked his lips as he pulled away.

She sighed, the sound muffled. “I think you may have killed me.”

He kissed her thigh. “Oh, very well. Good night, then.”

Blanche squeaked. “I wasn’t serious!”

“Then neither was I.” He chuckled, gathering her hair and twisting it into a rope down her back, “I want to be inside you again. I’ve been thinking of you all around me all day long.”

Blanche sat up, giving him an excellent view of her pretty breasts. He eyed them longingly. Next, he told himself. I’ll go there next.

“How would you like to be on top?” he asked.

Her eyes sparked. “Show me.”

He guided her, and when she slid down his cock he hissed at the overwhelming sensation. “Wait to torture me until I’m inside, darling.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, and he knew in future scenarios he would absolutely at her mercy, happy to suffer her torture.

He held himself up for her and guided her downward on his cock. “Easy there. I don’t want to make you sore.”

His wet heat slid over him, one tiny inch and a time. He gritted his teeth and tensed his muscles, fighting to keep control just a little longer.

Once seated, she gave an experimental wiggle. “Oh, this makes me feel nice and full. I like it.” His bollocks tightened at the movement.

He placed his hands on her hips and helped her rise and fall. As soon as she found a rhythm she liked he began to thrust upward. Her breasts bounced most enticingly, and her hair fell like a curtain around them, blocking all sight and sound of anything but them. For one heartbeat he had a ridiculous notion of an Arthurian bower, trysting with his lady love as her hair entangled him more and more.

“Blanche,” he gasped. “I love you.”

Her smile was radiant. “I love you.”

He released one hip to thumb her button again, ready to do whatever necessary so she could seize her pleasure a second time.

Her head lolled back and she keened, her hair rippling around them. “Oh, keep doing that.”

Dennis admired his wife. “You’re like Lady Godiva,” he grunted between increasingly erratic thrusts. “Clad in only your magnificent hair, riding your steed.” Pleasure tingled at the base of his spine.

Blanche smiled but didn’t respond, too focused on her pleasure to do anything more. She jerked, going rigid and whimpering once more, as she had her paroxysm.

The arousing whimper, that signal she was upon her pleasure, was too much for Dennis to bear. Not only was it deeply arousing, but so was the fact that he knew and recognized it. They were married, and he would be the only man going forward to know what that sound meant.

Incandescent delight shot through him and he could no longer hold back. Moaning her name, Dennis spent his seed in her. Utter rapture filled his senses, and then slowly faded to exhausted satisfaction.

He released her hips to pull her hair back, seeking her face. “Blanche?”

She gave a dreamy sigh and slid off him, leaving a trail of their shared fluids on his stomach.

Dennis helped her arrange her hair, then curled an arm under her so she could lay her head on his shoulder.

“My noble steed,” she mumbled, patting his chest.

Joy filled his heart as he gazed on the pleasure-slackened features of his bride. “Rest a little while, darling. We can spend the night any way you choose—card games, sleeping, or loving.”

She cracked one eye open. “Card games?”

He smiled. “You said you wanted to learn.” He’d seen the glint in her eyes, the yearning for another slice of freedom.

She pursed her lips, clearly thinking. “How am I supposed to choose between that?”

Something slightly wicked twisted through his thoughts, and he blurted, “Have you ever heard of strip poker?”

“What’s that?”

Oh, the innocent curiosity in her tone. How she would enjoy this. “I met a man from New Orleans during the war, and he introduced a card game to us that usually involves gambling for chips. However, when the men ran out of chips or money, we could throw a piece of clothing into the pot. Eventually some poor soul was left naked and had to plead for his clothing back.”

Blanche perked up. “This game sounds like the very definition of wicked. Playing cards, gambling, nakedness….and you want to teach me this game?”

He glanced at her, just to make sure he hadn’t overstepped.

She grinned and sat up, energy suddenly restored. “Oh, yes please. Teach me your wicked ways.” She hopped off the bed and began throwing his clothing at him. “Dress quickly so I can beat you and make you take it all off again.”

Dennis’s head flopped back to the pillow. Lord in heaven, what had he unleashed? She was no damsel in distress, she was a vixen. He grabbed his smalls and began maneuvering them on. “You seem so sure you will win.”

Blanche paused in putting her own chemise back on. “I have years to make up for in worldliness, and I want to start now. If I don’t win tonight, I’ll win tomorrow night. Or another night.” Because they had endless nights stretched in front of them now, a whole lifetime of nights.

Dennis’s heart thumped at the thought. “I imagine you will.”

On their wedding night—and every night of their honeymoon—Dennis won strip poker. But he never remained clothed for long, not when his wife was tempting him.

Blanche began to win regularly, and by the third year of their marriage they both knew he would be naked before she was. And both of them counted that as winning.

THE END