Spending Christmas in Hell (Diamonds of London #8)

Chapter Eight

December 20, 1818

Ashlynn felt very much as if part of her life was that of a dream.

She’d gone from living alone every moment of the day to having someone constantly with her, whether that was her new husband or a servant. Though she made sure to tuck herself away for a few hours in the library merely to have time to herself, there were other moments where she craved that companionship. Also, because she couldn’t puzzle Timothy out.

When she’d first met him, she assumed he was a heartless prig who valued coin above all else. And while that was only slightly true—he was adamant about making certain his staff both in the townhouse and at the counting house—weren’t left to struggle, she thought he was coming closer to middle ground and the way she looked at life.

It was in a hundred little things he did throughout the day, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on any one thing, put an invisible something was pulling her toward him with each passing hour. Since today was Sunday, they had passed a quiet day together. He didn’t go to his counting house and neither would he go to his club tonight. The servants had attended church services in the morning, and since it was their day off, Ashlynn and her husband had kept themselves busy and entertained most of the day. It was lovely to have the house mostly to herself.

Once the dinner hour arrived, they’d make short work of cold cuts, cheeses, bread, and a hearty stew the cook had left slow warming on the stove in the kitchen. To be honest, Ashlynn had welcomed that type of meal above the others she’d been treated to already, for it was a more intimate affair and not the stodgy type of seemingly never-ending courses. And to her husband’s credit, he gently badgered her into eating, again reminding her that she didn’t need to starve herself any longer.

It would take some time before she could truly tuck into a meal without thinking of herself as a glutton.

The baronet had engaged her in conversation that had nothing to do with their pasts or Christmastide or their marriage. Instead, they’d debated politics, discussed critical issues that faced England as a whole, and bonded over their mutual dislike of the cold and the snow.

Of which it was doing now in earnest.

After dinner, with her belly pleasantly full and a hint of drowsiness setting in, she went into the drawing room with her husband and was glad to sit on a low sofa to enjoy the snap and crackle of the fire as well as the warmth.

“Would you enjoy a glass of madeira or sherry while we talk?” Timothy asked as he headed across the room to the sideboard.

“Those are liquors for the faint of heart, Dashfield. I am quite accustomed to whiskey or scotch. My father saw to that,” she couldn’t help but tease. She’d already had two glasses of red wine with dinner and her mind felt far too bouncy to take on anything stronger than tea.

His chuckle sent a tickle through her chest. “Fair enough. Which would you like, then?”

As if there was a choice. “Whiskey, of course.” Her father had given her a first taste of the liquor when she’d turned twelve years old. By the time she’d been launched into society, she’d been able to withstand a few shots in a row. To his way of thinking, she needed to have some familiarity with alcohol, so she wasn’t taken advantage of by a man.

The clink of crystal against crystal reached her ears. A few moments later, he brought over a tumbler of the pale amber liquid. When he handed it to her, their fingers brushed, and an electric sort of thrill went up her arm to her elbow. As he sat beside her, he held a glass of his, and from the scent of it, his drink of choice was brandy.

“From everything I’ve heard, you have led a rather exciting and unconventional life.” One side of his mouth quirked upward in a budding grin. Then he took a sip of his drink. “I am somewhat envious of that.”

“Your childhood wasn’t lovely?” The burn of the whiskey in her throat was quite stunning but not unfamiliar, and it reminded her of her father.

“It was dull, mostly, especially if I wasn’t at school where I could have adventures and fall into trouble with Hugh.” For long moments, he was silent, and they sat together sipping their drinks and staring into the fire’s flames. Then, he roused and broke the quiet. “Shall I tell you of a significant Christmas that helped to shape my life?”

“Did it make you into the cold-hearted counting house man you are today?”

“It did not, but it did open my eyes to a few things.”

She nodded. “Then yes.” It was rather lovely sitting here, listening to the deep timbre of his voice as the candlesticks continued to burn down.

“I was a young man of sixteen, home for Christmastide holidays once the Michaelmas term ended. My sister had contracted consumption at some point during the autumn, so she was at the end of the disease at the time.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been even worse than losing her suddenly, knowing you were essentially waiting for her to die.” Her heart went out to him, for at least when she’d lost her father, it had been quick.

“Thank you. That was exactly how it was.” After he’d drained his glass and grimaced from the burn, he continued. “In any event, Theresa was determined that we would celebrate Christmas in a grand way, since it would be her last.” His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow. “She was declared the unofficial Queen of Christmastide that year, and anything she wished to do is what we would do.”

“At least you made her feel special. I can’t imagine how I would feel knowing the world was celebrating while I was slipping away.” Quickly, she finished her whiskey in the hopes it would dull the urge to cry from his story.

“Everyone at the country estate followed suit, except my father, who spent much of that time in a drunken stupor.”

“Perhaps as his way of coping?”

“One would like to think that, but sadly, he was usually always drunk. Of course, my parents’ marriage wasn’t exactly ideal or even happy, but that year? Oh Ashlynn, that year everyone pretended as if the world was ending, for the sake of my sister.” Though he cast a glance of longing to the sideboard, he didn’t move from his spot on the sofa.

In his mind, was he trying not to follow in his father’s footsteps?

Her respect for him edged upward. “I’m glad your family could put aside their differences enough so your sister could enjoy that one last Christmastide.”

“As was I.” He took the empty glass from her hand, then rested them both on the low table in front of him. “For the space of a fortnight, the Dashfield family was polite and jovial. We enjoyed rich foods and plenty of sweets. We decorated the manor and played parlor games. We waited hand and foot on Theresa and treated her as if she were royalty.” As his voice caught, her chest tightened in sympathy. “On Christmas Eve, when the rest of the household had gone to bed, I went into her bedchamber. We both bundled up with quilts and blankets in her window seat and watched the snow that night.”

“You were a good brother.” She couldn’t help but watch his mouth, and the only thing twirling about her mind was that heated kiss they’d shared yesterday afternoon at her father’s shop. What would have happened if common sense hadn’t gotten the better of him?

“I’d like to believe you, but being away at school, I missed out on so much of her life, since she was three years younger than me.” A hint of moisture filled his eyes, but the emotions in the dark depths were unreadable in the dim illumination. “But that night? She was nothing except my baby sister, and as I held her in the silence of the night, I could almost believe that she wasn’t sick, that she would grow into adulthood and have the life she should have.”

“You don’t need to go on if it’s difficult for you.” Ashlynn laid a hand on his arm. The muscles tightened beneath her fingertips.

“I somehow feel I should continue.” He cleared his throat. “It’s something I’ve not talked about to anyone and oddly, doing so now is helping me clear it from being blocked for so long.”

“Perhaps I misjudged you, Timothy.” Either that, or the wine and whiskey had finally made its way to her brain and worked to cloud it.

This time, he flashed a full grin at her, and flutters danced through her lower belly. “Never say this is a Christmas miracle.” When she pulled a face, he snorted in laughter. “Regardless, that night, she told me about her dreams and what she’d hoped to accomplish in her life, things that we both knew would never happen.” His swallow was audible. “I simply listened and agreed with her, told her she would be brilliant at everything she set out to do, and we continued to watch the snow.”

“That’s sweet.” She could almost picture the scene.

He nodded. “I held her until she fell asleep, but before she drifted off, she told me not to hold our father’s foul moods against him. Father couldn’t express his emotions, and Mama had long ago given up on life, especially knowing she would soon lose my sister.” When he reached for her hand, Ashlynn clutched his fingers. “I often thought my sister was the best of us, but that, I knew. She reminded me that life was what we made of it, comprised of our decisions, and that I should live it to the hilt.”

“It was sound advice.”

“Yes.” A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That night, my sister told me to live, to find happiness and love, to keep pushing until the world around me looked different than before, until I could see everything in sharp contrast because if I didn’t, I was near death, just as she was.” His voice broke, and the sound tugged at Ashlynn’s chest.

“And have you?”

“No.” The word was a choked whisper. “If I were to ask her now what she thought of me, she would say I’ve wasted my life, that I didn’t deserve it when she could have done so much…”

“Hush, Timothy, fate is fickle on whose threads it decides to cut early.” Daring much, she turned toward him and rested a palm on his chest. “How old are you?” It was something she needed to know anyway.

“Thirty-eight two months ago.” Then he peered down at her. “I failed her, Ashlynn. My focus this year has been on making the counting house a success where Hugh has loosened the reins on that since he married. And before that, I lived only for fleeting pleasures.”

More was revealed in that admission than anything else he’d ever said to her. “There is still time to grow into the man you wish to be… the man she saw in you.”

He met her gaze, and there was so much longing in his it left her with surprise and an odd yearning in her own soul for something she didn’t quite understand. “I’m trying, but there are so many responsibilities weighing on me…”

“Then take them one at a time.” When the longcase clock in the corridor struck the ten o’clock hour, she sighed. “It’s late.”

“So it is.” But he didn’t move.

Neither did she. The whiskey had gone to her head, rendering her pleasantly warm and woozy. Coupled with the solid security of him nearby, she didn’t want to go anywhere. “Are you for your club tonight?”

“No.” The baronet shook his head. “The club has grown stale these past months. I thought to stay here tonight.”

That was heartening to hear. “Will you, ah, teach me how to play card games?”

“That would be rather interesting since I suspect you are a bit tipsy tonight, but I will if you wish it.” When he grinned, it was enough to dazzle her and put a zip of need down her spine.

“Lovely. Where do you keep your cards?”

“Just there.” He pointed to a small round table with a drawer beneath. “In that drawer. There are also dice for other games.”

“Then I will retrieve them.” When Ashlynn stood, intending to cross the room and search the drawer, a feeling of lightheadedness assailed her. Slightly dizzy, she stumbled backward. “Oh!”

“Careful.” Timothy caught her before she could fall to the floor, but instead of letting her go, he hauled her into his lap so that she straddled his waist. “For an Irish lass, I don’t think you’ve learned how to drink anyone under the table.”

“Silly man. I’m no slouch at imbibing occasionally even if it’s frowned upon in society… when I’ve had enough to eat.” Not knowing what to do with her hands, she rested them on his shoulders as his slipped to her hips. Had he always been so solid, so masculine?

“Stop starving yourself.” When he huffed out a breath in frustration, it ruffled the curls on her forehead. “You are married now and can afford whatever you want. I’d rather have a plump wife who is healthy than a rail thin one who is suffering.”

He certainly had a gift for words. What did it say about her that she could easily fall beneath them? “Many people in London are suffering.” Good heavens, his eyes were so dark and mysterious. She could tumble in…

“Yes, but I only married you, am responsible for you. ” Slowly, he cupped the side of her head with one of his hands and his fingers feathered into her hair.

“You are too good of a man, I think. Made a mistake in marrying me. surely. I’m nothing.” As he plucked the pins from her hair and tossed them to the floor, her grip on reality became looser.

“You are not.” His face was so close to hers, the warmth of his breath skated over her cheek. “In fact, the more I learn about you, the more I’m coming to see what a treasure you truly are. Many people are alive and have hope because of you.”

Do you?

When he massaged her scalp, she shivered, for it felt so lovely to be cared for. Briefly, she closed her eyes. “Too much more of that, Timothy, and I might fall madly in love with my husband of convenience.”

An intense light sprang into his eyes. “How very inconvenient that would be.” His lips brushed hers with each word.

“Yes, and not exactly what we married for, hmm?” But not even she could convince herself.

“It’s something we should discuss, and soon.” Then he claimed her lips with his.

Never would she acclimate to being kissed by him. Was it driven by affection? She rather doubted that, but it didn’t seem to matter in this instant. Several long moments passed as they were lost in the embrace. Then questions crowded her mind. ““Timothy?” As she pushed gently at his chest, the hiss of snowflakes sounded against the window glass. “Perhaps we should…” Her words trailed off, for he’d nuzzled into the crook of her shoulder, and the sensations that zipped through her body as a result were so delicious, she held her breath in the hopes he would continue.

“Hmm?” The reverberation of his voice being so close to her ear had awareness of him multiplying.

“What are you doing?” Was she such a ninny she couldn’t puzzle it out?

“Endeavoring to kiss you,” he replied in a low voice as if the answer was obvious.

Perhaps it was, and her brain was still floating from the whiskey and his proximity. “Is there a reason?” Not that she minded. The sensual glide of his lips along the side of her neck was quite pleasant.

“I want to.” He dragged those lips down to follow the curve of her bodice. “Tell me nay, Ashlynn, and I’ll let you flee upstairs.”

As she fisted her hand into his lapel, the meaning behind his words dawned on her. “Oh, I…” There would be no going back from here, and if she were honest, she was curious about being a real bride. “Please continue.” With a tiny sigh, she slipped her hand up his chest to curl about his nape. The scents of cedarwood and citrus teased her nose, and daring much, she placed an experimental kiss beneath his jaw. The wonderfully arousing texture of the evening stubble caught her by surprise, so she skated her lips along the jawline, and when she arrived at the place on his neck where smooth skin met shadow, flutters released in her belly. The contrast was quite heady, indeed.

A soft growl escaped him. When he cupped her bottom and pulled her flush to his body with a groan, Ashlynn shifted her position slightly to loop her arms about his shoulders as her body pressed shamelessly into his. As his arms went more securely about her, a thrill danced down her spine. Though she’d shared kisses with the two men who’d asked for her hand before, those overtures hadn’t gone farther.

And, oh, how she wanted to do wicked things to this one—her husband.

He claimed her lips with his, and she nearly cried from the tenderness of the embrace. Like their previous kiss yesterday, this was much an introduction, for he moved over her mouth as if he’d only just met her. Which was odd because they were married.

With her fingers furrowed in the soft hair at his nape, Ashlynn urged him closer. She kissed him back, following his clues and leading, and when she thought she had no skill to speak of at all, he made a sound of approval in the back of his throat. Happiness warmed her chest, and she smiled against his lips, then the mood of the kiss changed.

The baronet slanted his mouth over hers, traced the seam with the tip of his tongue, urging her to open for him. She sighed, but as he tangled that tongue with hers and silk slid against satin, something caught fire deep within her and burned through her body.

The candles snuffed out, and the acrid scent of wax and smoke lingered on the air, but she didn’t comment, for she was nearly lost in him.

Over and over, they fought for dominance. Soon enough, she conceded to his mastery and let herself be swept along on that tide of new sensations that left her both breathless and trembling with anticipation. He worked the laces at the back of her gown and once the task was completed, Timothy urged her from his lap to recline onto her back on the sofa. She stared up at him, unable to read the emotions in his eyes through the gloom, but she wanted him all the same, and it was easily the most scandalous thing she’d ever thought about. Where she should have hated him for upending her life, the only thing she felt was a sense of gratitude and perhaps pride, for he was truly an honorable sort.

Propped on an elbow, he peered down at her as her heart beat out an erratic rhythm. “I want you, Ashlynn, but I stand by my earlier statement that I won’t go further unless you will it.” That delicious whisper in the gloom was the height of intimate.

Trembles danced along her nerve endings. She rested a palm against the side of his face, traced the pad of her thumb along his lower lip, thrilled when he shuddered from her touch. In this moment, when the world was far away and only they two existed, she wanted him, wanted to be more than a companion in his house. “I do will it, most strenuously.”

Timothy didn’t answer in words. Instead, he kissed her again and as he did so, he tugged down the bodice of her gown, pulled the chemise beneath it as well until first one breast was free of the fabric and then the other. The sudden rush of cooler air over her exposed skin drew a gasp from her, but she needn’t have worried. He was there, fondling, cupping, gently squeezing one mound of flesh as if weighing it in his hand, and when she quivered with anticipation, he lowered his head to the tightened nipple, took it into the warm cavern of his mouth, just as he’d done yesterday.

“Oh!” Her world spiraled and tilted from the unexpected surge of pleasure. As he worried that tip with his tongue and teeth, which kept her swamped with erotic sensations, he manipulated the other nipple with his fingers. That constant cycle of rolling, strumming, slightly pinching left her panting with a need that confused her. “I don’t know what to do.”

His low-pitched chuckle worked to further undo her. “Enjoy and let me take you away—take us both to a place where ugliness and memories can’t find us.”

Surely it was insane how much she trusted him with only knowing him for a handful of days. Her thoughts flew right out of her head when he returned to claiming her mouth while he slipped one hand beneath her skirting, shoving the fabric up and out of his way.

The teasing glide of his fingertips along the outside of her leg had her shivering with excitement, but when he drew those same digits over the inside of her thigh, she sucked in a breath. Good heavens, was he truly going to touch her… there?

For seemingly an eternity, he danced his fingers up and down her leg then he switched his attentions to the inside of her opposite thigh. Heat rolled over her; awareness and sensations spiked. With them a restlessness circled through her lower belly with an ancient call she didn’t understand. Not knowing what to do, Ashlynn worked at the knot of his cravat until the fabric came undone in her hands. She shoved it aside, intent to reach the skin hidden beneath, and once she did, she pressed her lips to his chest, luxuriated in the warmth of him, the smell of man mixed with the scent of his shaving soap, the sparse curls of hair that were sprinkled over the patch of skin she explored.

Would that they were both naked, for she desperately wanted to touch all of him, see him, run her hands over the whole of his form. But they weren’t and it didn’t matter, for he was here with her, and what they currently shared was sublime.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, that soon I will no longer be an innocent.

A gasp left her throat when he ventured a hand between her thighs. Involuntarily, she closed her legs, keeping him trapped, but he chuckled again.

“Let me in, Ashlynn.” He dragged his lips beneath her jaw to nibble at a particular spot that left her breathless. “I can’t give you pleasure if I can’t access you, but I won’t hurt you.”

Deep down in her soul where it had reached out and connected with his, she understood this man would never hurt anyone, that he needed to heal from things in his life just as much as she did. Slowly she opened her legs and trembled from anticipation.

“I am going to send you flying.” The whispered words were thrilling enough, but worry scudded through her belly, for she truly didn’t know what any of it meant. Her mother had died early in her life so there had been no one to talk with about such things.

With a nod, she clung to him, clutched his shoulders, and steeled herself for she knew not what, but she trusted him. There was a certain hardness, the evidence of his desire, pressed against her hip, still contained behind his breeches, and oh how she wondered what he looked like!

“Timothy, I…”

“Shh. I’ll go gently.” Then, his fingers were between her thighs gliding through the slickness of her arousal, and she waited, breathless with a rapidly beating heart. He parted the flesh, found the nubbin at her center, and the instant he brushed a fingertip along that bud, a whimper of need left her throat. “Oh, goodness. I…” There were no words.

“Continue?”

“Yes.” Her thoughts scattered once more when he strummed his fingers over that swelling bud. Shivers of exquisite pleasure went through her. “I… I…” The ability to form words temporarily escaped her.

Timothy claimed her mouth, kissed her with a mixture of passionate dominance and gentle introduction that made her head spin, and all the while, he applied himself to teasing the button at her center. He employed various degrees of friction and speed until her hips bucked of their own accord, putting her more firmly into his care.

“Oh, oh, oh…” Ashlynn broke the kiss as something she didn’t fully understand circled within her. Pressure built and stacked as it searched for relief. Her head thrashed from side to side. “What is happening? It is all so big, so much…”

“That is what you are supposed to feel,” he whispered and increased the friction on that nubbin. “Let yourself fall.” While continuing his play with his thumb, he dipped a finger into her passage then added another to tease just outside, stretching her, bringing forth moisture, testing her, all the while playing that nubbin with his thumb.

It was too difficult to try and chase whatever it was he spoke about, so she relaxed as best she could and concentrated on the wild sensations he invoked in her body. Then, when he closed his mouth around a nipple, the dam inside broke. “Ack!” A wave of pleasure slammed into her, caught her by surprise, and she shouted in response seconds before it indeed felt as if she’d been hurtled over the edge of a ravine.

Down, down, down she tumbled into indescribable bliss, singing, floating, flying, borne upon the wings of tickling joy that changed the flutters into faint contractions that made her shiver all over with both heat and cold.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against her lips, into the underside of her jaw, beneath her earlobe. “I knew you would be.”

As the residual feelings faded and Ashlynn returned to reality, that longing which had plagued her from the first made itself known. “You have thought about me in this… way?”

“I have.” Again, he kissed her. “I’m not a monk.”

“Yes, well, this was lovely.” Heat slapped at her cheeks. Would he think her too unsophisticated?

“It’s not over.” As he spoke, Timothy worked the buttons of his frontfalls. A grunt of apparent relief escaped him when his hardened length came forth. “There might be certain consequences from this joining.” Strain graveled his voice. How long had it been for him since he’d taken a woman to his bed? “And this was supposed to be a union in name only. Do you want to move forward?”

The all too real penalty of what sometimes occurred from intercourse sent a bit of icy fear twisting down her spine. Did she want all that a real marriage would entail, especially if she were to fall pregnant? Though she was his wife, would the union last? Beyond that, what did he want?

The questions pressed in on her brain to steal the joy of being with him, but she nodded, surged upward, and kissed him with a savagery that surprised her. “I want you. All of you, Timothy, come what may.” Daring much, she let one hand drift between them to tentatively stroke her fingers along his hot, hard shaft. “Life is short, is it not?” Never would she forget the story he’d told about his sister. Then she was breathless, for she’d never felt such a wonderous appendage before. “Goodness…”

“Easy.” He hissed a warning but put a hand atop hers, showed her how to fondle him, moved her hand against the length. “It’s been months, so the act might go quickly.”

Knowing he would soon deploy that piece of equipage sent shivers down her spine. “That doesn’t matter.” Honestly, she couldn’t wait any longer to know what it would feel like to be desired by her husband.

“Very well.” He shifted his position and settled between her legs, urging her thighs wider.

Flutters bedeviled her lower belly, for she didn’t know what would happen, but she knew it was something she desperately needed. When he shoved her arms above her head and pinned her wrists to the mattress with one large hand, she trembled with anticipation. “I rather like this side of you.”

He chuckled. “It adds of the anticipation.”

Her heart fluttered. “It does.” The giddiness that skipped through her chest knew no bounds.

“I’ll try to be gentle.” The pressure of his hold on her wrists reminded her that he was a powerful man, and, in this moment, he was fully in control, yet if she tried to break contact, he would no doubt release her immediately. Again, he kissed her, and as he did, with a flex of his hips, he speared into her body and didn’t stop until he’d been fully sheathed.

That quick but intense stab of pain caught her by surprise; she was no longer a virgin. “Ah!” She stilled, assessing, and when the discomfort faded, she wriggled into a more comfortable position to accommodate being joined. This was… There were no words

“Continue?” Lightly, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Yes.” For an experiment, she tested his hold. It was solid; he was solid and delicious holding himself barely above her. Being joined as one with him suddenly felt… right.

Seconds later, he moved within her, coming out and then penetrating her again.

And with each new thrust, shivery sensation showered through her, set fire to her blood, and energized each nerve ending. “What do I do?” Confusion took some of the pleasure from it.

“Move your hips to receive me.” Timothy released her wrists.

Ashlynn tried her best as she looped her arms about his shoulders and clung to him. It took her a bit of practice before she found a rhythm with him, and then it was as if they’d been doing such exercise together for a lifetime. Never had she acclimated to something with such alacrity, but there was no denying the connection she shared with him. And it was simply beautiful. Too bad they were both fully clothed.

“Bloody hell, I’m coming.” His strokes became shorter, went deeper, frantic.

She was lost to what he did to her body and the sensations therein. It was both heavenly and exciting, and every time he thrust, intense pleasure became her world. Urgent pressure stacked once more in her belly, but before she could do anything else, his hand was at her breast, rolling and plucking the nipple, and then she was lost.

“Tim!” When the release caught her, she was better prepared, and though not as intense as the first time she’d gone flying, it was just as lovely. Contractions rocked her core, and as she floated in that soundless space, her husband thrust twice more then collapsed on top of her as his length pumped.

For long moments, his ragged breathing rasped in her ear. Ashlynn held him, hoped that he would feel as connected as she. When he simply cradled her in his arms, her eyelids drifted closed. For the first time in her life, she’d found peace, a place where she didn’t need to struggle to survive.

Eventually, he chuckled. “Ah, Ashlynn, you are definitely what I needed.”

She smiled. “I’m glad. That certainly cleared my mind.” With a sigh, she stroked her fingers along the side of his face. “No doubt we will both sleep well tonight.”

“Yes.” He nuzzled the crook of her shoulder.

“This was simply lovely.” She couldn’t help but snuggle into him.

The sound of his chuckle sent another wave of awareness over her skin. “It was, rather.” He rolled onto his side and took her with him, tucking her against his chest.

Where did they go from here? There were no immediate answers, and neither did she want to chase them. Being in this moment was enough.

Tomorrow could take care of itself.