Spending Christmas in Hell (Diamonds of London #8)

Chapter Sixteen

Late Christmas Eve night

Dashfield House

Manchester Square, Mayfair

London, England

For whatever reason, Timothy’s nerves felt strung too tight, and his muscles were taut as he stood at the windows of his dressing room. Though nearing midnight, an occasional carriage rolled along the silent, snow-covered street. Perhaps revelers coming home from parties or other society functions.

When he and his wife had come home earlier from her father’s shop after he’d declared himself in such a foolish manner on the street and Ashlynn had admitted her feelings for him too, he assumed they would have fallen directly into bed, especially since they’d continued kissing during the ride home. Once they’d entered the house, she told him there were a few things she needed to do before meeting with him, and that she would find him near midnight.

It had sounded all too mysterious, but he’d given her the space she obviously wanted, so he’d gone to his bedchamber and undressed down to his evening breeches and fine lawn shirt, which he’d rolled up to his elbows.

But the words she’d said to him continued to ring in his ears.

…you love me…

…quite desperately, I’m afraid…

Each time the scene repeated in his mind, he couldn’t help but grin. What an incredible thing it was to know that a woman—his wife—returned his feelings. Never in his life did he think he’d ever marry let alone fall in love, but here he was, and there were no regrets on his part.

“Timothy.”

He turned at the sound of her voice, and when she came into the room, closing the door behind her, he gawked at her. In the light of the single candle burning on the mantel, she was a vision, like a wraith on Christmas as she was clad in a night gown of delicate pale blue lawn with a matching robe on top, trimmed with a bit of white rabbit fur. With her dark hair down and hanging like a black waterfall about her shoulders and back, she was ethereal in the dim light.

Easily, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Ashlynn.”

She had a square tin in one hand and two smaller boxes in the other. “I have some gifts for you.”

“Ah. I have a couple for you as well.” After a hard swallow to force moisture into his suddenly dry throat, he ushered her to a grouping of furniture and to a low sofa upholstered in shades of navy and dark maroon brocade. The soft chime from the carriage-style clock in the adjoining bedchamber indicated it was midnight and therefore Christmas. “Happy Christmas,” he said as she perched on the edge of that piece of furniture.

“Happy Christmas, Timothy.” Once she put her parcels on the cushion next to her, she met his gaze. Was there anything more striking than the candlelight reflecting in those emerald depths? “Please, sit with me. I need to explain these gifts.”

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything. Marrying you was enough.” As it was, he couldn’t stop staring at her, for the thin fabric of her night attire clung to all her curves, and damn if he was counting down the moments before he could finally have her in his bed.

“A sweet sentiment, of course, but don’t be a nodcock, Dashfield,” she said with a smile. “Everyone enjoys receiving presents.” With a wry look, she slid the tin toward him as he sat on the cushion at the other side of the sofa. “I’d arranged with your cook to make these for you, since I know how much you like them. And they weren’t on the menu for the next few days.”

“How interesting.” Gingerly, he took up the tin and when he popped off the lid, he chuckled, for inside were six mince pies—his favorite pastry during this time of year. “Thank you. I do indeed like these above all things, and they usually don’t last after they’re made for a specific night’s dessert.” Hopewell enjoyed them as well. The fact she’d noticed and made a concentrated effort to order them from the kitchen touched his heart.

“I’m glad you appreciate them.” Then she gave him the larger of the two small boxes. “This one is quite ordinary, I’m afraid.”

“Nothing having to do with you is ordinary, sweeting.” If possible, his heart felt as if it were expanding to accept all the new feelings she evoked in him. As he removed the lid from the box, he gave a chuckle, for inside the tissue paper was a silver pocket watch, no doubt from her father’s shop. “Thank you. I always wished I’d had a piece from your father.”

“I thought gifting it to you was a better use of his talent than having it sold to a stranger.” She roved her gaze over his chest. “Also, I noticed you don’t carry a pocket watch and found it a bit odd.”

He nodded, and admired her all the more. “The only one I own was inherited from my father. Due to the bad blood between us and his drunken ways, I didn’t wish to carry a perpetual reminder of him.”

“And you never thought to buy another one in two years?”

“I hadn’t got ‘round to it.” They shared a grin. “This I will wear every day, so thank you.” After he set it aside, he left the sofa then rooted around a drawer in the nearest table. He brought over a silken pouch and handed it to her as he seated himself once more. “It seems we think of the same things at times.”

“Oh?” With anticipation sparkling in her eyes, she tugged on the strings then gently dumped the contents into her other palm. A gasp escaped. “The watch pendant my father gave me,” she said in a soft voice. “But… it’s working again.”

“Indeed. I had it removed from your room after you told me the story, then I asked Hopewell to take it for repairs.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “That is… I love you, and this is but one reason why.”

Her words took him by surprise, even though she’d already given her confession. “It is what any husband would do for his wife.”

“No.” Ashlynn shook her head. “It’s not, and you know it.” One moment she was beside him on the sofa, and the next, she was on her knees before him. “I’m the daughter of an Irishman, an immigrant to this country. Most people—most men—overlook me on principal, and the two men who ever showed an interest in me did it for the wrong reasons. You never did.” She took one of his hands as he sat in awe of her. “You saw me in the worst moment of my life, and you looked past it. Why, I have no idea.”

“Why?” God, she was so strong, and he wanted her to teach him how to be the same. “It was your eyes, Ashlynn. There was something about your eyes I couldn’t ignore, and I knew, as soon as you looked at me from the floor with a mixture of hope and hate that you would change my life forever.”

“I didn’t hate you,” she said on the heels of a stifled sob. “I was just aggravated that I couldn’t figure out my own life and needed to depend on you.”

“Well, I’d be glad to toss you back…”

“Rogue!” Her throaty laughter had awareness skittering along his nerve endings. She lifted one of his hands and pressed his palm to her cheek. “ Mo shíorghrá .”

“What does that mean?” As always, hearing words from her homeland was like seeing magic being performed.

“My eternal love, rather along the lines of a soulmate.” The green pools of her eyes were fathomless and held secrets he desperately wanted to know. “That is the only reason I can even believe the validity of these feelings after only meeting you a week ago.”

“That is a lovely way of thinking about it.” Which would explain the immediate spark and connection between them. “But why are you on your knees, love? We are equals; I’d rather you on the same level as me.”

The smile she gave him was a watery affair. “Just this.” She retrieved the small box, opened it, and then offered him the contents on her palm. “This was my father’s. My mother gave it to him on their wedding day, so that everyone would know they belonged together.” The delicate tendons of her throat worked with a hard swallow. “Sir Timothy Dashfield, will you marry me?”

“What?” Shock reverberated through his chest. “We are already wed.”

“I know that.” Ashlynn pressed her lips together, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “I want you to marry me for love now, marry me for all the reasons that matter. Your compassion, your strength, your unwavering commitment are the foundation of the good man you are. I no longer want a union in name only. “I…” She sniffled. “I want you as my husband for everything that might entail, for as long as we both shall live.”

The significance of the offering, of her words wasn’t lost on him, and the remainder of his heart flew into her keeping. A ball of unshed tears lodged in his throat. When moisture stung his eyes, he blinked, uncaring when it fell to his cheeks. “Ah, sweeting.” Every moment that went by left him more in awe of her. “Yes, I will marry you, will remain married to you, because I want everything you’ve said and more.”

“Oh!” With a grin that could rival the greatness and light of the heavenly host on that long ago Christmas night, she slipped a silver Claddagh ring onto the fourth finger of his left hand. It was a tad big, but that didn’t matter.

“I am honored to be at your side.” Then he held her head between his palms and kissed her lips as if he had all the time in the world. Before the heat overtook him, Timothy pulled back. “I have one more gift for you, though.”

“But I only need you.”

He kissed the top of her head as he stood up from the sofa once more. “Even more reason for you to have this.” After retrieving a velvet lined box from the drawer, he returned, brought his wife to her feet, and then cracked it open. “This matches your engagement ring, one of the only things my mother managed to hide from my father during his sweeps of the manor house when he needed quick coin and sold our things.”

“Oh, goodness,” she breathed as she gazed upon the six oval emeralds in delicate golden filigree and settings. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Timothy tossed the box onto the sofa then encouraged her to turn about. “Because I want you in my bed, wearing nothing but this and the ring,” he whispered as he put the bauble about her neck and fastened the clasp at her nape. “If you’re in agreement.”

She spun around so quickly, the skirting of her nightdress flared. “To finally see you naked? Of course I agree.” Somehow, she was back in his arms, exactly where she belonged, and he took possession of her welcoming lips, again and again, until she giggled. “Come, wife, let us work at finally consummating our marriage.” So saying, he swung her into his arms.

“We have already come together twice, though.”

“Not when love was involved.” And he carried her into the adjoining bedchamber. A leather winged-back chair was the nearest piece of furniture, so he seated himself and then settled her into his lap so that she straddled him. The skirting of her night clothes bunched between them. For a few moments, he simply held her, let her know how valuable to him she was. “I do love you, Ashlynn. Never doubt that.”

“I don’t, for I feel the same for you.” For long moments, she was apparently content to remain nestled against him with her hands tucked at his chest.

Eventually, Ashlynn stirred, because his darling Irish lass refused to let anything best her. She put a hand to his nape, furrowed her fingers through his hair, while the other she rested on his shoulder. Before he could do much of anything, she put her lips to the side of his neck, and his whole body tightened.

“Sweeting? What are you about?”

“Hush, and let me do this.” Her whisper sounded overly loud in the silence of the room. When she placed a line of feather-weighted kisses beneath his jaw then under his ear, Timothy’s hold on control was thoroughly tested. He didn’t need the temptation—for she already won him—but since she was intent on driving him mad, he couldn’t sit idly by.

Instead, he played his hands over her back, following her spine, up and down. The warmth of her seeped into his fingertips through the thin fabric of her clothing while the glide of her soft lips on his skin continued to chip away at his reserve. The woman would drag him beneath a wave of desire soon, and with every brush of her lips, each exhalation of her heated breath pushed him closer to that edge.

It would be a quick coupling if he didn’t gain control of his impulses.

“I promise our life together will be filled with adventure and happiness, more than what you and I have had in our lives before.” He tangled his fingers into her dark brown hair, and a sigh shuddered from him. The scent of wild roses and sunshine wafted to his nose, and he breathed in the sweet floral aroma, for it would always remind him of her.

Of their first meeting when she’d tossed him out of her house and slammed the door in his face.

He grinned. “I can also promise you many years of love and desire,” he whispered, for it was a sacred moment.

“So I can feel.” She wriggled her hips, which worked to further arouse his shaft. “Are you drawing this out for a reason, Dashfield?” Her laugh was a throaty affair that went straight to his stones.

Bloody hell, but she is always going to lead me on a merry chase, isn’t she?

“The act will be better for us being primed, hmm?” He framed her head with his hands and then claimed her lips. Never had he been more tempted by a woman, never would he have enough of her. How was he so damned fortunate as to land her?

Over and over, he kissed her, tasted her lips, set out to chase away the chill from them both. With a tiny bit of pressure at his nape, she held him closer, and the second she traced the seam of his mouth with the tip of her tongue, he was lost. His engorged length pressed painfully against the front of his breeches. It wouldn’t take much until he was buried in her lush body.

“Ashlynn, darling…” He tugged gently on her hair, which encouraged her head backward, and he took advantage by dragging his lips along the column of her slender throat. The silky skin, the scent of her, the tiny sounds of pleasure she made all worked at his undoing, and when she shivered from need or the chill, he increased the urgency of his kisses.

With a sigh, she pressed her lips to the skin of his chest not hidden by the placket of his shirt, and a shudder of desire went down his spine. “I always thought I’d marry an Irish farmer or a banker.”

“Ah, if you are disappointed, then by all means, I’ll let you go to find that man,” he couldn’t help but tease as he glided his hands over the thin fabric of her night wear.

“Ha.” She nipped his neck. “That was before we came to London. Now here I am, in love with a banker, all right, but an English one. I was only half correct.”

“Hmm, no second sight then?”

“No unless you count the fact that I can see us in that bed of yours momentarily.”

Was it any wonder that he adored her? Heat moved through him, and he shifted to better accommodate his arousal. In the process, her body brushed against his. A half-stifled moan left her throat, and he grinned. “Perhaps we should start then.” As he spoke, he glided the fingertips of one hand along the bodice of her night dress.

“You aren’t as dense as I thought,” she responded with enough heat in her emerald eyes to stave off the chill. Then she leaned in, took his earlobe between her lips, and lightly bit that flesh. Need streaked through him. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Dear God, she would lead him down the devil’s own path and he’d go willingly, for he was captivated.

It was far too easy to tug the night dress from her shoulders and yank it down her torso. Once her breasts were exposed, he groaned at the utter perfection of those pale mounds. “I will never tire of seeing you thusly.” As she giggled, he brushed the knuckles of one hand over one hardening nipple.

“Oh!” Ashlynn shivered. She guided his other hand to her breast and held it there. “Send me flying.” When her gaze met his, he fell all over again. “Love me.”

“I will. I swear it.” He would surely drown in those green pools and be quite happy to do so. Daring much, he gave one of the dark pink tips a light pinch. A gasp from her was his reward, and she jolted upward, which thrust those lovely breasts front and center for his perusal. His shaft pulsed with urgency. “Prepare yourself, wife, for I am going to devour you.”

She met his gaze without fear or shyness. “Why are you still talking about it, hmm?”

If he hadn’t already been in love with her, that would have done it. Then he devoted himself to exploring those soft, perfumed breasts. When he took a pebbled tip into his mouth and flicked his tongue over it, Ashlynn’s soft gasps and moans urged him onward. Several minutes passed while he explored and the woman in his lap gave herself over to his attention as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

It was all too heady. When she surged into him, pressing her lips to his and taking control of the kiss, he couldn’t help but grin against her mouth. The woman was naught but a powder keg, and he held the match. But then, she probably felt the same way about him. So he kissed her, let her boss his tongue, and then he dominated the embrace, showed her without words that he would protect her and take care of her for as long as she would let him.

And that only served to pour more fuel on the fire burning between them.

Easily he delved a hand beneath her skirting, and damn but she was already aroused as he stroked his fingers along her heated flesh. She lightly bit his bottom lip when he spread her open and found that swollen nubbin. A moan escaped her the second he rubbed it with varying degrees of friction.

Her fingers dug into his shoulder. “Oh, oh!” Lost in the throes of apparent pleasure, Ashlynn moved her hips, ground into his hand, which only made him work her over with more determination. “I am so close…” Her breath came in soft pants. “I… Oh!” A cry of surprise left her throat to echo in the silence of his bedchamber.

It was a delight to watch her face as emotions played over it, for she truly enjoyed foreplay. As much as he wished to send her through her paces as many times as she could stand, he wouldn’t last, for he wanted to claim her properly. Already his shaft was strained to the breaking point.

“How do you know just where to touch me?”

“Instinct? Luck?” He kissed her. “Soulmates?”

“Cheeky.” She glanced her lips along the side of his neck. “I need to feel you moving inside me else I’ll go mad.”

“Of course.” He fumbled with the buttons of his front falls. Why wouldn’t they open as quickly as he needed them to? Finally, the fabric panel fell, and he took his impossibly hard member in hand.

Ashlynn rose onto her knees, and the moment he fit the head of his shaft to her opening, she moaned. “I adore this moment, hanging on the edge with anticipation.”

The act was so much better with emotion behind it. Gripping her hips, Timothy thrust upward into her sweet heat and didn’t stop until he was fully impaled. They both groaned, and he paused to savor the feeling of having her snug sheath around him. Even better than the rushed coupling in Covent Garden. But his wife wasn’t content with that. Oh, no. The dear woman took it upon herself to move the act along, for she dug her fingers into his shoulders then rocked back and forth. Additional friction on his shaft nearly made his eyes cross and a release that would happen prematurely.

And it was beyond erotic.

“Sweeting, damn…” He applied himself to hurtling her toward that edge of bliss. Each time he stroked upward, she came crashing down, but eventually that wasn’t enough. “I need to go deeper.” Hell, he wanted to claim every inch of her body, show her how treasured she truly was.

As if he were a man possessed, he kissed her in the hopes he would forever be imprinted upon her soul and as he did, he wrapped his arms around her, lifted her while he struggled up from the chair. Seconds later, he deposited her onto his bed—their bed if fortune held. Once he’d followed her down, she slipped her legs about his hips, and it was the come hither look in her eyes that fairly pulled the soul from his body.

Flashing a grin, he thrust into her honeyed heat while keeping the bulk of his weight on his forearms. Unfortunately, friction and too much stimulation didn’t lend itself to drawing out the act, but there would be other times when they could explore each other’s bodies at leisure. His breathing labored. Sweat rolled down his spine. His thrusts were short and deep. Urgency raced through his length. His stones drew close to his body.

“Tell me you want me.”

“Do you need to ask?” Their flirting and other couplings during the week and had already seen her primed, for with a cry, Ashlynn stiffened slightly then she went pliant as she tumbled over the edge and into bliss. When her core fluttered around his shaft, pulled greedily at him, he gave himself over to his own release. Completion washed over him in waves, but damn if he didn’t want her immediately again. For the moment, it was all he could do to survive the euphoria.

Eventually, he came back to himself, and when he met Ashlynn’s amused gaze, he flashed her a grin. “That wasn’t my best showing, so be warned. I’ll claim you again before the dawn.”

“Ha.” She giggled as her body went pliant. “I am in full agreement with that. Especially because I still haven’t seen you naked. Damn your eyes.”

An unexpected chuckle left his throat. “Good.” The life that stretched before him suddenly glimmered with sunshine and hope. “Ah Ashlynn, thank you for going along with this bit of insanity. Despite our start, I have a feeling our marriage will allow us to make strides into changing our world.” After breaking their intimate connection, he gathered her into his arms and pulled the counterpane about their persons.

“My father would have been proud of you.” When she looped her arms about his shoulders, a sigh shuddered from him. “As am I. This is a wonderful start to our union.”

“Agreed.” He buried his nose into her hair. “In the years that come, we shall mark our anniversary on Christmas Day.”

“An inspired idea.”

He couldn’t help but grin. How stupid he’d been to think life was only governed by black and white lines. It was only when a man looked at his existence from a different perspective that he truly began to live. More miraculous than that, marriage wasn’t the hell he’d assumed it would be, especially with the right woman.

And he couldn’t be happier to have been found wrong.