Christmas Carol by Flora Speer Page B

She sounded defensive,
but she didn’t care. That sweet girl deserved a big sister who
would defend her if need be. Carol did not pause to question why
she felt that way; she simply accepted the unfamiliar emotion while
she listened carefully to what Montfort was saying.
    “On the day we are married,” he told her, “I
will settle a substantial dowry on Penelope, so she can make a good
match. I would not be at all surprised if Lord Simmons makes an
offer for her.”
    “So I am marrying you for my sister’s
sake?”
    “I did hold out some faint hope that the
arrangement might please you for your own sake.” He now looked more
puzzled than ever. “With only a small dowry, you were unable to
find a husband, and since you are several years past the preferred
age for marriage and have no other likely suitors dangling after
you—” He left the sentence unfinished, but Carol could imagine what
he might have said. This was a time and place in which the only
suitable career for a noblewoman was marriage and motherhood. Lady
Caroline Hyde did not have many choices. Lord Montfort was
handsome, well bred, and rich. It was a perfect match— except that
love did not enter into the equation between these two people.
Carol felt a twinge of pity for Lady Caroline.
    “What a neat little business arrangement,”
she mused.
    “So I thought, too,” he replied, placing one
finger beneath her chin and turning her face toward his. “Until
this evening, when you were changed into someone I scarcely
recognize.”
    “Does the change make you angry?” she
whispered, left nearly breathless by his nearness.
    “It intrigues me. I know you love your sister
enough to do almost anything for her sake, even marrying a man you
consider to be something of a rake. I thought I knew you well,
Caroline, and knew what to expect of you. I never guessed that
beneath your proper demeanor you possessed so lively a spirit.” His
mouth was now disturbingly close to hers. Carol knew a moment of
panic.
    “I have recently learned more than I care to
know about lively spirits,” she declared.
    “Have you? This change in you grows more
interesting by the moment. Perhaps you will allow me to test your
newfound spirit.”
    “I don’t think it would be wise.” The
cautionary words came out as more of a gasp than a firm
statement.
    “Why not, when I am your promised husband?”
His free arm slid around her waist, drawing her closer still. “Who
would dare to criticize me for sampling that which will soon be
entirely mine?”
    Carol was all too aware of his masculine
warmth, and of the muscular hardness of his body. This had to stop
at once. She was appalled to discover that she was not as immune to
the charms of handsome men as she had imagined. And this particular
man belonged to another woman. She prepared to voice a vigorous
protest.
    “My lord, I do not—” It was too late. His
mouth touched hers. The fingers that had been holding her chin now
wove their way through her short curls to steady her head so she
could not pull away. The arm around her waist tightened.
    It was more than six years since a man had
kissed her, and never had she been kissed with such expert skill.
There was no use in fighting him. He was far too strong. The awful
thing was that she quickly found she did not want to fight him.
With a moan, Carol opened her lips to his thrusting tongue. With a
feeling of helpless despair she put her arms around him. And then
she let her emotions take control of her actions.
    Montfort’s mouth was fierce and hot on hers,
and Carol responded to his demands with growing urgency. She was
drowning in his desire. They stood pressed together, with Carol
drawn up on tiptoe to reach his mouth. His hand slid downward to
push her hips against his hardness. Carol did not protest. The kiss
went on and on until she lost track of time and knew only the bliss
of his embrace. When he finally broke off and lifted his head, his
face was taut with desire and his