Silent Night, Sinful Night Page 21

  They reached the maze and he led her inside, easily making his way through the twists and turns of purple-flowered vines. When they reached a temple tree in the middle of another crossing in the maze, Winston halted, turned on his heel, and flashed a crooked smile. The next moment he pulled her closer, kissed the tip of her nose, and nudged her through a fissure in the vines. She emerged in a charming little secret garden with a gazebo in the middle of the maze, she supposed, a bed of heliconia on one side. On its other side, pipe vines crawled up and created extra shade.

  Rosie turned back, studying the hidden entrance. She heard muffled footsteps on the moss-soft soil, and out of the shadows Winston emerged. Mischief glittered on his face, making him look even younger but also naïve. Her heart lurched in an odd way and began to beat even faster.

  “Where have you taken me?” Was that her own voice sounding so breathless?

  “I thought we might need some privacy. To compare our notes.” His eyes weren’t exactly hazel, but more green when the sun shone into them. And tender. Trusting, even.

  “To what end?” Rosie could easily see why she’d thought him easy prey. But she knew better now; he wasn’t a man to be trifled with. Just like his father. How much were they really alike? One thing was for sure: Winston didn’t like his father. But did that mean he was better or worse?

  “I hoped we could work together to find the culprit much faster.” Why would he want to pretend he didn’t have the necklace unless he wanted to send her and everybody else on a wildgoose chase?

  What if he really didn’t have it? But that didn’t make sense. Or did it? Why couldn’t she shake the feeling that there was something she failed to see?

  Good heavens! This man had her off kilter like nobody before. She should walk. No, run. Accept defeat and be gone from here.

  But that would inevitably mean she’d failed. She couldn’t have that.

  Rosie was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t even protest when he led her into the gazebo.

  She’d get to the heart of the matter by any means necessary. So, if that required her acting the not-so-overtly-skeptical damsel for a while, so be it. She’d find the necklace and cut and run.

  When she sat on the wooden bench in the middle, she voiced the first thought that came to her mind. “Lady Ponsonby seemed more panicky than sad that she lost a precious piece of family heirloom.”

  “You noticed that, too? I think that’s highly suspicious.”

  “It’s true, you know. She was about to reveal something . . . vital, I guess, before you came.”

  “Damn!” Winston balled one hand into a fist and hit the palm of the other. Grinding his molars, he leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees. “Shouldn’t have followed so soon, but I had to get out of there or I would have punched Lord Ponsonby.”

  “I was surprised that she seems to be only in her midforties rather than in her sixties. So much younger than I initially thought.”

  “She is. It’s not surprising, though. She’s shackled to an old man with spindly legs, a bulging stomach, and the temper of a billy goat with constipation.”

  “Yes, he’s awful, isn’t he?” Rosie shook off the unpleasant shudder down her spine.

  “I’ve been told he lost a small fortune yesterday at cards.”

  “And you think he lets it out on her now?” Suddenly, Rosie gasped. “What if he’s taken the necklace, made it look like somebody’s stolen it, and pawns it as soon as they’re back in—” Wait, that couldn’t be. Winston had taken the necklace when she’d gone to her room to freshen up and get ready for the day. She looked up at him. “I forgot. Where are they from?”

  “Boston, I believe. That’s a valid theory. But I think it’s not that complicated.”

  “Really.” Rosie crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  Avoiding her focused glower, Winston rubbed his chin. “I don’t think Lord Ponsonby is capable of such deception. He’d simply take it—off her neck if need be—and sell it and that’s that. The culprit we’re looking for is much smarter.”

  Was he really that arrogant? He suddenly wasn’t as appealing as he was mere moments ago.

  “Somebody versed in society, capable of sneaking in and out of rooms without being seen, deceiving people and them being none the wiser for it.”

  “Nonsense! If you ask me,” she said, her voice low, “I think we’re looking for a man who is cunning and reckless enough to do it.”

  His eyebrows bounced up on his forehead. “A man?”

  “Yes.” Rosie nodded. “Why not? You don’t think so highly of your peers?”

  Winston barked with laughter.

  “Who else but a man could do it? All the women are asleep until late, and then they take even longer to make themselves look presentable for them. Who else but a man knows what such a necklace might be worth if Lord Ponsonby hadn’t bragged about it at the card table?”

  “I never said—”

  “No, you didn’t, but he could have! He’s the type.”

  “Beatrice.” Winston caught her hands in his and kissed the knuckles of first one, then the other hand. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Aha! She had him now.

  “I’ve enjoyed our time together very much.” Like the first night, he brushed her cheek with his knuckles. It seemed too much effort to resist the comfort this small gesture brought. But just as she came to her senses and was about to protest, she heard a woman’s voice coming from outside in the maze.

  “So, you haven’t really been able to get a hold of him?”

  Placing his index finger over her lips was enough to silence her. She gave a minuscule nod, and Winston beamed. If only that small curling of his lips didn’t make her breath come so hard.

  “No, I told you. But neither have you,” another woman replied.

  Winston’s fingers snaked around her neck, and when the tips pressed into her nape, Rosie let him nudge her to him. His lips sealed her mouth. A spark sizzled down her spine, and her body melted into his, her fists loosening. He tasted so sweet, like honey. He even smelled like honey. She splayed her fingers and let her hands roam his chest up to his shoulders, her fingers burrowing into the thick mass of blond hair, loosening his braid.

  “The maid told me she’d heard that he’s not the typical bachelor.”

  “If he’s into men, well, that’s something we can work around. But, please, don’t tell me he’s a monk.”

  His hands around her waist, Winston lifted her up. Rosie came to sit astride him without so much as a protest. The slight risk of being detected added something new to their lovemaking.

  His busy hands sneaked under her skirts, tracing the inside of her thighs in tickling circles. A funny tingling started in her belly and spread through her body into her limbs. Maybe this was a little too dangerous. Rosie began to struggle off him, hissing, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  But Winston only shook his head, dragging her even closer. His kiss now turned heated in single-minded seduction. While one hand snaked over her thighs, his fingers sliding down her crevice, the thumb of his other hand found her clit and flicked over it. The same instant he thrust one finger into her from behind. Rosie yelped, then moaned into his mouth.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “What was that?”

  Mortified that whoever was outside had heard her, Rosie began squirming against him, but soon her motions turned from wiggles of protest to her grinding her hips into his ministrations. God help her, but the thrill of being right next to those women outside made his caresses a hundred times more intense.

  She broke the kiss. “Winston, please, what are you doing?”

  “Just what you want me to do.”

  “I don’t—” He thrust a second finger into her, and Rosie felt his digits were welcomed by another moistening gush. “Oh, God!” She shivered, breathing hard against his lips.

  “Shhh, love.” Winston spoke just loud enough for her to hear. “We do
n’t want them to find out, do we?”

  Every nerve ending in Rosie’s body was alive and on fire. Swallowing another moan, she increased her gyrations on his fingers and she saw his lips quirk. Like he knew what was going on inside her. She’d only ever experienced a similar rush when she was in the middle a particularly difficult coup. Oh, this man and what he could do to her . . .

  “Maybe someone is on the other side of this huge loop?”

  “Probably. They’re certainly not here. Soophieee, darling, where are you?”

  He never changed the rhythm of his fingers thrusting deep. Slowly but steadily they invaded her, crumbling her defenses until she pushed back, shivering at his wicked gentleness and sobbing for more.

  Winston’s whisper was a seductive croak. “You know what would feel even better in you than my fingers, don’t you?”

  Rosie shook her head. “No. I mean, yes. But no. I’ll be completely mussed.”

  “Not if you stay on top.” She swallowed a whimpering moan as his fingers retreated.

  A breath later, she felt the fat plum of his cock nudge into her entrance. Throwing her head back, Rosie pressed her lips together when she felt a high-pitched gasp form in her throat.

  “He does look a bit the brute, though.”

  “Regrettably so. My daughter was devastated to find him lacking the usual refined looks of a man-about-town. But I told her that beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “Aah, yes.” Winston was gritting his teeth to obstruct his groan. “That’s it.” His large hands caught her hips under her skirts, and then he slammed up into her, all his rigid length filling her in one hard stroke. “Much better, innit?” He sounded as breathless as she felt.

  Heat and strength stretched her. Fully, completely. Fiery sparks, centering in her belly, rushed through her bloodstream into every nook of her, numbing her mind, stealing her thoughts, and leaving only hunger and need behind. She couldn’t stop herself from moving, rotating on him. Impaling herself, her sheath swallowed him only to release him just a little before she sank down on him again. The risk of discovery was a powerful aphrodisiac, pushing her to the edge.

  “Clara is quite taken with him, though. She seems to fancy this animalistic ruggedness.”

  “Ooooh, here’s a thought.”

  “What?”

  “He’s like the fur-clad brutes of old, clubbing the men to death and ravishing the women.” The woman giggled.

  “Mmm, positively delectable!” The other woman’s giggle joined the first one’s.

  Rosie’s whole being bubbled with glee. When he wrapped her in his strong and powerful arms, she was driven to grind her core against him even harder, squirming and shivering as he hugged her. Trying her best to stay quiet only made her mind focus more on the feelings driving her to want to scream.

  “Don’t let our daughters hear that.”

  “Never! Not that they’d know what to make of it, haplessly innocent as they are.”

  Rosie’s breath came in small gusts. When she heard herself moan and whimper softly, Winston sealed off those little noises with his lips and drank in her groans like a man dying of thirst. The little spark at the bottom of her spine ignited, and she felt her orgasm building, strong and scorching and blinding, arduous pinpricks twining around and into her.

  “Have you heard of Isabel’s streak of bad luck?”

  “A streak?”

  “Yes, the latest scandal in Boston. Her daughter is said to have caused it. That’s why she and her husband are hiding here for the holidays while the daughter is off with relatives in France. She’ll be lucky to find anyone for the poor girl to marry before her misstep is too large to conceal.”

  “No! Delicious bit of gossip that is.”

  As Rosie felt herself beginning to spasm around him, Winston purred into her ear, the sound as erotic as the precious strokes of his cock. Before long, he caught her hips in his hands, pressed his feet down, and braced his back against the bench. He used the leverage to push up into her, shoving his cock into her again and again. Too slow, but relentless. Too hard, but not nearly as rough as she needed it to be.

  “Yes, and then this morning’s incident.”

  “Somebody has robbed her of her necklace, I hear?”

  Her climax twinkled in blistering sparks, built to tower over her, and suddenly crashed. Ecstasy threatened to burst from her in a scream. Rosie bit her lower lip and caught her breath. She bit even harder until she tasted her own blood, but she didn’t make a sound, not one whimper, nothing, even when he rocked gently against her as though trying to keep her body from ceasing to ripple and spark with rapture.

  “Indeed. Oh, there they are! Sophie, dear!”

  “Oh, Mother, this maze is awful. I’m afraid we’re totally lost!”

  “There, there. We’ll find our way out in no time, won’t we, Clara?”

  However much Winston tried to draw out her pleasure, inevitably Rosie recovered. Contented, her mind drifted back into her body only to find herself weak and stunned. The fervor of their passion combined with the thrill of remaining undetected added a new intensity she’d never experienced before. All she could do was cling to him, dig her fingers into his shoulders, and let him hold her in his safe embrace.

  “Of course we will, Mother. I’ve just told Sophie the juicy bit of news.”

  “What news?”

  “That he’s a pirate!”

  “Oh, Clara, wherever did you get that?”

  A dirty snicker erupted from the other woman. “That would certainly explain a lot of his brutishness.”

  Winston rained tiny little kisses on her, first on her earlobe, then on her cheek. Up to the corner of one eye, where he kissed a tear away, then over her eyebrow. The root of her nose. A chaste kiss on her lips. His gentleness woke something in her, some sensation alien to her. Something that made her choke, made her want to cry and burst into laughter at the same time.

  Leaning back, Winston caught her gaze. “Usually I’m more in control of myself.”

  With a satisfied hum, Rosie let herself sink onto one shoulder. “Believe me, I remember. Only too well.”

  “I’m sorry I came in you.”

  “That’s all right. Don’t worry. We’re safe. For now.” Apparently she’d lost her usual eloquence sometime during this encounter.

  “Silly thing. I’ve heard he’s so unfashionably tanned because of his lepidopterist studies.”

  “And where did you hear that?”

  “Why, I overheard him and his mother talking days ago. At the Christmas Eve ball, I think.”

  “Sophie! You mustn’t listen in on other people’s private conversations!”

  Rosie kept her voice as low as possible. “Are they talking about you?”

  “Humpf. ’Fraid so. Remember the Christmas Eve ball when I said I needed to be rescued?”

  Rosie leaned back. “Yes?” Now that she looked into his gentle eyes, Rosie knew it wasn’t true what they said. He might look like a brute, yet he was anything but.

  “I didn’t jest.”

  “And here I thought you were desperate enough to lie to lure me into your bed.”

  “So you spent that first night because you pitied me?”

  Rosie smirked. “Something like that.”

  “There! I seem to remember entering this maze there!”

  “Where?”

  “Over there!” Their voices began to fade.

  Rosie tilted her head and held her breath as she listened closely to see if she could hear any more. Nothing more than the occasional humming insect or the fingertips-rubbing-onsteamy-glass cries of quails could be heard.

  “Are they gone?” She still didn’t dare to speak louder than a husky whisper.

  Winston gave a slow nod. “I think so.”

  His arms tensed around her, the loose embrace suddenly becoming so tight it made breathing a bit difficult, and for a fraction of a second, Rosie thought she could see him make a conscious effort to release her. Then his hands snat
ched up and cupped her cheeks, keeping her captive for another one of those unbelievably gentle nibbling-sucking kisses that rendered her boneless and that he did so well.

  Her pliant body sinking into his, she gave in with a sigh, opening herself to his exploring, expert kiss. What was one more second or two before she had to leave and—

  She forgot those trivialities in the face of his tenderness. A man who knew how to employ his lips, teeth, and tongue was really the best thing in the world. Even better than lemon sorbet.

  “Oh!” Reality caught up with her when she felt his flaccid cock slip from her.

  “Here.” Winston reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief that boasted no lavish frills and laces, as would be expected of a man of mode. “To clean.” He cringed a little, visibly embarrassed.

  Rosie slowly stood, wiping herself clean, while Winston remained seated, buttoning his britches. Task accomplished, he threw his head back, his fingers combing the mane. Turning this way and that, Winston looked for the leather band that had kept his hair in check before.

  “Where—” He jumped up, bent over the bench, and searched the ground. He stood again, one arm hitched into his waist, while his other hand rubbed his chin in thought. “Beatrice, I really wanted to ask you something.”

  Her skirts were back in place. She brushed some fold out as she looked up at him. “Yes?”

  It was now or never, Winston thought. “I think we should spend the rest of the holidays together.”

  Judging from how her mouth opened and remained a little agape, Winston might have been wrong about the right time and place. He quickly got down on his knees and searched underneath the bench. “There are many reasons.” No leather band under the bench either. “For one, I’d love to fall asleep again with my cock tired and spent and still in you.” She’d crossed her arms by the time he was finished wiping dust off his knees. “For another, I’d like to wake up again with my cock hardening in you.”

  “Typical. Is there any real reason?”

  Maybe a charming smile to entice her was in order. “Yes, of course! If we stay close, we can find the necklace faster. Plus, you’d continue to rescue me from those evil mothers looking for a son-in-law.”