
# Table of Contents

Copyright

About This Book

The Gift

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Excerpt from _Love's Surrender_ by Samantha Kane

Kate Pearce interviews Samantha Kane

Books by Samantha Kane

About Samantha Kane

My Heart's Desire

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Samantha Kane interviews Kate Pearce

About Kate Pearce

Stay Connected with Kate Pearce

Other Works by Kate Pearce
**Gift of Desire**

"The Gift" Copyright © 2013 by Nancy Kattenfield

"My Heart's Desire" Copyright © 2013 by Kate Pearce

Cover Design by Frauke Spanuth

Formatting by Nadia Lee

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writers imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

**Smashwords Edition, License Notes**

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.
**Gift of Desire**

_The Gift_

On Christmas Eve, 1817, Captain Jeremy Highsmith of the Royal Navy and his best friend Lieutenant Rhys Wilkinson return to England after almost a year in captivity. Their bond of friendship grew even stronger as they were tortured while being held for ransom by the Bey of Algiers. All that kept them going was the idea of returning to Jeremy's wife, Cordelia, the woman they both courted and are both still in love with. But will Cordelia be willing to accept both of them...in her heart and her bed?

For Cordelia Highsmith, the greatest Christmas gift she could ever imagine is the return of her husband and his best friend. But can she accept the even greater gift they offer...the two of them, hers, forever?

_My Heart's Desire_

After a dreadful disfiguring accident and the loss of her husband, Caroline Lyndhurst has spent the last two years hiding away from society. One man has never forgotten her. Jasper, Lord Mansell is determined not only to see her again, but to persuade her that in the spirit of Christmas, true love can bloom again.
The Gift

Samantha Kane

# Acknowledgements

First and foremost I'd like to thank Kate Pearce for inviting me to participate in this anthology. We've been talking about doing a project together for years and I'm thrilled that we've finally been able to achieve it. Kate is all kinds of wonderful, and I'm so happy to take our friendship one step further into the creation of this anthology.

I'd also like to thank my editor, Jennifer Barker, who fit this story into her very busy schedule. She is an extraordinary editor and I love working with her.

Thanks to family and friends who helped keep me on a tight schedule to finish this book on time. Your support means the world to me.

# Chapter One

"Mrs. Highsmith! Mrs. Highsmith!" The ragged young boy ran into the improvised classroom calling out her name. Cordelia turned just as her mentor, Mr. Poundstone, chastised the boy.

"Jem," he said sternly, looking at him from under lowered brows, "a young man enters a room quietly and respectfully and addresses a lady in the same manner."

"Yes, sir," Jem said breathlessly as he skidded to a stop. He didn't even look at Mr. Poundstone, so focused was he on Cordelia. "They've brought prisoners back, Mrs. Highsmith. From Algiers."

Cordelia dropped the slate she was holding. The crash as it hit the wood floor caused all conversation in the room to abruptly cease. It felt as if all the breath had suddenly been squeezed out of her. "Names?" she demanded in a rough, shaky voice.

Jem nodded. "He's there. The captain. They brought your husband back."

"It's a Christmas miracle," a little girl whispered from behind her.

Cordelia turned to Mr. Poundstone. She hated to leave him alone with all the children. She'd been working with him for months, trying to educate the lower-class children of Portsmouth, those who weren't able to attend the public schools. At first it had been a way to pass the time after Jeremy was taken prisoner and held for ransom by corsairs who worked for the Bey of Algiers. Now she considered it a joy and a responsibility. But not today. Not when Jeremy had come home at last.

Mr. Poundstone nodded solemnly. "Go, my dear," he said kindly. "You must."

She needed no other encouragement. She grabbed her shawl and raced out of the classroom to the cheers of the children, heading for the docks and Jeremy. She didn't even feel the cold. At last, Jeremy was home. She bit her lip as she ran, one thought in her mind. _Is Rhys with him?_ She'd been too afraid to ask. _Please, please, God_ , she prayed, _let Rhys be with him_.

* * *

Jeremy knocked on the door again, to no avail. He could sense the house was empty. Where was Cordy? She should be here. Had she left Portsmouth? There had been no message for him. They'd told him at the dock that she was here. Perhaps they were misinformed.

"It's cold." Rhys spoke from behind him. His voice was flat. He'd been anticipating seeing Cordy as well. It had been so long. They'd talked about this day endlessly. It had kept them going. It had been almost a month since their release and each day they'd had to wait for a ship home had been hell for both of them.

"It's winter," Jeremy replied logically. "Almost Christmas. We'll be inside soon," he told him, knocking again. A light rain had begun to fall, the skies gray and the day dreary. Hardly the setting for a happy reunion. "Perhaps she's just gone out for a moment. She didn't know we were coming."

"I told you we should have sent a note from Gibraltar." Rhys sounded angry. He was always angry now. The Rhys he had known since his school days used to joke and laugh and flirt outrageously. But the Bey had beaten that out of him. Jeremy pounded harder on the door.

"Jeremy."

He spun around, wondering if he'd imagined the voice crying out his name. Rhys turned as well, and Jeremy found himself staring at the other man's profile. He was still too thin, but they'd fed them well in Gibraltar after their release, and they'd been quartered like royalty on the ship home to England. Still, Rhys' long nose appeared like a thin blade against his sunken eyes. His dark hair was unruly, the cold wind catching hold of it and tossing it about. He'd taken his hat off again. The naval uniform he wore hung loosely on him and he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering.

"Did you hear it?" Rhys whispered. Under heavy brows his dark brown eyes were haunted. He sounded almost afraid. Jeremy couldn't blame him. There had been more than one incident in Algiers when Rhys had been mad with fever and heard her voice calling him. He'd scared Jeremy then. He'd thought he was going to lose him.

"I heard it." He stepped over, next to Rhys, and scanned the street.

"Jeremy!" she cried out again, closer now. "Rhys!"

Then he saw her. She was running up the hill toward them, her blonde hair flying, a black shawl trailing from her hand, blowing behind her like a dark zephyr as she ran.

"Cordelia," Rhys whispered.

Jeremy took a step toward her, his heart in his throat, every instinct telling him to run, but he was frozen, too afraid to leave Rhys' side, the familiar guilt assailing him.

"Go," Rhys said roughly, shoving Jeremy forward. "Go to her."

Jeremy stumbled on the first two or three steps but then he was running to Cordy, and holding her at last. She was warm and soft and smelled like home, like roses and fresh-baked bread. He pulled back in their embrace and looked at her face. She was crying, her blue eyes red-rimmed, her smile so big it took up half of her face. He'd teased her about that big mouth on more than one occasion. Without saying a word he brushed a lock of hair out of the way and kissed her, kissed those smiling lips, and she sobbed into his mouth and held him so tightly he thought he might burst from happiness. _This. This is what I've missed._

"Rhys?" she asked when he broke the kiss. She wiped her cheeks with her palms, like a child. God, how he'd missed her.

He took her hand. "Come on," he said, pulling her back to Rhys. It had always been like this. Why hadn't he seen it before? It had always been the three of them. He tried not to dare hope too much.

When they were only a few feet away Cordy broke away from him and threw herself into Rhys' arms. Jeremy could see he was unprepared for it and he stumbled a step or two. He should have known she'd greet him like that. He knew her as well as Jeremy did. "Rhys," she said, a break in her voice. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, just as Jeremy had done. She placed her hands on his cheeks and pulled his head up so she could see his face, her expression worried. Then she kissed his cheeks and hugged him again, her cheek pressed to his.

When Jeremy saw Rhys smile for the first time in months he breathed a sigh of relief. Cordy was just what he needed. Just what _they_ needed. Cordy tried to smooth Rhys' wild mane of hair and Rhys let out a rusty laugh. Cordy followed and then Jeremy, and soon they were all laughing like fools there on the stoop. Jeremy stepped in and hugged them both. They were home.

# Chapter Two

Rhys set his cup down. His hand was shaking again. _Dammit_. He wasn't sure if it was fatigue or if he was being a ninny again.

"Are you all right?" Jeremy asked quietly from beside him.

"I'm fine," he answered. He closed his eyes in shame at the frustration and impatience in his voice. Jeremy was the one person who didn't deserve his anger. He'd always been there for Rhys, but Rhys had been too stupid to see it until Algiers. His mind went blank, as it often did nowadays when he tried to remember their captivity. He stared at Jeremy, a frown on his face. What had they been talking about?

"That's right," Jeremy said with a sad little smile that didn't reach his soft brown eyes. "She'll be back."

Cordelia had gone to the kitchen to help the cook bring out dessert. There were no other servants. Cordelia had explained she'd let them go after a few months. There simply wasn't enough work for them with just her around the house. She had a housekeeper who came in twice a week to take care of things for her, and a cook who lived elsewhere. He supposed she'd have to get them all back, especially if he stayed as Jeremy was insisting. If she let him after they told her everything.

He tried to pick up the cup again but he was still shaking. He slammed it back down and ran both hands through his hair, blowing out a frustrated breath. He felt Jeremy's hand squeeze his thigh under the table, and his shoulders relaxed as his arms dropped back down to his sides. He turned and stared at Jeremy, his anchor in the turbulent seas of the last year. His dark curly hair looked artfully mussed, but Rhys knew it always looked like that. Like everything else, even perfect hair came easily to him.

"Is everything all right?" Cordelia asked from the doorway, watching him carefully. She could tell. She had to know. He tensed again.

"It's fine," Jeremy lied smoothly for him. He pulled his hand away and Rhys felt the cold chill of being alone again. "What have you brought? I feel like visiting royalty, you've given us such a feast."

"Hardly, sir," the cook, Mrs. Tuttle, said, bustling in around Cordelia. "If I'd known you both were coming, well, then, I'd have had time for a feast. And don't think I won't give you one tomorrow. A feast on Christmas Day, to be sure. Deserve one, after what you've been through. I've a goose and a pudding for you." She set down a plate of small cakes and Cordelia came behind her, setting down a tray of baked custard.

"I remembered how much you both loved custard," she said with a smile.

Rhys had to grin. "I'd forgotten about that," he said. He turned to Jeremy. "Do you remember? We fought over the last one at Mrs. Southeby's one night, and Cordelia had to decide who got it."

"I did," she said. "And it was very good."

They all laughed, and Rhys could see Jeremy watching him with relief. He felt a little relieved, too. He'd remembered something. For months it seemed only Jeremy remembered and he'd told Rhys those stories over and over. But Rhys remembered now. Remembered Cordelia's pretty blue frock, and Jeremy in his dress uniform, and Rhys... He bit his lip. Well, he'd been happy then, and so in love with her.

Mrs. Tuttle cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, missus, and sir," she said with a little curtsey for Jeremy that had Rhys hiding a smile behind his napkin, "but I've got to go. Wasn't expecting you and I've somewhere else to be. I can return later to clean up."

"Nonsense," Cordelia said with a smile as she sat down. "I am perfectly capable of cleaning up. I've been doing it for months." She stopped abruptly, staring wide-eyed at him and Jeremy, as if she'd made some egregious faux pas by alluding to their absence. God help them all if they had to tiptoe around that now.

"And you've been doing admirably, I'm sure," Jeremy said, smooth and confident as always. Rhys made a fist in his lap under the table. "But we are here as well, and for tonight shall help. Thank you so much for everything, Mrs. Tuttle."

The cook blushed. "Oh, it weren't nothing, sir. Just wait 'til Christmas." She left them then, and there was an awkward silence.

"Here, let me," Cordelia said as she picked up a bowl and spooned custard in before passing it to Rhys. He took it, careful not to touch her hand. He'd nearly broken down when she hugged him on the street. It had taken every ounce of control to laugh like a madman instead of cry like a lost child.

"I thought perhaps tomorrow we would go and fetch a Yule log, perhaps some ivy and rosemary," Cordelia said with false cheer. "We should decorate. Now that you're home, I mean."

"Absolutely," Jeremy said enthusiastically. "We shall have a wonderful Christmas."

They fell into silence again. The sounds of spoons against china cut the silence as they ate. Rhys was so tense he feared he might shatter. He felt like an interloper with the talk of holiday celebrations.

"Rhys will be staying here," Jeremy abruptly announced. "Indefinitely."

Rhys' gaze flew to Cordelia. She sat there blinking rapidly for a moment. Then she spooned up more custard.

"Of course he will," she said calmly. "He can help bring the Yule log home."

Rhys let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and slumped a little in his chair. Cordelia just smiled at him and kept on eating.

The custard sat like a rock in his stomach. He'd had trouble eating since their release. The doctors said it would pass; he simply wasn't used to good food anymore. That was true. But it seemed as if he was always worried these days. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't remember. He'd thought that would all go away once they got home. He was dismayed to discover it hadn't.

"I would like some tea," Cordelia announced. "Would anyone else?"

"Yes," Rhys said with a relieved sigh. "Tea sounds perfect."

"Then I shall make you the perfect cup of tea," she teased. She rose from the table and he and Jeremy came to their feet. He was a little more awkward than Jeremy and he knocked into the table. His back always stiffened up if he sat too long. Cordelia pretended not to notice, but he saw her hesitate and avoid looking at him. He silently cursed. This wasn't going right at all. He feared nothing would ever be right again.

* * *

As soon as she was alone in the kitchen Cordelia leaned against the wall, out of sight, and bit into the side of her fist to stifle a sob. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. They were all so awkward together. It had never been like that. What weren't they telling her? She didn't know what to do.

No, that wasn't true. She stood up straight and dropped her hand. Then she smoothed the front of her dress and walked purposely to the stove to put the kettle on. She'd promised Rhys some tea, and she would make it. That was what she'd do.

She'd imagined their reunion many times over the past year, since they sailed away, full of confidence and vitality. She'd smiled and waved and later she'd wept in her lonely bed. She'd made promises, to herself and to God, that if they returned safely she'd make things right. She'd been living a lie and she wouldn't do it anymore.

She was in love with Rhys.

It was...complicated. She loved Jeremy very much, but she'd always been torn between the two men, best friends who had courted her together. Then suddenly, to her regret, Rhys had stepped back and given Jeremy the field and when he'd asked her to marry him she'd naturally said yes. She loved him. But it had been impossible to forget her feelings for Rhys, particularly since he still spent so much time with them.

It would probably hurt Jeremy, and God knew he didn't deserve that. She only hoped he'd understand that she still loved him very much, as much as Rhys. But life was so terribly short, wasn't it? She'd nearly lost the opportunity to tell Rhys how she felt. Whether his feelings were the same was immaterial. What mattered was letting him know she cared deeply for him still. Then her conscience would be clear and she'd feel at peace. She'd nearly lost everything that was dear to her. She wouldn't risk that again. She needed to know that she'd done everything in her power to set things right.

When the tea was ready she took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face before she entered the small dining room. The whole house was small, only three bedrooms. With Rhys staying here it would impossible to avoid him. She silently prayed that her confession would not ruin everything for all of them.

# Chapter Three

Jeremy watched Cordy sip her tea. She was so beautiful, a perfect English rose, with her light blonde hair and blue eyes and creamy complexion. Just looking at her gave him a sense of peace and security. They were home, and they would never leave again. Rhys couldn't. He'd been told he'd never be fit for active duty again. And so Jeremy would stay, too, with both of them, if it all worked out.

Cordy put her cup down carefully on the saucer, a barely audible clink the only sound in the room. She nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and then put both hands in her lap. He bet she had them tucked between her legs. She did that when she was nervous. "I..." She hesitated. "I thought of you both every day, every moment, while you were gone."

Rhys' teacup hit the saucer so loudly Jeremy was shocked it didn't shatter. He shoved his chair back from the table and stood so quickly he tottered. His damn back must be hurting again. Cordy gasped and Jeremy leaped to his feet and rounded the table to take his arm. Rhys shook him off impatiently. "I'm sorry, Cordelia, but I'm exhausted. I hope you don't mind if I go to bed."

She looked stricken for a moment, as if his discomfort was her fault, and Jeremy silently cursed Rhys. They'd talked about this, talked about bringing it all out in the open as soon as they got home, not lying to Cordy. It was so important that they not lie to her. She was so open, and so devoted, and he couldn't bear to hurt her that way. She'd understand. He knew her; he knew she would.

"No, no," she rushed to assure Rhys, standing immediately and bustling about, not looking at either of them. "Of course. How selfish of me not to realize. Let me show you up to the guest room." She paused again and turned shattered eyes to them. "Your room, I mean. It will be your room now."

"I can show him," Jeremy offered quickly. "I remember the way." He needed to speak to Rhys alone. "You finish your tea, and I'll be right back."

She nodded mutely and sat down like a puppet with her strings cut. Rhys stoically stared at the wall. Jeremy wanted to cuff him upside the head. Instead he yanked his arm and dragged him to the stairs.

Once they were in the guest room—which would most certainly not be Rhys' room—Jeremy turned on him. "What the hell is the matter with you?" he demanded in a harsh whisper. "We agreed. No hiding."

Rhys ripped off his cravat and swore. "Not tonight, dammit. You've just gotten home. She's your wife. Let her have one night before you topple her world."

"You are not giving her enough credit." Jeremy's reply was stilted as he tried to hold his anger in check.

"What we are asking of her is too much," Rhys said in an exhausted voice. He sat down wearily on the bed. "I knew it all along, but it was a nice fantasy. It kept us going. But we're home now, home where what we want is so far beyond the acceptable it's a crime."

Jeremy took his shoulders in his hands and shook him gently. Then he lowered himself to his haunches so he could look Rhys in the eyes. "It was more than a fantasy, it was a plan. A plan I'm going to carry out. We will be together, all three of us. You'll see. Cordy loves you, I know she does."

"I'm not the man I was." Rhys' words hung in the air between them. Jeremy wanted to deny it, but there were no lies between them. Rhys' crooked smile was bitter. "You know I speak the truth. She cannot love me as I am."

"I do." Jeremy made the declaration before Rhys had even finished speaking. "Trust me." He leaned in, resting his forehead on Rhys'. "Trust me," he said again in a rough whisper. Then he kissed him. Rhys held him tightly for a moment, and in that moment Jeremy was transported back to Algiers, back to when he'd first held Rhys and helped him through the night. It had been so natural, so perfect, he couldn't believe it had taken him half a lifetime to realize he was in love with Rhys.

But Rhys hadn't accepted the inevitable yet. He'd agreed to ask Cordelia to accept both of them, in her bed and her life. They'd spent endless hours talking about her, about how much they both loved her. Jeremy could never deny Rhys the chance to have her love in return. He pushed Jeremy away gently and their lips clung for a moment before Jeremy gave in and leaned back. "You can't... All of this..." Rhys trailed off and then started again. "We can't go there, Jeremy. We already ask too much."

"I'm sorry," Jeremy lied. He was tired of playing the game with Rhys, pretending that he hadn't fallen in love with him. "I was just...it's all so overwhelming."

"Exactly," Rhys said. "We'll do as you want. But not tonight. I'm asking you please, for me, don't say anything to her tonight. I love her too, you know, and I want her to have this night with you, as if everything is still normal."

"Everything is still normal," Jeremy argued. "It's simply a different normal. For us."

Rhys laughed without amusement. "Yes. For us. Now go."

With a weary sigh Jeremy stood. "Fine. But I don't like it. I don't like leaving you alone. You won't sleep, will you?" It was more a statement than a question.

"I'll try. We're home now. Perhaps I will." Rhys wouldn't meet his eyes, avoiding them as he fussed with folding his cravat and setting it on the bed beside him.

Jeremy let him have his pride. "Good. I hope so."

Rhys waved him out. "Go. You've been waiting almost a year to hold her."

"So have you." The words hung there between them.

"I had you," Rhys finally said. "Now go."

With regret Jeremy complied with Rhys' wishes. But guilt nearly crippled him as he closed the door behind him, leaving Rhys alone inside.

# Chapter Four

Cordelia stood at the counter drying the dishes and sniffling, trying not to actually cry. Rhys had been horrified by her admission. And he should be. She was married to his best friend, his comrade and childhood companion. What had she been thinking, to almost reveal her feelings in such a fashion? She was selfish beyond the extreme. She'd thought the truth would set them all free, but she'd been wrong, hadn't she?

She loved Jeremy and she was so happy he was back home with her. He would be enough. To think that she might also have Rhys was foolish and naive and dangerous. She ought to just be glad he was still in her life—still alive, and still one of her and Jeremy's closest friends. She'd see him everyday. She could survive on that and live with her secret love buried in her heart. She sniffled miserably again.

"Here," Jeremy said quietly from behind her. She jumped in surprise and then a handkerchief was held over her shoulder. She dried her hands on her apron and took the offering.

"I'm sorry," she said, turning to face Jeremy. "I'm happy you're home. I am. I'm just a silly watering pot tonight."

Jeremy simply gathered her in his arms and it felt so good and so right that she lost the battle and gave in to tears. "Oh, Jeremy," she said brokenly, crying into his shoulder.

"I know, Cordy," he whispered. "But don't you see? This is a gift, our returning to you. I didn't think it would happen."

"I know." She stepped back and wiped her runny nose with the handkerchief. This was not what Jeremy needed to see his first night home. "I thought I'd lost you. They told me so once. Told me you were both dead."

"What?" Jeremy said in shock. He grabbed her shoulders tightly. "We are not dead, Cordy. We are very much alive and back here with you."

"Have you seen your mother yet?" she asked. "She was here for a long while. She forgave me, I think, for—what was it she accused me of? Bewitching you." She laughed weakly. "We cried over you together and prayed for your return. I think she's ready to forgive you for marrying beneath your station."

Jeremy hugged her again. "I'm glad. I know she and Grandfather paid the ransom for both of us."

"I begged her to," Cordelia admitted. "I couldn't bear the thought of Rhys..." She couldn't go on, and bit her lip to stem a new flow of tears.

"I'm glad you did. Did she fuss a great deal over it?" Jeremy was rubbing her back soothingly. It was like before, the way he held her and touched her and cared for her. She threw her arms around his neck and held on.

"No." She rubbed her nose against his neck, longing for his familiar scent. It wasn't there. She'd have to launder all his shirts and scrub him with her soap and then he'd smell like Jeremy. "She fussed at me for thinking she wouldn't. She knows how much he means to you."

"This is perhaps the first time I've truly understood the advantages of being the grandson of a duke." Jeremy laughed softly. "If I hadn't been..."

Cordelia placed a finger across his lips. "Don't say it. You're right. You're here now."

"Cordy," he said with a sigh. He sounded as if he was going to say something terribly important, and suddenly she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want words. Instead she quickly kissed him, not bothering to hide her need for him. He was surprised at first but then kissed her back, slanting his lips across hers, sliding his tongue into her mouth and returning passion for passion.

When they broke the kiss she was panting. "It's been ages since I've had you inside me," she whispered. "I'm empty."

Jeremy wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her hips to his. He was already hard. "God, Cordy, I missed you. I missed how open you are about all this."

"All this?" she said with a laugh. "Shall I use naval talk?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Fuck me."

Jeremy laughed in delight. "I never should have taught you that word. You naughty minx." He spun her around and untied her apron. After she pulled it off he swatted her behind. "Upstairs. I mean to have my way with you."

"Thank God," she said with very real gratitude. She was already throbbing and ready, just the thought of Jeremy's possession making her ache for it. This was without a doubt her favorite part of marriage. If she could she'd keep Jeremy in her bed for days. But she couldn't, not with Rhys staying here with them. She only prayed she'd be able to lie with her husband without dreaming of Rhys too.

* * *

Jeremy was so hard for his wife it was all he could do not to drag her down on the steps, throw her skirts over her head and sink into her. He'd done it before. She'd always loved erotic play, from the first time she'd welcomed him into her bed. She was an enthusiastic and adventurous lover and he reveled in it. It was one of the reasons he knew she'd eventually relent and let Rhys into their bed. She loved to fuck. It was as simple as that. And she was very good at it. She'd taught him a thing or two about pleasure, even innocent as she'd been when he took her virginity. She knew what she liked and she wasn't ashamed to ask for it.

_She'll enjoy having me and Rhys together._

The thought had his cock throbbing. He wanted to watch her fuck Rhys. God, how beautiful they'd be together. And she'd love Rhys' cock, so big and thick. He'd seen it when he'd taken care of Rhys in Algiers and bathed him. She had a cunt made for it.

When they got to their bedroom they were both breathless. Cordy closed the door quietly and then she ran to him, kissing him boldly, her tongue taking his mouth furiously, her hands frantically working to free him from his clothes. Jeremy kissed her back, rubbing his cock against her hip through their layers of clothes. He needed skin. He shoved her away roughly. "Get undressed," he ordered. "Now."

She didn't argue. She never did. She complied readily, but when she tried to whip her chemise over her head it got caught in the pins in her hair. "Ow," she cried out. She peeked out at him from inside the garment. "I better slow down a bit."

Jeremy laughed as he tore his own shirt over his head. "Not too slow, or I'll come without you."

"You better not," she warned. "I'm dying to be fucked."

Jeremy laughed again. Rhys hadn't believed him when he'd told him she had a dirty mouth in the bedroom. He couldn't wait to hear her ask Rhys to fuck her the first time. Rhys would probably climax on the spot.

She turned away as she pulled the chemise off, teasing him with a view of her long, bare back. She raised her hands and began to take the pins out of her hair, wearing nothing but woolen drawers, stockings and slippers. She looked like a whore and he loved it. God, he wanted to share this with Rhys. He slid up behind her and pressed his bare chest against her back, cupping her breasts in his palms. She filled his hands nicely, plump and warm, though her nipples were hard from the chill in the room. The fire was burning, but it was winter, after all.

"Oh, that's nice," she said with a breathy sigh. "Squeeze them."

He chuckled and did as she asked, stopping just short of too rough. Her hips moved, bumping her bottom against his cock. She pulled the last pins out of her hair and it tumbled down around her shoulders, brushing his cheek. He took a deep breath, loving the scent of her, all woman and flowers and musk.

"I want you to suck them," she said, pressing her hands over his. "I can't do that myself."

"What did you do yourself?" he asked, turning her around. He leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth, rolling it on his tongue and then sucking it, pulling deeply, the way she liked. She moaned and gripped the back of his head.

"I made myself come with my fingers and hands," she confessed. "The way you taught me. I'd have gone mad if I couldn't."

Jeremy slid his hand down the front of her drawers, slowly combing his fingers into the warm nest of hair he found there. She gasped and pumped her hips, silently asking for more. He saw no reason to deny her, or himself. He slid his hand all the way down between her legs and cupped her. She was wet with need, her quim hot and swollen. Without preamble he pushed a finger into her as far as he could go. She moaned deeply and he felt her inner walls ripple around his finger. He pulled away from her nipple with one last lick. "So soon?" he murmured. "You have been lonely."

"I wanted you so much," she cried out softly, moving up and down on his finger. "My own hand is not a good substitute for yours, and is a very poor replacement for your cock."

He licked across her collarbone and bit her shoulder, moving his hand so that his finger was fucking her roughly. She was so tight. They'd only been married a year when he left. She felt untried again.

She cried out and he felt her come. Her channel clenched on his finger and a wash of hot cream bathed his hand. "Christ," he murmured into her ear. "You're so perfect."

"Fuck me," she said breathlessly. "I need more."

# Chapter Five

Her words should have driven him onward, but instead they cut like a knife. There was more for her, and he needed to tell her. Needed to tell her that he and Rhys both wanted her, that they could both fuck her. But he'd promised Rhys he wouldn't, and the words lodged in his throat.

Cordy broke away and stripped off her drawers. She sat down on the bed to remove her shoes and stockings. "Hurry," she urged him. "Take me."

He hesitated a moment, but then he pulled off his boots and shucked his pants. Damn him for a selfish bastard, he was still hard for her, even though guilt over Rhys gnawed at him. She watched him and then she crawled up to the middle of the bed and lay on her back, her legs spread wide. "Fuck me," she begged, lifting her hips in invitation. "Please."

Jeremy couldn't resist her. He didn't want to. She was his beloved wife and they'd been apart for almost a year. He'd thought never to have the chance to take her again. He crawled up on the bed and covered her, thrusting home in one smooth pump of his hips. They both gasped. Then she wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, forcing his cock deeper into the warm channel of her cunt. "Yes," she hissed, working her hips, taking him deeper and deeper, clenching on him. "It feels so good to be filled again." She buried her face in his neck and he felt her hot tears against his skin.

Jeremy began to move. He simply couldn't say still. Not tonight. Tonight he needed to fuck.

His thrusts were powerful and the bed moved slightly with a scratching noise and a gentle thump. Cordy dug her nails into his back. "Shh," she admonished breathlessly. "Rhys will know what we're doing."

Hearing his name from her lips while he was fucking her was nearly Jeremy's undoing. "He already knows," he told her boldly. "He told me to go to you, to fuck you like this."

"Oh, God," she said, throwing her head back and lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. He felt her walls tremble again. Was it the mention of Rhys?

"He knows how much I missed you," Jeremy went on in a rough voice. "Knew I was dreaming of your sweet cunt and burying my cock inside you. I told him. I told him how perfect you were. How hot and tight and insatiable." And he had, countless times on endless pain-filled nights.

"Jeremy," she cried out. Her nails were sharp and dug deep in his shoulders and she shuddered under him. Jeremy increased his pace, his hips thrusting mercilessly, the bed now loudly thumping against the wall.

"Tell me you're glad," he whispered in her ear harshly. "Tell me you're glad Rhys knows how perfect you are in my bed."

"Yes," she cried out and then she came again, and the tight clamp of her cunt on his cock, the rush of hot cream against him, made him groan and he came with a relief that made him tremble. The flood of his semen as he released was an almost painful pleasure, hot and sharp and biting.

As he lay there in the aftermath, loving her and hating the lies, he heard a noise in the hallway. Before she could protest he was out of bed and had thrown the door open.

* * *

Cordelia gasped as Jeremy threw the door open. She was still lying on top of the bedcovers, her legs splayed. She could feel the evidence of their intimacy between her legs, and knew anyone in the hall could see it too.

But it wasn't anyone in the hall. It was Rhys. He was huddled on the floor across from the bedroom door, his knees tucked into his chest, his bare arms wrapped around his lowered head. He wore nothing but his pants. He jerked his head up, looking as startled by the suddenly open door as Cordelia had been. He scrambled to his feet. "I'm sorry," he cried out, sounding guilty and fearful. "I didn't mean to bother you. I didn't. I couldn't sleep." His eyes were frantically going from a very naked Jeremy, cock still half-hard and dripping, to a very naked Cordelia spread out on the bed. She gasped again and rolled off, grabbing the blanket as she did to try to cover herself.

Rhys turned to run and she saw his back. She cried out at the sight of the angry red crisscrossed scars covering it. "Rhys!" she said, stumbling to the door.

Jeremy had grabbed Rhys' arm and pulled him in close, so that he was pressed to Jeremy, chest to chest. Neither man seemed to care about their nudity. "Tell her," he said to Rhys, his voice gentle. "Tell her now, or I will."

Cordelia only half heard him. She approached the men, her hand held out in front of her, reaching for Rhys' back. At her touch, Rhys stiffened. "Don't," he snarled.

She jerked her hand back. "Does it hurt if I touch it?" she asked. "I'm sorry."

"No," he said after a moment's hesitation. "Touch doesn't hurt it anymore." He twisted in Jeremy's arms but couldn't get away, and that was when Cordelia noticed how very thin he was. He'd always been the bigger of the two, with broad shoulders and a brawny chest. She didn't hesitate again. She walked up and pressed her cheek to his scarred back, wrapping one arm around him while she held the blanket to her with the other.

"Oh, Rhys," she said, pain and regret filling her voice. "Rhys." She kissed his back and he slumped in Jeremy's arms.

"I'm not the same," he whispered.

"Yes, you are," she told him. "You are." She hugged him tightly. "You're the same man I fell in love with. The same one I love still."

The air seemed to leave the hallway as they stood there in silence. Cordelia was ready to pull away when Jeremy spoke. "I told you," he whispered in Rhys' ear. "I told you she loves you."

"But I love you too," she said, desperately trying to make them understand. "I love you both, and always have. I'm so sorry, Jeremy. I do love you, as a woman should love her husband, but my feelings for Rhys never died despite our marriage." She hugged Rhys tighter, not wanting to give up the contact now that she had it. She pressed her lips to his bare skin again, a shiver racing through her at the thought that all that stood between them was the thin blanket she was holding. She was a shameless whore to be thinking it—her sex was still weeping from a glorious homecoming with her husband—but she didn't care.

"Cordelia," Rhys whispered in a scratchy voice, clearly rough from emotion. He gripped her wrist where she held him and he pressed her arm tighter against him. She held her breath at the small sign of his feelings for her.

"This wasn't the way I meant to tell you," she whispered, a tear escaping and running down her cheek. "I've hurt you, Jeremy. I'm so sorry. Please don't be angry with me."

"I could never be angry with you, Cordy," Jeremy said softly. "I love you too much." He sighed. "I think we have a great deal to talk about. Don't you, Rhys?"

Rhys was silent for a long moment. "Yes," he finally answered, and Cordelia knew there were going to be some painful confessions this night, for all of them.

# Chapter Six

"Do you need the salve the doctor gave us?" Jeremy asked him. He ran his hand down Rhys' back gently. The heat felt good. He'd stupidly stumbled out to the chilly hallway without enough clothes on, and his back had stiffened up atrociously from sitting there. He shook his head in disgust. He had no common sense anymore.

"Yes," he admitted grudgingly. "It's sore and stiff. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Cordelia said softly from behind him. He felt her hand follow Jeremy's along the same path and the heat this time was from within. God, it seemed he'd waited years to have the two of them touch him like that. Together. She kissed him again and his hard cock twitched. He'd been out here listening to them fuck, heard their harsh whispers and the bed slamming, and he'd nearly torn the door off the hinges to get in there.

"It's not your fault," Cordelia said. "You're injured."

He stiffened in her arms then and pulled away from them both. "Not really. This is how I am now. How I'll always be. The doctor said it would never really go away. The scarring is so bad it will always be tight and somewhat painful."

"Oh, Rhys," she whispered. The pity on her face was too much to bear.

"I shouldn't have come," he said abruptly, turning toward his room. "This was a bad idea."

"Don't you dare," Jeremy said in a low growl. "Don't be a coward now."

Rhys glared at him. "It's not cowardice."

"Yes, it is. Let her feel bad for you. For God's sake man, she can see what they did. Give her a moment to wrestle with it." Jeremy sounded impatient. And guilty. He always sounded guilty.

"It's not your fault either," he said. He'd said it a million times and Jeremy still insisted on taking the blame.

"It is and you know it," he said roughly. He turned away. "I'm going to get the salve. I'll rub it in while we talk. It always helps." He walked away without another word, leaving Rhys alone with Cordelia.

"You haven't said anything," she said in a small voice. He looked over at her in surprise. She was looking at the floor, trying to yank the blanket up over her breasts and wrap it around her at the same time. She looked about twelve years old, insecure and heartbroken.

"I need to lie down," he said. "And I need some of that blanket. I haven't got enough fat on me to keep a kitten warm." He wasn't sure what he was going to say or do at this point. His head was muddled, his back hurt, and he was so damn cold.

"Oh," she said immediately, her head coming up so she could meet his gaze. Her eyes were wide with realization. "I'm sorry. Come on." She took his arm gently and steered him into the bedroom as if he were an invalid. He gritted his teeth to keep from jerking out of her hold and snarling at her. He hated this. Hated feeling like less than a man. Especially when his cock was feeling very manly indeed. It felt almost as if it were a compass needle, pointing directly at her sweet cunt, still wet from Jeremy's fuck. He closed his eyes in agony. God, what he wouldn't do to be Jeremy right now. Or Cordelia. He wasn't choosy. He'd fuck or be fucked right now, take your pick.

No. He wasn't going to go there. He wasn't going to take Jeremy from her. He wouldn't.

When they were near the bed he made a conscious effort to pull his arm away slowly so as not to make her feel bad in any way. He was so damn awkward around her it was like walking on eggshells. He lowered himself to sit on the bed and was proud that he managed not to wince at the pull of muscle and flesh. "I need to lie on my stomach."

"All right," she said, her face showing her consternation. "Do you need me to help?"

He laughed, but it wasn't funny at all, really. "No, I've been doing that since I was babe. I think I can handle it."

She smiled tentatively. "You'll have to help me help you, I'm afraid. I don't know what you need."

_I need you_ , he thought, but the words stuck in his throat. She'd told him she loved him, but her words just now proved it a lie. She didn't even know him anymore. He turned away and gingerly crawled onto his stomach before he collapsed there, praying Jeremy would hurry. He couldn't remember where they'd left the salve. Whose bag was it in? It was all a muddle. Again.

"How?" She asked quietly. She sat on the bed next to him and he turned his head on the pillow to regard her. She reached out her hand and hesitated. Then she touched his back again. The light was better here than in the hallway. The horror of his back was in full glory for her perusal.

"A whip." He knew he'd tell her, or Jeremy would. She had a right to know. This was Jeremy's nightmare as well. But it was so closely entwined with all the other things they needed to tell her.

"Why?" She stroked his back, her touch light but so very soothing. He closed his eyes. It was easier to talk when he didn't have to see her pity.

"I was a slave who did not take well to the job."

Her hand stopped for a moment and then continued its soothing stroke. "No, I can see that you would not have."

He gave a half smile, eyes still closed. "You did know me well."

"Why was Jeremy not whipped?"

Her question was not unexpected, but again, the answer was quite complicated. He gave her the simple version. "He was a captain; I, a mere lieutenant. They gave him the respect his station demanded."

"Only at first." Jeremy's voice came from the doorway. "When I protested your treatment, when they realized my feelings for you, then they whipped you to punish me. This was my torture, not yours, and you know it."

"Oh my God," Cordelia whispered.

"It was both of ours," Rhys conceded. He sighed and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the horror on Cordelia's face anymore.

Jeremy sat down on the bed on Rhys' other side, so that he and Cordelia flanked him. Wryly he thought how differently he'd imagined it when the three of them finally shared a bed. "Roll onto your side," Jeremy told him, "your back facing me."

Rhys did as he was told. He shivered and winced when Jeremy's fingers gently applied some of the cold salve to his back. "Cold," he said, not wanting Jeremy to think he was hurting him, though he was. The poor sod already felt guilty enough.

"I'm sure," Jeremy murmured. "Cordy, can't you share the blanket with him?"

"What?" she asked in shocked confusion. "I mean, yes, of course. I'll just...I'll just go put something on and he can have it."

"No." Rhys tensed up at Jeremy's response. His voice was low and had the ring of the sea captain to it. Cordelia was in the process of getting up from the bed but froze at his command.

"No?" she asked. Rhys wasn't sure what he heard in her voice. Hesitation, yes. A bit of confusion. But something else as well.

"No," Jeremy said calmly. "Lay down next to him and share your body heat. It's the quickest way to warm him up, I've found."

"Oh," she said, startled. "I...all right."

She awkwardly turned and lay down next to him, still wrapped up tight in the blanket, her face bright red with embarrassment. Rhys would have laughed if he weren't inwardly cursing at having to play the gentleman with her when he really wanted to roll on top of her and shove his cock inside her.

Jeremy was using his palm to massage the salve into Rhys' back. His hand and the salve had warmed up and it felt so good Rhys bowed his back into it and groaned. Cordelia's head whipped up and she looked at his face, concerned. "Does it hurt?"

"No," he said a bit impatiently. "It feels marvelous. I love it when he does this." He bit his lip, horrified at his slip of the tongue. What would she make of that? Damn Jeremy and his confessions and his kisses.

"Do you?" she asked, her head tilted to the side as she looked between them. "Good. I'm glad it feels nice." She cleared her throat and scooted closer to him, almost touching him. "Are you getting warmer?"

She awkwardly rested her head on the bed right next to his and they were face-to-face. He stared at her mouth. It was overly large for fashion. When she smiled it took over her face. He'd kissed her once or twice while he was courting her. Genteel kisses, mere pecks of affection. Except for one time, when he'd had a bit too much to drink. He'd cornered her in the garden at an assembly and kissed her with all the pent-up passion he'd felt for her since the first time he saw her, crossing the street in Bath, laughing at something her mother was saying. She'd opened her mouth and let him in and she'd kissed him back, her enthusiasm making up for her obvious innocence. His cock had ached for her. He'd been horrified at his ungentlemanly behavior the next day. They'd never spoken of it, and a week later he'd given her to Jeremy. Now he wished he'd done more. As he stared, she licked her lips and he raised his gaze to find her watching him with slightly hooded eyes.

"Open the blanket." Jeremy's words had her eyes flying wide as she looked over Rhys' shoulder at her husband and then back to him. "Open the blanket and share it with him. Press your warm body to his."

"But I'm naked under here," she said breathlessly.

"I know," Jeremy said. "That's exactly why I want you to do it."

# Chapter Seven

Jeremy kept rubbing the salve on Rhys' ruined back while he watched Cordy struggle with the idea he'd planted in her mind. Rhys hadn't given her enough credit. It wouldn't take long before she enthusiastically welcomed him to their bed. Jeremy was counting on it happening before the night was through. If not, they'd still reveal all and he'd have to go sleep with Rhys. He knew Rhys couldn't sleep without him by his side.

Rhys was quiet and still as stone. Jeremy refused to let him be passive in the revelations yet to come this night. "Rhys, wouldn't you like Cordy to share her warmth with you?"

Cordy was clutching the blanket to her chest with both fists, and he could see that she was breathing quickly, like a hare trying to decide whether to bolt. Jeremy used both hands on Rhys, massaging his shoulders and trying to get him to relax.

"Yes," Rhys whispered.

"You said you loved him," Jeremy began. Rhys jerked under his hands.

"Don't manipulate her," he growled.

Jeremy pursed his lips, guilt assailing him. "You're right. I can't force her to do something just because I want it."

Cordy gave a trembling sigh. "Stop." She took a deep breath and wiggled around on the bed, and then she lifted one side of the blanket, revealing her hip and a long, pale leg. Jeremy felt Rhys hitch his breath. She moved closer and the blanket slowly slid out from under her other hip. She threw the blanket over Rhys and Jeremy got a glimpse of her beautiful body before it was covered again. Then she pressed full-length against Rhys and he sucked in a deep breath.

To Jeremy's surprise Rhys grabbed Cordy's shoulders and pushed her away. "Don't let him make you do anything you don't want," he told her harshly. "Before you make any decisions, there are...things you should know."

She very deliberately reached up and brushed his hands aside, then slid into him again. She wrapped one arm around him, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Right now I've only decided to help keep you warm." She gently glided her fingers over his shoulder and down his arm and Jeremy, still touching his back, felt him relax slightly. Cordy tucked her head under Rhys' chin, so neither man could see her face. "Now tell me," she said quietly. "Tell me what has made you so sad and angry."

"This isn't enough?" Rhys said, his voice rough with emotion. "I feel like a child who must be taken care of."

"Don't worry," Cordy said, her voice amused. "I don't think of you as a child. Far from it." Rhys jerked under hands and Jeremy realized that Cordy had wrapped a leg around Rhys' hip. "That is not the reaction of a child," she murmured. Jeremy grinned in triumph. He'd known she'd come round. She genuinely loved Rhys and was not timid when it came to sexual matters. It should seem odd, sharing his wife this way, relishing the sight and sound of her enjoying another man's touch. But in the past year Jeremy's life had been turned upside down. He'd done things he'd never imagined, found a love he'd denied too long. He wanted it all. They'd made it back and now he wanted it all.

"When we first arrived in Algiers," Jeremy began, "they brought us to the _bagnio_ , the prison. Our identities were confirmed, and, as officers, we were placed in a separate holding area. We were the only officers captured that day. The other men were sent out soon after to work, as day laborers, some, God rest their souls, as galley slaves. I was forced to write a letter home, detailing my imprisonment and demanding a ransom. When Rhys told them that his family had no money, they sent him out to work with the other men, although I protested mightily. They conceded that he would still be allowed to rest at night in the officers' barracks with me. Soon thereafter the beatings began. This fool began taking the beatings for the other men."

"Only once or twice," Rhys said, his voice more relaxed than Jeremy had ever heard it. His eyes were closed and he had his arm wrapped around Cordy, holding her tight while Jeremy massaged his back.

"When they brought him back to me, I fixed him up as best I could and demanded better treatment for him, and for the other men under my command. They ignored my protests, but I became a bit of a thorn in the Bey's side over the whole thing."

Rhys laughed. "A bit."

"Good for you," Cordy said vehemently, sniffling with her face still buried in Rhys' neck.

This was the tricky part. He'd rehearsed over and over how to tell Cordy that he and Rhys had talked of her, had made plans for their future that would irrevocably change hers. He took a deep breath and was surprised when Rhys reached over his shoulder and touched the back of his hand. "Then, one night, I couldn't bear it anymore and I did...whatever it took to make Rhys feel better." He inwardly groaned. That was pathetic. He cleared his throat. "I..." He didn't know how to go on.

"We talked of you," Rhys said, shocking Jeremy with his straightforward revelation. "Jeremy told me about your...intimacies." He'd been the one who hadn't wanted to tell her, who wanted to leave Jeremy and Cordy and go away so he wouldn't come between them. Was he beginning to realize he couldn't come between them? That he'd always been a part of them? "I begged him to, you see. Because I was still in love with you. And he gave in."

"I didn't give in," Jeremy protested. "I told him because I love him," he found the courage to say. "I couldn't bear to see him hurting, physically or emotionally. His heartbreak over you was more than I could bear. By sharing every detail of our life together, I helped him make it through the very long nights."

Cordy didn't say anything for the longest time. Her hand was still on Rhys' shoulder, but it was still, her fingertips white from the pressure of her tight hold. "I don't blame you," she finally whispered. "I would have done anything, too, to make Rhys feel better."

"It became more than that," Rhys confessed in a rough whisper. Jeremy waited but Rhys said no more.

"Cordy," Jeremy said slowly, "the thought of being able to have you was all that got him through."

"Have me?" she asked in a whisper, still not looking at either of them.

"We made plans," he told her. "Plans that included you. Plans for the three of us. Together." Cordy's only reaction was a broken, breathy gasp.

"The Bey soon realized how incredibly close Rhys and I were. It's hard to keep something like that a secret when you're a prisoner." Jeremy scooped up a small amount of salve from the jar and applied it to Rhys' back. His hands were shaking at the memory. "Other men were far more intimate, actually," he added, wanting to get both Cordy and Rhys thinking about what that meant. "It was a nightmarish place and fear and loneliness can drive a man to find solace among the most unlikely places. When he found out, his punishments and tortures increased, and the more I protested, the more he had Rhys beaten. He knew my weakness. Whenever I got out of line, Rhys was dragged out and whipped in front of my prison window."

"Oh God," Cordy whispered. She covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes tightly. After a moment her hand began to smooth over Rhys' arm again, and Jeremy saw it tremble. "You said you loved him. How does Rhys feel?" she asked in a shaky voice. She pulled her head up and faced them, looking at Jeremy and then Rhys, who had his eyes open now.

"I've always loved him," Rhys said quietly. "Perhaps not the way I do now. But things changed in Algiers. I don't know how to explain it. He's closer than a brother to me. I can't live without him."

"I see." Cordy licked her lips. "Jeremy?"

"I love him," Jeremy said with quiet dignity. "I can't give him up."

Rhys tried to pull away from them both then, Jeremy's words perhaps finally getting through to him. Jeremy pushed on his shoulder to keep him down. "I won't come between you. I'll leave, if that's what you want."

"Where do I fit in?" Cordy asked, far more timid than he'd ever seen her. She was a little ball of insecurity, curled up in front of Rhys, her fingers barely touching his chest. Jeremy saw Rhys reach for her hand and kiss her palm.

"I have loved you for a very long time," he said quietly.

"Then why did you walk away from me? Why did you give Jeremy the field?" she asked in confusion.

"Because he was the better man for you," Rhys said simply. "He had a very promising career, a prestigious family connection. He could give you things I couldn't."

"Would you rather have married Rhys?" Jeremy asked, for the first time wondering if he'd been wrong to let Rhys step back and give him Cordy. Somehow, at the time, he'd known deep inside they would always be together, the three of them, no matter which of them married Cordy. "I love you too, more than I can say. But if it's Rhys you want..."

"No," she said firmly. "I just...oh, it was difficult. I loved you both, and wanted you both, and I knew I couldn't have you both." She swiped at her cheek and Jeremy realized she was crying again. What a difficult day she'd had, and they were making it harder with this conversation. But it all had to be said. Tonight. Before they fell back into their old roles, their old relationships, their old lies. "My family had instructed me to accept Jeremy if you both asked, for the same reasons you gave," she told Rhys. "And I suppose I would have followed their advice. I loved you both. There was no wrong choice. I just didn't want to make a choice at all."

"Then you understand perfectly how I feel," Jeremy said passionately, leaning over Rhys' shoulder and brushing her hair back from her face. "I love you both. We don't have to make a choice, Cordy. We can both have it all. All three of us, we can have it all."

# Chapter Eight

Cordelia stared at Jeremy. Could it be true? Could she really have them both? It seemed impossible. Hurt feelings, jealousy, the forbidden nature of such a relationship—all of those obstacles stood in their way. And yet she wanted it. She'd shied away from the idea of taking both Rhys and Jeremy as lovers, but now she confronted the reality head-on. She watched Jeremy as he smoothed his hand gently over Rhys' scarred back. The touch was loving, she could see that now. And arousing. Jeremy was still naked, and she could see his cock was hard. She could feel Rhys' erection through his pants where they were pressed against each other. She didn't think it was only the result of her nudity and their proximity. It was also Jeremy's touch. There was more here than their mutual desire for her, she was sure of it, whether or not they'd acknowledged it yet or not. She could accept both of them as lovers, being shared by the two men. But could she share them with each other?

She leaned up on one elbow, not caring that the blanket fell away and exposed her breasts. She wanted to see their reaction to her. Jeremy had already fucked her tonight, his touch as masterful and satisfying as it had always been. Surely he couldn't fuck her like that and not feel something for her. His words of love rang true, and when his gaze met hers she could see it in his face. She focused on the way he was touching Rhys, and his movements changed, became slower and more like caresses meant to arouse rather than soothe. He ran one hand down to Rhys' lower back and dipped his fingers under the waistband of Rhys' trousers, and Rhys audibly sucked in a shaky breath.

Cordelia turned her attention to Rhys then. He was watching her, and there was no mistaking the heat in his eyes. He looked down at her breasts and then back up at her face. Then he focused on her breasts again. He tentatively reached over and ran one finger around a nipple, and it peaked and her breast quivered as she shivered at the touch. Her breathing accelerated, but she didn't protest. Rhys slid his whole hand up and over her breast and then he cupped it in his palm, massaging it. It felt delicious and erotic.

She looked up and saw Jeremy watching them. When he caught Cordelia's gaze he rose to his knees so she could see his cock, hard and standing straight out, the way she loved to see it, so strong and proud and hers. But it wasn't anymore, was it? It was theirs, hers and Rhys', because he was here. He would see them together, he would become intimate with their bodies, their bed play. He would see Jeremy aroused. Jeremy glided his fist around his cock and pumped twice and a small drop of liquid eased out and wet the tip. She felt a thrill of desire skitter down her spine and she knew then, without a doubt, that she didn't care that he wanted to share this with Rhys. It felt right that he do so, after all they'd been through together.

"Tell me now if this isn't what you want, Cordelia," Rhys said hoarsely. "I've waited a very long time to have you. I'm not sure I could stop if we go any further."

"Jeremy?" she asked, wanting them both so badly she was weak with need. But it was all so new to her, this idea of the three of them, the fact that she could have what she'd always wanted with no ugly consequences.

"I want it," Jeremy said firmly. "I want to watch you two together."

Cordelia gave a shaky gasp, his words making her channel clench with desire, her sex throb with an empty ache. She looked down at Rhys. "Yes," she breathed out. "Oh, Rhys, yes. I want this."

Rhys held her back with his hand on her chest when she would have kissed him. "I am not the man I was," he said quietly. "I'm damaged, Cordelia, and I know it. Not just outside, but inside as well. Look at me. Really look at me."

She understood then his unhappiness, his hesitation, the awkwardness between them. He'd lost his confidence, something he'd had in abundance when they were courting. His distance from her wasn't because he didn't care, but because he didn't think she could anymore. She didn't get angry over his lack of faith in her. He'd been through a horrible, difficult ordeal, and the whole world must seem a frightening place to him. But she'd change that. Through her love and devotion he'd see that there was still something worth living for, something beautiful and worthy and steadfast here between the three of them.

"I am looking at you," she said as she cupped his cheek. She ran her thumb along his upper lip. "And you are beautiful to me. Everything I could want and more. Don't you understand, Rhys? I have loved you since you first smiled at me, since you first kissed my hand and said my name. That hasn't changed for me. I grieved..." She got choked up and had to swallow as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I grieved as much for your absence and your suffering as I did for Jeremy's. I prayed for your return as fervently as I prayed for his. The happiest moment of my life was seeing you both standing at the door today."

She leaned over and kissed him then, kissed him as she'd been longing to do for years. Rhys gave an almost inaudible whimper and then he took control of the kiss, and of her. He grabbed the back of her head and devoured her mouth hungrily, tasting and nipping and she was lost to him. Completely lost. It was her turn to whimper and she stretched out atop him, pressing her sex to his hip.

"Christ," Rhys growled out after he tore his mouth from hers. He slid down and took Cordelia's nipple in his mouth. She gasped again and then clutched the back of his head, pressing his mouth tighter to her.

"She likes it a bit rough," Jeremy said, his voice dark and low with command.

Rhys obeyed, sucking her nipple hard and then biting it. She cried out, her hips jerking. She could feel how wet she was, feel the cream coating her sex. "Oh God," she moaned. The combination of the two of them, the two men she loved, wanting her and fucking her together like this, it was madness and heaven. Suddenly Rhys rolled her over, their positions reversed.

"My back is fine," he growled to Jeremy. "I can move now. I can do this."

"Good," Jeremy said. "Then do it." He grabbed the blanket and yanked it off the two of them. The cold burst over her, giving her goose bumps, but Rhys leaned down and sucked her breast again and her shivers became tremors of another sort.

"Spread your legs," Rhys told her. His voice was desperate, harsh and quick. She did as he ordered and then his hand was there, cupping her, running his fingers through her wet pubic hair. "Ah, God," he groaned. "I can feel how wet you are. Is that from Jeremy?" His finger shoved inside her and Cordelia cried out, arching her back off the bed. "Mmm," Rhys murmured, kissing her neck and licking her overheated skin as he fucked his finger in and out several times. "So tight," he said, as if talking to himself.

"Yes," Cordelia told him, knowing instinctively what he wanted, what he needed. "His cock felt so good. I want yours too. I want you inside me." She bucked against his hand. "I need you."

"Yes," he hissed against her skin. He slid his body completely on top of hers and his hips slammed against her. She could feel how hard he was, how big, but his pants were still on. She moaned in distress.

"I wanted this to be so perfect for you," Rhys said, sounding angry again. "But I'm mucking it all up."

"Nonsense," Jeremy told him sharply. "Get up, and we'll do this properly." He helped as Rhys gingerly came to his knees. "All right?" Jeremy asked. His tone was brisk, very commander-like. Cordelia hid a smile.

Rhys nodded. "Yes. Better than I thought I would be." He smiled rakishly at Cordelia. "Perfect for what I need."

Cordelia smiled back tremulously. That smile of his—God, just like he used to smile at her. "Good." She pulled her knees up, her legs spread, showing him her sex. Jeremy had always liked that, when she showed him how eager she was, how aroused and wet and wanting him.

"Damn," Rhys said breathlessly. "Damn." He reached out and ran a finger down the lips of her sex and then he brought it to his mouth and sucked it clean. Cordelia moaned at the sight. Then she saw that Jeremy was undoing the falls on Rhys' pants. He slowly pushed them down over Rhys' hips, revealing a cock that was huge and thick, the veins prominent down the sides, the head dark and swollen and wet. It was an amazing cock, Rhys' cock, and Cordelia wanted it, in her mouth, her sex. She didn't care, she just wanted it.

Then Jeremy took Rhys' cock in his fist and pumped, his other arm snaking around Rhys' waist and pulling him back. "No," Rhys said in a strangled voice. She knew Jeremy's cock must be nestled in the crease of Rhys' backside. She shivered and scrambled to her knees, leaning forward, opening her mouth. Jeremy knew what she wanted and he pointed Rhys' cock toward her, holding it steady while she wrapped her lips around it and took it deep in her mouth.

"Cordelia," Rhys ground out, his hips just barely moving, his cock thrusting only slightly in her mouth. He pushed her away with a hand on her head. "You don't have to. Stop."

"I want to," she told him desperately. "Let me, please." She clutched his hip and took him in her mouth again, tried to force him to move, to fuck her mouth the way Jeremy liked to, the way she liked. She loved to taste him, and Rhys was no different. Salty and tangy and all man. She wrapped her tongue around him and pulled back and moved forward, moving her mouth on him. She pulled off his cock when he groaned deeply and she licked the slit in the plump head, and finally Rhys gave in and his hips thrust wildly at her.

"My God," Jeremy said, appreciation and desire in his voice. "I've always loved the way she sucks my cock. I told you, Rhys. I told she was marvelous. There's nothing she doesn't like, nothing she won't do."

Cordelia felt inordinately pleased at Jeremy's praise. She wanted to please him. She wanted to fuck Rhys perfectly, not just for Rhys, but for Jeremy, who wanted to see it, who enjoyed watching it. She could have them both. It was a dream come true for her. She made a great show of licking up and down Rhys big cock, her tongue lapping at the salty nectar leaking out of the end.

"I'm going to come before I can fuck her," Rhys gasped.

"Then do it," Jeremy told him. He still held Rhys' cock in his fist and he pumped the lower end while Cordelia sucked the tip. "We'll bring you up again, and you can take her slowly then."

"I want you to fuck her too," Rhys gasped. "I want to watch you too."

It was Cordelia's turn to gasp around Rhys' cock. She pulled off. "Oh, yes. Yes, please. I want to do that." She needed them both this first time. The way it would always be now.

"Cordelia," Rhys growled. He cupped the back of her head and thrust back into her mouth. "You are just as perfect as Jeremy claimed." He fucked in and out. "You are insatiable." She nodded around the cock in her mouth, unable to speak. She could tell Rhys was close, he was so hard and throbbing against her tongue.

"You are both perfect," Jeremy told him, squeezing the end of Rhys' cock. Cordelia could see his knuckles were white with the strength of his grip and Rhys groaned. She sucked harder and he bucked against Jeremy's hold. "Come in her mouth," Jeremy whispered. "I want to kiss her while she tastes like you."

Rhys cried out and then she tasted his release as it flooded her mouth. She groaned at how exquisite it was, how much it tasted like Rhys. It was so intimate. She swallowed and swallowed, not wanting to waste a drop, hardly able to believe he was hers now.

# Chapter Nine

Rhys fell back in Jeremy's arms, spent from his release, shocked and delighted at Cordelia's response to him, to this. His cock slipped from her lips. She straightened and crawled on her knees closer to the two men. Jeremy leaned over Rhys' shoulder and she kissed him, letting him have a taste of Rhys in her mouth. She cupped the back of Jeremy's head, her other hand resting on Rhys' bare chest, while Jeremy licked at the corners of her lips where Rhys saw a little semen remained. Jeremy growled against her mouth before plunging his tongue inside. She trembled against Rhys as Jeremy drank from her mouth. Rhys was mesmerized by the erotic kiss and wanted to join them, but was afraid. _What am I doing? Where was this all going?_

"So good," Jeremy said after he broke the kiss. "I dreamed of it. Dreamed of watching you suck him. Dreamed of tasting him on your lips." He licked his lips as if savoring the flavor. "Next I want to eat him from your cunt. After you fuck him."

"God, yes," Cordelia moaned. Her head fell back and her eyes closed as she shuddered.

"Yes," Rhys gasped, pulled back into the moment by the erotic images Jeremy had called forth. "Now. That's what I want to do now. Taste Jeremy in you." He froze for a second, startled by his own desires, until he saw the answering heat in Jeremy and Cordelia's eyes. He impatiently pushed her back and she hurried to comply.

"Yes," she said. "I want your mouth on me. I've always wanted your mouth on me. Both of you. Together."

Rhys was pulling off his pants and he threw them down on the floor and turned back. "Yes, that's right. Together," he agreed, pulling on Jeremy's arm.

Jeremy laughed. "All right, yes. Right now."

Rhys needed to make Cordelia the focus here. Not him, and definitely not him and Jeremy together. That image flashed through his mind and he groaned and threw himself down between Cordelia's legs, his mouth seeking the lips of her quim. He kissed her there as thoroughly as he'd kissed her mouth. She tasted divine, sweet and alluring and aroused and all the things Jeremy had described late at night as Rhys had fisted his cock. She smelled just as divine, spicy and real.

Suddenly Jeremy was there, shouldering in next to him, and he scooted over to make room. Cordelia's legs were splayed wide and Rhys loved it, loved how abandoned she was to their sensual pleasures. So ladylike and delicate in the drawing room, so lusty in the bedroom, just as Jeremy had said. And she was his now, too, all this, his...and Jeremy's. Just then Jeremy's mouth joined his on her sex, his mouth so close to Rhys', his hot breath washing over Rhys' lips, and Rhys groaned and shivered at the eroticism of it. And, God, part of the taste of her was Jeremy's release still there, flavoring her cream, and Rhys was eating them both, as was Jeremy, and Rhys grew hard again at the realization.

Jeremy reached over and took Rhys' hand off Cordelia's thigh and guided it to her entrance. He delicately rimmed her with their fingertips and she bucked beneath them, reaching down and fisting his hair, pressing his mouth to her. Jeremy laughed quietly beside him, and his breath blew against Rhys' cheek. Rhys jerked his hips, driving his cock into the bed at the pleasure it gave him. Damn Jeremy. Damn him for making Rhys want even more forbidden pleasures.

He pulled his finger from her and started to lick into Cordelia's entrance at the same moment that Jeremy did the same, and their tongues tangled inside her. She moaned and Rhys started to jerk back, but Jeremy's hand on the back of his head stopped him. Jeremy continued to lick Cordelia and after a long hesitation, so did Rhys. His tongue kept passing over Jeremy's until he realized Jeremy was seeking him out. He was breathing heavily, his mind awhirl, his cock so damn hard it hurt. It felt as if he'd never come in sweet Cordelia's mouth. He gave in to the abandon of the moment, tasted Cordelia and Jeremy together, the essence of them and the silky smoothness of her cunt and his tongue. It was mesmerizing, the desire coursing through him, stealing his breath, his control, his reservations. There was only the three of them, the heat and lust they generated together.

Cordelia cried out as her back arched and she stiffened beneath them. In one synchronized movement, Rhys and Jeremy each pushed a finger inside her and she gave a little scream as her walls contracted tightly around them. She sobbed wordlessly, and Rhys lightly bit the tiny nub of pleasure at her apex. She cried out again, and he felt such enormous pride in making her climax, such gratitude that he'd been given this.

Jeremy jerked back with a curse. "Dammit, now. Fuck her now. I can't stand it."

"Yes," she sobbed. "Now." She could barely speak, still in the throes of her climax.

Rhys came to his knees and Jeremy rolled off to the side, ready to be an observer rather than a participant, and Rhys felt his absence sharply. He wanted Jeremy behind him, holding him, pressing his warm, hard cock against his backside as he'd done earlier. He shook his head to dispel the image. He grabbed Cordelia's bottom and lifted it slightly, ready to press inside her. His back pulled tightly and he winced. He tried to ignore it and keep going, but Cordelia saw his pain.

"Stop," she said breathlessly. "Let me get on top."

Rhys could hardly fathom what she meant. Her sensuality was a shock to him, though Jeremy had told him. But he'd thought the stories exaggerated for his benefit. They were not. She was lusty and all that a man could desire.

"I'm fine," he said gruffly. He felt that this first time with her he ought to be a man about the whole thing. He should have known she'd have none of that. She pushed him off and came to her knees.

"Don't be foolish," she said, though her sensual smile took the sting from her words. "You and I both know it will be just as good this way. I like it this way." She looked at his cock and the heat in her gaze seared him. "I can take you deeper this way. I want to." She sounded so desperate for him, so needful. How could he say no? He rolled onto his back and was instantly grateful. The discomfort of his scars became a tolerable nuisance rather than a horrible hindrance. Was it the new position, or was it Cordelia waiting for him, hot and wet and tight and willing, that lessened his pain? He didn't know and didn't care. As soon as she straddled him he pulled her down and pushed inside her just a little bit. The intense pleasure of it stole his breath.

"Oh, God, yes," Cordelia moaned. "You feel so good." She ground her hips against his hold, trying to force him deeper. "More."

"Slowly, darling," Jeremy panted from beside them. He'd lain down right next to Rhys. "He's too big to rush in there. Larger than I am."

Rhys glanced at him in alarm. Was he jealous? "She told me how much she loved your cock earlier."

Jeremy gave him a crooked grin. "I know. Don't worry; I'm not feeling put out. It's a simple fact, you've got a big cock."

"Yes," Cordelia hissed, working her cunt down on him, her back arched and her arms behind her, her hands pressing on the bed for leverage.

Jeremy laughed. "Ah, darling, I knew you'd like that." He grabbed his hard cock and began to stroke it as he watched Rhys enter his wife. He licked his lips and thrust his cock through his fist and Rhys groaned. Jeremy tore his eyes away from the sight of Rhys possessing his wife and met Rhys' gaze with a scorching glance. "I know," he said. "I know."

Rhys didn't think he did. He didn't understand that Rhys' passion was for the both of them. He bit his lip and gathered his courage. "Do you want this?" he asked in a gruff, hesitant voice.

"You know I do," Jeremy said. "I told you I wanted to watch. I love it. I love seeing you fuck Cordelia at last."

Cordelia lifted up until just the head of his cock penetrated her and then she pressed down again. He slid balls-deep inside her and he cried out at the snug fit of her, at the heat of her wrapped around him. He'd never be cold again. He shook his head. "No. Do you want this? My cock?" He'd grown bold at the clasp of her cunt. The proof of Jeremy's desire was clutched in his fist. He was enjoying this as much as she.

Cordelia moaned at his question and thrust against him, her cunt clutching at him. Jeremy's eyes narrowed, his cheekbones in sharp relief as his nostrils flared with desire. "Yes," he whispered. "But I want to fuck you too, Rhys. I want to take you."

"Ah, God," Cordelia said low in her throat. She spasmed around him.

"She just came at the thought," Rhys said, biting his lip to keep from exploding inside her at the exquisite grasp of her climax.

"I almost did," Jeremy said with amusement. "Although she had the benefit of your cock to help it along. I imagine when I've got that inside me I'll come just as quickly."

Rhys shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind of the things Jeremy was saying, but he couldn't. "Not yet," he ground out. "I'm not ready yet."

"Soon," Jeremy promised. "Very soon."

Rhys nodded. It was his only acknowledgement before he began to move inside Cordelia. The feel of her, the knowledge that at long last he was part of the woman he'd loved for so long, was overpowering. All thought fled as every one of his senses focused on the pleasure coursing through him. He was moving within her now at a hard, fast pace and she kept up, riding him just as hard, giving as good as she got. She seemed as lost to pleasure as he was. She was insatiable, the perfect woman for two men.

"She'll come again and again," Jeremy whispered right into his ear. Rhys startled in surprise as his eyes flew open. Jeremy was still lying right next to him, still pumping his cock, watching him fuck Cordelia. He'd rolled onto his side to see them better. "Once she gets warmed up she'll go for hours," he said, petting her leg resting on the bed by Rhys' hip. "I don't know how she does it. I've never known another woman like her." He looked at Rhys', who hadn't taken his eyes off Jeremy while he was talking. Very slowly he leaned down and kissed Rhys' shoulder and then he gently bit it. Rhys shuddered and slammed into Cordelia. Jeremy grinned. "She used to wear me out, sometimes. I'm glad you're here to help now."

"So am I," Cordelia agreed fervently. "I can't get enough of you both. I'll never have enough."

"Greedy," Rhys said breathlessly. The grin on his face felt...natural. He hadn't felt this carefree in ages.

"Yes." Cordelia sounded unrepentant, pulling a laugh out of Rhys.

"Good," he said, increasing his pace. "I'm going to come. Can I?" His eyes were nearly crossed with the need to fill her.

It took a moment for them to understand what he meant. "Yes," Jeremy said. "She is as much your wife as mine now. It doesn't matter who fathers a baby, does it?"

Rhys shook his head, too overcome to speak. He closed his eyes, but he wasn't fast enough and a tear slipped down his cheek. He felt Jeremy's mouth there, then his tongue, lapping his tears away. He opened his eyes and gasped, feeling his orgasm coming like a streak of lightning down his spine. Suddenly Jeremy's mouth was there, swallowing his cry. He came, and Cordelia cried out and came again, just as Jeremy said she would. Jeremy slipped his tongue into Rhys' mouth, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss him madly while he climaxed inside her.

Jeremy yanked his head back with a moan and Rhys felt the hot wash of his release on his stomach and groin. He looked down to see that Jeremy had come all over both him and Cordelia—right where they were joined. It was as if he'd marked them his. It sparked another rush of pleasure, and he jerked his hips, driving his still-hard cock into her, and she moaned.

# Chapter Ten

When it was over they all collapsed on the bed, a man on each side of Cordelia. Their panting breaths filled the room and Rhys felt sweat on his brow and his back. He laughed at the joy of finally being warm. He hadn't been warm since he stepped onto English soil.

"I have never been so wanton in my life," Cordelia groaned. She rolled over and hid her face in Rhys' chest. "I don't know what you must think of me. I swear I cannot think straight when I'm fucking."

Rhys and Jeremy both laughed. Rhys hugged her as Jeremy kissed her nape.

"My darling," Jeremy said, "trust me, we are not judging you harshly. It was just what we needed. What we've been wanting for months. You were perfect."

"You were," Rhys agreed. "I never imagined—well, I did," he admitted sheepishly, "but still, I never really thought this would happen."

"I told you we'd be together," Jeremy said, his voice triumphant. "I knew it would work out. How could Cordelia not love you as I do? It was impossible that she would turn us away. Not her. Not Cordelia."

"No, I'd never," she told Rhys, lifting her head and cupping his cheek. Her cheeks were wet with tears and he wiped them away.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked anxiously, wishing he were a smaller man.

"No," she said. "I get this way sometimes, when I'm doing this." She blushed. "It's just that the intensity of my feelings overwhelm me."

"I was thinking the same thing when I was inside you," Rhys whispered. "I've never known the like."

"Will it be like that, do you think, when you're with Jeremy?" she asked quietly. He tried to look away but she kept her hand on his cheek and wouldn't let him. "Don't. I want that for you both. I know how you feel about one another. I saw it earlier tonight and I knew. It doesn't frighten me. It's only right that it be like that for all of us. Isn't it?"

Her stare was intense, he was so full of hope, and it both frightened and elated him. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, it is. And it will. Just the thought..." He closed his eyes and swallowed. "Yes," he simply said.

"Yes," Jeremy agreed. "But we need some time."

Rhys looked at him gratefully. "Yes. Thank you."

"It is all a bit much," Cordelia said. She laughed breathlessly. "When I awoke this morning all I prayed for was your return, as I have every morning since I got word of your capture. I never dreamed that I would have this." She hugged Rhys and turned her head for Jeremy's kiss. This time Rhys leaned in and licked at their joined mouths and they turned so that all three of their tongues could taste one another, could mingle and caress. It was the most daring thing he'd ever done.

"Oh," Cordelia said with a sigh. "I'm going to like this an awful lot."

Both men laughed. "Yes," Jeremy agreed. "Me too."

Cordelia glanced out the window. "Oh, look," she exclaimed. "It's snowing. I always think it's a good omen when it snows on Christmas Day."

Rhys turned startled eyes to her. "Is it Christmas already?"

"Yes," she nodded, puzzled. "Didn't you know?"

"We forgot," Jeremy said. "I guess we have our days and weeks all mixed up still." He smiled. "Happy Christmas, darling. I'm sorry, but we haven't a gift for you."

At his words Cordelia laughed heartily. "Are you mad? This"—she motioned between the three of them—"this is the greatest gift I will ever receive. Happy Christmas, my loves." The three shared another kiss and Rhys knew she spoke the truth. For all of them.
_The following is an excerpt from_ LOVE'S SURRENDER _, a Brothers in Arms Christmas novella available from Samantha Kane._

**Love's Surrender**

_Samantha Kane_

_Book 9 in the Brothers in Arms series._

Lady Vanessa Carlton-Smythe is from one of England's most well-respected families and the daughter of an earl. She has lived an exemplary life—the perfect daughter, the perfect lady. Until one Christmas Eve, when she meets two men who unleash her secret desires. She can't surrender her heart, only her body, and only for the next twelve days. After Twelfth Night, their affair must end and she will return to a life that is slowly suffocating her.

Veterans Nick and Oliver have been constant companions since Waterloo. They share everything, including women and a bad reputation. When Lady Vanessa catches them in a compromising position, they are seduced by the longing in her eyes. Cool, distant, unattainable—the more she protests, the more they want her. Vanessa's desires prompt the two men to finally give in to their feelings and become lovers. When desire becomes love, can they convince Vanessa to leave her privileged life behind and surrender to them forever?

Excerpt:

**Chapter One**

No one had asked to partner her in a dance.

It had been happening more frequently. And it was glaringly obvious here in this small drawing room, where the furniture had been pushed back for dancing. There were no potted palms or columns to hide behind.

She never would have come if she'd known there would be dancing. It was supposed to be a small Christmas Eve dinner, nothing more. Ordinarily she wouldn't have accepted an invitation from the Shelbys', but it had been last minute and she hadn't wanted to stay at home on Christmas Eve. She should have known there were ulterior motives behind her invitation. There always were. Tonight's agenda seemed to be to humiliate her while showcasing young Melinda Dorsett's popularity and vivacious beauty.

Lady Vanessa Carlton-Smythe felt all the weight of her ponderous name and her equally weighty ancestors. Not to mention The Incident.

Lady Dalrymple chose that moment to take pity on Vanessa and sidled over to where she stood alone.

"No partner again, my dear? What a pity." Lady Dalrymple languidly applied her fan as she surveyed the ballroom. Curls the color of a cold, gray dawn barely moved in the tepid breeze she made. "Perhaps you can convince your father to... _lower_ his standards a bit, hmm?" Lady Dalrymple continued mercilessly. "You are getting on, my dear. If he isn't careful you'll be on the shelf, like poor Miss Peasbody over there." The old woman tsked as Vanessa choked on a horrified gasp.

Miss Peasbody was _old_. And unwed. And unwanted.

"Certainly one would think with your bloodlines that some gentleman would come up to scratch," Lady Dalrymple mused unkindly. "The Carlton-Smythe connection alone is enough to forgive any deficiencies in character or looks."

Vanessa pasted on a brittle smile. She'd forgotten Lady Dalrymple was Miss Dorsett's great aunt. Which reminded her, where was her Aunt Grace? Her job as chaperone was to help Vanessa avoid situations just like this. "It does seem to make a difference," she agreed coolly. "Dancing and coy artlessness are not required of a woman in my circumstances. My name alone recommends me, as good breeding, impeccable manners and intelligence are understood in any Carlton-Smythe."

Lady Dalrymple was not so stupid that she didn't recognize the censure in Vanessa's words. Other than a thinning of her already thin lips, however, she did not acknowledge the set down. "Surely a man requires more than a name, my dear. It might be enough to attract, but to secure him you must display the warmth and sensibility that a man wishes for in a wife. Wit, dancing, intelligent conversation are all required to keep a man's attentions."

Vanessa gave Lady Dalrymple the coldly blank look she had achieved at a young age, after rigorous training with her mother. The look reserved especially for those who did not know their place when addressing a Carlton-Smythe. "A Carlton-Smythe has no need to snare a man through posturing, Lady Dalrymple. While some young ladies," she glanced over at Miss Dorsett, laughing a little too loudly while she was spun around the dance floor, "feel a less refined manner will attract and secure, it is not required of me."

"Perhaps the handsome Duke of Ashland would argue that point." Lady Dalrymple drove that nail home with undisguised malicious pleasure. "Her Grace is well-known as a lively young woman who enjoys dancing and laughing and the pleasures to be found in such endeavors."

Vanessa took a quiet, dignified, deep breath. Of course Lady Dalrymple would bring up The Incident. "Then His Grace was quite right when he felt we would not suit. As I have said to Ashland," she used the familiar address to show she was intimate with the Duke and Duchess while Lady Dalrymple was not, "if he had not behaved so badly when he broke our engagement, neither of us would enjoy the happiness we do today." She inwardly cringed. Happiness, indeed. She hardly knew what the word meant these days.

"If you will excuse me, Lady Dalrymple, I believe I see my aunt. Good evening." Vanessa hurried in the direction of her Aunt Grace, whom she'd spotted gossiping near the far end of the room. She passed the dance floor on her way to her aunt's side, and noticed Miss Dorsett was no longer displaying her dancing and wit there. She caught her aunt's eye and the small, older woman excused herself from her companion and stepped forward to greet her niece.

"Is something the matter, my dear?" she asked quietly, taking Vanessa's hand and tucking it in her elbow as she slowed Vanessa's steps to a stately walk around the room's perimeter. To most observers it most likely seemed as if the two had met deliberately to stroll around the room and chat.

"I was ambushed," Vanessa said softly as she smiled politely at Mrs. Crusher and her two daughters. The girls were rather plain but very sweet and well dressed, ensuring at least one offer for each of them this season, Vanessa was sure. She always made it a point to show her approval of them when they met. The opinion of a Carlton-Smythe was enough to sway many families in favor of a match they might not have sought otherwise.

Her smile grew brittle as they passed the Crushers and strolled into enemy territory. Lady Dalrymple now stood with her sister and grandniece, Miss Dorsett's grandmother and mother, all three glaring at Vanessa and her aunt.

"I saw. Keep smiling," Aunt Grace said. She nodded at the ladies, forcing them to acknowledge her and Vanessa. She knew they couldn't afford to risk a falling out with the Carlton-Smythes. They all nodded back politely.

Vanessa felt a spurt of disgust. She knew they disliked her and resented her family, and yet they all put on masks and pretended an affinity none of them felt. Including Vanessa. But she was reluctant to ruin their family and Miss Dorsett's chances for an advantageous match, simply because she disliked them. As a Carlton-Smythe she may wield a great deal of power, but Vanessa had been taught from a young age to use it wisely and judiciously. It simply wasn't in her nature to be so spiteful.

"Do you need a moment, Vanessa?" Aunt Grace asked, continuing their stroll, smiling and nodding as she went. She had been raised a Carlton-Smythe as well and knew how to maintain appearances. She also knew how this life sometimes suffocated Vanessa, and she was sympathetic. Aunt Grace had never married, not by choice but because her father and brother had never found a suitor worthy of her. She had once confided in Vanessa that were the grocer to offer for her at this point, she would say yes without a moment's hesitation or consideration.

"Yes." She did need a moment alone. She needed to regroup and settle her nerves. It wouldn't do for anyone here to see her flustered or in a temper. She lived her life in a glass bowl. Her thoughts and feelings were her own, however, and not for public scrutiny.

Suddenly her aunt stumbled and caught her heel on Vanessa's hem, tearing it. "Oh, dear!" Aunt Grace exclaimed. Several ladies and gentlemen standing nearby rushed over to help her unsteady aunt. "Oh, I've torn your hem, Vanessa," Aunt Grace said sadly. "I'm so sorry."

Vanessa wanted to applaud her masterful performance. Instead she smiled warmly. "I'm fine, Aunt Grace. As long as you are all right?"

Her aunt was glancing around the floor. "I'm fine, dear. I just can't fathom what I must have tripped on," she mused. By now there were at least ten people searching the floor in vain for the offending article. "Run along and get your hem fixed, Vanessa," Aunt Grace begged. "I shall be well cared for, I'm sure." A chorus of assurances came from her aunt's rescuers as Mrs. Crusher pressed a glass of lemonade into her aunt's hand and she was led to a chair.

Vanessa didn't answer. Instead she slipped out without anyone noticing.

* * *

She had almost reached the relative seclusion of the retiring room when a small noise to her right made Vanessa stop. It had sounded a little like distress, but not quite. Was it a man or woman? Again, Vanessa wasn't sure. It might have been a cat, even.

The noise came again and Vanessa turned her head slowly, until she gazed into the dark shadows of a small hallway, partially hidden by a chest of some sort. She couldn't immediately discern what was happening. There appeared to be a couple, or perhaps more? They were hiding in the shadows, and a gentleman was holding a woman up. The dark material of his coat sleeve stood out in stark relief against the lady's pale dress. Vanessa took a step toward them, still silent. The man raised his head from the woman's shoulder and his eyes met Vanessa's.

Her heart stuttered and then beat erratically. His eyes were black, one speck of light burning in each, mesmerizing her. She was frozen in place by the heat and intensity of his stare.

The moment was broken when the woman in his arms squirmed and sighed. The sound was the one that had caught Vanessa's attention. Breaking eye contact with Vanessa, the man bent over the woman's shoulder, one hand cupping the back of her head to hold her steady. Then he licked her neck.

Vanessa's breath caught in her throat. It was an assignation. She'd stumbled upon lovers, it seemed. Embarrassment burned in her cheeks. Only the man was aware of her. Vanessa was uncharacteristically flustered. Should she turn and hurry on to the retiring room, probably alerting the woman to her presence? Or should she quietly back out the way she'd come? That seemed somehow like a retreat, surrender to the challenge she'd seen gleaming in the gentleman's dark eyes.

When a second man stepped out of the shadows and took the woman's hand from the first man's shoulder, Vanessa gaped like a green girl. He, too, was watching Vanessa as he kissed the woman's hand. His hair gleamed in the faint light from the hallway sconce, obviously golden, though light or dark she couldn't tell. He was taller than his companion. The woman giggled and it was then Vanessa recognized who it was. Miss Dorsett. Not a woman then, but a girl too young to understand the trouble that had found her. With a sigh, Vanessa realized it was up to her to rescue the foolish chit.

Before she could make her presence known the blond gentleman spoke quietly. "We must return you to the drawing room before you are missed, Melinda." His voice was a deep whisper, a mere rumble that carried across the hall to Vanessa and she shivered. The dark-haired man smiled at her as if he'd seen the telltale sign of her discomfort and it amused him.

"Oh pooh," Melinda said, sounding like a spoiled child. "I was told you two were dangerous, a threat to my virtue. A few kisses and a pinch or two and you're sending me off? That hardly signifies. I shall have to tell everyone your reputations are much exaggerated." Vanessa could picture her pouting, though she faced away from Vanessa.

The dark-haired man laughed quietly. "So now you know our secret. We are truly saints in disguise." He untangled her arms from around his neck. "Go now. We shall follow after so no one suspects your virtue was threatened."

"Well, it wasn't," Miss Dorsett declared testily. "I was hoping for some fun with you two this season before I must settle into a staid marriage with someone appropriate. God knows I can't encourage you as suitors, but I thought at least you could satisfy me in private. I begin to think I shall have to find a different lover to do so." She patted her hair. "Don't ask me to dance again. Mama had a fit when I agreed earlier. You are not marriage material, after all."

Miss Dorsett turned toward the drawing room and Vanessa swallowed a gasp and stepped back quickly, pressing against the wall behind her as if she could blend into the garish oriental print on the paper there. Even though Miss Dorsett faced the opposite end of the hallway from where Vanessa stood, she feared the girl would detect her presence. She needn't have worried. It was apparent the young lady was quite put out and too self-interested to notice her surroundings.

"I shall send for you if I want you," Miss Dorsett said dismissively. "Until then, stay away. I won't have you two ruining my chances at a brilliant match. Mama says I am the catch of the season."

The dark-haired gentleman bowed over her hand as if in agreement, keeping her attention focused on him while the taller one moved to stand between Vanessa and Miss Dorsett as if to help her hide from the girl. "Of course," he said in reply. Vanessa recognized the amused disdain in his voice. It was quite confusing as to who had been using whom in their little assignation, for there was clearly no love lost between the three.

Without a word or look in Vanessa's direction the two men ushered Miss Dorsett down the hallway between them, leaving Vanessa feeling like an eavesdropping fool as she hurried to the retiring room.

* * *

Once they were out of sight of the blonde beauty, Nick watched as Oliver grabbed Miss Dorsett's hand, slowing her retreat to the drawing room. "Melinda, my dear, a question, if you will."

Miss Dorsett turned to Oliver, her look smug and self satisfied. Nick almost laughed at her misconception. Oliver had never been interested in her at all. Nick had been randy, and Miss Dorsett obviously willing. Though she had preferred Oliver's blond good looks, it had been Nick playing at seduction while a bored Oliver looked on. But someone else had clearly caught Oliver's attention.

"There was a blonde woman, tall and rather cool, talking with your aunt earlier. Who is she?" Oliver asked. He placed a tender kiss upon Miss Dorsett's palm, as if the question was merely meant to delay her and not the only reason Oliver hadn't walked in the opposite direction when they parted ways.

"A cool blonde?" she asked with a frown. Then she laughed, and there was a wicked gleam in her eye. "You must mean Lady Vanessa Carlton-Smythe." The way she said the name clearly indicated she did not care for the quiet, blonde beauty.

When Nick heard the name his heart sank. Even he had heard of the Carlton-Smythes. Lady Vanessa, the daughter of an Earl, was as out of reach as the moon to fellows like him, no matter what Nick had seen in her eyes as she'd watched him. His sinking heart turned to an acute pain in his stomach as he recognized the look on Oliver's face. Oliver wanted a new toy, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Don't bother," Miss Dorsett said dismissively. "She won't grant you an audience. The high and mighty Lady Vanessa is too good for the likes of you. She thinks she's too good for the likes of just about everyone." Her look turned spiteful. "But I'd like to see you try. Wouldn't that set everyone's tongues wagging?" She laughed. "Lady Vanessa, unwed at twenty-two, reduced to accepting you two as suitors. How rich!"

Nick didn't care for her tone. Actually, he didn't care for her at all. When she kept her mouth shut she was only tolerable. When she spoke she became completely intolerable. With a sigh he realized he wouldn't have wanted to go any further with her than he had, even if they hadn't been interrupted. He'd lost interest in her almost immediately. That had been happening more and more lately to both him and Oliver. It was the reason they'd come back from the continent after almost three years abroad. Nick was beginning to think there wasn't a woman alive who could hold their interest for more than an hour.

"Yes, how rich," Oliver agreed in a pleasant tone. "Now, off to the drawing room with you." He dismissed her lightly with a little tap on the bottom, as if she were a naughty child. With a huff, Miss Dorsett turned and stalked out of view.

"I hope you don't come to regret that rather cavalier dismissal," Nick observed, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

"What could you have been thinking to choose that one out of all the women here tonight?" Oliver asked, exasperated. "A ready quim is one thing, of course, but I know for a fact you are not that desperate. I distinctly remember sharing a rather nice fuck just the other night."

Nick shrugged with one shoulder. "I wanted to fuck tonight. I wasn't aware there were limitations on that particular pastime."

"There aren't." Oliver leaned his back flat against the opposite wall and crossed his arms while he regarded Nick. "But you aren't one to indiscriminately fuck when the urge strikes. Care to tell me why tonight was different?"

"It wasn't." Nick looked away, toward the drawing room. "I was very discriminating. I determined that this party was a crashing bore and the only thing that could save the evening was a nice, clandestine fuck. With my best friend, of course," he added, bowing slightly in Oliver's direction. "And I chose the most willing, and likely, candidate in the vicinity."

Oliver bowed back. "I thank you for the thought. But next time, let me choose the candidate."

"Oh no," Nick said, standing up straight. He pointed at Oliver and glared. "I choose young ladies with loose morals and absent chaperones. You choose wide-eyed, innocent well-bred young ladies who get us shot."

"I got shot. Not you. And you have never been disappointed in any of my choices."

"I was greatly disappointed in Mathilde, since she got you shot."

Oliver sighed. He sounded so long-suffering that Nick had to grit his teeth against his annoyance. "Before I was shot, you were not disappointed," he pointed out, irritatingly patient. "And I readily admit she was an ill-conceived choice, but how was I to know her ancient husband was such a good shot? Spaniards aren't known for their accuracy, after all."

"But they are well-known for their passionate tempers," Nick ground out. He shook his head. "I knew that, too, and should have said no."

Oliver grinned conspiratorially. "She was worth it, no?"

"No." Nick's reply was flat but adamant. "And neither is this one." He pleaded, his hands outstretched. "Please, Oliver, not again. There are plenty of merry widows who would gladly share our bed. Please leave this Lady Vanessa alone."

"She looked so...isolated," Oliver mused. "As if she lived separate from the world." He looked at Nick then, and Nick was frozen by the desolation in Oliver's face. "I know that feeling. She's very lonely."

And that was that, wasn't it? If Oliver wanted Lady Vanessa, then Nick would help him get her. For both of them.

# Kate Pearce interviews Samantha Kane

Introduction:

When my first book, Eden's Pleasure came out with Elloras Cave in 2005 I had a lot of feedback along the lines of "Ooh, you remind me of Samantha Kane!" And I was like, _who is this woman_? I checked on the EC site and there she was. She had a series called 'Brothers In Arms', which was set during the Regency period and featured _two soldiers returning to one woman_.

I downloaded that sucker as fast as I could and read it on my PC, (no ereaders in those days) and I LOVED IT.

And when I finally got to meet Samantha she turned out to be funny, witty and great fun to hang out with on a dance floor. Over the years we've kept in touch, occasionally been up for the same awards together and been proud of each other's success. Last year at the Romantic Times conference we were laughing that somehow we'd morphed into the Grand Dames of Regency Erotic Romance and were considered trailblazers by all the young things. So this interview is to set the record straight on how Samantha Kane came to be...

1. Did you always want to be a writer?

Yes, I did. I was in a creative writing class all the way back in elementary school, and entered a local writing contest in 4th grade with a poem about a man who kills his wife. (I don't have that poem anymore. Not sure why. Perhaps my parents felt it was too macabre.) I went on to write for both my high school and college newspapers, including editorials, and finally gathered the courage to write a book when I went off to graduate school.

Funny story, last year at a New Year's Eve party we were playing one of those silly games where you pick a card and everyone has to answer a question. The question was, what did you want to be when you grew up? My answer: a writer. One woman looked at me and said, "Fuck you for living the dream." LOL

2. Did you ever imagine you'd end up writing erotic Regencies? (I didn't)

No, not really. The first book I wrote bordered on erotic, though I didn't know it at the time. I didn't even know that particular genre existed. But I pushed some envelopes and people who read it told me how hot it was. (That book is still awaiting rewrites, as most writers' first books are.) But then I discovered Ellora's Cave and erotic romance and it was as if the heavens opened and inspiration rained down upon me. *cue harp music here*

3. Do you _feel_ like a Trailblazer?

Actually, sometimes yes. I know the modest answer would be no, but I've sworn to tell the truth to the best of my ability. The fact is, that I still read newer books and sometimes think, before Brothers in Arms there were no series like this, at least not published. The funny thing is that at the time, I didn't. I didn't see it as anything new or revolutionary or unique. It was just something that I wanted to read and couldn't find out there and so I wrote it. Only after the fact, and getting feedback from readers and other authors, did I realize that it was an original concept and it started something.

4. What's the most important thing to you as a writer?

I want my stories to evoke an emotional response in readers. Not just a physical sort of knee jerk Oh-that's-hot reaction, but something that tears their hearts out and makes them cry and laugh and rejoice with the characters. Everything I write is aimed at getting that emotional response, because I think that's what readers really want and love. I know I do. And a big part of that is making my characters memorable and sympathetic and identifiable. My writing starts and ends with characters.

5. How has your process changed/developed over the years?

I started out a 'pantser'. I just started writing and let the story go wherever it wanted until it arrived at a sort of end. Now I'm a plotter. I plot the heck out of a book, mainly because it's my weak point as a writer. I could go on and on and on about the characters I love, from what they had for breakfast to how they spend each and every minute of every day. But that would make for some very boring, _Ulysses_ -like stories, and God knows I don't want to go there. So I plot out very meticulously what I want to happen and what needs to happen to get from point A to point Z in the most efficient and entertaining way. Plotting has been my salvation as a writer. And I think the difference shows. If you look at my first four books you can see that meandering path. But with my science fiction story _Tomorrow_ , and the fifth Brothers in Arms story, _Retreat From Love_ , the writing is cleaner and the stories much more focused and intricate.

6. What do you think are the most important things about writing an erotic historical?

Believability would be number one. We know we're dealing with a time period where the characters we write—mainly upper class, well-to-do British characters, would not engage in the sorts of erotic relationships we write about. So we have to create a world within a world—a place where these things could believably happen. I'm always telling people that there's as much world building in an historical series as there is in a paranormal series, it's just a different kind. We have to maintain the integrity of the history while creating a fictional playground where our characters can interact. For Brothers in Arms I created a select group of friends who were veterans of the Peninsular Wars and who suffered from PTSD (although it wasn't named such at the time or discussed in that way), and who are willing to accept each others idiosyncrasies and polyamorous relationships because they understand the difficulties of adjusting to civilian life after the atrocity of war.

The second most important aspect of writing erotic historical romance is research. In order to create our world within a world, we have to fully understand the history of the world in which we are working. Doing the proper research also makes the stories more believable.

The third most important thing is to remember that even though we're writing historical romance, we're writing it for a contemporary audience. There can be too much historical detail, and even too much historical accuracy, for a contemporary reader. Writers need to make sure to keep it sexy and exciting for a modern reader.

7. What would your advice be to new writers? NY, Digital or Self-Pub?

My advice would be to just write what you love. Then do the market research as to where you think the best venue for the story is. I really think the industry is equalizing all of these publishing venues, and the important thing is to be realistic about your own time and talents, and do the market research, listen to what industry insiders are saying, don't believe the extremes, and go for it. I don't think there's a right or wrong answer for anyone, just different approaches with similar outcomes.

BUT, before you make this decision, during the writing process, join a writer's group of some kind. Get a critique partner. Editing is a positive process, not a roadblock. You want to produce the most polished, entertaining product you can to bring readers back for more. Never publish, or allow to be published, anything that isn't your very best work.

8. What's your favorite book that you've written?

I can't. That's like asking me which is my favorite child. I love them all! I put my heart and soul into every book. I love different things about each one. Cherry Pie (which I'm planning to re-release sometime next year) is my most emotional book, I think. I love the characters from At Love's Command, which has the most fun hero to write, Derek Knightly. I love the letters that begin each chapter of Retreat From Love. The futuristic setting of Tomorrow was so much fun to create, and I love all the little subtle (and not so subtle) tributes to Star Wars. Love's Fortress has my most physically and emotionally damaged characters and is my most emotional historical. The Saint's Devils , my non-erotic historical series, has a character based on Sherlock Holmes who looks like Thomas Jefferson and a reformed gang leader from St. Giles—what's not to love there?! And Islands was a tribute to my father and his service in the Pacific during WWII. So you see? I can't choose. It's impossible.

9. What other writers do you admire? (apart from me obviously ;))

This is a hard one. Admire is quite different from love. I love to read lots of different authors. But admire? Kathleen E. Woodiwiss, of course. She was my first romance book, and I loved everything she wrote. Talk about a trailblazer! There was no romance genre until she began writing it. I admire Eloisa James. She's a class act all the way, and was a bit of a trailblazer herself. Her historical romances were so different than any others on the market when she began writing. Laurel K. Hamilton for going where no one in mainstream fiction had gone before, with her zombie hunting female lead character and polyamorous storylines. Lee Child for showing us that you can have a character with almost no emotional growth or arc and keep him fresh and exciting and make readers love him time and time again. He gives the readers what they want, which is something a lot of authors ignore in their quest for accolades from the writing community.

10. What are you writing now and for next year?

I'm going to be re-releasing Cherry Pie and I'm writing three new related m/m contemporary stories to round out that series. I'm also working on an exciting new erotic historical idea for Ellora's Cave, which is going to take me out of the Regency and into early twentieth-century America. More details on that once we have it worked out. I'm going to be doing Simon Gantry's story for the Brothers in Arms series next year, and there's a possibility there may be more Saint's Devils to come as well.

# Books by Samantha Kane

BROTHERS IN ARMS (in reading order)

Love and War: The Beginning

The Courage to Love

Love Under Siege

Love's Strategy

At Love's Command

Retreat From Love

Love in Exile

Love's Fortress

Prisoner of Love

Love's Surrender

Love Betrayed

Defeated by Love (Available 12/11/13)

Arms of Love (Print only anthology containing Love's Strategy and Love's Surrender)

THE SAINT'S DEVILS (in reading order)

The Devil's Thief

Tempting a Devil

Devil in My Arms

SINGLE TITLES

Islands

The Debutante (in Ellora's Cavemen: Jewels of the Nile II) Print only

A Lady in Waiting

Play It Again, Sam

Tomorrow

Tempt the Cougar (anthology containing Play It Again, Sam) Print only

Esprit de Corps (anthology containing Islands) Print only

AVAILABLE IN AUDIO

The Courage to Love

Love Under Siege

Love's Strategy

At Love's Command

Retreat From Love

Love in Exile

Love's Fortress

# About Samantha Kane

Facebook

Twitter

mail@samanthakane.com

Reviewers have called Samantha Kane "an absolute marvel to read," and "one of historical romance's most erotic and sensuous authors." Her books have been called "sinful," "sensuous," and "sizzling." She is published in several romance genres including historical, contemporary and science fiction. Her erotic Regency-set historical romances have won awards, including Best Historical from RWA's erotic romance chapter Passionate Ink, and the Historical CAPA (best book) award from The Romance Studio. She has a master's degree in American History, and taught high school social studies for ten years before becoming a full time writer. Samantha Kane lives in North Carolina with her husband and three children.
My Heart's Desire

Kate Pearce

# Acknowledgements

First and foremost, thanks to Samantha Kane for listening to me when I went all "Hey! Let's Make A Movie Together!" Or in this case, let's write some Christmas short stories for our readers to share. I've always been a great admirer of Sam's writing and this was such fun to do. She really is lovely and no mean slouch on the dance floor either...

Thanks to my beta readers and grammar gurus, and to Frauke at Croco Designs for the beautiful cover. Also thanks to my family for putting up with me and making me copious cups of tea while I wrote this story.

If you'd like a heads up about all my upcoming releases and the occasional contest, please sign up for my newsletter here: <http://eepurl.com/ifHuY>

# Chapter One

_Middleton Hall, Christmas 1816_

"There." Caroline Lyndhurst carefully pinned the diamond aigrette into her sister's fair hair and considered the effect in the mirror.

"It looks lovely, dearest. Thank you for your help." Maud gathered her silk shawl around her shoulders and rose from her dressing table. "What would I do without you?"

"Train your maid better?" Caroline murmured.

"Oh, don't be silly, darling. What else do you have to do?" Maud ran a critical eye over Caroline's plain cambric gown. "You _are_ going to change, aren't you?"

"I have my green silk."

Maud sighed, "I suppose it will have to do, although it is sadly out of fashion. We must get you some new clothes in the spring."

"I can to do that for myself, Maud."

Ignoring her, Maud smoothed down her skirts. "I want this dinner to be the start of a very successful house party. I've invited several of the eligible men who have shown interest in Alice to spend Christmas with us. I hope by the end of the two weeks one of them will have come up to scratch!"

"There isn't any rush. She's only eighteen."

"We were both eighteen when we got married."

"She is still very young." Caroline glanced at her older sister. "I sometimes wish I hadn't met George until I was at least twenty-five."

"And then you would've only had him for a year before he died."

Caroline bit her lip. "That's true." She avoided both her sister's gaze and her reflection in the mirror and headed for the door. "I'd better go and change."

"Then I'll see you downstairs in the drawing room."

"Are you sure you want me to participate in the festivities?" Caroline hesitated at the door. "I'm more than willing to stay upstairs and entertain the children."

"No, you will come down and behave like a member of this family. I am tired of you skulking around as though your life has ended."

Caroline raised her chin. "I thought a woman's life was _supposed_ to end when her husband died."

"Don't be so melodramatic, dear. It's been almost two years since George passed away." Maud swept past her in a cloud of perfumed satin and patted her on the cheek. "You might have lost your looks, but you are quite capable of holding a conversation and playing the pianoforte if some of the younger set wish to dance."

_Melodramatic_?

As usual, Caroline thought of all the things she should have said to her overbearing sister that hadn't occurred to her until it was too late. Maud had always been bossy, and now that Caroline was living under her roof she'd simply gotten worse and treated her like one of the children. She walked back to her own room and found her maid waiting patiently for her.

"There you are, ma'am. I've pressed your gown and added some lace at the elbow and neck as you requested."

"Thank you, Ethel."

Caroline took off her day dress and, turning away from the light, held up her arms to help Ethel lower the gown over her head. After two years of wearing the darker shades of mourning, the gown looked rather garish.

She eyed it doubtfully. "Is it too much?"

"No, it is very becoming, ma'am. The color makes your eyes look green."

"Thank you." Caroline glanced down at her right arm. "Does it cover up the worst of it?"

Ethel inspected her carefully. "If you carry your shawl draped over your elbows no one will notice a thing."

She doubted that, but at least it made her feel less vulnerable and on show. She reminded herself that no one would be looking at her anyway. All eyes would be on the young Miss Alice Bryson as she flitted between her suitors. And that was how it should be. Every young girl deserved to be admired.

After thanking Ethel, Caroline walked to the top of the stairs and looked down from the minstrel's gallery into the hallway below. Holly boughs adorned with red ribbons were looped through the remains of the medieval frame of the house and tall wax candles draped in ivy illuminated the arched entranceway. The huge fireplace contained a large wood fire, which crackled away merrily sending waves of heat up into the frigid air.

Gathering her courage, she set off down the stairs and, fixing a smile on her face, went to greet some of the latest arrivals. Most of Alice's friends had at least one parent with them _and_ an older brother, so the noise level was high and distinctly merry. In such a riotous atmosphere, Caroline suspected the chaperones would be kept busy making sure all the young ladies and gentlemen behaved.

She moved through into the drawing room and saw Maud holding court by the fireplace, her blond head nodding graciously at something the man beside her had just said. Alice stood next to her, staring anxiously up at the young man. Her desire to attract his attention was perhaps a mite too obvious for her Aunt Caroline's taste. She must endeavor to teach Alice how to engage the attention of a man without appearing to do so.

"Ah, there you are, Caroline."

She obeyed the imperious summons from her sister and walked across to her.

"Caroline, may I introduce Lord Breton and his sister, Miss Laura Breton?"

"A pleasure." Caroline nodded to the young man and curtsied to his sister. "Are you friends of Alice's?"

Lord Breton bowed over her hand. "Laura has that honor. I am merely Miss Alice's latest conquest."

Caroline smiled at him and his sister. "And where did you meet Alice, Miss Laura?"

His sister jumped and tore her gaze away from Caroline's face, addressing her answer somewhere in the region of Caroline's left ear. "We met at the Queen's drawing room and have been friends ever since."

"How nice for you."

"Yes."

Instinctively, Caroline angled her head to the left, allowing her ringlets to swing forward and conceal the worst of the damage to her face. "Well, I won't keep you. I believe it is almost time for us to go into dinner."

She didn't miss the disapproving glance Lord Breton gave his sister and valued him for it, but he could hardly blame the girl. Most people couldn't conceal their shock when they first met her. Even after two years, she couldn't stand looking at herself in the mirror.

God, she wished Maud had let her stay upstairs. Escaping out onto the terrace than ran along the rear of the remodeled part of the house she drew in a deep steadying breath. She'd have to go back inside in a moment but she would make sure she was sufficiently composed before she did. How many people had Maud invited? How many times would she have to endure being stared at?

A faint hint of smoke made her stiffen and stop walking. To her right, a shadow moved away from the wall.

"Caro?"

She turned slowly, her hand pressed to her bosom. "Lord Mansell?"

" _Please_ call me Jasper. I'm still not used to being 'my lorded' all the time." He came toward her, extinguishing the cigarillo he held in his hand and crushing it underfoot. "How are you, my dear?"

"Well enough."

He smiled down at her. "I hoped you would be here."

"Why?"

"Because my damned nephew, Tommy, thinks he's in love with your niece and dragged me along to bear him company. I'm not sure what value he thought I'd bring to the proceedings. The only thing that persuaded me to come was that I might see you again." He paused. "I was very sorry to hear of George's death."

"Thank you."

The dinner gong sounded and Lord Mansell offered her his arm. "Shall we go in? I was just enjoying the solitude before I returned to the thankless task of being a chaperone."

Caroline found herself chuckling. "My thoughts exactly."

"How far the mighty have fallen. Ten years ago it was us being the youngsters at a gathering and now we're considered elderly."

"Hardly _elderly_."

She glanced up at his profile as they came into the light. He looked as handsome as ever, his dark hair cut close to his head, his keen gaze scanning the guests streaming toward the dining room. She'd met him during her first Season in London and they'd liked each other on sight. He'd told her quite frankly that he was set on the military life and had no desire to settle down. She'd offered to help him fend off the matchmaking mothers. Their plan had succeeded admirably until she'd met George and fallen in love.

"I'm thirty-two on Christmas day," he admitted.

"Positively ancient, then."

He looked down at her and grinned, his gaze slowing as he took in her ravaged face. She looked away and tried to remove her hand from his arm.

"Wait." He caught her gloved fingers in his.

"Please excuse me. I have to see where my sister wants me to sit." She searched the room for Maud. "Ah, there she is."

"Caro—"

She smiled brightly at his starched cravat. "It was lovely to see you again, my lord."

* * *

Jasper released Caro's hand and stood unmoving as she hurried to Maud's side. Until he'd been recalled after his father's untimely death to take up his new duties, he'd been abroad with the army. He'd heard of George's passing, but not about the circumstances surrounding it. Had Caro been with him? What in God's name had happened?

He took a step in her direction and was brought up short by an all-too-familiar female figure languishing in his path.

"Oh, Lord Mansell. Were you looking for me?"

He bowed. "Miss Pattison."

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. She was a beautiful girl, but she was far too aware of it for his comfort and, in his view, far too young to be angling for his attention. She was one of Alice's friends and far better suited to flirting with his nephew. She tapped his sleeve with her fan.

"I believe Lady Bryson said you were _supposed_ to be taking me into dinner."

He silently cursed Caro's sister as he helped Miss Pattison into her seat and took the one beside her.

"Where _were_ you, my lord? I looked everywhere."

She was persistent, he'd give her that. In an acquaintance, it was annoying; in a wife, it would drive him mad. "I merely stepped outside to enjoy the fresh air."

"It's freezing!" She shivered delicately. "I suppose as a former military man you are used to extremities of cold."

"It's hardly cold out there, Miss Pattison."

Caro took the seat on the opposite side of the table accompanied by an elderly man who looked like a vicar or a land agent. She appeared to be comfortable with her companion, her smile shy, but at least it was there. He noticed how she constantly ducked her head while she spoke, allowing her dark curls to conceal the damage on the right side of her face. Damnation. She'd caught him staring at her again. He winked and her hazel eyes widened before she turned back to her companion.

"Lord Mansell?"

He redirected his attention to his dining companion. "Yes, Miss Pattison."

* * *

After dinner, when the men were finally released from drinking port and discussing politics, he made his way back to the drawing room.

"Uncle Jasper?"

"Yes, Tommy?" His gaze slid past his nephew and alighted on Caro, who was about to sit down at the pianoforte.

"Miss Alice won't speak to me."

"What did you do?"

His young nephew colored up. "I teased her about something in front of Breton and she wasn't amused."

"Then get her alone for a moment and apologize."

"I suppose I could do that. Girls are the devil, aren't they?"

Jasper gave him a hard stare. "If you truly feel like that, you're probably not ready to marry one yet."

Tommy slouched off and Jasper was finally free to follow Caroline. She was busy arranging sheets of music on the top of the piano and didn't hear his approach. It gave him time to appreciate her trim figure, chestnut brown hair and decidedly patrician nose. She'd never been as beautiful as her much older sister, Maud, but she had a charm and vivacity that attracted many men's attention and held it—including his. By the time he'd realized how he felt, she'd married George and he'd been off fighting Napoleon.

It was difficult to watch her avoiding eye contact and hiding away from the other guests. If his sources were correct, George had died two years ago and she'd hardly been seen in society since.

"May I help you, ma'am?"

She jumped as his shoulder brushed hers and glanced up at him. "Thank you, but I've just finished. I was making sure I had all the most popular songs and ballads available for our evening performers."

"Do you still sing?"

Her hand crept to her damaged throat. "No. I prefer to be the accompanist. I'm rather too old to be exhibiting my talents, and I'm certainly not looking for a husband to show off to."

"Why not? You're only twenty-six."

Her fingers tightened on the piece of sheet music. "I don't think I could ever replace George."

That wasn't something he was prepared to acknowledge or deal with at this precise moment. "So it has nothing to do with your injuries?"

She lifted her head and glared at him. "I see you are still incredibly insensitive and downright _rude._ "

He shrugged. "I've always been honest with you, I'll give you that."

She gathered the music together and then needlessly fanned it out again. "This isn't an appropriate place to discuss such matters, and you know it." She nodded at the chairs. "Miss Pattison is looking for you."

He bowed. "Then I'll go and attend to her."

A definite rebuff, but at least she'd finally looked him in the eye and shown some of her old spirit.

* * *

By the end of the evening, Caroline was exhausted. It wasn't just the blatant stares and outright pity in everyone's eyes, but the simple issue of having to be polite and deal with so many people again. Her face hurt from smiling and the vivid scars on her right cheek and on her throat ached as if determined to bring further attention to them.

She persuaded Maud and her husband to go up to bed and spent a few moments down in the basement talking to the servants about the events planned for the next day. When she emerged into the hallway, all was quiet. She breathed in the scent of the holly and pine boughs and tried to relax. As she turned toward the stairs, she noticed a pair of long legs crossed at the ankles sticking out from one of the chairs by the fire in the deserted drawing room.

With a resigned sigh she turned around and went back. "Are you unsure where your bedroom is, Lord Mansell?"

He looked up at her, his brown eyes reflecting the flames of the fire. "You said it wasn't the right time to talk."

"And you've decided that now is?" She wished her voice wouldn't wobble. "I'm tired, my lord. I wish to retire."

He reached out and grabbed her hand, bringing her down onto his lap. "Caro, it's just me."

She struggled against him for a second and then gave up. He'd always been stronger than her and his years in the military had simply added to his powerful physique.

"This is unseemly. What if anyone notices us?"

"Don't be so stuffy. They've all gone to bed."

She held herself rigidly upright, her back straight and her hands clasped together in her lap. He smelled pleasantly of brandy and spices and other masculine scents she remembered as uniquely his.

"What do you want, my lord?"

"Jasper."

"Jasper, then." She stared outward into the hall. If anyone did come down the stairs, she would be able to see them and take discretionary action. "Do you wish to ask all the questions the other guests were too polite to voice? Such as why was I allowed downstairs to cast a pall on the festivities?"

"There's no need to rip up at me." He rested his large hand on her knee. "What happened?"

Trust him to ignore her sensibilities and focus on the hard facts. Jasper was notoriously difficult to avoid when he set his mind on something. "George and I were on a boat coming back to Dover. There was a sudden squall and the boat almost capsized. Some of the lanterns were knocked over and the cabins caught fire. It was difficult to get out onto the deck. George was drowned."

"Ah."

She took an unsteady breath. "Now will you let me go?"

He leaned in and kissed her damaged cheek. "If you'll remind me where my bedchamber is. I really have forgotten which one was allocated to me."

She was so relieved to slide off his lap that his lack of reaction to her confession hardly registered.

"Come with me." She lit a candle in the hallway and carried it well ahead of her.

"Thank you. This house is a terrible maze." He followed her up the shallow, worn stairs, his gaze flicking upward to consider the remains of the hammerbeam roof. "Are you living here now?"

"I came here to recover from the accident."

"You don't miss having your own household?"

"I am starting to, but I haven't quite decided what I want to do yet."

"Thank God for that," he murmured.

She stopped on the landing to look back at him. "What do you mean?"

His smile was all innocence. "Which way now?"

She turned left and led him down one of the endless corridors that connected the older parts of the house to the newer ones. "Your room faces out over the gardens, so it should be fairly quiet." She paused at the third door. "Here you are. Will your valet be waiting up for you?"

"I hope not, seeing as I left him in London with his family."

She set the candle down on the table outside the door. "If you require assistance with dressing, please let me know, and I'll assign one of the male staff to help you."

"Thank you."

"Good night, then."

He cupped her cheek and his thumb grazed the raised edge of her scars. "Does it still hurt?"

"No," she whispered. "Jasper, don't—"

He leaned in closer. "How about now?" His mouth lightly brushed over hers.

" _No_."

He did it again and she trembled.

"No, it doesn't hurt, or no, don't kiss me?"

"That hardly qualified as a _kiss_."

"How very remiss of me."

He took advantage of her sudden intake of breath and tugged on her lower lip until she opened her mouth and let him in. He investigated her mouth with a slow deliberate thoroughness that made her tremble like an untried girl. She touched his tongue with her own and he groaned and slid his hand around the back of her neck to hold her still for his leisurely exploration.

He seemed in no hurry to end the kiss, or to release her, or to do anything more intimate. She'd never been kissed like that before in her life. With George, kissing had always been a mere prelude to the more important act of bedding her.

George...

She pushed on Jasper's chest and he slowly raised his head like a man being pulled out of a trance.

"What's wrong?"

"What are you doing?"

"Kissing you."

"But why?"

"Because I wanted to." He sighed and released her. "Don't spoil it. I've dreamed of doing that for years."

"But—"

He put two fingers on her lips. "Don't. I'm going to bed now. Good night, Caro. Sleep well." He glanced down at himself and Caroline couldn't help noticing he was aroused. "I'm fairly certain I won't."

She whisked out of his grasp and practically ran back to the safety of her own room. After she'd shut the door, she touched her fingers to her trembling lips. Why had he done that? And what had he meant about wanting to do it for years? She took a deep, steadying breath, but it didn't help. The mortifying thing was that Jasper wouldn't be the only one not sleeping. If he'd touched her anywhere else but her mouth, he would've found her just as heated and wanting as he was.

Was it true that men considered widows easy prey because it was assumed they missed the attentions of a man in their bed? She'd never believed it, but Jasper—her _friend—_ might just have proven her wrong. Despite everything, she'd wanted to believe in his kiss, to fall into it and let him do with her what he willed...

She walked across to ring for her maid and caught a glimpse of her flushed face in the mirror. Her scars looked even more livid than usual. How could he have not noticed them? She briefly closed her eyes. Of course he had noticed them. He'd _touched_ them. He'd kissed her out of pity, not for any other reason, and she would do well to remember it.

# Chapter Two

Luckily for Caroline, the men were taken out for a day of hunting and shooting, leaving the women to plan the Christmas day dance for the whole village and finish decorating the house. She worked hard protecting the staff from Maud's rising temper and relaying instructions in a more palatable manner that wouldn't result in a kitchen revolt. When she wasn't being diplomatic below stairs, she was making sure the houseguests were kept busy with the various schemes arranged to amuse them.

By the time dinner was over, she yearned to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. Unfortunately, Maud's uncertain temper meant her request to be released from her duties was met with an uncompromising no. Her sister was convinced that without her help the evening would be a disaster. Unwilling to argue further, Caroline took the younger members into the summer parlor and supervised their party games while the adults played bridge.

To her surprise, Jasper joined her and helped the young guests find board games and cards and settled them down to play.

When everyone was busy, she looked up at him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Helping me."

"You looked rather tired."

She unconsciously straightened her shoulders. "It's been a tiring day. Maud tends to get overwhelmed by the complexities of organizing the festivities."

"And loads the responsibility on you."

"I don't mind. I owe her a lot. But it has made me decide that I want my own establishment again. The Lyndhurst family offered me a home, but I didn't feel right about accepting anything more from them. I do, however, have sufficient funds to live a very gracious life."

"Where would you choose to live?" He asked abruptly.

"Not London." She drew her shawl closer around her shoulders. "Somewhere quieter where I would have the opportunity to get to know my neighbors and not feel so—"

"On show?"

She looked up at him. "Is it that obvious?"

"Maybe only to me. You still make an incredibly gracious hostess."

"Thank you." She glanced over at Alice's group. "Miss Pattison is waving. I don't think it is my attention she is after."

"Miss Pattison can wait."

"She would make an excellent wife for you. Her family is well-connected and she is quite beautiful."

"And remarkably empty-headed."

"Which most gentleman would appreciate."

"Not this one." He shifted in his seat. "Are you trying to marry me off?"

"Well, you did say you were getting long in the tooth." Caroline couldn't believe she was teasing him. "And you do need an heir for your grandfather's title. Oh, look, Miss Pattison is coming to find you."

His hand shot out as she tried to rise. "Stay there."

"Are you still expecting me to protect you from the marriageable ladies?"

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. "Yes, please."

"Lord Mansell?" The look Miss Pattison shot Caroline was particularly unfriendly. "Would you like to come and play speculation with us?"

"No, thank you, Miss Pattison. I'm here to help chaperone the activities, not take part in them."

She pouted. "But you are hardly old enough to be reduced to doing _that_. Mrs. Lyndhurst is quite capable of managing on her own, I _assure_ you."

Caroline bit down on her lip to stop her amusement showing. "What a lovely compliment, Miss Pattison. I am _so_ glad to be of service to you."

She only realized Jasper had retained her hand when he squeezed her fingers. With a martyred sigh, Miss Pattison returned to her friends and soon had her head together with Alice, no doubt plotting her next move.

"I wonder what she'll come up with next?" Jasper murmured. "I'm slightly worried that she's even more interested in marrying me off than you are. Oh dear, now she has Alice in her thrall."

Alice approached Caroline with a smile. "Can we play something a little bit more _daring_ , Aunt?"

"What exactly do you have in mind, my love?" Caroline asked. "It's rather too cold to go outside."

"Oh, we don't need to go out. Perhaps we might play sardines?"

"What is that?"

Alice giggled with Miss Pattison and her friends, who had joined her. "It's a version of hide and seek when the person who hides is joined by the other seekers rather than being found and the game being over."

"It sounds rather silly to me."

Alice pouted. "Please, Aunt Caroline. If you aren't sure, ask Mama, she allowed us to play it last Christmas when you were still too sick to come downstairs."

"I'll go and ask her."

Leaving Jasper to fend off the young ladies, she slipped into the card room and conversed with Maud, who had no objection to the notion as long as it was supervised. She returned to find Alice, her hands clasped at her bosom, anxiously awaiting her.

"Well?"

"She says you may play but only in the old nursery floor so that you do not disturb the other guests." She narrowed her gaze. "And I will be chaperoning you all very carefully indeed."

Within seconds the whole room emptied as the young ladies and gentleman headed up the stairs to the third floor, Caroline in pursuit. She was secretly relieved that Jasper followed, too.

* * *

Alice, of course, decided she should be the first one to hide and Jasper watched as she ran off along the darkened corridor while the others chanted to a hundred. He glanced speculatively down at Caro. He had a few ideas of his own as to how he intended to play the game—if his quarry proved willing.

He waited until the younger guests dispersed and then followed along until he had an excellent view of how they had dispersed and how to plan his own campaign. A muffled giggle to his right confirmed his suspicions that he was being stalked himself and he looked back to where Caroline still stood in the shadow of the landing.

"Caro?" he whispered. "Come this way."

He didn't wait to see if she was following him, but turned left into the maze of smaller rooms that had once served the nursery staff. Opening doors at random, he soon found a quiet spot and waited half-hidden behind the door for Caroline to catch up. As she approached the door he stepped forward, took her hand and yanked her into the large linen closet. She collided against his chest with a surprised sound and he wrapped an arm around her hips to keep her there.

In the darkness, he bent his head and kissed her, finding her mouth with unerring accuracy. She tried to say something and then gave up, and welcomed his kiss. He endeavored to keep it light but when she responded it proved impossible. He was soon kissing her as if the world might end and they were the only two survivors. Her unique flavor surrounded him with a suggestion of warmth and arousal that made him want to inhale her whole.

Her hand came around his neck and he leaned back against the door sealing them into the closet and the welcoming darkness, where only touch, and taste, and smell existed. She whimpered when his hand cupped her bosom and he eased his thumb inside her bodice to find her nipple already taut and ready for his mouth. No need for words now as he became consumed with the desire to give her whatever she needed.

She shifted her stance, leaning into him, and he willingly slid one hard thigh between hers as she began to rub herself against him like a cat. He pushed back her bodice as far as he could, baring her breasts to his mouth and fingers and simply enjoyed her. But it wasn't enough—he'd known it wouldn't be. He wanted her spread and naked beneath him as he fucked her in as many ways as he could think of.

Keeping her mouth occupied with his, he rucked up her skirts, seeking out her heat and cupped her sex, groaning as he felt how wet she was for him. His thumb found her clit and played with it as he slid one long finger deep inside her. She came so fast he almost joined her.

"Caro..." He breathed her name and added another finger, pumping them back and forth until she climaxed again in beautiful shuddering waves that made him want to smile.

Behind his back someone rattled the door handle and he went still.

"Lord Mansell?"

* * *

Caroline opened her eyes and quickly closed them again. She was in the linen closet with Jasper, her bodice was askew, her breasts aching from his mouth and between her legs his fingers were still lodged deep inside her.

"Lord Mansell, are you in there?"

The whisper came again. It sounded like the intrepid Miss Pattison. This time Caroline tried to pull herself free, but Jasper merely tightened his grip and held still, his breathing slow and even. If it hadn't have been for the hard throb of his cock pressed against her hip, she would've thought he was a marble statue.

What on earth had possessed her to allow Jasper such liberties? She was supposed to be chaperoning a party of young impressionable girls, not giving them an example of how _not_ to behave. But having him touch her, in the dark, where she could just be herself again had proved irresistible.

The door handle shook again, but Jasper held firm. His fingers resumed their slow penetration and retreat and she had to bite down on the fine wool of his coat sleeve to stifle her whimpered climax. She risked a glance up at his face and she thought she caught a glimpse of his smile. He endeavored to rearrange her bodice and slowly removed his fingers from between her legs. She wanted to moan in protest as he brushed them over her lips and then sucked them clean in his mouth.

There was an exasperated sigh followed by faint footsteps and she felt him relax. He cupped her chin.

"Are you all right?"

If being reduced to a puddle of completely unexpected desire by her best friend meant she was all right, she was doing remarkably well. She pushed at his chest and this time he let her go. Goodness, her legs felt like jelly. All she wanted to do was lean back against him and let her carry her off to bed.

"Go away, Jasper."

"I can't."

"I'm not kissing you again."

He sighed. "Why not?"

"Because I have to go and supervise those _children!"_

"They are hardly children."

"That's not the point, I'm supposed to be the respectable adult—as are _you_."

"Which is why I can't join you in rounding them up."

"What on earth do you mean?"

He reached for her hand and brought it to the front of his pantaloons. "I'm neither decent nor respectable at this moment. I'm hard, wet and wanting."

Her fingers curled around the large bulge of his cock. He inhaled sharply and pushed himself into her hand. The satin was stretched to the breaking point and damp at the top. She wanted to kneel down in front of him, undo his pantaloons and take him into her mouth...

He groaned as she absently rubbed her thumb over his throbbing length. "Caro...either go or stay, but don't tease me."

She abruptly let go of him, her cheeks heating; glad that he couldn't see her face properly. Suddenly the walls of the closet closed in on her and she struggled to breathe.

"I have to get out of here."

He immediately stepped out of her way. "What's wrong?"

She scrabbled for the door handle, "I can't breathe. I can't stand to be confined..."

He opened the door and she rushed out into the corridor, her heartbeat frantic, her gaze fixed on the light streaming in from the nearest window. Luckily, none of her charges were around to witness her discomfort. She took several deep breaths and walked back to the landing, listening as she went.

A screech of laughter, hastily stifled, had her turning right and into the old night nursery. A stray beam of moonlight illuminated the extremely lumpy curtains that concealed the window seat and several of the younger guests who were huddled together in a big bunch.

She clapped her hands. "I think this round of the game is over, Alice. Do you want to choose another person to hide, or would you rather come downstairs and eat supper?"

"Food? Jolly good!"

Jasper's nephew, Tommy was the first to emerge from the huddle of bodies. Caroline had calculated that the young men would be hungry by now. If _they_ were no longer interested in playing the game then neither would the young ladies. She waited patiently for the girls to pat down their hair and stop giggling, and then for Alice to extract herself from young Lord Breton, who didn't seem to be in a particular hurry to let her go.

Smiling to herself, Caroline shepherded them toward the stairs. Miss Pattison awaited her there, her head held high, her glance accusatory.

"Where is Lord Mansell?"

"I don't know, my dear. Perhaps he went down?"

Miss Pattison snorted and stomped away in pursuit of the others, most probably; Caroline doubted poor Jasper had escaped the linen closet yet. Making sure she was presentable herself, Caroline followed and hoped that Jasper would be able to join them shortly. She licked her lips, tasting him again, and wondered whatever she was going to do about him. Perhaps it was time to call his bluff and ask him outright exactly what was going on.

* * *

The knock on his bedroom door was unexpected, the sight of Caroline even more so. After a quick glance along the empty corridor, Jasper stepped back and let her in. She wore an old blue night robe and her brown hair was braided in a single plait that was long enough to come over her right shoulder. She looked absurdly young for a woman who'd already suffered so terribly.

She stalked into his bedroom, her arms crossed over her chest and her expression fierce. Even though he knew it was pointless, Jasper tried to turn the conversation into a lighter vein than he suspected Caroline wanted.

"I thought you were intent on providing a good example to the younger ladies in your care? Visiting unmarried gentlemen in their bedchambers is still considered rather scandalous, isn't it?"

"I'm widowed and, according to most of the men I've met—married or unmarried—I'm considered fair game."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you think I want from you? A quick fuck that you'll receive with gratitude because you miss it?"

"There's no need to be crude, but you are correct in the essentials."

"And what if it _was_ all I wanted? Would that be enough to satisfy you too?"

She sat down by the fire. "Please, Jasper, can we start this conversation again? I really don't want to argue with you."

"Then stop assuming I'm the same as any other man of your acquaintance." He took the seat opposite her. "Why _are_ you here?"

"Because I don't understand this game you're playing."

"It isn't a game."

"Then what do you want? I thought you were my friend."

"I am."

"Then why did you kiss me?"

"Because I wanted to. Why did you kiss me back?"

She met his gaze, her blue eyes steady. "Because..." She shook her head. "I don't know."

"George has been dead for almost two years. It's perfectly all right for you to kiss another man."

She scowled at him. "I don't need your permission to kiss anyone."

"Then at least admit you enjoyed it." He dropped his gaze to her breasts and then to her sex. "That you were wet for me."

"It was far worse than that, you have no idea what I wanted to do when I saw how—" She slapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my goodness, your frankness is rubbing off on me in a quite disastrous manner."

He shifted in his seat. "Don't say rubbing. I had to stay in that damned linen closet and conjugate Latin verbs for at least half an hour until I was decent enough to be seen in public. What did you want to do to me?"

"I can't tell you just like that!"

"Why not?"

She flapped a hand in the direction of his rapidly expanding cock. "Now look what you've done."

"What you've done." He cupped his balls through the silk of his dressing gown. "What did you want to do to me, Caro?" he asked softly. "Or would you prefer to show me?"

"I can't!"

He advanced slowly toward her, giving her ample time to run away. She remained fixed on the spot, her gaze devouring him as he shrugged out of his silk banyan to reveal his nakedness and the thrust of his cock.

"I want you."

"Oh, Good Lord, don't do this, Jasper. Don't _tempt_ me—"

He stopped right in front of her and cupped her cheek. "I _want_ you."

She closed her eyes. "I can't—"

"Can't what?" He took her hand and wrapped it around his cock. "Touch me? Yes, you can. I give you my full permission."

Her grip tightened on his shaft and he almost yelped.

"I can't let you look at me," she whispered.

He went still, his gaze on her tightly closed eyes. She was visibly trembling but whether in fear of the consequences of bedding him, or simply of disrobing in front of him, he couldn't quite tell. But, uncovering herself was not a simple matter at all, was it? He wanted to kick himself for his lack of sensitivity.

"What if I blow out all the candles and draw the curtains around my bed?" He leaned in and kissed her very slowly until she relaxed her grip on his cock and allowed him to slide between her fingers. "Will you come to me, then?"

"You make it sound so simple. I'm not the same woman, Jasper."

"Because you are scarred?"

She touched the side of her face. "This isn't the worst of it." She swallowed hard. "Will you let me touch you instead?"

He considered her for a long moment. If he agreed, would it help ease his way toward gaining her confidence more completely? He could only hope so, and he was just a simple man who couldn't resist the idea of her _offering_ to touch him.

Taking her hand, he drew her toward the four-poster bed and lifted her to sit on the mattress. He blew up all the candles and followed her onto the bed, drawing the blue embroidered curtains shut behind him. Even though it was dark, he had a perfect sense of where she was. He always did.

"Where do you want me, Caro?" he murmured. "On my back, between your legs or kneeling facing away from you?"

"Could you just lie down and stop talking?"

He complied, stretching out on the pillows with one arm cushioning his head. She knelt beside him and placed one small hand on his chest and stroked him there. He murmured his appreciation and purred like a lion. He promised himself that whatever she was willing to give him, he would take and not ask for anything else.

Well—not much.

"Would you do one thing for me?" he asked.

"What?"

"Untie your braid so that I can feel your hair against my skin?"

"If you wish." She leaned over him, her loose hair making a curtain around their faces. "Like this?"

"Mmm." She kissed him and he kissed her back, his hands fisting in the bedclothes in an effort not to take control of the kiss, of her body, of _her..._

Her mouth moved off his and went lower, kissing along his jaw and down his throat to his chest, her hands shaping and learning every inch of his oh-so-willing skin. She hummed her approval as she went and he arched helplessly against her.

He groaned out loud when she nipped and licked at his hipbones and then blew on the hot pulse of his cock. "Please..."

She licked at his pre-cum and then sucked the first inch of his cock into her mouth and played with it, her tongue flicking in and out of his slit until he was thrusting his hips forward in an urgent demand for her to take more. She cupped his balls, drawing them up tight against his shaft and took him deep until he could do nothing but exist in the sensation of her tight mouth working his heated flesh.

He had to touch her.

His fingers skimmed over her thigh and settled over her rounded bottom. He wanted to delve under her nightgown and stroke her naked skin. Contenting himself with what she'd allowed him, he enjoyed her attentions to his cock. He wanted to come, he wanted to shove himself as deep as he could down her throat and let his seed flood out...

"I need to come," he managed to gasp. "Do you want that?"

"Oh, yes."

She shifted her grasp on his balls, sliding one wet finger downward past his taint to rim his arsehole and...God, _penetrated_ him as his seed rose through his shaft and he climaxed with an almighty groan in thick endless waves down her throat.

When he finished shuddering, she was looking down at him. "Did you like that? George always said it was the best way to come."

"George..." He swallowed hard. "Must have learned that at Eton."

"Among other things." She hesitated. "He liked it if I spanked him with his hairbrush, too."

He drew her down over him and she allowed him to settle her against his shoulder. "Didn't you mind?"

"Doing those things? Why should I? George always said that what we did in our marriage bed was entirely up to us and no one else's concern."

"Good for George."

She touched his cheek. "Have I shocked you?"

"On the contrary, you've made me a very happy man. You would make me even happier if you allowed me to reciprocate."

She stiffened and tried to pull away. "You promised—"

"Actually, I didn't, but I'm not asking you to remove your clothing. I can satisfy you quite easily if you'll just let me." Even as he was speaking, he gently rolled them over until he was on top and between her knees. He slid his hands up her inner thighs until his thumbs met over the swell of her mound and parted her there, seeking out the throbbing bud of her clit. Holding her still and exposed to his mouth, he sucked her clit, lavishing it with kisses and licks until she rose against him, grinding herself against his working mouth.

He slid two fingers inside her and she bucked against the intrusion until she yielded in the short throbbing waves of her climax, which went on and on as he extracted every ounce of pleasure from her. She was wet for him now and he felt his cock rising again in response. She'd take him now. It would be tight, but she was ready for it...

* * *

Caroline's heart beat so fast she thought she might die. If Jasper could do that with just his mouth and fingers, how would he feel if he was inside her? Did she want to find out?

"Caro, let me have you, let me—" His fingers moved under her nightgown over her right hip to lever her upward and she flinched away from him.

He went still, his hand clamped over her scarred skin. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

She couldn't let him see her. It wouldn't be fair. He deserved someone who was whole and lovely and not a damaged shell. Pushing at his chest, she managed to roll out from under him.

"Caro, where the devil are you doing?"

She scrambled away, setting her clothing to rights and re-tying the sash of her night robe with fingers that trembled.

"I need to go."

" _Now_?"

"Yes, before things get too complicated."

He shoved a hand through his disordered hair. "Dammit, Caroline, there is nothing complicated here at all! We're going to make love!"

"No, we are not."

She edged toward the curtains and managed to fight her way through them and into his bedroom proper. Moonlight streamed through the window, bathing everything in its silver glow. He followed her out of the bed without bothering to find his robe.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No."

He was no longer on the verge of shouting but that made it even worse because all she could hear was his compassion.

"Then what is it?" He gestured back at the bed. "I thought we were enjoying ourselves."

"We were." She forced a smile. "And it was lovely, thank you."

He went still. "That is all you want from me?"

Her chin went up. "It was far more than I've given any other man."

"I wasn't implying—"

"This is my sister's house, my _home_. I can hardly start an affair with you in the middle of a house party she arranged specifically to marry off my niece."

"Why not?"

"Because it would be inconsiderate of both of us." She took a steadying breath. "It was very kind of you, though."

He scowled. "I didn't do it out of kindness, Caroline."

"Yes, you did. You are one of my oldest friends."

"This has nothing to do with us being _friends_ , either."

"You don't have to pretend, Jasper. You decided that I needed to regain my confidence with a man that I trust and I allowed you to do so. You were right when you said that young widows miss the joys of the marriage bed. I certainly miss George. You provided me with just the right amount of pleasure without involving me in a torrid affair or a nasty scandal. I really do appreciate that."

He stalked over to her and looked down, his breathing ragged. "So I was just a passing amusement for a lonely widow?"

"Yes."

"Or, worse, I simply felt sorry for you."

" _Yes_."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that you are too much of a coward to reveal yourself to me, to show me your scars and believe that I can accept you just as you are? God dammit, Caroline, I think I'm insulted."

Her hand shot out before she realized it and slapped him hard on the cheek. "I am _not_ a coward."

"You damn well are." He stepped back and bowed to her before finding his banyan and putting it on. "Good night, Mrs. Lyndhurst." Moving over to the door, he opened it and waited unmoving for her to leave.

She gathered her composure around her like armor and stalked out into the corridor without another word. There, it was done; she'd given him the opportunity to walk away from her without a qualm. A tear dripped down her cheek and she wiped it away and then the next one, and the next. She wasn't a coward for putting his needs ahead of her own. Didn't he understand that it was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do in her life?

# Chapter Three

It was Christmas Eve, and Jasper had never felt less like joining in the games and merrymaking in his life. His bad humor was made worse because Caroline appeared to be enjoying herself in her own quiet way. Not that she was coming close enough to actually condescend to _speak_ with him. She'd made it quite clear that she regarded his attention as an act of charity to a friend in need.

Dinner had been a noisy affair and now the members of the house party were gathered in the great hall deciding how best to spend their time before the braver souls went to the carol service. Much mulled wine had been drunk and the younger elements of the party were becoming a little too wild for his taste. He had a sense that there would be tears from at least one of the young ladies before bedtime.

He added another pine bough to the roaring fire. He should've been more direct with Caroline but he'd feared a frontal assault would scare her off completely. He'd never been known for his subtlety. Dammit, he didn't feel sorry for her! Why couldn't she see that? He observed her narrowly from his position by the fire. Or maybe she'd scared herself for wanting something that she'd decided would never be offered to her again.

_Love._

Could it really be that simple and yet so damned complicated? He stared at her and, eventually, as though she felt the heat of his gaze, she looked steadily back at him. He'd always loved her. Didn't she know that?

"Lord Mansell?"

A figure came between him and his view of Caroline and he rose from his seat. "Miss Pattison."

"Are you going to the church service?"

"It's possible."

"Oh good, perhaps we might walk together?"

"Miss Pattison, you are a lovely young lady. Why are you lavishing all your attention on me? I'm far too old for you."

For a moment she looked perplexed as if he'd veered too far away from the conventional reply for her to know how to respond. "My mama believes an older husband is an advantage for a young girl."

"Unfortunately, I don't. You should be enjoying your first Season with people your own age, not angling for a husband." She started to speak, but he continued over her. "If you must seek a husband, look for that lucky man elsewhere. It won't be me."

"But you have everything I require in a spouse. You are comparatively young, handsome, wealthy and the heir to an earldom."

"But I'm not in love with you, Miss Pattison."

She blinked at him. "What does that have to do with marriage?"

He bent to kiss her hand. "And that is why we would never suit. May I suggest you go and throw your lures out at my nephew, Tommy? I fear Miss Alice Bryson has disappointed him. He might be young, but his father _is_ a marquess."

"I'd quite forgotten that." A flicker of interest came into her fine eyes and then she pouted. "If you have designs on Mrs. Lyndhurst, I fear your heart will be broken. Alice says her aunt is married to the memory of her deceased husband."

He smiled. "No, she isn't."

He bowed and moved away, but there was no sign of Caroline. He assumed she'd gone to make sure everything was ready for the walk through the park to the village church. It was freezing outside and the massed dark clouds threatened snow, which would make the young folk happy, and leave him feeling every twinge of his wartime injuries.

Good Lord, he really was getting old... Looking up, he saw Caroline surrounded by some of the young ladies coming back down the stairs. She'd put on a thick winter coat and a red velvet bonnet with a deep brim that concealed most of her face. Jasper suddenly decided he would go to church after all. If he intended to approach Caroline again he might need some divine intervention.

* * *

"Mrs. Lyndhurst." Jasper tucked her gloved hand into the crook of his arm. "The ground is rather slippery. Let me help you."

Her feet slid from under her once more and she dug her fingers into his coat for balance. She might not want to engage with him, but she wasn't stupid enough to ignore his offer of help. She had no intention of landing on her bottom on the treacherously iced path.

The church service had been lovely, but a sense of peace had eluded her. She'd been all too aware of Jasper's quiet presence in the row behind her and of Miss Pattison's possessive hand on his arm. In fact, where was Miss Pattison? Caroline risked a glance around her and saw Tommy, Jasper's nephew, guiding her through the snowdrifts as if she was made of spun sugar.

Her ankle turned and she had to grab Jasper's arm again. He didn't move an inch as she crashed into him, his muscled form as solid and dependable as an oak tree. He hadn't always been so dependable, which was why she'd never considered him as anything but her highly unorthodox friend. But he radiated calm good sense now and a sense of self-worth that made her feel like a ragged leaf blowing in the wind.

"Are you all right?"

He set her back on her feet, his gaze assessing.

"Yes, thank you. I haven't been out in this kind of weather for years."

"I can see that," he said drily. "You need better boots."

"I _need_ breeches and top boots." Her feet were frozen and her stockings were as soaked as the bottom of her petticoats.

His mouth quirked up at one corner. "Now that I would like to see."

"Women's fashions weren't meant to be practical." She realized they had dropped behind everyone. "We'd better hurry."

He eyed her carefully. "I could pick you up and sling you over my shoulder. We'd move much faster then."

"And cause a scandal."

"When did you become such a stickler for the rules, Mrs. Lyndhurst?" He started walking again, his gloved hand covering hers. "Are you afraid that if you do anything out of the ordinary it will draw people's attention to you?"

She stared at the falling snow and kept her mouth tightly closed.

He sighed. "I hate to see you hiding away from everything."

"I'm not hiding, I'm here with you, aren't I? I went to church."

"And you hated every minute of it." His voice gentled. "Do you really have so little sense of what you mean to people?"

She stopped walking and faced him. "I'm an ageing widow with a scarred face who is doing her best to be sociable under very trying circumstances!" She realized she was angry for the first time since George had died. "Chiefly caused by you."

"But you were never as beautiful as Maud. Do you really think your lack of beauty makes you a pariah?"

She wrenched her hand free of his. "You are impossible!"

"And you judge yourself too harshly."

"Would you like to wake up every morning and see your ruined face in the mirror, know that your husband died trying to save you?" She jabbed at her mottled skin. "I deserve these scars, Jasper, but I don't deserve to be pitied. If I hadn't panicked, George would probably be alive right now, and you—you wouldn't be bothering me!"

He regarded her calmly. "You didn't kill him, Caroline. If he died trying to save you, he did what he thought was right."

"He did it because he loved me."

"And to celebrate his sacrifice you choose to hide yourself in the countryside, deny yourself the chance to have a new life, and use your lack of beauty as a shield to keep everyone away?"

Her hands clenched into fists. "God, I _hate_ you, Jasper."

"George would hate what you are doing to yourself in his name. He wanted you to live, he gave up his _life_ , and you repay him by denying everything you are, and everything we could have together."

Ice formed on her cheek and she realized she was crying. "Ah, now we get to the important part of the matter: what _you_ want."

He took a hasty step forward until they were nose-to-nose. "I want you. I love you and you're too damned caught up in your own guilt to see it."

She shoved hard at his chest but he didn't move an inch. "Go to the devil, Jasper."

He flinched as if she'd hit him again and finally backed away. After a moment, he looked away from her toward the lights of the house. "I can only apologize for my unforgiveable outburst. I'll see you safely home, and then I promise you'll never have to listen to me ever again."

He held out his arm and she took it and forced herself to walk beside him until they reached the warmth and sanctuary of the house.

* * *

Despite changing out of her damp clothes, Caroline was still trembling an hour later. What Jasper had said was unforgiveable. He'd always been outspoken and insisted on sharing his version of the truth regardless, but she'd never thought of him as being deliberately cruel...

She sat at her dressing table and stared at her reflection, one finger tracing the scars that ran down from her hairline over her cheekbone, down her throat and ended somewhere around her right knee. They were raised and reddish in color and no amount of powder or herbal concoctions had succeeded in covering them or reducing the severity of their appearance.

She remembered fire licking at her gauzy skirts, devouring her, encircling her as she screamed for George. And he'd come back, smashing down the door of their cabin, almost smothering her in a blanket and jumped with her in his arms over the side into the stormy sea. The shock of the freezing water had saved her skin, but a barrel from the boat had struck George in the head and, in her wounded state, she'd been unable to keep him afloat.

She pictured his smiling face. He'd always liked Jasper. What would he think of the picture of his wife that Jasper had just painted? This guilt-ridden recluse? Would he agree with him? After an hour of quiet reflection, she had a horrible suspicion that he would be disappointed in her.

But did that mean Jasper was right? And if he _was_ correct, did it mean she had to apologize to him? The thought of him leaving made tears stir again in her throat. And he would leave as soon as he could and she'd never see him again. He was always a man of his word.

But what if he recoiled when he saw the true extent of her injuries? Could she bear to see that? He'd said he loved her...She met her own gaze. She'd always known that, hadn't she? Always relied on him to be honest with her, so why should she balk at his comments now? She _had_ shut herself away from the world.

With a deep breath, she stood and pushed back her chair. Whatever happened, she had to apologize to him. Would he be downstairs celebrating the arrival of his Christmas day birthday with the other guests, or had he retired to his room? There was only one way to find out. She would have to be brave and seek him out for herself.

* * *

"Uncle Jasper. Uncle Jasper!"

Jasper raised his head from his hands and contemplated his locked bedroom door as the knocking continued. At least Miss Pattison wasn't after him, but what the devil did Tommy want? He didn't want to see anyone. He wanted to crawl into his bed, hide under the covers like his five year-old-self and howl.

He'd lost her.

Sometimes he wanted to take his unflinching desire to be honest and cut out his own tongue. Even if he was right—and he was damn sure that he was—he shouldn't have told Caro like that when she was already angry with him. He should've been patient and respectful and—

"Dammit, Tommy, what do you want?" He bellowed and leapt to his feet wrenching open the door so fast his nephew almost fell into the room.

"I need your help."

"What now?" Jasper demanded. "I am not the person to be advising you about women tonight."

"It's not about that." Tommy hesitated and for the first time Jasper noticed the lines of worry around his mouth. "It's the others. I think you should come."

* * *

Caroline stopped at the top of the stairs and inhaled the scent of something burning which immediately set her heart racing. It was past one in the morning and there was no sign of any of the other adults in the drawing room or card room. Muffled laughter came from one of the little-used salons off the great hall. Forgetting about Jasper for the moment, she gathered her skirts and her courage and went down.

She opened the door quietly to see several of the younger members of the house party on their knees in a circle around a large flat bowl. The smell of burning brandy fumes reached her and she put her hand to her mouth. One of the girls was leaning forward, one hand outstretched. She plucked something from the bowl of burning spirits and sat back with a squeak, tossing the smoldering raisin between her palms before eating it.

"Ooh! My Lord! It's hot!"

"What are you doing, Alice?" Caroline asked quietly.

Her niece sat up with a gasp. "Aunt Caroline! I thought you were in bed!"

"Obviously." Caroline's gaze swept the company. "You must know that neither your parents nor I would allow you to play this game inside."

"Oh Mrs. Lyndhurst, don't be such a ninny." Miss Pattison giggled. "It's only snapdragon. We're not five years old, so it's perfectly safe."

"Fire is rather unpredictable, Miss Pattison. Take my word for it." Caroline returned her attention to Alice. "I think it's time to say goodnight to your guests."

Lord Breton rose and offered his hand to help Alice up. "I think your aunt has a point, Miss Bryson. I, for one, am longing for my bed."

Caroline cast him a grateful glance. If Alice did decide Breton was the right man for her, she for one wouldn't raise any objections.

"Oh don't go, we were having so much fun." Miss Laura Breton wailed. Several of the others looked quite mutinous too.

Caroline was just about to insist they all left when Miss Pattison tossed her head and turned back to the bowl.

"Well, _I'm_ finishing the game."

Her fingers were poised ready to scoop the burning raisins out of the fire. A gust of wind from the chimney caught the blue-white flame and within an instant, the trailing fringe on Miss Pattison's shawl was on fire.

Just as Miss Pattison screamed and tried to scramble away, her slipper caught in the rug and she started to fall. Caroline ran forward and was on her in a trice, rolling her over, ripping off the shawl and covering the girl with her own body to smother any possibility of the flames engulfing her.

"Mrs. Lyndhurst!"

Caroline gasped as she was hit by a torrent of water and chrysanthemums, then someone was lifting her away from Miss Pattison.

"Are you hurt? Are you all right?"

She blinked and discovered she was in Jasper's arms and that Tommy stood next to her with a large flower vase clasped in his arms. Even though she was certain she hadn't fainted, the room had been cleared and the smell of smoke was already diminishing.

"I'm sorry about the water, Mrs. Lyndhurst. It was the closest thing I could find to douse the flames." Tommy stuttered.

"It's all right. How is Miss Pattison?"

"Thanks to your swift actions, she's fine." Jasper's voice was soothing and deliberately calm. "Miss Alice is taking her up to the nursery to have her hand seen to. She burnt her fingertips."

"That's good then." Caroline nodded, amazed at how composed she sounded. "And where are the others?"

"They've all gone to bed. Tommy is just going, too. He had the sense to come and get me when he saw how the game was progressing."

"Oh."

He stroked her hair. "It's all right."

She buried her face against his shoulder and started to shake and cry as though she would never stop. After a little while, he picked her up in his arms and started up the stairs, murmuring to her as he went, nonsense words and words of love, marveling at her courage, her bravery...

She cried even harder and tried to burrow inside his solid warmth. It wasn't until he laid her gently down that she realized they were in his bedroom. He locked the door and took off his clothes before drawing her back into his arms and just holding her against his naked skin.

After a long while she managed to open her eyes and tried to forget the stench of burning that lingered in her senses. He smelled far better and, she sought his mouth, inhaling the hint of a cigarillo and the tartness of the peppermint he used to cleanse his breath. He met her tongue with his own and allowed her to take his mouth with all the frantic urgency she needed.

"It's all right," he whispered

She bit his lip and he moved against her, sliding one hand down to cup her bottom as she straddled him. She bit him again and his cock jerked to life against her belly and his kiss became more possessive.

"Help me." She dragged his hands to the lacing at the back of her gown and her corset beneath. "Quickly. I need—"

He sat up, keeping her in his lap and working fast at her laces and corset as she concentrated on pulling off her petticoats and gown. Within minutes she was as naked as he was and rubbing herself against him, his wet cock sliding between their bellies as his hands roamed over her.

"I need you inside me. _Please,_ Jasper, I—"

He rolled her over and with one sure thrust he was deep within her. She wrapped herself around him, dug her heels into his buttocks and urged him on until he was pounding into her hard enough to make her forget everything but his huge physical presence and the earthy scent of their bodies moving in harmony. He slid one large hand under her buttocks, raising and spreading her even wider for his pleasure, his thumb sliding into her arse, working her there, too, as his cock worked her cunt.

She climaxed and he held himself deep, rearing up on one elbow to watch her face as she thrashed around in her pleasure. Before she'd even finished climaxing, he flipped her onto her knees and penetrated her from behind, each powerfully long stroke making her shudder and brace her knees wider. She moaned as his fingers roamed over her breasts, pinching her nipples into tight needy buds that made her come again.

"Caro..."

He moved her again onto her back and drew her legs over his shoulders and plunged so deep that she screamed his name and came helplessly around him as he pounded into her. He kept it up until he lost his rhythm and simply rocked and plundered her, each stroke coupled with a grunt and an anguished breath. He plunged deep one last time, holding her impaled on his thick, stiff length and then started to come in long, slow waves, his arms shaking as he held himself rigidly over her.

This was real, Jasper's scent, his come, and his body over hers. She hoped she would never forget the sight of him climaxing, of him obliterating what had happened earlier with the sheer force of his desire and his physical presence. And all she'd had to do was ask him. He'd known what she needed.

He loved her.

She was suddenly aware that she was naked and that the candles were still alight. He slowly withdrew, wincing a little as he stared down at her exposed body.

"Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, too afraid to speak as he slowly peeled himself off her to reveal her damaged torso. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him back over her like a blanket. Instead, she closed her eyes.

"It's all right, love."

She shivered as she felt his mouth on her right temple, his tongue tracing the line of her scars. He kissed his way down to her throat, her arm and side and ended at her hip.

"Don't ever tell me you aren't brave," he whispered. "You're beautiful just the way you are, inside and out." He came back to kiss her lips. "What you did tonight probably saved Miss Pattison's life, the silly little fool."

"I thought you said I was a coward."

He winced. "I knew you'd remember that. I should be horsewhipped. Knowing how afraid you were, you were incredibly brave."

She touched his unshaven cheek. "But you were right about me hiding away. You usually are."

"You know me, Caro. I'm a simple soldier and have no social skills whatsoever." He framed her face in his hands. "But I swear I will try and acquire some for your sake." He hesitated. "If you want me to, that is. If you want me?"

She looped her arm around his neck. "It's no longer a question of what either of us wants, is it? When Maud discovers where I spent the night, and she will, she'll insist my poor brother-in-law demand that you marry me."

"I don't want to force you into anything, Caro."

"So you don't actually want to marry me?"

"I want—" He glared down at her and then seemed to notice that she was smiling. "I want to put you over my knee and spank you, and then fuck you so hard that you'll never want to leave me again." He snatched a quick kiss. "And _then_ I want to marry you."

She stroked his chest. "Are you quite sure? I feel as if I've forced you into it. I flat out _ordered_ you to seduce me, Jasper."

"Caro, I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I came here to see if I could persuade you to marry me." He held her gaze. In the distance, the church bells were pealing for Christmas day. "And today _is_ my birthday, so I really think I deserve to receive my heart's desire—don't you?"

# Samantha Kane interviews Kate Pearce

1.Why did you originally move from England to the U.S.?

My husband was offered a job in the Bay Area by the computer company he worked for in London and they offered to pay for the relocation, so we said why not? _Adventure_!

2. Why did you start writing? When? What?

I always made stuff up and had a very healthy fantasy world as a child that drove my parents nuts. I was also a voracious reader, so I tried to write from quite an early age. It wasn't until I moved to the USA and discovered the romance section at my local bookstore that I realized 'what' I should be writing. I started off writing historical romance, and after a year or three of rejections, I ended up writing something so steamy and erotic that I hid it for a while. But when I did finally share the erotic stuff with a mentor, she loved it. Elloras Cave, who were one of the pioneers of erotic romance, bought it in 2005 and the rest of my career came from there.

3. How has Hawaii affected your writing? Aren't there a lot of distractions?

I tend to enjoy taking time off more. There's something about the ocean I find very soothing and relaxing, but I've always been very self-motivated so I work hard in order to enjoy the leisure time.

4. If the main characters from this story My Heart's Desire visited you in Hawaii, what would their reaction be?

I think my hero would love it here and be off exploring everything. My heroine would be more cautious, but I'd love to see her paddling her toes in the sea.

5. What would your theme song for this story be, if you had to pick one?

I'd go with the classic, "And I love her" from the Beatles.

6. Now that you're writing mysteries, are you still planning to write more historical erotic stories?

Yes, I'm now two people, or is that three? I have a new Kate Pearce series coming out at the end of this year called The Sinners Club, which is loosely connected to the House of Pleasure series, and will have some interchangeable characters. The Catherine Lloyd Kurland St. Mary mystery series is a whole 'nother kind of writing-more like a jigsaw puzzle. I love the variety of plotting full-on-erotic sex to a simple kiss of the hand. LOL

7. I love your contemporary cowboy stories. The first book I read by you was a cowboy story, Roping the Wind. Are you still writing cowboy books?

Oh my god, I love cowboys. (And I know we share a love of bull riding). I tend to write short erotic stories about cowboys these days because I'm so busy (see Branded).

8. If you could be any character from your books who would it be and why? ( I had to throw a hard question in here.)

I think I'd like to be Madam Helene Delornay who owns the House of Pleasure because she is so strong and has suffered so terribly but she doesn't let it defeat her. She uses the only skill she has, (sex) to create her own little empire in a time when women had very little power. I just love her.

I'd also quite like to be Peter Howard for a day. :) But mainly because I'd get to be in love with Valentin. :)

9. How many bathrooms are in your new house?

Um, three in the main house and one in the ohana. So we're down two from the old house.

10. How do you plan to celebrate Christmas in the islands this year? Do you still celebrate English Christmas traditions? Is so what?

I do still try and keep up some of the English Christmas traditions. I buy Christmas crackers and Christmas pudding and make mince pies and brandy butter and trifle. I have ornaments on my tree that have traveled round the world with us. It will be interesting to see what Hawaiians do on Christmas day, as I don't think most people will want to be stuck inside eating turkey!

# About Kate Pearce

Award winning author Kate Pearce was born into a large family of girls in England, and spent much of her childhood living very happily in a dream world. Despite being told that she really needed to "get with the program", she graduated from the University College of Wales with an honors degree in history.

A move to the USA finally allowed her to fulfill her dreams and sit down and write her first romance novel. Along with being a voracious reader, Kate gets to hang out in Hawaii, and derives a lot of inspiration from the stunning sea views and the slope of the volcano in her back yard. Kate is a member of RWA and is published by NAL Signet Eclipse, Kensington Aphrodisia, Ellora's Cave, Cleis Press, Carina Press and Virgin Black Lace/Cheek.

Visit Kate on her website <http://www.katepearce.com>.

# Stay Connected with Kate Pearce

Website: <http://www.katepearce.com>

Newsletter: <http://eepurl.com/ifHuY>

Facebook Profile: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=595039075"

Facebook Author Page: <http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kate-Pearces-Fan-Page/220636502580>

Twitter: @kate4queen

Goodreads: <http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/688826.Kate_Pearce>

# Other Works by Kate Pearce

Eden's Pleasure

Antonia's Bargain

Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?

Roping the Wind

Planet Mail

Secured Mail

Riding The Line

Simply Sexual

Simply Sinful

Simply Shameless

Simply Wicked

Lords Of Passion

Simply Insatiable

Some Like It Rough

Simply Forbidden

The Ties That Bind

Kiss of the Rose

Blood of the Rose

Raw Desire

Mark of the Rose

Simply Carnal

Simply Scandalous

Educating Elizabeth

Redeeming Jack

Soul Sucker

Branded

The Power of Three

Death Bringer

The First Sinners

The Sinners Club
