Read Online It Happened Under the Mistletoe: A Holiday Novella by Valerie Bowman - Free Book Online
Authors: Valerie Bowman
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and out of my element.”
He grinned. “I must say you seem to be doing fine here with me.”
She blushed. “That’s … you’re different.”
“How so?” He watched her intently.
“I don’t know.” She seemed to contemplate the matter for a moment. “I certainly hope you don’t take this as an insult, your grace, but you don’t seem a bit as if you have a title. Not to me, at least.”
He laughed so loudly he had to clap his hand over his mouth and hope no one undesirable heard him and came running. “Miss Blake, I actually take that as one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received. And please, call me Oliver.”
“Now you’re making fun of me,” she said with a small smile. “And you may call me Cerian.”
“Not at all. I’m entirely serious. Society has always been a part of my life but the title, well, the title is quite new.”
“You must think I’m the biggest ninny you ever met, but Society frightens me horribly. It’s just so rigid and unforgiving, and Mama puts so much stake in it. If I’m not accepted, she’ll be devastated and I will be too. I hate myself for feeling that way, especially with people like Lady Selina skulking about, but I do.”
Oliver placed a hand over hers and squeezed. “You’re just being honest. And believe me you wouldn’t be the first person to feel that way. It’s not an easy group to join. And you should feel doubly sorry for me; I’m the one who will be forced to marry someone like Lady Selina. Imagine my horror.”
Cerian was able to crack a smile at that and Oliver felt as if he’d won a great victory. Making her smile and laugh the same way she made him do so was important to him for some reason.
“I just wish it weren’t so imperative to Mama for me to marry someone with a title.”
“Ah, Miss Blake, it’s imperative to all mamas, I’m afraid. Mine included.”
Her smile turned wistful. “I just cannot imagine myself marrying someone like Sir Gilliam. I’d rather return to Wales and marry a farmer, or a tradesman, someone who actually loves me.”
Oliver moved his hand over hers and squeezed it. She turned her head slightly, looked up at him with those wide green eyes.
His head moved toward hers, an inch, two. He didn’t know why. His mouth met hers slowly, tentatively. Her chin tilted up to make room. The kiss was soft, exploratory. She sighed a little and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. At first, he wondered if she’d push him away but she didn’t. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Then his lips moved with more urgency. She tasted like apple-spiced cider and the soft sounds she made in the back of her throat made Oliver shudder. His lips moved to her cheek, her neck, her ear. Her eyes closed and her head was thrown back. Her body bucked when his tongue touched the sensitive spot in her ear. And then his lips were back on hers, his tongue moved inside this time. She grabbed the lapels of his coat, holding onto him, braced against him. He kissed her again and again and again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cerian pulled away sharply and wiped a shaky hand across her lips. Oliver concentrated on restoring his breathing to rights and willing his overheated body back to normalcy.
“What was … that?” she asked, slowly pulling her fingertips away from her mouth.
“It was…” He couldn’t answer it either.
It was a rhetorical question and they both knew it, but Oliver couldn’t help but ask himself the same thing. What was that? This time there was no mistletoe, no excuse, no pretending in front of other people. They were alone, just the two of them now, and that had been the kind of kiss that made his cock throb. He blew out deeply through his nose and shook order back into his mind.
“It was nothing,” Cerian said, answering the question for both of them. “It’s Christmastide. It’s romantic. That’s all. Yes. Yes.”
“Christmastide?” Did his voice sound less sure
He grinned. “I must say you seem to be doing fine here with me.”
She blushed. “That’s … you’re different.”
“How so?” He watched her intently.
“I don’t know.” She seemed to contemplate the matter for a moment. “I certainly hope you don’t take this as an insult, your grace, but you don’t seem a bit as if you have a title. Not to me, at least.”
He laughed so loudly he had to clap his hand over his mouth and hope no one undesirable heard him and came running. “Miss Blake, I actually take that as one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received. And please, call me Oliver.”
“Now you’re making fun of me,” she said with a small smile. “And you may call me Cerian.”
“Not at all. I’m entirely serious. Society has always been a part of my life but the title, well, the title is quite new.”
“You must think I’m the biggest ninny you ever met, but Society frightens me horribly. It’s just so rigid and unforgiving, and Mama puts so much stake in it. If I’m not accepted, she’ll be devastated and I will be too. I hate myself for feeling that way, especially with people like Lady Selina skulking about, but I do.”
Oliver placed a hand over hers and squeezed. “You’re just being honest. And believe me you wouldn’t be the first person to feel that way. It’s not an easy group to join. And you should feel doubly sorry for me; I’m the one who will be forced to marry someone like Lady Selina. Imagine my horror.”
Cerian was able to crack a smile at that and Oliver felt as if he’d won a great victory. Making her smile and laugh the same way she made him do so was important to him for some reason.
“I just wish it weren’t so imperative to Mama for me to marry someone with a title.”
“Ah, Miss Blake, it’s imperative to all mamas, I’m afraid. Mine included.”
Her smile turned wistful. “I just cannot imagine myself marrying someone like Sir Gilliam. I’d rather return to Wales and marry a farmer, or a tradesman, someone who actually loves me.”
Oliver moved his hand over hers and squeezed it. She turned her head slightly, looked up at him with those wide green eyes.
His head moved toward hers, an inch, two. He didn’t know why. His mouth met hers slowly, tentatively. Her chin tilted up to make room. The kiss was soft, exploratory. She sighed a little and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. At first, he wondered if she’d push him away but she didn’t. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Then his lips moved with more urgency. She tasted like apple-spiced cider and the soft sounds she made in the back of her throat made Oliver shudder. His lips moved to her cheek, her neck, her ear. Her eyes closed and her head was thrown back. Her body bucked when his tongue touched the sensitive spot in her ear. And then his lips were back on hers, his tongue moved inside this time. She grabbed the lapels of his coat, holding onto him, braced against him. He kissed her again and again and again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cerian pulled away sharply and wiped a shaky hand across her lips. Oliver concentrated on restoring his breathing to rights and willing his overheated body back to normalcy.
“What was … that?” she asked, slowly pulling her fingertips away from her mouth.
“It was…” He couldn’t answer it either.
It was a rhetorical question and they both knew it, but Oliver couldn’t help but ask himself the same thing. What was that? This time there was no mistletoe, no excuse, no pretending in front of other people. They were alone, just the two of them now, and that had been the kind of kiss that made his cock throb. He blew out deeply through his nose and shook order back into his mind.
“It was nothing,” Cerian said, answering the question for both of them. “It’s Christmastide. It’s romantic. That’s all. Yes. Yes.”
“Christmastide?” Did his voice sound less sure
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