His For The Holidays

His for the Holidays

By

Monica Burns

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

This digital book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This digital book 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 person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at monicaburns@monicaburns.com.

Copyright ©2016 by Kathi B. Scearce

Cover Design: Maroli Design Services

Copyeditor: Debbie Sansom-Fitts

Kathi B. Scearce DBA Monica Burns - Maroli SP Imprints

P.O. Box 75072

Richmond, VA 23236

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Publishing History

Digital 1.0 edition / December 2016

978-1-948505-08-6

More Sensual Romance

If you love

Sensual, Emotional, Unforgettable romance!

I’ve a COMPLIMENTARY download for you

Just sign up for Monica’s Newsletter for news,

recipes, guest authors, a monthly chapter

in a serial for subscribers as well as exclusive,

member-only special discounts.

A Holiday Short Story

Margaret stood rigidly at the window pretending she could see the snow-covered ground through the endless black pitch beyond the glass. Instead of snow, she saw the parlor behind her reflected in the window pane. While her sister played the piano, her brothers and several other guests surrounded Lydia as they boisterously sang God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.

Her father watched the merriment from his stuffed, leather chair, while smoking his favorite pipe. Just a slight turn of her head rewarded her with the shimmering image of a fire crackling in the hearth and a massive pine wreath hanging over the mantle. A large purple bow accented the wreath, matching a similar bow atop the large Scots pine tree in one corner of the room. Even from here she could feel the heat of the candles lighting the branches of the tree.

The scent from the tree her brothers had cut only a few days ago wafted beneath her nose teasing her senses as she stared at the fuzzy images in the glass. Her gaze settled on the one figure she’d been trying to ignore. Margaret bit the inside of her cheek as Viscount Tunbridge’s tall form wavered in the window. It was difficult to tell, but she thought his head had turned in her direction for just a moment.

Her composure was just as fragile now as it had been when he’d arrived for dinner earlier this evening. After what had transpired between them a year ago, she had not expected him to attend her family’s annual Christmas night gathering. The instant she’d spied him entering the front door behind Reverend Massey and his wife, shock had rooted her where she stood. While her family had quickly rushed to welcome the newest arrivals, she had spent as much time as possible greeting the older couple before she was forced to turn to meet Zachary’s assessing gaze.

Although instinct had urged her to run, she’d refused to do so. Instead, she’d managed to maintain her composure except for that one breathless moment when Zachary had politely kissed her hand. His mouth against her skin had made her tense with longing and a bit of fear. The touch had been a vivid reminder of how eagerly she’d succumbed to other, more intimate, caresses.

Rattled by his presence, she’d barely managed not to jerk her hand free of his grasp, but the tremor that shook through her had not gone unnoticed by him. Bent over her hand, Zachary had looked up to study her intently, his gaze glittering with cool, dangerous appraisal. Sharp and visceral, her reaction to him had made it clear her efforts to remain unaffected by him were hopeless.

The power and magnetism she’d succumbed to a year ago had only intensified where he was concerned. He’d always set her senses on fire, but tonight there was a dark, sinful edge to him that was new and disturbing. What would she do if the two of them were suddenly the only ones left in the room? Would she succumb to him as easily as she had the last time? Instantly, her body tightened with need, and she had her answer.

Little more than a year had passed since she’d mistaken her room for Zachary’s at Lord Munford’s house party. A chill washed over her at the memory. It was impossible to remember a time when she hadn’t loved Zachary. But not until that night in his bed had she ever dreamed of something more lasting between them.

Zachary had been a constant visitor to the Caulfield home since she was a girl. The Tunbridge estate bordered their family’s smaller property, and he’d been best friends with her eldest brother, Jamie, since they were boys. The two of them had even roomed together at school. After his father died suddenly, Zachary had become a less frequent visitor. He’d become immersed in managing the various family holdings his father had neglected over the years.

In fact, she’d not seen him for more than three years when she’d attended Lord Munford’s house party. When he’d arrived with his sister, Caroline, she’d realized her feelings for him were no longer those of an infatuated girl. The power of her affections had tormented her as for two days she’d watched Zachary flirt with every woman in attendance, except her.

Although he’d greeted her like an old family friend, he’d spent his time flirting with all the other women in the house party. It had been her jealousy that had caused her to drink every glass of champagne Viscount Munford had offered her the final night of the party. The memory of how she’d mistakenly stumbled into Zachary’s room filled her head until it was as if she had just closed the bedroom door behind her.

§ § §

The room was dark, except for a small fire, and she stumbled slightly as she stepped deeper into the room.

Why in heavens name didn’t they leave an oil lamp burning for me, she muttered as she fumbled with the buttons on the back of her gown.

It took several minutes to successfully remove her gown. As it fell off her shoulders onto the floor she swayed slightly from the effects of the champagne. Steadying herself, she stepped out of the dress and proceeded to remove the remainder of her clothing down to her chemise. Slowly making her way to the vanity, she tugged the pins out of her hair and dropped them on the furniture’s table top.

The woman staring out at her from the mirror was reasonably pretty. Light brown hair framed an oval face, although her hazel eyes were too close together to qualify her as beautiful. Certainly not as lovely as other women attending