Page 38 of Camellia and the Christmas Curse
“Where’s the Camellia Swift so interested in a sensible marriage?” he teased.
“She was a fiction. It was foolish of me to pretend to be so mercenary. Mrs Bloomfield has always said I am a romantic at heart.”
“Poverty isn’t romantic, though. And you might regret marrying for love once you’ve stitched yet another patch on your second-best gown.”
“Ah, but that is the catch. You have nothing, but I will have a little. If I marry by the New Year, I can claim the settlement my father intended for me. Ten thousand pounds. Enough to start a life, and we can put the rest away to live off the income. Along with your pittance, we could have about five hundred a year. We’d do well enough.”
“You deserve more,” he began to argue.
“There you go, sir, telling me what I deserve, when what I want is you.”
He did not let her go, but kissed her in the dark and star-filled night.
Her heart already racing, Camellia responded eagerly. She reveled in his touch and the way he held her so close to him. She grew more daring, testing out new ways to taste him. Finn reacted by urging her on, his hands exploring her breasts and then slipping under her skirts. She gasped when his fingers trailed up her legs, sending signals up and down her body to give in to every whim and desire tonight.
Finn’s breath quickened when she told him to undo the laces of her gown. His gaze dropped as he looked her over, and he kissed her skin just above the neckline. “The sight of you undressed is more than I can take,” he warned.
“You can take all of me,” she promised, recklessly, sincerely. She put her hands on his shoulders and drew him in for a deep kiss.
He groaned with need, but at last pulled away. “Much as I want to, Lia, you’re worth too much for it to happen this way. I’m going to do this one thing properly. We get engaged, and then I will do exactly what you’re asking.”
Lia sighed with pleasure as he grazed her breasts with his fingers. “I don’t want to wait,” she whispered.
“Oh, the feeling’s mutual,” he assured her. “But I will make the wait worthwhile, and on our wedding night, you will get everything you want tonight, and more.” He kissed her again, a kiss filled with passion and promise.
Chapter 17
Still light-headed and deliriously happy from the kiss, Camellia finally felt the bite of the late December air coming through the still-open window. She gasped. “Oh, my goodness! We must get back to the party. It’s freezing here, and people might be asking for us.”
“Yes,” said Finn. “Let’s go, before I get any other ideas about what to do with you tonight.”
They stood up together, and the pair made their way down the winding staircase of the tower to face the world again. Behind them, there was only silence and a soft swirl of snow on the stone floor.
Where he’d fought Elliot, Finn looked again for a trace of either sword. However, there was nothing to be found. They’d vanished.
“A ghost sword?” Camellia asked, when he told her what he was looking for. “Is that possible?”
“We were visited by ghosts. Why not their weapons too?” Finn shrugged a bit helplessly. “I’m not prepared to think about it yet.”
They weren’t sure what to expect once they reached the main floor again. Lia half expected to be pounced on by the Fitzgerald servants and held to account for being gone with a man for half the night. But the sounds of the party continued unabated, and none of the guests seemed concerned.
“Do you want to go back to the ballroom?” Finn asked.
“I couldn’t take it,” she declared. “After what happened tonight, it would be too strange to do something so ordinary.” She laughed at herself. “I’m not making sense!”
“On the contrary,” he assured her. “I understand you perfectly. Let me escort you up to your room.”
They reached the wing where most of the guest rooms lay, intending to go to their separate rooms and sleep off the fatigue of the night’s events. Neither of them could face the idea of returning to the plain old earthly ball, filled with people asking questions.
At Elliot’s door, however, Finn paused. It was open a crack. He peered in, then chuckled. “Camellia, have a look.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
She peeped in, and saw Hortense and Elliot lying on the large bed. Both were fully clothed, but the way Hortense had draped herself across the sleeping form of Elliot…Camellia blushed. “Oh, dear. Should we wake them?”
“I don’t think Miss Fitzgerald would thank you for that.” He pulled the door closed. “She must have made her own plans for this evening, and carried them out admirably.”
