Free A Kiss At Christmastide: Regency Novella by Christina McKnight Page B

her tongue across his lower one. Everything in his body hardened, and Lucas had a moment of hesitation, knowing their bodies were still pressed closely together—his erection unmistakable.
    He was acting the randy schoolboy with his first bout of infatuation.
    He slowed their kiss, allowing his hands to fall to his sides. Pippa was likely frightened by his actions.
    Lucas should apologize, gather his belongings, and depart immediately.
    The liberties he’d taken with Lady Pippa were unforgivable—and if he stayed, he knew he’d only insist on more.
    â€œMy lady,” Lucas said as he pulled back. “I—”
    â€œIt is Pippa,” she corrected, setting her lips to his once more.
    Lucas gave in, allowing his hands their freedom, and they instantly wrapped around her once more to cup the round swells of her backside.
    He released her lips and trailed light kisses along her jawline and up to her earlobe, taking it into his mouth and sucking gently.
    A moan escaped her, and Lucas damn near lost all thought and threw caution to the wind at the sound of her pleasure. Pleasure, he was giving her.
    Pleasure, he had no right to be giving her at this moment—or any other.
    Lady Pippa had given him shelter…and he was all but betrothed to Lady Natalie, who awaited his arrival at the neighboring estate. Yet, Lucas, scoundrel that he was, held and kissed another. Imagined undressing this dark-haired beauty, instead of—Lucas had no idea what Lady Natalie looked like—and he found he could care less.
    It was the woman in his arms that he wanted—in this moment, and all that followed.
    He released her lobe, and she let out a disgruntled sigh, pushing her body ever closer to his as if she didn’t realize the danger she was in—the threat he posed to her future.
    A loud clap of thunder shook the front door on its hinges, and Pippa gasped, jumping back.
    Her gaze darted around the room as if her brain hadn’t registered the origin of the noise that had startled her.
    â€œIt was thunder,” he called, balling his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching for her once more. “Only the storm.”
    She breathed heavily, not saying a word, and her hands clutched her chest—her bosom straining against the fabric of her gown, demanding to be set free.
    Or maybe that was only Lucas’s imagination begging him to step forward and take her in his arms again.
    A deep crimson stain crept up her neck, and her face flamed red.
    â€œMy lord,” she gushed. “I am…I am so sorry. I have acted most improper. Whatever must you think of me?”
    On the tip of his tongue were the many words he wanted to say about her: sensual, erotic, alluring, beautiful, caring, compassionate, and captivating. Given a minute longer, allowing his mind to clear, he would likely string together another ten words that adequately described her.
    â€œYou must think me a wanton woman, my lord.”
    As long as she was only wanton for him, Lucas would call her exactly that if it pleased her.
    Too late, he realized his mistake at remaining silent so long as her body trembled and she stumbled farther from him.
    She truly believed he thought negatively of her—and what had just occurred between them.
    Pippa grabbed her skirts in her hand and fled the room. Her embarrassment evident to Lucas now—how had he not recognized the emotion before?
    But he knew the answer.
    The Earl of Maddox, heir to the Marquis of Bowmont, had never sought out any woman of respectable standing—nor had he the occasion to ruin a proper lady.
    Bloody hell, Merry Christmastide to him.
    If he was not already certain of his tendency to tarnish every situation, it was evident now.

Chapter 9
    P ippa noticed the sliver of light escaping the edges of her draperies the moment her eyes fluttered opened. She’d hurriedly donned a morning gown with an apron and pockets before pulling the heavy fabric