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A Very Wicked Christmas
A Very Wicked Christmas Read online
Table of Contents
Contents
A Very Wicked Christmas
Copyright
The Christmas Affair by Heather Boyd
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
About Heather Boyd
Love at First Dance by Barbara Monajem
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About Barbara Monajem
Joy to the Earl by Nicola Davidson
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
About Nicola Davidson
Mistletoe and the Marquess by Wendy Vella
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About Wendy Vella
Lord Misrule by Donna Cummings
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
About Donna Cummings
Glittering Prize by Beverley Oakley
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
About Beverley Oakley
Dear Reader
A Very Wicked Christmas
Have Yourself A Very Wicked Christmas!
Six of today’s most popular regency romance authors come together to deliver a holiday anthology full of passion, promise, and scandalous dalliance.
In Heather Boyd’s The Christmas Affair, a lonely widow offers shelter to a beautiful, not so innocent miss to overcome the bitter memories of Christmases past, but could such a wicked connection ever lead to a happily-ever-after? A dashing spy with marriage on his mind seeks to rekindle the spark by any means possible with the woman who claimed his heart in Love at First Dance by Barbara Monajem. A scandalous widow rescues the man of her dreams - but his secrets could destroy their love in Nicola Davidson's Joy to the Earl. A masquerade ball was no place to be reckless with your innocence, and yet one scorching look at the masked highwayman urges Miss Partridge to do just that in Mistletoe and the Marquess by Wendy Vella. In Lord Misrule by Donna Cummings, a young widow chooses a handsome rogue to be her first lover, but his regrets from a past Christmas may end their affair before it even commences. A blue-stocking becomes a courtesan to escape a murderer in The Glittering Prize, an intrigue-filled romance by Beverley Oakley about finding love where it’s least expected.
Published, October 2016
ISBN: 978-1-925239-19-5
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced nor used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for use of brief quotations in a book review.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you are 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 these authors.
The stories in this boxed set are a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used facetiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover and Formatting by LLD Press
THE CHRISTMAS AFFAIR
by
Heather Boyd
Harper Cabot, the proprietor of Cabot’s Haberdashery, was devastated by the death of his wife to the point he cannot pack away any of her belongings. Everyone expects his mourning to end soon, but he is devoted to his business and ignores how lonely his life has become in every other respect. A chance encounter brings Amy Mellish to Harper’s notice when he discovers the woman huddled behind his store one bitterly cold night before Christmas. Stirred by compassion and unexpected attraction, he offers Amy shelter in his home…only to have the woman seduce him before the night is over.
Amy has long admired the proper Harper Cabot from a distance, believing a prostitute very far below his notice and unneeded in his life. Although saddened by his loss, Amy very much needs Harper’s protection and boldly strikes a bargain to stay in exchange for satisfying his lust. In Harper’s arms, Amy discovers passion beyond her experience even though the signs of the late Mrs. Cabot linger in every corner of his home. Although begun as a diversion from shared sorrows, can their brief affair overcome the bitter memories of Christmases past and create the lasting connection they both secretly desire?
Copyright © 2016 by Heather Boyd
Chapter One
Amy Mellish might never be warm. She would freeze and no one would ever know her name. She would be just another homeless, unknown body they found during the spring thaw if she did not keep putting one foot ahead of the other.
She blew on her hands, encased in her late mother’s best-but-worn gloves, and surveyed the bustling street ahead. Bond Street less than a week before Christmas was a busy time, though so cold this year. Few looked at her directly. No one moved out of her way.
It certainly was not the best time to lure a man to take their pleasure with her so she might afford a corner of a room in a drafty boardinghouse.
“A pox on the happily married,” she muttered bitterly as a laughing couple almost barreled over her.
Amy had been overlooked all her life. As a child she had not had friends or family aside from her mother, and as an adult of two and twenty years, that was not likely to change. She was utterly alone, and as a result of her lack of proper protection in the form of chaperones, she was not innocent.
She was one of the impure, a fallen woman who relied on the wickedness of her customers to survive the harsh world of London’s streets. It was not the life her mother had wanted for her, but it was the life she must live no matter how hard it seemed.
Unfortunately, she was not that successful in attracting interest in the middle of winter and had taken to the streets of London’s busiest district in desperation for coin and customers.
She pushed on through the happy crowd, fretting over her desperate situation. She could do what one of the light-skirts on the last street corner had just done—made a show of unbuttoning her threadbare coat and flashed her breasts to a passing gentleman. The portly fellow had ogled her but had not flicked out a coin. He had smiled and then moved on with his own business. The woman had taken the loss of custom with good spirits and hurried to cover herself again. Amy considered her very brave. Undressing, even partially, while the snow fell and the winds howled was not pleasant. While she silently applauded the woman’s tenacity and fortitude under trying circumstances, Amy was not willing to surrender any more of her body heat to the uncertainty of fickle male whim.
She had to be practical and thrifty with her favors.
“Watch where you’re going!”
Amy jerked up her chin and met the hard stare of a well-heeled heavy-set gent of middle years. On his arm was an expensively dressed woman who positively sneered at Amy’s presence on their path. Amy shuffled aside, feet sinking into a deep patch of snow that reached above the top of her ankle-high boots. The couple took their time passing, and Amy was shivering in earnest once more when she could proceed.
She stamped her feet after they were gone and shook the snow from the hem of her heavy garments.
“People are always in too much of a hurry,” a contemptuous male voice remarked nearby.
She turned around for the source of the voice and found a fellow standing just inside an alley in the shadows, smoking from a weathered pipe. He seemed of middle age or perhaps older, but it was hard to tell with his cap pulled low over his eyes.
Amy smothered her disappointment. She preferred a younger customer. They were a little more giving of their coin and often cleaner, but she would make do with whatever she got. “Some are indeed.”
He moved to the edge of the shadows but did not step out into the street to meet her. His eyes beneath the cap were fierce and his expression sour. “Most don’t see the b
eauty they cast aside. Not me though. I’ve got my eyes wide open. I see you.”
“How kind,” Amy said calmly enough, but her skin prickled with a warning.
From time to time, Amy had met men whose interest in her brought unpleasant sensations. She did not feel at all safe near this fellow. Despite his neat outward appearance, there was something about his demeanor that warned her to keep a distance. He could be dangerous.
His clothes were good quality, but it was what lay beneath that made a difference. Even the best-dressed men could hurt a whore. She had heard enough, witnessed enough firsthand, to heed her own instincts. She nodded to him, intending to move along.
He jerked his head toward the alley behind him. “Why don’t you come over here and we can warm each other for a bit?”
She pretended to be shocked. “Sir!”
His expression grew menacing in an instant. “Think you’re too good for the likes of me? I know what you are.”
Amy needed coin desperately, but not so desperately as to risk misadventure with someone as changeable as him. “I am a lady, sir, and what you suggest is indecent. Leave me be or I shall call the watch.”
She spun around, but not before she heard the sound of a soft moan come from the dark alley behind the fellow. Amy hurried on, crossing the street to the bakery side and slipping in behind a chattering group. She took a moment to catch her breath, stealing the warmth from the ovens deep into her lungs for as long as she dared. And then when an older woman swept past carrying a heaped basket, she followed her out onto the street again.
A quick glance around confirmed the dangerous fellow had not followed her to the bakery.
The woman with the basket turned to her. “Can I help you, dearie?” She had the face of kindness, but her eyes were shrewd as she took in Amy’s threadbare coat.
“No, but thank you.”
The older woman hesitated. “You’re very pale.”
“The cold,” Amy murmured, but then that moan she had overheard from the alley came to mind. “A conversation with a stranger a short time ago has overset my nerves. It’s nothing, I’m sure.”
“Oh, what did he say?” The woman adjusted her basket, waiting for a juicy bit of gossip.
“Nothing untoward, thankfully, but as I was walking away, I swear I heard a moan come from the alley behind him.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Not again.”
The woman spun back for the bakery, shouting a man’s name, and disappeared with her basket of baked goods.
Amy sighed, lamenting the fact that the memory of the smell of freshly baked bread was going to torture her all day and likely all night.
Unfortunately, Amy had no choice but to push on in search of a customer. A shy smile, a flutter of lashes, were all she had to bring a gentleman into her arms in the right circumstances. In the biting cold of the afternoon, however, she was not having much luck, and she needed funds to escape the aching cold of winter that was sure to envelop the city tonight.
Another couple passed her, laughing as they went. “A pox on all happy couples,” she said aloud and then prayed she had not been overheard.
She had best keep her thoughts to herself, or she would never appeal to anyone. Aside from the dangerous fellow, she usually had good luck in the shopping district, though her usual haunts had attracted a rougher crowd of late. Amy had no wish to be passed around a group of men for the fee of a single client. As long as she was not overly brazen about what she was there for, she had found she was left largely to her own devices in the proper neighborhoods.
And it was usually so much cleaner, safer, nicer all round in this part of town. She lifted her thoughts to the path ahead and arranged her face into a pleasing expression.
There were certain shops, however, that she did not like to linger near for long, and they were just ahead. The pastry shop always made her empty stomach complain, and the fine merchandise displayed in the Cabot’s Haberdashery windows made her yearn for the past and the coin she did not possess.
The dream of one day having funds to buy whatever she liked gave her something to hope for though. If her circumstances changed and she had funds at the ready to spoil herself with, she might yet be a regular customer at either establishment.
However, she would not be able to frequent either if one of the proprietors—both very proper gents and handsome—discovered how she earned her living.
Chapter Two
Mr. Harper Cabot of Cabot’s Haberdashery, London, surveyed the new stock and his domain with approval. Trade that day had been brisk and satisfyingly lucrative, the delayed shipment he had received at midday had eased his cares. Profits should be up this month despite the biting cold, and the new man he had employed last month had borne the brunt of the heavy lifting without complaint.
Mr. Robin Pelaw was working out perfectly and handling his demanding clientele with the utmost respect. His youth and handsomeness proved a gentle lure for women who frequented the busy Bond Street shopping district. Harper had a knack of knowing what people most wanted. Pelaw’s glib tongue and easy manner was genuine enough to ensure he sold to most of his customers on the same day.
The new man did a much better job of being pleasing than he or his other longtime employee, Godfrey Hunter, had done of late.
“Is there anything else you need done tonight, Mr. Cabot?” Mr. Pelaw asked as he placed the final bolts of new fabric on display for the regular customers. The more costly fabrics were already locked away in a private room at the rear of the shop, only available for inspection by those with the funds to pay for any damage their eager pawing might inflict.
“You can remove the crates we stacked out back first thing tomorrow, but the buttons have become jumbled again. They’ll need to be sorted before you go home,” he said, casting a rueful glance toward the always-popular table display. He was very glad to pass on a task that had become a daily bother since his wife had passed away. Diana Cabot, his late wife, had enjoyed sorting the many colors, sizes, and shapes at the end of each long workday while he tallied the books.
He missed her still.
Pelaw groaned and moved to the table covered in tiny jars. “Yes, sir.”
“Stop thinking of her,” Hunter said from a safe distance, his voice subdued.
“I cannot help the way I feel.” He folded the lace bolt carefully and set it aside. “Everything here reminds me of her.”
Hunter set his scissors safely away into the workbench drawer. “You need a new woman to turn your mind.”
Harper clenched his jaw. “A temporary solution to a permanent affliction at best.”
Hunter drew close, folding his apron. “She was only one woman in a hundred pretty faces that have passed through your front door.”