Callie Hutton's Blog, page 5

Monday Musings

Here in tornado alley we are in the middle of our severe weather season. We’re supposed to have some storms this week. My daughter and I are flying out during this turbulent week for a panel I will sit on for high school students at Piscataway High School, where my niece is a teacher and mentor/coach for these girls. We will also visit with family while I’m there. It is always fun to connect with my sisters and their families.

I want to give a big shout out and thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed Marrying the Wrong. Earl, the second book in my Lords and Ladies in Love series. It has received very good reader and blogger reviews. The second book in my Noble Hearts series, For the Love of the Marquess, will release on May 19th. Right now it is up for pre-order and there just might be a special sale for that book. Stay tuned.

I hope you all have a fabulous week and enjoy the lovely spring weather (as long as you’re not here in tornado alley with me.

Kick off 2017 with a fun quiz & giveaway

Do you like reading awesome books? Do you like winning even awesomer stuff? Visit LitRing for their BIG QUIZ to score maximum entries into their amazing prize giveaway!

1 $500 gift card
4 $100 gift cards
1 Kindle Fire
1 Nook Color
1 iPad Mini
1 Kobo Aura

This is a great way to discover new authors and sample new genres. Good luck and happy New Year!

‘The New Year’s Eve Quandary’

A naughty book helped Lady Eugenia seduce her husband, ultimately resulting in the Marquess of Devon falling in love with his passionate wife. When the couple hosts a New Year’s Eve celebration and Great-Aunt Lavinia’s horrid cat gets a hold of the book, they fear the consequences. Enjoy this humorous holiday short story featuring the hero and heroine from my Regency romance, Seducing the Marquess.

 

“Oh, dear.” Eugenia, Marchioness of Devon, chewed her bottom lip as she read the missive in her hand.

Her husband, Devon, lowered the morning newspaper, and regarded her over the breakfast table. “What is it, my love?”

“It seems Great-Aunt Lavinia is coming for New Year’s Eve after all.” Eugenia took a sip of tea and continued to read. “She writes that her bones are feeling better, so she shall make the trip.”

“Her bones are feeling better?” Devon grinned, but then quickly sobered. “Has that horrible cat she calls a pet died yet?”

Eugenia shook her head. “No. I’m afraid she says here that she and Caesar are so looking forward to spending New Year’s Eve with her favorite great-niece and her family.”

Great-Aunt Lavinia’s cat was a plague to everyone in the family, except Great-Aunt Lavinia. The animal was white, stringy-haired, the size of a small dog, weighed more than a stone, hated everyone except his mistress, spit, scratched, and glared at one as if he intended to make one his next meal. He was apt to take naps wherever and whenever he wished, and snored loud enough to rattle the windows.

“She also says she is arriving,” Eugenia looked up at Devon with wide eyes, “today.”

Bellows, the aged butler who had served the family well for years, entered the breakfast room and stood at attention as any fine soldier would. “My lord, a carriage has arrived.”

“Aunt Lavinia.” They spoke to each other at the same time.

“When is your mother arriving?” Devon asked as they headed to the front entrance. “She is always able to keep Aunt Lavinia out of trouble.”

“She is arriving later today with Nash and Arabella, and Arabella’s mother.”

“I am surprised being newly wed that your brother is gracing us with his presence.”

“I am sure it was either that or host his mother-in-law.” She grinned. “Need I say more?”

Aunt Lavinia huffed up the steps, barking orders as she climbed. “See that my little darling gets something to eat right away. I can never feed him before a carriage ride. His tiny stomach does not take travel very well.”

Devon’s eyebrows rose and he mouthed “tiny stomach?” behind Aunt Lavinia’s back. Eugenia had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. No one would ever call Caesar little darling or describe his stomach as tiny.

“Aunt Lavinia. How wonderful to see you. I am so happy you are able to join us.” Eugenia hugged the older woman, pulling her corpulent body close. For as much trouble as the woman’s nasty pet was, Eugenia did hold a fondness for her great-aunt. From as far back as she could remember, Aunt Lavinia always smelled like lilac and peppermint.

She had a fondness for sweets and was more than willing to share them with her grand-niece. As long as Eugenia’s mother, the Dowager Lady Clarendon, didn’t know.

“Happy Holidays, Eugenia.” She moved back and stared at her. “You seem to have recovered from your lying-in quite well. How is my great-great-nephew?” She shook her head. “My goodness that makes me seem old, does it not?”

“Our son is well. He certainly eats enough.”

Aunt Lavinia patted Eugenia’s check. “Which is wonderful. He will be a strong boy.”

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Aunt.” Devon gave her a hug, as well.

She regarded him. “I see you are taking very good care of my great-niece.” She patted him on the cheek. “Good.” She looked around. “Now where is my little darling?”

A footman followed Aunt Lavinia from the carriage, carrying a cage with a hissing, wailing, screeching, fighting feline. Holding the cage well away from his body, he said, “My lady, where shall I put your…pet?”

“Oh, my poor sweetheart.” She cooed at the animal, who immediately settled down and began licking its unmentionable body parts.

Aunt Lavinia headed toward the kitchen, footman and cat on her heels, already shouting orders for the cat’s food. No sooner had Devon and Eugenia taken a deep breath than two more carriages arrived carrying the rest of their guests.

“It seems the New Year festivities have officially started,” Devon said as he took Eugenia’s arm and they greeted the family.

***

New Year’s Eve

 “Devon, it’s missing.” Eugenia grabbed Devon’s hand as he entered her bedchamber and pulled him in. She looked up and down the corridor and closed the door, leaning against it. “The book is missing.”

“What!?”

Eugenia had found a thoroughly scandalous book in a bookstore earlier in the year. Using the information in the book, she had seduced her husband into a torrid love affair that they were still celebrating. But it was not the sort of book one wanted family members to know one possessed.

“Are you sure it’s missing?”

“Yes.” She walked over to the table alongside the bed. She opened the drawer. “I always keep it in here in a blue bag with a drawstring. When I came in just now, the drawer was partially opened, and the book was missing.”

“Your maid?”

Eugenia shook her head. “No. She knows about the book, and she would never take it.”

“You must have put it somewhere else the last time we used it.” Devon ran his fingers up and down her arm, causing gooseflesh to erupt. “Actually, it seems quite a while since we availed ourselves of the interesting ideas in the book.” His voice deepened, making her heart speed up.

Eugenia smiled. “Perhaps a holiday present, my lord?” She wrapped her hand around his nape and pulled him close. For a minute she was lost in the feel of Devon’s warm lips on hers. Then she remembered the scandalous book was missing, it was New Year’s Eve, and she had a houseful of company. Reluctantly she pulled away. “We have to find the book, Devon. If anyone accidentally opens it, we will be humiliated.”

He sighed. “Yes, my love. I’m afraid you’re right. Just to be certain, let us search the room.”

After a thorough search they admitted the book was, indeed, missing. Arm-in-arm, they descended the stairs and made their way to the breakfast room.

“Good morning, everyone,” Devon said as they entered the room. It seemed none of their guests had decided to stay abed and the room was filled. Nash, Arabella, Lady Melrose, Lady Clarendon, Aunt Lavinia, and last night’s arrivals, Pastor Clements, his wife, and two daughters, all sat around the table, with lively conversation flowing.

“It appears we had some snow overnight. Is anyone up for a sleigh ride?” Eugenia poured tea in her cup and added sugar and cream, closing her eyes in pleasure as she took her first sip.

“I would love a sleigh ride.” Arabella’s eyes lit up and she turned to Nash who nodded his agreement.

Devon signaled one of the footmen. “Have Johnson prepare the two sleighs for a ride this morning.”

The man bowed and left the room. The group continued to discuss the upcoming sleigh ride and how they would spend the rest of the day before the big New Year’s Eve ball. Many of the neighbors had been invited, and—before the disaster of the book missing—Eugenia had been looking forward to her first New Year’s Eve ball as hostess.

“Oh, my goodness. What does my little darling have now?” Aunt Lavinia pointed at a place behind Devon. “What is that?”

Eugenia choked on her tea as she watched in horror as the abhorrent cat dragged the blue drawstring bag with the book in it across the room. She looked quickly at Devon who had turned quite pale and jumped up from his seat. He made his way to the animal, and, just as he reached it, the cat backed up, screeched to wake the dead, the hair on its back standing straight up.

“Here, kitty.” Devon got down on his knees and spoke in a soothing voice as the cat continued to howl.

“Oh, just leave him be,” Aunt Lavinia said, returning to her breakfast. “He’ll probably drop whatever it is he has there.” She nodded to one of the footmen. “We could use more hot tea.”

Eugenia’s heart continued to pound so hard she could no longer swallow. Once Devon returned to his seat, the cat settled down, lying on top of Arabella’s feet. Eugenia had not known Caesar to go near anyone, except Aunt Lavinia, without causing physical harm. Apparently, there was something special about Eugenia’s new sister-in-law.

Bit here the animal was, licking his paws. Everyone continued on with their meal, except Eugenia and Devon who watched as the cat finished grooming itself, then bit the drawstring on the bag and ran off.

No one noticed but them.

The next few hours were taken up with the sleigh ride. The enthusiastic group piled into two large sleighs. Eugenia enjoyed being huddled next to Devon, under the fur blanket, their faces red from the cold as they rode miles and miles around the countryside.

Snow had turned the area into a winter wonderland. Shouting and laughter echoed off the outbuildings and trees as the sleighs raced through the snow. Nash, with his fine baritone voice, began singing, and soon everyone joined it. A magical moment.

They all arrived back at the house cold and full of holiday spirit. “Hot chocolate for everyone,” Eugenia called to the group as they rid themselves of coats, hats, scarves, and gloves.

“And brandy for the men,” Devon added.

Aunt Lavinia, who had chosen to stay behind, ambled to the entry hall. “There you all are. Even though I wasn’t foolish enough to race around in the cold weather like some addlepated others, I could still use a chocolate myself.” She cast a glance at Devon. “With a dollop of brandy. To warm me up, of course.”

Devon smirked and bowed. “Of course, my lady. May I escort you to the drawing room?” He held out his elbow and the older woman took it, just as a large white streak whizzed by.

“Oh, goodness.” Aunt Lavinia took in a sharp breath. “My darling scared me to death.”

Eugenia watched in dismay as Caesar flew up the stairs, dragging the blue bag behind him, the book beating a cadence as it hit each step.

“Whatever is in that bag?” The Dowager Lady Clarendon asked.

Eugenia shrugged.

***

Later that night

Before she ascended to her bedchamber to prepare for the New Year’s Eve fete, Eugenia gave the ballroom one final inspection. The space glowed like a child’s fairyland, with garland, decorated with bright red ribbons, strewn about and hundreds of candles in the chandeliers, the candlelight reflecting off the mirrors on the walls. The orchestra would be situated at the alcove on the north side of the room, the refreshment table laden with punch, ratafia, champagne, numerous tarts, and sweets on the south side.

With a sigh of happiness, Eugenia returned to her bedchamber and turned herself over to her lady’s maid’s ministrations. She was putting her earbobs on, along with the bracelet and ring that matched, when Devon entered her bedchamber. Her heart gave a little flutter at his handsome countenance. All black attire, except for a stark white shirt and cravat. His hair was swept back from his forehead, but already the one curl that would never stay put rested right above his brow.

“Have you seen that dreadful cat anywhere?” Devon fastened a necklace on Eugenia’s neck, then bent to kiss her nape.

“No” She turned to him. “With all these people here tonight, I am very, very nervous about not having snatched the book back from the vile cat.”

He sighed and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I fear if I see it with the book I am going to have to suffer the consequences and wrestle it from him.”

“He will scratch you to death.”

He smirked. “Well worth the pain to retrieve the book.”

She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I love you, my lord.”

“And I love you, my lady.” He extended his arm and they left the room.

***

Guests had been arriving for more than thirty minutes. Eugenia had seen the cat a few times, still dragging the bag, dodging guests’ feet. Aunt Lavinia held court in one corner of the room, oblivious to the wretched animal’s shenanigans. Of course, that might be better, since the woman might have asked one of the footmen to grapple with Caesar to get the bag and present it to her.

Eugenia did not have enough smelling salts—nay, there weren’t enough in all of London—to revive her aunt should she take a peek at the book

It was near time for them to open the ball with the first dance. Eugenia and Devon entered the ballroom and signaled the orchestra to begin a waltz. He opened his arms and Eugenia stepped into them. How she loved dancing with her husband!

They floated around the room for a few minutes, and then several other couples joined them and the ball was officially underway.

“Goodness, what was that?” Lady Bellingworth screeched as Caesar ran through the throng, apparently brushing up against the woman’s skirts. Several men attempted to catch the fast-moving animal, still dragging the bag, as Eugenia and Devon looked on in horror. With one final romp around the room, the cat raced away.

Eugenia took a deep breath. “I am beginning to feel as though I will not survive this New Year’s party.”

“Or we will have to change our names and move to the Colonies,” he quipped.

As it grew close to midnight, Devon took Eugenia by the hand and drew her underneath the mistletoe. “Happy New Year’s, my love. This has been truly the best year of my life.” He bent his head and took her mouth in a searing kiss, right there before the entire assembly.

They broke apart at the sound of a feline wail. Caesar sat at their feet. He looked directly into Eugenia’s eyes and dropped the end of the drawstring onto her foot. She quickly reached down and grabbed the bag. Caesar sat back on his haunches and meowed, once. Then he turned and raced away. Eugenia swore the blasted animal winked at her.

Two hours later, Eugenia and Devon reclined side by side in their comfortable bed, the open book on Devon’s lap. “I am so glad we got the book back from Caesar,” Devon said, flipping the pages. “Oh, here’s one. Page seventy-five.”

She looked over his shoulder. “We’ve already done that.”

“Yes, we did, my love. And I think it’s time we repeated it.” Devon closed the book and placed it carefully in the drawer next to the bed. He blew out the candle and wrapped his arm around Eugenia, pulling her down onto the bed. He rolled on top of her. “I think we should buy a safe for the book.”

“I will order one posthaste, my lord. Definitely posthaste.”

 

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‘Stranded at an Inn on Christmas Eve’

My characters, Lady Sarah Lacey and Professor Braeden McKinnon from The Highlander’s Accidental Marriage are travelling on Christmas Eve from their home at the University of Edinburgh to Sarah’s twin sister Lady Sybil’s home at Bedlay Castle, forty miles away for the holidays. Braeden is not happy with the trip because his wife is in her final month of pregnancy, but unable to deny his love anything, he agrees to her wish to spend Christmas with her sister.

 

Leaning heavily on Braeden’s arm, Sarah entered the main room of the coaching inn. Thank goodness a strong fire had been built up and the place was warm. She stiffened as another pain shot from around her back to her belly. She glanced up at her husband to see if he had noticed, and breathed a sigh of relief when he seemed focused on the innkeeper who approached them.

“Ach, good afternoon, sir. ‘Tis a nasty day out there for sure, and I see from yer coat that the snow has started.” The innkeeper made a quick bow, the directed them to a table near the fireplace. “Will ye be needing a room?”

“I dinna think so. My lady wife and I are on our way to visit her sister at Bedlay Castle, but ‘tis taking longer than we planned. She is feeling poorly and I thought we could stop for some tea and perhaps a small meal.” Braeden helped her into the small wooden chair, which she eyed skeptically, not sure if it would hold her bulk.

“Aye, I can serve ye a fine lamb stew my wife has simmering in the kitchen, along with a nice pot of tea and warm bread.. ‘Tis a good thing ye aren’t in need of a room because we dinna have one available at present.” The innkeeper glanced quickly at Sarah’s protruding stomach and said, “Looks like ye have a little one on the way.” He narrowed his eyes. “Verra shortly.”

Sarah held in the groan as once again her stomach muscles tightened. She hadn’t really wanted to stop, preferring to continue on to her sister’s home since it appeared the babe was anxious to make its appearance, but Braeden had insisted. She feared if she told him why she wanted to persist in their journey he would have panicked, and made things worse.

“Are ye feeling all right, lass? Ye look a little pale.” Braeden hovered over her as he helped her remove her pelisse. Sarah glanced at her belly and marveled once again at the life contained therein. As she was wont to do of late, tears gathered at the thought of the babe. A white linen handkerchief appeared in front of her eyes which she used to wipe her wet cheeks.

“Aye lass, for sure yer a watering pot these days.” Braeden took the chair alongside her and clasped her hand in his. “I ken ye wanted to hurry to yer sister’s, but I think ye need some time out of the carriage and a cup of tea to restore ye.”

She patted his hand. “Yes, you were right.” Sarah sucked in a breath and gripped Braeden’s hand with such force he winced.

“What?” Panic already graced his voice.

Sarah let out a slow breath and said, “I think the babe might be eager to meet his parents.”

His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Now?”

She nodded.

Braeden jumped up, knocking his chair over. “Innkeeper!” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Are ye sure, lass?”

Sarah gave him a slight smile and nodded once again. “Yes, I believe so.”

“Well, tell him he canna. I mean, yer his mum, make him obey.”

Despite her fear and pain, Sarah burst out laughing. “I have no control over this.”

The innkeeper hurried in, a stout woman wiping her hands on a stained apron behind him. “What is it, sir?”

“We need a room. A bed. And a midwife. Now.”

The innkeeper stood before them, wringing his hands. “I’m verra sorry, sir, but I have no more rooms.”

Sarah covered her face with her hands and groaned.

“What? What?” Braeden was near hysteria. What in heaven’s name happened to her clear, calm husband?

“Do you not see the humor in this?” Sarah bit back her laughter at the tense expression on her Braeden’s. She doubted he would find humor in this at all.

“What are ye talking about, lass? What’s funny?”

She placed her hand on her aching back. “It’s Christmas Eve, I’m about to deliver a babe, and there is no room at the inn.”

He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. She could almost see him re-playing the words in his head, trying to make sense of it. When he continued to stare, she waved at him. “Never mind. I’ll explain it another time.” Where was her genius husband when she needed him?

The innkeeper’s wife stepped up to her. “I am terribly sorry about the lack of a room, my lady. ‘Tis not my intention to insult ye, but ye are more than welcome to use—“

“The stable?” Sarah burst out laughing just as a pain hit and her mirth turned into a very loud groan.

“Nay, my lady!” The woman gasped. “I would never put ye in with the animals.”

“And it has already been done,” Sarah mumbled. Did no one except her see the irony of the situation?

“I can let ye make use of our bedroom, behind the kitchen. ‘Tis not much, and again I apologize, and dinna mean to offer ye insult, but at least ye can have privacy.”

Braeden gripped Sarah’s elbow and helped her up. “That would be fine, madam. My wife and I appreciate your consideration.”

Sarah walked slowly behind the woman, Braeden’s arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. He leaned in close to her ear. “Couldn’t ye have waited just a few more hours, lass?”

“Tell it to the babe.”

***

It had been hours since the midwife had arrived and remained cosseted with Sarah in the small bedroom at the back of the inn. Braeden walked the boards under his feet in front of the fireplace, amazed he hadn’t worn them out. Over time, Sarah’s moans had turned into screams and cuss words he had no idea his wife kenned. He’d decided two hours ago he and Sarah would have a celibate marriage going forward.

The front door of the inn opened and Sybil, Liam, and his mother barreled through. “We left as soon as we received your message. Has the babe been born yet?” Sybil shrugged out of her pelisse.

“No.” Braeden rubbed the back of his neck. “I dinna ken how much longer she can last.”

Sybil rested her palm on his arm. “It is terrible to listen to, but all will be fine. Trust me.” She pulled off her gloves. “Where is she?” A loud scream echoed through the room. “Never mind. I believe I can find her.”

Sybil and Lady McKinnon hurried to the back of the inn.

Liam slapped Braeden on the back. “Let’s have a bit of whiskey to celebrate the arrival of the bairn.”

Braeden shook his head. “Nay. I have to keep a clear head.”

The two men sat in silence, with Braeden hopping up and down to pace for another hour before Sybil entered the room, her face beaming. “Braeden. Go meet your babe.”

He jumped up, and once again his chair went flying. “It’s over?”

When Sybil nodded, he shouted. “Praise the Lord!”

Sarah rested against the propped up pillows, her hair plastered to her damp forehead, but with a smile on her face. She held a small bundle that moved as he stared at the sight. Cupping the babe’s body with one hand she held out her arm. “Come say hello to your son.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “A boy?” He felt the sudden need for the handkerchief he’d given her before.

“Yes.”

Braeden sat alongside her and gazed at the face of the beautiful child he and Sarah had made together. Truly a miracle.

***

The door to the bedroom eased open and Sybil, Liam and Lady McKinnon entered. Each carried a gift for the child. Sarah shook her head. The entire night was becoming surreal.

Even though it was the middle of the night, with no rooms available, the visitors returned to Bedlay castle with a promise from Braeden that he would bring his family to them as soon as they were able.

The innkeeper’s wife insisted they stay in their bedroom until the next day when two rooms would become free. They were more than happy, they said, to sleep by the warm fireplace in the kitchen for the few hours left to the night.

About an hour after things had settled down, exhausted, but unable to sleep, Sarah gazed at the face of her child tucked in between her and her sleeping husband on the bed. She ran her finger over the fuzz of the baby’s head, then glanced out the window.

A lone bright star shone overhead in the sky, winking down at her. The end of a perfect—albeit very strange—night.

Holiday Audiobook Giveaway ~ December 18th-22nd

Escape into an audiobook! Ten bestselling authors have come together to celebrate the holidays by giving away audiobooks! Join me and Eliza Knight, Elizabeth Rose, Julie Johnstone, Tanya Anne Crosby, Lauren Smith, Amanda Mariel, Dawn Brower, Christina McKnight and Amy Jarecki and participate in this wonderful giveaway!

Giveaway runs December 18-22.

The grand prize is a 1 year audible subscription.
Second Prize: 10 audiobooks! 1 from each author participating ( The Time Traveler’s Christmas, The Highlander’s Charm, Highland Storm, A Run for Love, Tempted by a Rogue, Onyx, Enchanted by the Earl, Wicked Highland Wishes, A Kiss at Christmastide and A Wallflower’s Christmas Kiss)

How to Enter:

Click HERE for the Rafflecopter link
Listen to each audiobook sample
Answer the corresponding question in the rafflecopter for each author’s book

Giveaway ends on December 22. Winners will be picked after the giveaway officially ends.

Don’t forget! All three of my Christmas romances (Miss Merry’s Christmas, A Wife by Christmas and A Dogtown Christmas) are on sale for just $.99 so treat yourself to heartwarming historical holiday reads!

 

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‘My True Love Gave to Me’

Please enjoy this holiday short story from Callie Hutton.

After one night of unbridled passion with Marcus, Viscount Weatherby, Lady Surrey–then Lady Emma–was whisked off the marriage mart by her parents, and betrothed to a man old enough to be her grandfather. Three years later, she is a widow, and Marcus has returned from India. Will he win Emma back? Or will her secret turn him from her forever?

 

My True Love Gave to Me

Pemberton Hall

Christmas Day, 1814

She’s here.

A jolt of excitement shot through Marcus, Viscount Weatherby, as he spotted her after scanning the crowd packed into the ballroom at Pemberton Hall. He had carelessly tossed aside the invitation he’d received to the lavish Christmas Ball the Duke and Duchess of Pemberton hosted each year. Then when Penrose mentioned at White’s yesterday that Lady Surrey would be in attendance, he knew nothing could keep him away.

Emma–my Emma.

Almost as if connected by an invisible cord, he headed in her direction, snatching two glasses of champagne from a passing footman. Trying his best to shoulder his way through the crush, he groaned in frustration when Lord Leighton stepped up to Emma and extending his arm, led her to the dance floor seconds before Marcus reached the spot where she’d stood.

He downed both glasses and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched her turn in Leighton’s arms. His groin tightened when she smiled up at her partner, her lovely face lighting up in pleasure.

In the three years he’d been in India, she’d not changed from the beautiful, passionate woman he’d had one glorious night with. Merely days before her parents announced her betrothal to the Earl of Surrey.

Piled in a knot at the top of her head, her golden hair caught the sparkling candlelight as she turned and twirled, the slender twists of curls at her temples caressing her creamy skin. He knew first-hand her crystal blue eyes would be glowing with excitement. His fingers itched to cup her face and pull her to him, covering her lush mouth in a soul-searing kiss.

Once again, the rage and hopelessness of reading her betrothal announcement in the newspaper swept over him. His beautiful Emma to be sold in marriage to a man old enough to be her grandfather.

He turned as someone slapped him on the shoulder. “Weatherby. Thought you gave up on these affairs.”

Marcus shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to pop in once in a while.” He lowered his gaze to the cane Richard, Viscount Tetterly, leaned heavily on. “What the devil happened to you?”

Tetterly grimaced. “Attended a hunting party last weekend at Drake’s place.” He joined Marcus against the wall, sighing with relief at the added support to his frame. “Lord Buckley insisted on hunting those dratted little birds. Had the beater thrashing the bushes to get the little devils moving. Wouldn’t you know one of them flew up into a tree. So as Buckley took aim at a partridge in a pear tree, he stumbled backward, knocking me to my arse, then landed on my bent knee.”

Marcus grimaced. “Sounds painful.”

“With Buckley’s girth, I’m duced lucky he didn’t break the bloody thing. I’ll be hobbling around for weeks.” He grinned. “You should have seen the head gardener railing against the beater for ruining his shrubs.”

Tetterly sipped his whiskey. “You didn’t answer my question. What brings you here? Could’ve sworn hearing you loudly proclaim you’d never again step a foot in a ton affair, right before you hied off to India.”

“No particular reason. Perhaps I wanted to celebrate Christmas with my friends.”

Tetterly snorted. He studied Marcus for a minute, then turned to see what had captured his friend’s attention. “Ah. The glorious Lady Surrey. I should have guessed.”

Marcus stiffened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Give over, old man. If memory serves, you and the charming lady were quite the thing before her parents whisked her off the marriage mart and betrothed her to Surrey. A shame, that.”

Marcus pushed away from the wall.  “Later Tetterly, I see someone I need to speak with.” He made his way through the dancers returning to their chaperones.

***

Emma curtsied to Lord Leighton, then snapped her fan open, moving the heated air across her face. She fingered the dance card dangling from her wrist. The next dance, the first waltz of the evening, had been promised to her old friend, Stephen.

“He’s here.”

Emma turned towards the whispering voice. Her best friend, Lady Cecile, the Duke of Alford’s sister, grasped Emma’s elbow in a grip sure to leave marks on her tomorrow.

“What are you talking about? Who’s here?”

“Lord Weatherby.”

Emma felt all the blood drain from her face. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s in India.”

Cecile shook her head. “I have it on good authority he returned a few weeks ago, and he’s here now.” She glanced up, her eyes growing wide. “In fact, he’s headed this way.”

Emma whipped her head around to see Marcus stalking in her direction, a slight smile on his beloved face. Beloved−hah! She hated him. He’d left her when she needed him the most.

“Cecile, you must go with me to the ladies’ retiring room. I can’t face him. I’m still too angry.”

“You must. The day was bound to come when he would return home. You can’t avoid him forever.”

“Maybe not, but I can right now.” She scurried away, dragging Cecile with her. Emma glanced over her shoulder to see frustration on Marcus’s face. Tall, dark haired, with the perpetual curl falling over his forehead, her heart melted despite her resolve. His broad shoulders were encased in a tight fitting black jacket above buff breeches outlining every muscle in his powerful legs. The hunger in his hazel eyes started the same fluttering in her stomach as it did three years ago. She dragged her gaze away, and attempted to fill her lungs with air as she propelled Cecile forward and jostled people out of the way to make her escape.

***

Marcus watched Emma skitter away from him, dragging Lady Cecile with her. Why the devil did she look angry? With him? He ran his fingers through his hair, and caught the last glimpse of her blue silk gown as she made her way up the stairs. From past experience he knew women could be doing whatever it was they did in the retiring room for ages. He sighed and turned on his heel, heading to the card room.

He took a seat across from Lord Swann, who most likely was dodging all the females in his family. Seven daughters, and not one of them wed. Marcus had seen them floating by before in a group of pastel gowns like a bouquet of wildflowers. He couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Lady Swann, her face flushed from the effort of trying to chaperone that gaggle.

“Weatherby.” Swann nodded in his direction, and began to deal the next hand. Marcus picked up his cards and studied them, pleasantly surprised.

He passed the next hour winning and losing, until finally confident that Emma would have returned to the ballroom by now, pushed his chair back, gathered his winnings, and left the room.

It didn’t take long to spot her. She and Lady Cecile had their heads together, chatting behind their fans. They made a captivating pair. Emma with her pale beauty, and Lady Cecile with her dark hair and snapping brown eyes.

He ate up the distance between them, hurrying before someone else claimed Emma for a dance.

Two red dots appeared on her cheeks when she spotted him, and once again she turned to flee. In one long stride he managed to grasp her hand to stop her. Lady Cecile cast him a slight smile, eyes twinkling. The girl seemed relieved. He’d heard she was quite the romantic. Perhaps he’d thank her one day for keeping Emma from catching sight of him too soon.

“Lady Cecile. You’re looking splendid this evening.” He bent over her hand and gave it a slight kiss. Then he turned toward Emma and his heart stopped. All the memories of their one night together flooded his senses. In a flash he saw her perfect rose-tipped breasts, heaving with passion, her eyes a deeper blue as she stared up at him and whispered she loved him. He could still smell her fragrance, a light floral scent, along with the heady perfume of her arousal. Startlingly delightful, she was all grace and beauty. And glaring at him in anger.

What the bloody hell?

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, Lady Surrey?”

She raised her chin and stiffened her shoulders. “I’m afraid not, my lord, it appears my partner stands behind you.”

“That’s right, Weatherby. Lady Surrey is mine for this dance.”

Marcus turned towards Lord Beaumont, a pleasant smile on his face.

“If you will excuse us.” Beaumont reached for Emma’s hand.

Marcus clamped his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Say old man, do me this favor, if you will.”

Beaumont glanced between Marcus and Emma, and shrugged. Extending his hand to Lady Cecile, he asked, “May I have this dance?”

She curtsied gracefully, then raised a blushing face to him.

“Shall we?” Marcus extended his arm to Emma.

Emma bristled. “It appears you’ve left me no choice, my lord.”

***

It was truly foolish to continue to avoid Marcus. As Cecile had remarked, Emma had to face him sometime if he planned to make his home in England again. From the gossip she’d picked up since returning from the retiring room, that was precisely his intention. If she could just get through this one dance, she would wish him well, and return to her comfortable life with her pride and secret intact.

As they lined up for the quadrille, she snuck a peek at him. His dashing good looks had been enhanced by the slight tanning of his skin. She shivered remembering his strong hands stroking her body until she felt she would catch fire. Their one night of passion−any nights after that cut short by her parents’ edict to marry Surrey, and Marcus’s abandonment.

Oh, how she’d hated her parents then. But nothing compared to the wrath that enveloped her at Marcus’s easy acceptance of her betrothal. They’d made love, and she envisioned her life with him. Then within days of that blasted newspaper announcement he apparently threw up his hands and left for India. And took her heart with him, never suspecting what he’d left behind.

The dance began, and they came together.

“I’ve missed you.” Marcus touched her hand lightly as they moved around each other.

“Indeed?” She put as much disdain as possible into that one word.

They retreated once more and switched partners. Their eyes remained linked as they studied each other as they moved, like two animals, circling, each waiting for the other to strike first.

“I wish I could offer condolences for your late husband, but I’m afraid I’m too selfish to feel remorse.” They came together, and then parted quickly as they again circled each other.

They touched hands and moved in time with the music. “I want to talk with you when this is over.” Marcus squeezed her fingers before releasing her.

Emma hesitated, losing her steps, receiving upraised eyebrows from Lord Hawthorne to her right, who waited for her to circle him.

“No thank you, my lord. My next dance is spoken for,” she whispered furiously.

Marcus reached out and tore the small card that dangled from her wrist by a slim gold ribbon. “I have all your dances for the rest of the evening.”

They remained in stony silence as the dance proceeded. When the final notes faded away, Emma turned to hurry back to her safe spot next to Lady Cecile. Marcus took her arm, and in a firm grip, moved her in the opposite direction. “This way, my lady.”

Left with no alternative save making a cake of herself, Emma moved with him, her spine rigid.

***

Marcus had not imagined it. Emma was enraged. Her misplaced anger smarted, since her parents were the ones who’d ripped them apart. He led her down the hallway where he remembered the library was located. Marcus placed his hand on her lower back and ushered her through the door. Someone had been thoughtful enough to light a fire, giving off warmth to the dark, silent room. They moved closer to the flames, warming themselves.

He leaned his arm against the mantle and studied the only woman he’d ever loved, her exquisite features tightened. “Emma. I…I don’t even know where to start.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. “I’m not good with words, but I want you to know I still love you, and now that you’re free, I wish to marry you.”

She jerked back as if slapped. “How dare you!”

His brows rushed together. “Sweetheart, I get the distinct impression you’re angry with me.”

Emma paced. “You think so? Very astute, my lord.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder to stop her frantic racing to and fro. “Emma, please tell me what’s wrong.”

Tear rimmed eyes met his and her voice shook. “Why didn’t you come for me?”

Marcus shook his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The night after the announcement appeared in the newspaper−without my permission, or knowledge−I packed my bag and waited for you to come for me.” She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “I thought you loved me.”

Marcus pulled her into his arms. “Oh, sweetheart. I did—I do. And coming for you was precisely my plan. I’d arranged for us to run off to Gretna Green.”

She tilted her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Your father caught me about to raise the ladder to your bedroom window. He brought me inside, gave me a drink of whiskey and explained that you were in favor of the match.” Marcus clenched her shoulders. “You’d left me a note, for God’s sake.”

Emma frowned. “A note? I never wrote a note.”

He swore he could hear the sound of his heart landing in his stomach. “No note?”

She slowly shook her head. “No.”

“But he showed me…and I believed the bastard…” He glanced at her.

Emma collapsed into a chair in front of the fire. “They lied.” She raised her gaze to him. “They lied to you. I never wrote a note. On my wedding day I was so livid with both them and you, I thought I would expire from it.”

Marcus dropped to his knees before her, taking her soft hands in his. “My poor Emma. No wonder you’ve been so angry with me. I loved you then, and I love you now. I never would have abandoned you. Never.” He reached out and cupped her chin, his mouth covering hers hungrily.

Tentatively at first, then with a firmer grip, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, moaning as he slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. He pulled back and kissed her eyelids, her nose, her chin. “I’m so very sorry.” He leaned back “I, too, felt betrayed. I thought you loved me, and after our night together would never give yourself to another man.”

“I didn’t.”

He raised his eyebrows. “But you were married, how did…”

Emma shook her head. “Surrey was feeble. He tried. Oh, Marcus, it was horrible. The few times he attempted to bed me, he never succeeded. He died peacefully in his sleep only weeks after we married.”

She shivered, remembering those times. Surrey’s hands were cold as ice, his pale body aged and sagging. When she’d lain awake after his attempts, remembering Marcus and their lovemaking, she’d beaten her pillow in frustration and cried herself to sleep.

Marcus brought her fingers to his mouth to kiss each tip. “I thought I heard you had a child, a little girl?”

She took in a deep breath. This was it, no more secrets. “I do.”

“Then how…?” At the look of love on her face, he knew the answer. “I have a daughter?” Stunned, his lips were barely able to move. He’d left her with a child.

Unable to speak, she nodded, tears spilling from her beautiful eyes. “Yes, Marcus. You have a daughter. Elizabeth is just past her second birthday.” Trembling fingers reached out and touched his face. “She has your eyes.”

Feelings of love, pride, guilt, and longing washed over him. He was a father. He and Emma had created a little girl from their love. Speechless for probably the first time in his life, he pulled her onto his lap on the floor, and kissed her with all the passion and love in his body.

He pulled away. “We must marry immediately.”

Emma grinned. “Well, we have to post the banns, and plan a ceremony.”

Marcus stood, and pulled her up. “Fine, plan whatever you like. But now I want to make love to you more than anything in the world.”

“I’m a house guest. I, ah, have a room upstairs.” She cast him a sideways glance, her cheeks a charming shade of pink.

His heart leapt and he waved her toward the door. “Lead on, my lady.”

Hand in hand, they raced up the stairs, barely noticing Lady Cecile grinning from her spot behind the potted plant at the bottom of the stairs.

“Ah, love.” She sighed and returned to the ballroom.

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A Merry Christmas Poem

An Author’s Lament

By Callie Hutton

‘Twas the night before Christmas,

And the author said ‘damn’

I need to get this book

Into my publisher’s hands

Her children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While she got two aspirins for the pain in her head,

Mama in her kerchief and papa in his cap,

She hoped this last revision would be but a snap

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

She hopped from her laptop to see what the hell happened now!

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,

Gave a luster of midday to objects below,

When what to her wondering eyes should appear

But her hero dressed as Santa without any beard−or shirt

His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples how cool!

His cheeks were like roses, his chest made her drool

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

Fixing the scene where she’d made him a jerk,

And laying his finger under her chin,

He gave her a kiss as wicked as sin,

He sprang to his horse, to his horse gave a whistle,

And left her alone with nothing but sizzle.

But she heard him exclaim, ere he rode out of sight

Get your ass back to work, it will be a long night.

 

An early holiday gift plus a chance to win!

Have you read my novel Miss Merry’s Christmas? In celebration of the holiday season, you can download this book for free, plus more than 150 fantastic romance novels from an amazing collection of authors – and win over $1,000 in prizes!  The contest is open through December, so be sure to browse through all of the free ebooks being offered.

Enter the contest by clicking here:  http://bit.ly/christmas-rom

Once you’ve loaded up your e-reader, curl up for a cozy afternoon (or several!) of reading. I hope you enjoy this free historical Regency holiday romance from me, and the free reads from the other authors participating in this giveaway.

Happy holidays!

 

A Run for Love Audiobook

Fans of western historical romance will love A Run for Love, Book 1 in the Oklahoma Lovers series.

Narrator: Lara Wells

Length: 9 hours and 4 minutes

Other audiobooks in series: A Prescription for Love, A Wife By ChristmasRetailers: Audible, Amazon, iBooks

Click HERE to enjoy an audio sample.

Feisty schoolteacher Tori Henderson values her independence and has no use for a husband. When she finds herself the legal guardian of her two nieces and two nephews, and facing eviction from her Kansas home, she enters the 1889 Oklahoma Land Run and confronts a new set of challenges. The biggest obstacle being her new neighbor, cocky lawyer Jesse Cochran, the son of a whore – a man determined to put his past behind him and start a new life and family of his own.

Despite the undeniable attraction between them, Tori is determined to keep him at arm’s length, but a family emergency brings them together and they declare a truce. Can Jesse win Tori’s heart after a series of unplanned events, or will tragedy tear them apart forever?

 

 

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