Page 1 of How the Belle Stole Christmas

Maria opened her eyes, grinning at the spectacular sight of a large hand clasping one of her breasts. She wiggled, just a bit. Enough to elicit a quiet sound of masculine appreciation. There was also the matter of the cock pressing into her backside.

A rather pleasant way to greet the morning.

“You are a naughty thing, Lady Talbot.” A pair of lips trailed along the back of her neck, teeth grazing over her skin. Maria leaned into the sensation, adoring everything about the male intent on pulling her closer for his own nefarious purposes.

“I never claimed to be anything else, my lord.” She rocked her hips against him once more.

Maria’s relationship with Victor, Lord Balwyn, was rather…unexpected. Not the part in which she invited him into her bed—she took lovers as she pleased—but the ever-growing affection between them. Far more than a brief affair during a house party would dictate.

Her dalliance with Balwyn, a delicious viscount fifteen years her senior, had begun rather unexpectedly.

He’d accompanied his daughter, Miss Alicia Smithers, to Maria’s end of summer house party.

Her little gathering by the sea was considered by more than a few in London society to be the last chance to garner a match before the Season started once more, and Maria had something of a reputation for matchmaking.

Mamas desperate to find their daughters a husband begged Maria for an invitation to her house party each year.

A laudable skill, matchmaking. A true art form. Great talent was required to pull together a selection of young ladies and gentlemen whose interests, pedigrees, and status were complementary. Not easy in the least.

Maria’s efforts were usually rewarded. But not this year. She’d failed in finding a suitor for Miss Smithers. And her dearest friend, Hazel Dartmont, had had her heart broken by the Duke of Courtland.

Balwyn nuzzled along her neck. “You’re frowning.”

“I’m considering Courtland. Impoverished duke and deceitful cad.”

A sigh left the man curled around her. “I think it a great deal more complicated than we imagine.”

“Not according to that…that tawdry newssheet. The Rake Review was not shy about naming Courtland’s flaws nor his pursuit of an heiress.

I would never have invited him had I known he was stalking Hazel, determined to seduce her for her fortune.

Perhaps he’ll turn his despicable attention to Lady Caroline now that Hazel is out of his reach. ”

“Hmm.”

Maria rolled to face Balwyn, struck once again by the way her heart pounded so sharply at the sight of his face.

She’d been a widow for a long time and had never once considered she might one day fall in love again.

Not after the death of her beloved husband, Talbot.

But here was love again in the form of Viscount Balwyn, who should not have been playing chaperone to his daughter nor attending Maria’s house party.

“You have a higher opinion of Courtland than I.”

The moment Miss Smithers had stepped into Maria’s home escorted not by her austere, demanding aunt, Lady Piedmont, but her delicious, distinguished father, a prickle of awareness had floated over Maria’s skin.

She’d been struck speechless. A rarity.

Maria had immediately lost interest in every other gentleman invited to her matchmaking house party. And while Miss Smithers had failed to make a match…well, the same was not true of Maria.

The house party had ended weeks ago. Miss Smithers had gone back to London. But Balwyn remained.

“Not everything is so black and white,” Balwyn murmured, hands gliding over her waist. “I don’t believe Courtland is either. If his desperation were only for funds, he would have ruined Lady Caroline within moments of entering your house party. I think his affections firmly set.”

Maria hated when Balwyn was right.

She trailed a finger along his jaw, a strong chiseled line, like the rest of his body.

He possessed the physique of a much younger man, all lovely muscle and sculpted hollows with only a small paunch…

because he did adore dessert. Balwyn was an avid sportsman.

Rode daily. Unlike many gentlemen his age, he didn’t just spend his days sipping brandy at his club, gossiping and reading the papers.

And when he laughed, which was often, those tiny, kissable grooves deepened at the corners of his dark eyes.

“I think you mean his greed. His only affection is for Hazel’s fortune.”

“Untrue, Maria. His affection for her was easily discernable, at least to me,” Balwyn retorted in that authoritative tone which never failed to make the skin of her arms prickle.

She liked a bit of bossiness in her lovers.

“I think you are judging Courtland too harshly. I knew his cousin, the previous duke. A spoiled, snobbish spendthrift. I don’t think Courtland beggared himself. ”

Maria frowned as he pressed a kiss between her brows.

“Now, there is something I need to discuss.”

“You must return to London.” Maria had known it was coming.

She couldn’t keep Balwyn to herself forever.

He had responsibilities. The Season had started up once more.

“I’m not blind to your sister’s numerous requests that you leave your dalliances in the country and stop ignoring your responsibilities.

” Lady Piedmont’s letters arrived with increasing regularity, sometimes two or more a day, each demanding Balwyn cease his lolling about and return to London.

Balwyn chuckled. “My sister is a trial. And I don’t want to go,” he said against her lips. “Nor leave you.”

The austere and strident Lady Piedmont was more than a trial.

Her determination to have her brother remarry had grown more demanding in nature.

She complained of his extended stay in the country, carrying on in his…

pursuit of pleasure. She would not even refer to Maria by name.

Every letter was filled with the attributes of eligible ladies, insinuating that once Balwyn was out of the clutches of his dalliance, his mind would clear, and he might end his bachelorhood.

“I fear Lady Piedmont will arrive one day, demand entrance, and toss you in her coach should you delay much longer,” Maria mused, only half joking.

“Harriet detests the ocean. She is the only person I know who declares that salt air leaves a crust on one’s skin.”

Maria blinked. “What on earth does that mean?”

“I’ve no idea. I’ve not examined said crust. At any rate, I’ve told her, repeatedly, that I’m old enough to find my own companionship.”

“She doesn’t like me.”

Balwyn made a disgruntled sound. “Harriet will come around.” His mouth lingered over the curve of her ear. “She will. And my sister will cease her efforts once she realizes that you and I”—his tongue slid along the curve of her ear—“have an understanding.”

“Do we, Lord Balwyn?”

“Most definitely. This is no mere affair, and we’re both old enough to know as much. I realize you value your independence. And I would not dare put a damper on your constant social whirl or charitable endeavors.”

“I do like my charities.” Maria ran her fingers through the mat of hair covering his chest. “I feel I should do some good in the world.”

“But we are a match,” he whispered. “A good one. And when you are ready— ”

Maria placed her fingers over his lips. She was in love with Balwyn and just getting used to the idea. Marriage wasn’t something she’d contemplated doing a second time, but with him, she could see it.

“So I’m not permitted any other lovers,” she teased. “You’ll spoil all my fun.”

Balwyn’s gaze grew rather possessive. “Not a one.” His mouth claimed hers, lips firm and full of promise.

She sighed into him, arms crawling up his chest to wrap around his neck. “Nor for you either.”

“Agreed.”

How long had it been since Maria had made such a promise to a man? Not since her beloved Talbot. At times her feeling for Balwyn felt like a betrayal of her late husband, not to mention the fact that she was contemplating marriage again.

Maria wasn’t even certain Balwyn wanted to marry her. An understanding was one thing—and there were many within the ton—but marriage was quite another.

“You are frowning again. Afraid I’ll bore you?” There was a flicker of…vulnerability in his handsome features as he regarded her. Balwyn’s wife had died years ago. He’d been alone for a very long time. This was terrifying for both of them.

“Never. I was merely considering that you put forth a persuasive argument, my lord. I suppose I have no choice but to agree.”

Good lord, but he was…blinding when he smiled.

“I’m prepared to convince you.” He rolled atop her, his mouth lingering on the skin of her breasts before moving lower. His breath warmed the inside of her thighs. “I’m happy to plead my case further.”

“I do love it when you beg,” she moaned at the flick of his tongue.