Page 50 of Claiming His Christmas Angel

“When you ask my father…when you ask for my hand…you must explain…give him all the reasons why you wish to marry me. If Papa…” A small shudder rippled through her, and she bowed her head. “If Papa believes…that I will be happy as your wife, then I will abide by his decision.”

“And your second condition?” Atticus asked with a growing sense of unease. For a moment, she didn’t look at him, then lifted her head, her chin tilted upward in spirited defiance.

“You will make love to me tonight.” Her voice filled with an unshakeable resolve, she met his gaze without blinking. “I will not agree to marry you otherwise.”

The inflexibility in her voice indicated she would not give way on either stipulation. Atticus took a quick step back from her in surprise. With a sense of doom, he narrowed his gaze at her.

“And if your father does not think you’ll be happy?”

“Then I will not marry you, and I will leave England as planned to avoid any potential scandal.”

Stunned, Atticus stared at her in disbelief. It felt as if he’d been granted entry into heaven, only to invite withdrawn a second later. One hand rubbing the back of his neck, he inhaled a deep breath.

“And you have no intention of wavering on these conditions?”

“No. Because I do not think they are unreasonable.”

“And if a child is conceived tonight?”

“I…”

The moment her voice trailed off, Atticus knew she’d not considered the possibility. Despite his belief that Lord Montford would gladly welcome him as a son-in-law, he had no desire to take chances when it came to making Octavia his wife. He needed more time than just a few days in the cottage to convince her they could be happy together.

“Since it’s apparent you did not account for such an outcome, then I have a condition of my own. You will remain in England until we know if you’re carrying my child. If that happens, you agree to marry me. I’ll not have a child of mine grow up not knowing their father.”

As Atticus watched her face, a variety of emotions flit over her features in rapid succession. None of them lingered long enough for him to discern what she was thinking. For a long moment, she remained silent, and he saw a hint of trepidation flicker in her gray eyes, before she gave a slow nod of agreement. Relief and jubilation surged through his muscles.

Any other time, he would have swept her up into his arms and kissed her. But he didn’t. If he were to touch her at this moment, he would lose his head completely. His throat tight with emotion, he maintained a firm grip on his self-control. He wanted to take his time with her—loving her. He wanted to please her as often and in as many ways as possible.

Tonight, he intended to do whatever he could to bind her to him. Should catastrophe strike tomorrow at Stapleton Hall, or if she failed to become pregnant, this might be the only night Atticus would ever have with her. He intended to make these few scant hours unforgettable for both of them. With a smile, he stretched out his hand and cupped her cheek. Warm and soft, her hand rose to cover his as she met his gaze.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, Aphrodite?” The husky note in his voice made the pink color in her cheeks deepened as she turned her head away. He forced her to look at him. “You might not believe it, but you are. You’re the loveliest woman I’ve ever seen. And when I pleasure you tonight, I know you’ll be radiant.”

“Tonight?” Her brow furrowed with puzzlement. “But I thought—”

“That we would start now?”

“I…yes, I—”

“Didn’t you say I was to make love to you tonight?” Atticus bit back a chuckle as her gray eyes flared with irritation.

“Well, yes, but I did not mean for you to take it so literally.”

“As I recall, you said supper was almost ready. And as you said, it would be a shame for all your hard work to be for nothing. Besides, I still need to bring up more logs for the fire.” Atticus struggled not to laugh at her astonished expression. She must have seen his mouth twitch as she bristled.

“Given your description the other day as to how you would pleasure me, I would think the current fire is quite sufficient.”

“It is for now,” he murmured, leaning forward to brush his mouth across her earlobe. “But I intend to keep you naked all night long, and I confess I want to see you bared to me in the firelight.”

The moment his teeth scraped across her ear lobe, she inhaled a sharp breath, and he smiled while nibbling his way down the side of her neck. Octavia pressed her body into his and stretched herself upward to catch his earlobe in her teeth.

“Then you should hurry, because I would like to see you equally unencumbered.”

The silky, seductive tone of her voice made him go rigid. Christ almighty, the woman was a siren. Warm hands slid down his chest until she slid one finger under the waistband of his trousers. The audacious behavior sent a bolt of desire shooting through Atticus. His body grew as taut as the string on an archer’s bow primed to release an arrow into its target.

“Well, Atticus. Are you going to bring some firewood upstairs, or have you decided the only supper you want…is me?”

“If I had my way, I’d have you for every meal of the day,” he murmured as he captured her hands and pressed them into his chest while brushing his lips across hers.