Once a notorious rake, Camden Folk, Marquis of Warbury, is now consumed by desire for only one woman: beautiful young widow Frances Burdett. And the Yuletide festivities at his country estate present the perfect opportunity for seductionâ¦
After her brief and unsatisfying marriage, Frances Burdett swore never to become tied to another man. Then a pasÂsionate kiss under the mistletoe reawakens longings she thought buried forever. But can she give in to the pleasures of the body with a rogue like Camâwithout losing her heart?
About the Author
BARBARA MONAJEM grew up in western Canada. She wrote her first story, a fantasy about apple tree gnomes, when she was eight years old, and dabbled in neighbourhood musicals at the age of ten. At twelve, she spent a year in Oxford, England, soaking up culture and history, grubbing around at an archaeological dig, playing twosy-ball against the school wall, and spending her pocket money on adventure novels. Thanks to her mother, she became addicted to Regency romances as well. Back in Canada, she wrote some dreadful teen melodrama, survived high school, and studied English literature at the University of British Columbia. She spent several years in Montreal and published a middle grade fantasy when her children were young. Now her kids are adults, and she writes hisÂtorical and paranormal romance for grownups. She lives in Georgia, USA, with an ever-shifting population of relaÂtives, friends, and feline strays.
Author Note
My gratitude goes to Kathy Payne, who helped me with the Latin motto of the Folk family. Needless to say, any errors are mine.
Since this is a novella, I couldnât include anywhere near as many Christmas traditions as I would have liked. I hope you enjoy those you will find. I love customs to do with food, so I searched the Internet for a recipe for the beverage called lambâs wool. There are many variations out there, but essentially, itâs made of ale or beer, apples, sugar and spices. Find yourself a recipe and try it! Itâs festive and delicious, and if you are a teetotaler or want to share it with children, you will be happy to know it works fine with non-alcoholic beer.
Wishing you all a very Happy Christmas!
Barbara
Dedication
To Katherine Briggs, author of the delightful childrenâs story Hobberdy Dick, about a hobgoblin who protects a house in Puritan times. Dick is the inspiration for the hobgoblin hovering unseen in the background of this story, adding a wee bit of magic to a Christmas tale.
Camden Folk, Marquis of Warbury, dumped an armful of holly cuttings on the vast dining table at his country estate. A vigorous tramp through the home wood to collect greenery, one of the pleasures of the Christmas season, had heightened his anticipation. Soon Frances Burdett would arrive, and after a year of patienceâand no womenâhe would finally get on with his life.
Not that heâd chosen to be celibate for the past year. Heâd merely lost interest in dalliance, but he knew what had caused the problem and what would fix it. Once heâd seduced Frances Burdett and made amends for the past, he would go on his merry way once more. Back to the good old days when heâd indulged himself with many women, made a point of giving them as much pleasure as possible, and then moved onâno harm done.
He smiled at his mother, who was fashioning evergreens into swags to decorate the banisters. âHere you are, Mama. Tomorrow weâll go to the orchard for mistletoe.â
Edwin Folk, his cousin, dropped a bundle of holly onto the table with a groan. âMore walking about in this frigid weather?â He stripped off his gloves and went to warm his hands at the fire.
âThink of the reward at the end of it, Edwin,â Lady Warbury said, tying a strip of red silk around a sprig of rosemary. âWeâll make kissing rings, and the house will be filled with lovely young ladies.â
âIf they get here,â Edwin said gloomily. âItâs started snowing again. Do you think it will be bad, Cam?â
The marquis shrugged. They were almost certain to be snowed in, probably without some of the kissable ladies, but the only one he cared about was Frances Burdett, who should arrive at any moment. Heâd had to resort to subterfuge to get her here at all. Sheâd made it clear to the Polite World that she didnât blame him for the death of her husband, but sheâd refused to talk to him after the accident and still treated him with the barest civility. Most likely, she despised him. He couldnât fault her for that.
But now, after more than a yearâs mourning, sheâd told everyone that she would never marry again.
And Cam knew why.
Not that he could tell her that, or how he knew. But if only he could manage to seduce her, he could prove to her that her husbandâs cruel verdictâthat she was a cold, passionless womanâwas entirely wrong. Such a young, desirable creature shouldnât cut herself off from the pleasures of life, and he meant to make sure she didnât.