Madeleine's Christmas Wish by Ella Quinn

didn’t know, but the urge to flee left her.
    Several minutes later, they arrived at the hotel, and were greeted by the owner himself. “Monsieur le Marquis, you will find wine in your chamber, and servants to assist you.” The elderly man’s lips pursed together. “Are you sure you do not wish to travel in my carriage? It is much more comfortable, and we would have you to Paris in thirty-six hours.”
    â€œI would very much prefer to do so.” Georges gave a slight smile. “Unfortunately, my business will not wait. Perhaps the next time.”
    â€œVery well.” The man bowed slightly. “ Le petit-déjeuner will be brought to you at six-thirty in the morning.”
    A porter led Madeleine and Georges up a large curved staircase then down a corridor to a door. The man opened it, handing Georges the key. The room contained a square table set in the center and next to the fireplace was a chaise.
    A young woman emerged through a door on the opposite end of the parlor from the fireplace, and bobbed a curtsey. “Madame, if you will come with me? I have everything ready.”
    Madeleine entered the chamber to find one large bed, a dressing table, and two chairs. Surely there was a mistake, though the proprietor did not look like a man who made them. Where would Georges sleep?
    After she changed into her nightgown, the maid took down her hair, setting the pins neatly on the dressing table. The back of Madeleine’s neck prickled, and she gazed into the mirror. Dressed in a plain, dark green robe, Georges leaned against the doorway, watching. A smile played around his well-formed lips.
    He strolled forward and addressed the maid. “You may depart. Be back in the morning to assist Madame.”
    Without a word, the girl took herself away.
    With the tips of his fingers, he rubbed Madeleine’s neck, moving them up to her scalp. “I love your hair. It reminds me of moonbeams on the ocean.” The sleeve of her nightgown slipped down, and his lips took its place. “Your skin is as soft as silk.”
    Shivers ran down her spine as he kissed a spot below her ear she’d not known was sensitive. She stared into the mirror. He bunched her curls in one hand, and traced her jaw with the tip of his tongue.
    â€œ Mon trésor. ” His palms cupped her breasts, gently kneading.
    Madeleine’s breasts grew heavy, and she closed her eyes. All the way here, he’d treated her as something to be cherished. How easy it would be to give in to him, let him make love to her, and deal with the consequences later. Yet she could not. It would not be fair to either of them.
    Almost as if he could read her thoughts he stopped, picked up the comb, and carefully drew it through her hair, untangling the knots.
    â€œCome. We have an early morning. It is time for you to sleep.” Georges picked her up, carried her to the bed, set her down on the warmed sheets, then slid in next to her, pulling up the covers. “Good night, mon amour. ”
    â€œYou’re sleeping here? ” Somehow her protest did not come out as she’d wished. Her voice was much too breathy. Nor was her body cooperating. Even though she should not, Madeleine craved him, his warmth. Her throat tightened as she shoved down her tears. If only their marriage could last she would be the happiest woman in France.
    He held Madeleine so her back was against his chest. His palm was warm on her stomach. “I pledged not to consummate our marriage until you were ready. I did not promise not to sleep with you.”
    She should insist he find another bed, except he was correct. He was keeping to the only promise he’d made other than his marriage vows.
    Her body almost throbbed with a strange need. What would it be like to have him do more?
    Mère Marie dans au ciel! She could not think like that!
    She prayed not to want him, and tried to remain awake, yet when she opened her eyes, the lamp next to