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  After Midnight

  Tiffany St.Claire

  For Pax and Eirelyn, love begins … after midnight.

  This is a work of fiction.

  None of it is real. All names, places, and events are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real names, places, or events are purely coincidental, and should not be construed as being real.

  AFTER MIDNIGHT

  Copyright © 2012

  Brittany Adams and Tina Adams

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner, except as allowable under “fair use,” without the express written permission of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  About the Author

  Get MORE Tiffany

  Chapter One

  Midnight had come and gone, and yet still she sat, swaying gently back and forth beneath the leafy branches of a tall oak on the swing her father had made for her what seemed a lifetime ago.

  The moon was high and bright, casting the meadow in soft, silvery light which made the night seem serene, peaceful.

  Calm.

  Eirelyn was anything but.

  In a few hours, they would come. The entire upstairs of her parents' house would be buzzing with activity of which she would be the center. Her wedding day. The day on which she would leave behind her carefree ways as a young woman and become an adult forever more – for better or worse.

  “I cannot do it,” she whispered into the night.

  With her bare foot, she halted the swing but did not leave it to seek out a more peaceful haven inside.

  There was none to be found.

  Nay, the night was her only friend, as always.

  It was under the cover of darkness she learned to ride her pony, when the neighbor's stable master's son had caught her here, crying because she'd not been able to conquer her fear of the hairy beast her father had given her for her birthday.

  It was in the shadow of midnight he had taught her to climb trees, shoot a bow, and ignore the stricter dictates of life to which must be adhered once the sun was up.

  At night, they could be friends.

  At night, they could do as they pleased and the world around them be hanged.

  At night … at night, they could share kisses and whisper of dreams days like tomorrow ensured never would be fulfilled.

  A tear slipped down her cheek at the thought. Yes, she much preferred the night. But tonight would be her last as a carefree young girl. Tonight would be her last spent chasing shadows across a meadow bathed in moonlight, laughter trailing behind as she raced in wild abandonment while trying – and more often than not, failing – to elude him.

  Only tonight, he wasn't here.

  “There is nothing you cannot do, Runt.”

  His voice came out of the darkness behind her. Hand at her throat, Eirelyn jerked around to face him. “Paxton St.Innison! You half frightened the life out of me, sneaking up on me from behind like a thief.”

  He chuckled. “A thief? Aye, and so I am. This night, anyway. Are you up for an adventure, Runt?”

  “An adventure?” Her laugh was one choked with unshed tears. “Alas, there shall be no more adventures for me. Tomorrow is my wedding day, in case you have forgotten.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Indeed, I have not. But let us put the sorrowful thought of it behind us and enjoy one last lark, shall we?”

  Excitement rose up within her, as it always did whenever he was near. “Have we time?”

  He chuckled. “We'll make time. Grab your slippers, Runt, and let's be off.”

  Eirelyn was already sliding her feet into them, her mind rushing ahead to the adventure awaiting her. “Where are we going?”

  He pointed to the carriage far down the lane, near the bend of the drive. “It's a surprise. Hurry along, Runt, lest we be late.”

  Smiling now, she took his arm to race toward the carriage. “Tardy for a last adventure? Nay, that would never do!”

  Her laughter floated away on the breeze.

  At the carriage, Pax helped her inside. Taking the seat beside her, he wrapped on the roof, signaling the driver to set off.

  “We have to be home soon, but I'm so glad you came tonight. I– I was beginning to fear you weren't going to make it,” she admitted.

  Busy lighting the carriage lanterns, he grunted noncommittally. Light flared and she glanced askance at him. He looked exquisite in black, she thought. His attire, but for the snowy white shirt and starched cravat, was dark as jet. Like the night sky when there was no moon. “Such finery. Are you just home from some special affair? Lady Sodrington's ball was quite the crush, I hear.”

  “Not bad for a stable master's son, eh?” he teased.

  Eirelyn had long ago discovered he hadn't been a servant as she'd first thought, the night he'd helped her ride her birthday pony. Nay, far from it. Paxton – or 'Pax,' as she called him – was the duke's son and heir – a highly titled member of the nobility. She grinned in remembrance.

  Today, no one could ever mistake him for anything less than the marquis he was. The son of a well-respected though somewhat reclusive duke, Pax was much sought after by the ladies.

  A twinge of jealousy bit at her and she pushed it away.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

  “Gretna Green.”

  Her laughter filled the carriage. “Gretna Green? How terrible of me that my thoughts are suddenly consumed with the idea of fleeing there myself. Wouldn't that put a dent in father's pride!”

  Removing a speck of lint from his otherwise immaculate evening attire, Pax leaned across the space between them and pulled her over to sit beside him. He flipped up the adjacent seat and took a heavy box from inside. “Here, put this on. You'll need an appropriate disguise.”

  Yard upon yard of fine ivory lace and silk spilled from the box and her eyes widened. “Put this on? But… where did it come from? Are you sure it will fit?”

  “It will fit.” He knew it would because he'd taken her measurements to the modiste himself. Eirelyn deserved the finest wedding gown in all of Christendom, and so he'd commissioned it to be made for her.

  Now, he just had to get her into it.

  Letting her believe it was a ruse was the only way he knew for certain he could.

  “Put it on? But I've nowhere to change.”

  Pax pretended to ignore her predicament. “We're alone, Runt. You'll be safe enough here. No eyes but mine will see you.”

  Ever.

  The last he added in the privacy of his own thoughts but it was no less true.

  Chapter Two

  Allowing him to assist her from the carriage, Eirelyn alighted and smoothed her palms along the sheer lace of the gown he had insisted she wear – her disguise, he had said.

  Turning this way and that, she surveyed the exquisite handiwork in the lace. “This looks like a wedding gown.”

  His gaze quizzical, Pax placed her hand at the fold of his arm and started forward up the walk to the quaint little white church. “What better disguise could one wear when slipping off to Gretna Green?”

  Her chuckle came easily. “None, but you haven't said why we are here. Which of our scandalous acquaintances have taken it into their mind to disobey the dictates of both society and family to follow the desires of their hearts?”

  “You will see, chatter pie. For now, let us visit with the parson and his lady wife, shall we?”

  Obviously he had forgotten the time. Although they had ridden for hours, dawn was yet a few hours more away. In fact, she thought, wor
ried now, it would take a mad race to see her home before the servants began to rise.

  “Surely they are sleeping?” she whispered.

  “Oh, nay. None of the clergy hereabout sleep during the hours before dawn. Come, you shall see,” Pax promised, guiding her up the narrow path.

  As promised, the door of the small chapel opened at their approach. A short, rotund female offered a genuine smile, and bade them come inside while she fetched her husband.

  Beside her, he looked around the flower-bedecked room, and nodded. He seemed to be inspecting the place and his nod appeared to be one of noble acceptance. Eirelyn fought back a laugh.

  Leaning close, he whispered, “And what have you found to be humorous, my lady?”

  “You, with your ducal inspections and haughty nods of approval.” She nudged him playfully.

  The parson appeared, cutting off their discussion.

  “A moment of your time, sir,” Pax requested of the man of the cloth, and shortly thereafter, the two men disappeared through a door near the back of the chapel, leaving her to give the room her own inspection.

  Roses in every color but pink had been displayed in vase after vase – much unlike the ghastly white lilies her mother had ordered for her own wedding tomorrow.

  Eirelyn smiled, thinking how lucky the bride-to-be was to have roses at her wedding. They were her favorite flower, and she loved every variety and color – so long as none of them were pink.

  To her, pink was the color of profuse embarrassment, and she wanted nothing to do with that particular emotion. Indeed, she had suffered far too much of it in her lifetime as it were.

  Moments later, Pax's voice rang out across the lovely chamber. “So you'll show us how it is done? Splendid, my good fellow. The lady and I are grateful, I assure you. Please, let us begin.”

  The portly cleric gave him an odd look, but nodded just the same. He motioned to his wife, who ushered in a brood of four young children, each rubbing the sleep from their eyes as they took a place upon a bench near the back.

  “Just for you, Runt,” he whispered with a wink, then motioning her forward, he nodded to the makeshift assemblage. “Very good. I believe we are ready.”

  From the words spoken between bride and groom, to the exchange of rings (Pax was well prepared to play their parts – to which the sapphire and diamond band on her third finger could attest) to the signing of the marital documents, the good man led them through it all in such a detailed, matter of fact fashion the wedding ceremony he conducted for their enlightenment might as well have been real.

  “How very wonderful tonight has been,” Eirelyn told him several minutes later as they were leaving the chapel. “A real Gretna Green wedding at which I was allowed to play the bride on my one last night of freedom… ”

  “With you,” she'd almost added, but bit back the words before they could escape. Tears pricked her lids and she shook her head, chasing them away. “I shall never forget it, Pax. Thank you.”

  “Our lark is not yet over, Runt,” he promised, helping her into the carriage once more. “We've one more stop before we make the long journey home.”

  At the inn, she almost balked.

  “I can't go upstairs with you!” she whispered furtively.

  He waved away her concern. “We are in disguise, remember? You're perfectly fine, Runt. In any case, if we leave now, how are you to know how a Gretna Green bride spends her wedding night?”

  His sharp rap brought the innkeeper, and in short order, he was leading her up a flight of stairs to a chamber on the upper floor. Reserved for special gents like himself, the innkeeper had said.

  At the door, Pax swept her into his arms.

  “Ready, my love?” he asked, his brows waggling comically.

  Nodding, she laughed low, so as not to wake the real patrons, and he pushed open the door. Carrying her inside, Pax went all the way across the spacious room to the large four-poster, and deposited her gently on the embroidered counterpane.

  The innkeeper had followed behind, and he went back to the door to collect the wine, cold meat and cheese the fellow offered before closing the door with his boot. Holding out the fare, he asked, “Hungry?”

  A small table had been set in the corner near the hearth, and he carried the food over. Eirelyn joined him, her gaze taking in the 'bridal chamber' as she went.

  Pax sampled a bite of cheese and washed it down with a swallow of wine, but when he waved her toward the food, she declined.

  With a shrug, he poured a shallow serving of wine into the second glass. “At least share a drink with me. After the trouble I've gone to tonight, I deserve a companion at my table, don't you agree?”

  Her sigh was loud in the quietness of early morning.

  “You deserve a lifetime of companionship.” The words came out as a whisper. “My one regret is that… ”

  Eirelyn broke off, unable to voice her most heartfelt wish at that moment. Tonight had been wonderful, but she knew only the man with her now would ever have thought to gift her with such an evening.

  “Yes? What is your only regret, Runt?”

  Chapter Three

  Tears welled and spilled over no matter how she fought to stop their fall. Pax went to her, pulled her close. Between words meant to quiet and soothe, he pressed gentle kisses against her forehead, onto each eyelid, the tip of her nose.

  Rather than quieting her tears, her entire body shook with sobs. “Ah, Runt, I'm sorry. I never meant to make you cry.”

  With his fingers beneath her chin, Pax tilted her face upward.

  “What is wrong? Tell me,” he urged. “I thought tonight was quite lovely. How is it you have found something worthy of regret in our once-in-a-lifetime getaway?”

  “Precisely that,” she admitted on a choked sob. “Tonight is ours, but fleetingly. Don't you see? It can never be repeated, and as terrible of me as it may be to admit, I wish only that it would never end.”

  The sound of her sobs filled the room and for a moment he simply held her close, letting her spill her tears against his chest. Later, when the shaking had stilled and her sniffles were all but quieted, he tilted her face upward again, his dark gaze searching hers. “Until death us do part, Runt?”

  * * *

  Looking into his eyes, Eirelyn thought her heart might break into. Yes! she wanted to shout, for the truth was there was no man with which she ever wanted to spend her life so much as she wished to spend it with him. Yet it was not to be…

  Emotions crowded inside her heart and mind, filling the spaces within each until rational thought became unwanted, impossible even, and she did the unthinkable.

  Twining her fingers into his dark hair, she pulled his head down to hers and she kissed him.

  Just one kiss, she thought, but not a brother-sister kind of peck like they usually shared. Nay, not tonight. Tonight she wanted a real kiss from him.

  A man-woman kiss.

  A kiss filled with all the secret longing and unquenchable need inside her heart, body, and soul.

  The kind of kiss which, come tomorrow, could never, ever be shared between them again.

  She expected him to pull away, to chasten her against such scandalous behavior as he had once in the meadow, though he would never do so in a way that bruised her tender feelings.

  Pax had always been careful of her emotions, seeming to know how she felt sometimes before she knew herself how she would feel.

  But he didn't pull away.

  Indeed, he deepened the kiss, encouraging her.

  Turning his head to the side, his tongue teased, tracing the contours of her lips before sliding between to play with hers.

  It seemed he shared her hunger for more, yet her need to rush before the moment slipped away could not be denied.

  Eirelyn tugged at his coat, pulling it down off his broad shoulders.

  She pulled at his shirt where he had it neatly tucked into his waistband, all the while urging him closer, faster, deeper into the passionate haze of oblivio
n into which she felt herself falling.

  His lips left hers only for brief seconds during which another item of clothing – his or hers – found its way to the floor.

  Soon, she stood before him, naked and vulnerable, her chest rapidly rising and falling with each harsh breath and still she did not call a halt, did not turn away. With her eyes, she devoured him, all of him, and came back to meet his without reservation.

  Tomorrow might be her wedding day, but in her mind, she'd already had the only ceremony that would ever matter to her. She was his, body, heart, and soul.

  And for tonight, he was hers.

  * * *

  Waiting for her to make her decision was such abject torture Paxton thought he might die for want of it. Once made, he thought he must have done so, for the feel of her naked and accepting in his arms was pure heaven.

  Carefully, he lifted her and turned to lie her on the bed once more, only this time he followed her, covering her body with his own.

  She was so eager, so ready for him the breaching of her maidenhead caused no more than a mere twinge of discomfort… and then he was inside her, moving, plunging over the edge and taking her with him into a world of pleasurable satisfaction that left him sated, left her relaxed and replete, left them utterly fulfilled and unwilling to move.

  * * *

  What seemed like hours later, he nudged her gently awake. “We must go, Runt. The sun will be up soon, and we don't want to miss the sunrise on such a glorious day.”

  He sounded so pleasant, so normal, so unconcerned about what had occurred between them…. Eirelyn groaned.

  Compromised.

  In no uncertain terms, she was thoroughly and utterly compromised. No matter that she had instigated, participated in, and thoroughly enjoyed the compromising. Her father was going to kill her!

  No, she knew he would not physically raise a hand to her. He would never truly harm her, but she was more than convinced she would definitely be disavowed and disowned.