"Mayhem, Moonlight and a Merry Christmas"

A Christmas Olicity Historical AU: What happens when a handsome Earl is visited by a beautiful young debutante in the middle of the night?

A/N: Wishing you all a wonderful Holiday season and a very, Merry Christmas. This one-shot was inspired by one of my favorite Historical Romance books called, "To Wed A Wicked Earl" by Olivia Parker.

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1820 London

Long, cold fingers, of the frosty December night, trailed over the bare chest and sculpted arms of the slumbering Earl of Starling, Oliver Queen.

They startled him from the heated depths of a particularly, enjoyable dream. One filled with a beloved, bespectacled visage, peony pink tinted lips and lustrous blonde curls that his sleep muddled brain swore could still be felt wrapped around his fingers.

Oliver shivered then sat up. His silk bedsheet pooling around his waist as he peered through sleepy eyes in the direction of the loud thud that echoed from the far corner of his master suite. The French doors of his second story bedroom balcony stood open and he watched in dismay as a dark shadow twisted and fought within the tangled curtains and took shape into the form of a woman.

"Lord, help me," he mumbled under his breath. Not another crazed debutante, who thought she was in love with him, attempting to sneak into his room. He'd had his share of misguided attempts over the years. As one of the most sought after bachelors of the ton, Oliver had to be very careful. Matchmaking mothers and eager daughters doth make an interesting season.

"Oliver?" came a familiar voice, its normally melodic tone, now full of disbelief and sharp reprimand. "Is that you?"

Is that you? Was he still dreaming? It couldn't be, Felicity, sneaking into his bedroom. The Lady Felicity Smoak, younger sister of Oliver's best friend and the woman he was secretly, hopelessly and completely in love with, was not this reckless. She was in fact, one of the most intelligent, steadfast and kind women he had the pleasure of knowing. He could only fault her for one thing. She could not see that his heart was utterly hers, had been for a very long time and would always be.

Another frigid gust of wind came through the open balcony doors, ruffling tendrils of her normally proper chignon that had fallen loose in her struggle with his curtains.

Even now his fingers rubbed together with the typical want to reach out and touch her; to see if her tresses were as soft as he thought they were.

Her glass spectacles sat askew on the bridge of her nose and twigs and winter jasmine petals were caught in the fabric of her winter cape. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

And apparently, she was extremely reckless.

What adventure was she up to? For as long as they had known each other, since she was 10 and he and her brother were 14, Felicity was always involved in something. Either it be a scientific experiment or original play from one of her many books or mechanisms of human nature; she was in constant motion. Her mind racing almost too fast for her words to catch up. Almost. Her enthusiastic babbling was well known amongst her closest friends and family.

"Yes, of course it's me. Who else would it be, in the middle of the night, in my bedroom?"

She stilled, one of the few times Oliver had ever seen her entire body come to a stop, "Oh dear, um, did you say, 'your bedroom'?"

"Fe-li-ci-ty," Oliver said, as he gave up the idea of being left alone to his dreams of her. He stood up, wrapped the silk sheet around his naked body, and stalked towards her.

"This isn't your bedroom. I specifically counted three windows from the chimney. This is your library," she said, as she calmly re-adjusted her glasses with all the aplomb of a woman who thought she was in the right.

Unbelievable. Oliver shook his head and chuckled under his breath. This explanation was going be very, very interesting. He wondered if his state of undress had even registered with her yet. It had certainly registered with him. The slinkiness of the bed sheet chafed against him as it slid along his already over-sensitive skin. His awareness of her always made his body raw. Every cell in his body screaming to touch her.

"I would know if I was in my library. It's the third room from the 'west wing' chimney. And by the way, why are you climbing up my trellis in the middle of the night?"

Oliver's body surrounded her as he leaned forward and closed the balcony doors. The curtains floated down sealing them in secluded moonlight.

The fire in his room had long since burned down to a low radiant glow. He watched as a deep blush bloomed across Felicity's cheeks and down the elegant line of her neck as she finally realized how naked he was.

He really should put on a robe or a shirt, but damn it…he was tired, frustrated and ravenous for her. He wanted her to see him for the man he was. Not the man she thought him to be.

The scent of heated jasmine mixed with the seasonal fresh pine and holly, his room decorated for the Yuletide holiday season, filled his lungs as he took a deep, fortifying breath trying to stem the need to close the last few inches between them.

"You've been ignoring me," a breathless whisper brushed against his neck and his body went hard. He groaned internally as the softness of her voice reminded him of the sighs she'd made in his dreams as he pleasured her.

Their bodies swayed closer as he looked down and became lost in the stunning blue of her eyes. This was dangerous. He was already holding onto the last threads of his control around her.

He stepped away and grabbed a hold of the bed sheet, that was resting precariously around his hips, before his body gave away just how aroused she made him.

Bloody hell, this woman would be the death of him. And yes, he had been ignoring her. Not well, but he had tried. He thought he had escaped her inquiring glances by leaving the Christmas Eve ball early.

A month ago, Felicity had decided she needed to help him recapture the eye of the woman he loved. Little did she know that she had the identity of that woman totally wrong.

At the beginning of the season, Oliver had tried to move on from his hopeless love for Felicity, by courting, the Lady Eliza Thornton. He had been miserable. Every moment spent with the wrong woman had hurt his already tender and bruised heart.

One dance and a walk in the park had shown both he and Lady Eliza that they made good friends and nothing more. In fact, his brief courtship had roused the interest of the man Eliza truly wanted and Oliver had gladly stepped aside and wished them the best.

But now, the ton and Felicity thought Oliver still had a chance to win Eliza back.

All in all, it was a mess. Oliver had been trying to stay away from Felicity's good hearted efforts, but it would seem she was on a mission. With the thought of her wanting to help him, find love with someone else, intense pain seared his soul.

Oliver knew he was notorious. The frolicking ways of his youth had earned him the legendary title of Rake, but as his admiration and respect for Felicity had matured into love, he had stopped all that behavior. And that personal devotion to her had gone unnoticed below society's and Felicity's impressions of him.

She saw him only as a friend. And if he ever lost her friendship and regard, he could not bear it.

He was in a constant battle between leaving her alone or kissing her senseless. The more time she spent with him the closer he was to losing the war of good intentions.

"My maid, Martha, knows your maid, Margaret. They have been friends for years. Perhaps friends since both their first days in service to our families. They gossip worse than the ton. And drat, I must have had their hastily drawn map to your library turned the wrong way."

At Oliver's bemused look, Felicity just kept on talking. "Oliver, you truly have been trying to avoid me haven't you? I sent you two notes this week arranging to meet you in your library after the ball. I swear, it's as if you don't wish to win Lady Eliza back at all."

He may have just reached a surrender.

"It's because I don't want her back," he growled, as he ran his fingers through his dark, thick hair.

"But, you agreed when I offered to help,"

"I did not agree," he responded quietly.

"But you didn't say no. And ever since then, you've been avoiding me. Don't you want to be happy?" Felicity asked in confusion. "You are one of my dearest friends and you deserve happiness."

And at Oliver's continued silence she repeated, "Oliver?"

"...she isn't the woman I love,"

"What? But,…you courted her. And you have never courted, anyone," Felicity whispered in bewilderment as she stepped closer and lifted her hand. "Wait, you said she isn't the woman, …is, is there someone else?" her last words spoken in a voice so small and so tenuously vulnerable.

Her breaths quickened and her chest rose and fell faster, almost touching his.

She had no gloves on. Her fingers hovered, slightly shaking, above his golden skin and her heated gaze slid over his broad shoulders and the taught, defined muscles of his chest and stomach. Oliver's body burned from her attention and their bodies hummed with their scandalous proximity. The air went heavy with heady, acute awareness.

He watched her lick her lips before she looked up at him and the undisguised hunger he saw in her eyes shook him to the core. She wanted him. Good god, she wanted him.

He lost the entire, god damn war.

"Oliver?" Felicity's voice quivered with wonder and hope as if she sensed something incredible was about to happen.

He reached for her. He finally reached for her.

Oliver cupped the back of her neck and pulled her flush against her his body.

The both moaned as their bodies touched. Softness melted against hard maleness. Her hand was caught between them and now lay over his heart. He swore the entire world must hear it beating out of control.

His hands slid into the thickness of her hair. Pins flew everywhere as he finally touched the luxurious weight and her hair fell in fragrant waves over her shoulders. The scent of jasmine would forever be hers.

Felicity's eyes closed and her body shuddered against his.

"Felicity," Oliver watched as her passion heavy eyes fluttered open at his voice and Oliver allowed his feelings for her to show. "The woman I love, is you,"

"Me?" Felicity whispered, as joy and love swirled in her eyes.

Could his dreams come true? How long had she cared for him like this?

"I've been a fool. I was so afraid of losing your friendship. The small part of your heart that I had, that...I didn't, couldn't show you how I really felt. It's always been you, Felicity."

"Oliver...I have loved you, for forever. I can no longer remember when I did not. I've always wanted you. I never thought, you, wanted me. And then you turned to Eliza,"

"Forgive me, please...I never meant to hurt you. Never. I didn't feel I was worthy of you,"

"Oh, Oliver," she said as she soothingly rubbed her palm over his heart and Oliver placed his forehead against hers.

Their hearts and eyes met and all of their pent up want and need took over.

Oliver took her lips in a kiss that was as gentle as warm summer rain, exhilarating as a storm over the moors and as addictive as the most divine confection.

Her mouth opened at his sensual coaxing and he tasted heaven. Her essence. Her love.

Felicity's hands traveled up his torso and into his hair, holding onto him, as he showed her the decadent advantages of loving and being loved by a Rake.

A little while later, he reluctantly pulled his head back, allowing them both to catch their breath. He watched her mouth curve into a smile more radiant than any he had ever seen before. He was going to shower her with all the love he had in him and if she'd have him; he was going to marry her.

"I need to take you home now, my love, before I can no longer be a gentleman," Oliver groaned as he brushed his lips against hers once more. "And then, at exactly 10 am, I'll be right back there to ask you a very important question."

Felicity's smile grew even larger and incandescent as she nodded her head. "Merry Christmas, Oliver."

"Merry Christmas, Felicity."