Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology, page 87
Coals glowed in the fireplace, casting a golden light around the room. She lit the candles in the candlesticks nearby so she could see better and sat on the settee before the fire, allowing the peace and quiet to settle over her.
She read the first few pages of the mystery, but her thoughts weren’t on the story. She tipped her head back against the cushion only to pause at the sight of the kissing bough directly overhead. Someone had hung it above the settee rather than near the window where Emma had placed it. Lucy didn’t care for the new position since she often sat in this spot.
With a sigh, she set aside the book, removed her slippers, and stood on the settee, just able to reach the ball. She removed it from the hook then pulled a chair to the window.
She climbed onto the cushion with the ball, raising onto her toes to reach the hook only to hear a sound from nearby, causing her to lose her balance.
Lucy gasped, arms flailing along with the ball as she tried to catch herself.
Strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her to safety. “Lucy!”
She stared at her rescuer, mortified to see it was Hugh.
“Are you all right?” he asked, adjusting his hold on her.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said. “But when I saw you up on that chair, it startled me. What on earth were you doing?”
Her cheeks heated as she looked up at the hook then at the ball she still held. “I wanted to move this.” She refused to call it a kissing bough when Hugh held her. “It was in the wrong place.”
He raised a brow. “You were putting it in the right place?”
“Well,” she realized too late how silly she sounded. “I didn’t care for it to hang directly over the settee.”
“I see.” He studied the two positions, never mind that he still held her. “Perhaps I could be of assistance.”
“That would be kind of you.” She licked her lips, all too aware of the feel of his arms around her, along with the fact that she liked it. Her heart pounded and warmth curled through her. Somewhere in the conversation, she’d placed her hand around his neck while the other clutched the kissing bough as if her life depended on it.
At long last, he slowly bent to set her on her feet, his hands moving along her body before settling on her waist to steady her. “I missed you this evening.”
Her heart pounded even harder at his quiet words. “My aunt wasn’t feeling well, so I kept her company.”
“You are a devoted niece. And I think you have the patience of a saint.”
“I try.” She frowned, feeling guilty for her earlier uncharitable thoughts. “Though I must admit that sometimes it’s more difficult than others.”
“I can’t imagine.” His eyes held on hers and her awareness of him only increased. “I hope your aunt appreciates your efforts.”
“I’m sure she does.” Each breath she took filled her senses with his presence, and it was intoxicating. That lovely mix of forest and musk that she would forever recognize as his.
He lifted his hand, the pad of his thumb brushing her cheek, sending shivers along her flesh. “I hesitate to bring it to your notice, but I believe that is mistletoe you’re holding.”
She glanced at the bough, having nearly forgotten she still held it. “Yes.” She wanted nothing more than to kiss Hugh. “A tradition is a tradition, you know.”
“Yes.” His gaze dropped to her lips.
“Not meant to be broken.”
“No.” He leaned closer.
“It’s only a kiss.” She hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. She’d meant to say them to herself, a reminder that kisses were something people shared every day. It didn’t have to mean anything. Surely her inexperience had made their first kiss more impactful. A second one might not be nearly as exciting.
“Only a kiss,” he repeated, easing even nearer until their breath mingled.
She rose to press her lips to his, both thrilled and terrified when an explosion of sensations erupted inside her.
He moaned as he drew her against him, deepening the kiss, his tongue seeking hers as his hands roamed over her body.
She’d been wrong, she realized too late. This was far more than a kiss. It was an assault on the walls that defended her heart. Hugh represented the outside world that she’d avoided for so long, that she wasn’t certain she wanted. The one she was too frightened to reach for.
“Lucy,” Hugh whispered when he drew back to press kisses along her jaw then down her neck. “You are impossible to resist.”
Did that mean he wanted to resist her? A muddled part of her brain latched onto the concern even as her fingers twined in the hair along his collar, bumping the kissing bough on his back.
His hand shifted upward from her waist, near the swell of her breast, and all thought stopped. Her entire being ached with longing and liquid heat. Yes, touch me there. The tip of her breast tightened in anticipation.
His fingers found her nipple then he reached for the full weight of her breast, kneading it gently.
A wave of desire weakened her limbs as a delicious lethargy filled her. She’d had no idea a touch could make her feel so hot and weak. Why had she hesitated when his touch felt as if it freed her, loosening the tight rein she’d held on her emotions until now.
He released her breast only to cup her bottom instead, lifting her against the firmness of his body. Surprise speared through her as she realized just what particular part of his body she felt. The rigid staff shocked her, much like a cold splash of water, and she shifted back.
“I-I can’t,” she murmured, uncertain whether she was telling him or herself.
Hugh loosened his hold on her, but she couldn’t seem to step away. Nor did she know what she wanted.
“I’m sorry.” He smiled though worry shaded his expression. “Why is it that I’m always apologizing to you?” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to take the kiss so far. Having you in my arms makes me lose control.”
Lucy was pleased to know she wasn’t the only one with that problem. Hugh made her feel things she’d never felt before. The sensation was overwhelming, and she had no idea what to do about it.
He bent to pick up the kissing bough she’d dropped then looked at the ceiling. “Shall I hang it on the hook?”
“Yes, please.” She eased back to give him room to step on the chair, appreciating a moment to collect herself.
He easily looped the ribbon over the hook, picked one of the white berries, and handed it to her with a smile.
“Thank you.” She held the berry carefully as she pressed her other hand against her still pounding heart. She feared he’d hooked her affections just as surely as he’d done with the kissing bough. The realization frightened her more than she could say.
“Miss Gray!” Hugh hurried along the pavement in the small village near the Waverly estate. Many of the guests had ventured into town to spend the afternoon doing last-minute shopping.
The snow had melted over the past few days except for a few patches that lingered in the shadows. The bright sun turned the sky a pale shade of blue but was deceiving as the temperature was cold once again.
She turned in surprise. “You’re doing some shopping as well?”
“Yes, I am. Do you mind if I walk with you?”
She hesitated briefly then offered a smile as a delicate pink crept up her cheeks. “Not at all. I’d be honored.”
Hugh hadn’t meant to seek Lucy’s company on this outing. In fact, he’d made certain to ride in the coach behind the one she’d taken so they wouldn’t be together.
He’d only seen her briefly at dinner the previous day as most of the men had spent the day hunting. Emma had joined them for part of the ride, her horsemanship skills impressive. But none of that had kept his thoughts from Lucy.
After the way she’d made him feel during that last kiss as if he could’ve taken her for his own, regardless of his original intent to woo Emma, had given him pause. The situation wasn’t to be taken lightly. Not when he had no restraint when she was near.
But it was Christmas, and their time together was limited. The holiday provided the perfect excuse to give in to his wish to be with her. The house party would soon end, and the chances of him seeing her again were small unless he specifically called on her. Besides, he didn’t want to act like an ass—kissing her one minute and ignoring her the next. He might have the reputation of a rogue, but he was a man of honor.
“What a beautiful day,” she remarked as she glanced at the sky.
“It is indeed. So nice of the weather to cooperate for this outing.”
“How true,” she said with a nod. “Otherwise, Christmas would’ve arrived before I purchased several gifts.”
When he’d considered who he wanted to buy gifts for, Lucy had been at the top of his list. Yet he had no idea what he might get her. And, he was willing to admit to himself, it was the perfect reason to spend more time with her.
“I’m wondering if I should apologize once again?” he asked, guilt filling him as he noted the way she avoided looking directly at him. She might’ve been the one to initiate the kiss, but he’d taken it further than she intended. Of that, he had no doubt.
She halted abruptly to look at him, the pink in her cheeks deepening. “Of course not. We’re both adults, capable of knowing our own minds.”
That was amusing, considering he didn’t feel as if he knew his mind at all. Not when he was around her.
“You intrigue me, Lucy. In many ways. I fear I allowed the moment to get away from me.”
She managed a more genuine smile. “As did I. We shall place the blame for the moment on the mistletoe. Perhaps it has more power than I gave it credit for.”
He chuckled, appreciating her humor. “Agreed. We’ll blame the mistletoe.” Her response made him like her even more. Many young ladies would’ve placed the fault entirely with him. But not Lucy. She was kind and honorable.
Damn.
Why couldn’t she be unreasonable and annoying instead? That would’ve made it so much easier to curtail his growing attraction.
They continued walking together and just as Hugh had hoped, she paused to look in a shop window.
“Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” he asked.
“Not really.” She continued to study the fancy bowls on display. “I made most of my gifts earlier in the year.”
“Made them?”
“I embroidered a few items.” She shrugged as she moved to the next shop. “Nothing special.”
“On the contrary. Handmade gifts are extra special.” And now he had to add talented and considerate to the list of her attributes. “I confess that I rarely think of gifts until the occasion has arrived when I must give them.”
“I can’t bear that sort of pressure,” she whispered as if telling him a secret. “I much prefer to plan ahead.”
“You’re wise in addition to being creative.” He clasped his hands behind his back as they strolled to keep from reaching for her hand.
“I hardly think a bit of needlework makes me either.”
“I disagree. Your skills surpass mine.”
She grinned, her previous wariness fading. “You’re a man. Which means you have a different set of skills.”
The only skills he could lay claim to were cards, dice, drinking, and seduction. But he thought it best not to mention them. After all, he was trying to set them aside for more valuable ones. Funny how much he wanted to do so when he was with Lucy.
She stopped before another shop window, her gloved fingers pressing against the glass. “Oh!” Her lips parted as she stared.
“What is it?” He noted a variety of figurines displayed, some small, some large. There were kittens reaching for a ball of yarn, a dog sitting with a hopeful look on its face, and other animals as well.
“The horse.” She pointed to a small statue of a black yearling with a white blaze on its forehead.
“You like horses?” His heart gave an uncomfortable twist to think they might have that in common.
“I do. I had one just like that. Her name was Arabella. Father gave her to me for my sixteenth birthday.”
The emotion in her voice spoke to just how much she’d loved the horse.
Her hand dropped from the glass pane as she released a breath then turned away purposefully as if she couldn’t bear to think about it overmuch.
“What happened to her?” The question popped out before he thought twice.
“She was sold along with most everything else after my parents died.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes.
“I’m sorry.” His heart hurt for that young lady and the devastation she must’ve felt.
Lucy shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “I miss my parents and that life. But I have many wonderful memories to give me comfort.” Her tone was brittle, making him wonder if that was a line she said to ease the discomfort of those around her rather than one she truly believed. “I’m lucky to have Aunt Edith.”
Anger shot through him. That was rubbish as far as he was concerned. She’d lost everything, including her future, when her parents died. She deserved to make new memories, not merely be comforted by old ones. How would she ever do that while stuck in the country, caring for her aunt?
The fact that her extended family made no effort to give her a Season or allow her to find someone to share her life with was an atrocity. Yet what could he say when it wasn’t his place to protest? Perhaps there was more to the situation than he knew.
“Do you like horses, Hugh?” She turned to him, her expression curious. The fact that she wasn’t filled with bitterness and regret amazed him.
“Yes, I do. Very much. In my youth, my brothers and I used to ride frequently.”
“What fun that must’ve been.”
He found himself telling her more about Graham and Thomas along with a few stories from his childhood. Anything to bring a smile to her face. He much preferred that over the grief she’d briefly displayed.
They strolled along, coming across other guests from the house party, waving at Emma, who was across the street. Before he realized it, he was telling Lucy about his dream of breeding horses.
“I’m certain you’d be brilliant at it. Have you started?”
“Graham has promised me the first foal for helping him select his horses. That will be the start.” He berated himself for allowing his longing to show. At least he had the freedom to choose what he wanted to do for the most part. Could Lucy say as much?
“Raybourne,” a male voice called.
Hugh turned to see Barnes and a few of the other men across the street. Barnes waved for him to join them. Though disappointed at having his time with Lucy interrupted, perhaps that was for the best.
“I’ve monopolized far too much of your afternoon,” he said as he looked back at her. “I should allow you to get on with your shopping.”
“Yes, I suppose I should. I need to find something for Emma. I don’t think she’d be pleased with merely an embroidered handkerchief.”
“Thank you for the conversation. It’s always a pleasure to be with you, Lucy.” He wanted to say more but now wasn’t the time or place so he bowed and took his leave. However, he no longer had any doubt as to how he felt about her. Surely in these last few days of the house party, he’d find a way to share his feelings with Lucy. He’d make certain of it. Where their relationship went from there remained to be seen, but he had high hopes.
Chapter Nine
“This is a disaster.”
Lucy watched as Emma paced her bedchamber, her movements jerky. “I’m not certain I would declare it one.”
Christmas Eve had arrived, the night of the ball, when not only the guests but many of the local gentry would come to celebrate and dance.
Lucy smoothed the white silk gown Emma had lent her as she sat before the dressing table while Collette, Emma’s lady’s maid, fixed her hair once again. The gown’s hem had been lengthened and it fit well. The edge was embroidered with dark green swirls, bringing to mind evergreens in the snow. Lucy adored it. The neckline was quite daring, revealing the swell of her breasts, but it was modest compared to Emma’s.
Her cousin looked lovely in white satin with crystals and pearls sewn into the bodice and trimmed in red velvet.
“Mother and Father insist I advise them which man I favor.” Emma paused, hands on hips. “How can I possibly decide so soon?”
Lucy thought she could’ve if she were in the same position. Hugh had firmly caught her affections, regardless of the short time they’d been together. She only hoped he hadn’t also caught Emma’s.
Worry filled her at the thought. Then again, did it truly matter when she didn’t intend to act on her feelings? Would she be able to hide her emotions if Emma chose Hugh? Would he choose her in return?
The last question caused her to shift in her chair as her chest tightened. The movement drew a stern look from Collette.
How could he not wish to marry Emma when his dream was to breed horses? Uncle Andrew loved horses and the shared interest would surely make her uncle look favorably on Hugh despite his lack of a fortune. Her uncle only wished his daughter to be happy.
Lucy wanted that as well. She had no business having this attraction to Hugh. She had no money to help him with his dream. Besides, she had Aunt Edith to care for. She couldn’t leave her alone, not after all she’d done for Lucy by taking her in and giving her a home.
“Why don’t we review the gentlemen’s traits to help clarify your choice?” Lucy pushed aside her unsettling emotions. This wasn’t about her. The reason she’d been invited had been to aid Emma with her decision. Yet a tiny voice in her mind suggested refusing to examine her feelings was the easy way out—the safe way. Why didn’t she tell Emma of her affection for Hugh? She might understand. But not tonight with the ball almost upon them.
Her cousin stopped pacing, heaved a sigh, and flounced into a nearby chair. “Very well.” She looked at Lucy expectantly.
“First, we have Mr. Barnes,” Lucy began, certain her cousin wouldn’t choose him. But she knew Emma well enough to hold back her opinion, lest Emma take the opposite side just to be contrary. “He’s handsome and kind. His manners are impeccable. And his affection for his sister is to be admired.” Although, Lucy thought they would benefit from some time apart.
