“And now I see exactly why Harriet sent us in here,” he remarked, releasing her hand and locking the door behind them.
“As do I.”
And she wasn’t at all sure how she felt about it.
Not only did Papa’s study enfold her within its familiar, comforting scents of leather and old books and her father’s preferred flavor of snuff, but the candles were few—only a branch upon his desk and one or two in wall sconces near the door shed meager light into the cavernous room.
But it was enough to see the mistletoe hanging from a ribbon overhead.
Beside her, Mr. Ed— No, Lord Redford whistled, the heat of his body palpable. He indicated the vastly oversized parasite clinging from the ceiling. “I do believe that contains more berries than I have ever seen hanging from one spot, even still on the tree.”
Her hand still tingled, even after being crammed back into her glove the moment he released her. Curling her fingers into a fist, she turned to him and attempted to harden her resolve. “I ask that you pull your attention from that thunderingly excessive display and let us attempt to resolve what still remains between us.”
“No kisses, Mary? Damn, pardon. Anne. That will take some getting used to.”
She placed one foot behind her and stepped backward. “For me as well.”
Her attention couldn’t help but be drawn to the glaring piece of vegetation. Who had Harriet convinced to hang such a heavy thing?
“If you do not want me plucking berries and stealing kisses, you best not keep drawing my awareness that direction.”
The shadows deepened the intimacy breathing between them every bit as much as his husky tone. “I wish you wouldn’t touch me.” Why was she whispering? “It makes me want to fall into your arms, and I am not sure either of us deserve that at the moment.”
“Plain speaking, indeed. That I can appreciate. For myself?” He stretched, rolled both his shoulders and lifted his hand high—it easily reached beyond the berries. Then he returned it to his side, empty. “I rather feel like celebrating. Finding you tonight was not at all what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Truth? Misery.”
And he accused her of plain speaking?
“Here. This is for you.” He riffled through his pocket and withdrew a small velvet square. “Kept it with me the last few days. On the miraculous chance I should ever cross paths with Mary again. With you.”
“Not knowing where I—she—resided?”
A sharp nod confirmed the whimsy.
With fingers gone clumsy, heart pounding madly, she reached into the small velvet bag and touched something hard.
“Do you not see? You are never far from my thoughts.” With care, she pulled out a small timepiece, one intended to be worn on a ribbon and still so very warm from his body. You notice that through your gloves?
“To replace the one you lost,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t lose it. I—” Gave it away. “Never mind.” Beyond touched, she chose not to remind him of her folly.
And in defiance, stripped off her glove again to hold the token against her skin.
“I know it is nothing more than glass, gears and metal, but does this make any manner of difference whatsoever?”
Gripping the watch face near her heart, in a fist so tight the imprint of it would remain for hours, she swallowed hard. “To my desire to have your heir? Or to my desire to be your mistress?”
“To your desire to dance with me. I will accept that for now. For tonight.”
“And the rest?”
“We can discuss the rest tomorrow. Next week. Next month, even. For now that I know where you are—who you are, I am determined to woo you to wife.”
“You ignored me horribly. Avoided—”