Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,225

“Your uncle was the largest employer in the county. His brewery kept roofs over the heads of many families. It still does. And your aunt? No finer lady walked the earth.”

She leaned against a large oak with one arm hugging it keep her sliding sideways. “I never met my aunt, but I imagine Gemma is a lot like her.”

“Her mother was more like you, actually.”

“Was Aunt Esther a she-devil?”

He chuckled. “You are never going to forgive me for that moniker.”

“I was never offended, but it is fun to needle you.”

“You hide it so well,” he teased. “I was referring to your aunt’s kind heart. The way you took in your cousin and her young servants. That is something Mrs. Price would have done.”

“Family always comes first.” She was repeating what she’d heard from others. Her own family never ascribed to the belief.

“Your aunt didn’t limit her charity to family,” Julius said. “I remember stories of her visiting the homes of sick or injured workers with food for their families. On St. Stephen’s Day, for many years, your aunt saw to it every servant and worker received a goose and pudding for their tables.”

A lump formed in Bess’s throat. Throughout her childhood, she’d longed to hear stories about her family, but her father rarely spoke about the past after her mother died. He’d married Bess’s governess, filled his nursery with sons, and never looked back. Bess, on the other hand, had struggled to figure out how she fit into his new life. Julius was presenting her with a precious gift.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve your appreciation, but you are welcome.”

“The easiest explanation is I am complicated,” she said.

“I’ve always enjoyed a good puzzle.” She hadn’t noticed how close he stood until his fingertips touched her chin. “Look up.”

She tipped her head to find a bundle of green growing on a branch high above her. “Is it mistletoe?”

“Don’t play coy, Bess. You know it is.” His playful tone coaxed a smile from her. “I’d wager you saw it before I did.”

“I did not. It is an accident I find myself standing in this spot.”

“Mm-hmm.” He rested his forearm against the tree by her head. His body heat chased away the chill. “Just a happy accident.”

Anticipation fluttered beneath her breastbone. “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Do I have a choice? If word spread that I ignored tradition…? Well, that would be rude.”

“Mercy,” Bess said with a hint of breathlessness. “We wouldn’t want the neighbors to think you have no manners.”

“Thank you for understanding.” Dimples winked from his cheeks; the flutters spread to her belly. “Is that a yes, my lady?”

She bit the corner of her mouth. One tiny peck in observation of tradition was harmless. Releasing her hold on the tree, she rested her fingertips on his shoulders. “Yes, you may kiss me.” She offered her cheek.

He cocked an eyebrow. “A cheek? After our night together?”

“Oh, be quiet and kiss me.” Gripping his shoulders, she tugged him against her. His lips were cool when they first touched hers, but heated quickly. His weight held her snug against the tree trunk. The bark was rough at her back and solid even as the world around them faded to nothingness. It was just Julius and her, the clean scent of soap, a cold breeze on her cheeks, and the seductive caress of his hot tongue. She parted her lips, welcoming him further across the line she’d already overstepped.

The kiss was no longer about mistletoe or quaint Christmas traditions. She was taking what she’d wanted from the moment she laid eyes on him, chiseled and glorious in the fading kitchen firelight.

Julius’s hand slid up her waist, resting high on her rib cage. He tore his mouth from hers to kiss a path along her neck. She arched her back, moaning as his thumb traced the underside of her breast. Through all her layers, the sensation was dulled, but it still set her aflame.

“Forgive me, love,” he whispered into her ear. The wisp of breath caressed her sensitive skin. A driving pulse through her veins heightened every sensation. “I promise to remember the sweetness of your lips forevermore.”

His words were like a dousing with frigid water. She stiffened. He sensed the change in her and drew back. “Did I say something wrong?”

She swallowed hard. For two days, she had been waiting for the perfect time to confess her transgression. This wasn’t it. Nevertheless, he deserved to know the truth before