Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,271

to cut the apples from the orchard up small enough to make a pie and it was baking in the oven.

The pie was the best excuse she had to get out of the room. Wister needed a few minutes alone to get her constantly swirling emotions firmly back under control. Being in the same room as Rhys when she felt this way about him was torture—the prospect of only ever being his mistress an impossibility.

As soon as Wister’s footsteps disappeared downstairs, Deri set his glass of wine down and stared at Rhys.

Rhys sighed. He didn’t need to look at his cousin to know that a good old- fashioned lecture was in the offing. “What?” he asked, eyes still cast down at his now empty supper plate.

“I am not going to say anything until you have the manners to grace me with your attention,” replied Deri.

With pained reluctance, Rhys shifted his gaze once more to the other end of the table.

“Thank you. Now, what have you done to resolve matters with Miss York? Don’t try to tell me that it has all been smoothed over, because the two of you have been assiduously avoiding one another’s gaze all night, while at the same time sneaking sly glances. Not to mention that neither of you has said more than two words. I have had to carry the whole conversation.”

“I told you I kissed her,” said Rhys.

Deri rolled his eyes. “Yes, and?”

“Well, I stopped the kiss. I told her that she deserved to be treated better. I didn’t want her feeling like I was just using her, that I was abusing my position. Wister has suffered at the hands of one manipulative male—she doesn’t need me holding sway over her.”

Deri picked up his wine glass, took a sip, then set it back down. Rhys hated the vast silence. He was going to have to tell his cousin the rest of what had happened, what he had done this morning. And how, despite his best intentions, he had managed to make a mess of things once again with Wister.

“This morning I gave her the money she was owed, and I asked if she wanted to stay here. For us to come to an arrangement. I meant it as an offer to further our romantic relationship, but instead I think I might have somehow managed to upset her again. To be honest, I’m not sure what I did wrong.”

The words had no sooner left his lips than Deri stood, marched over to where Rhys sat, and gave him a solid slap to the back of his head. “Why didn’t you just propose that she become your mistress and make your insult of the poor girl complete?”

“I would never do…what?”

Blast. I really have messed this up, haven’t I?

He raked his fingers through his hair, angry and frustrated with himself. He just couldn’t find the right words when it came to be dealing with the female sex. The whirling emotions inside him only compounded the situation. “What am I going to do, Deri? I really like her. I don’t want her to leave.”

Deri started back to his chair, then stopped. “Like? Would you like to consider using another word to describe your feelings for the delightful Miss York, or shall I give you another smack over the head? It’s entirely your choice.”

Rhys got to his feet. He didn’t need any more sense knocked into him. It was time to screw his courage to the sticking place and go tell Wister he wanted her. “I’m going down to the kitchen right this minute to talk to her, which means you may not get any of the apple pie,” said Rhys.

Deri picked up Rhys’s wine glass and downed its contents. “Then I shall have plenty of room for wedding cake. The question being, whose will I be eating first, yours or mine?”

He went back to his chair, finished the rest of his own drink, then followed Rhys out of the room. “I am off to the Royal Oak. It will give the two of you some privacy. But just try and do things properly this time, Rhys. Girls like Wister only come along once in a lifetime.”

Deri was right. Rhys was in love with Wister. He wanted a life with her, a future as husband and wife. At the bottom of the stairs, on the ground floor, he stopped. Any possible offer of marriage would come with some hard decisions, ones which were hers to make.

Wister hadn’t seen his