Mismatched Under the Mistletoe - Jess Michaels Page 0,11

seem to find a full one. What was wrong with her? She was acting like a schoolgirl.

She cleared her throat and broke what she could not rightly call a comfortable silence. “Do you think it is going well?”

He glanced down at her. “It has hardly begun, so it is hard to judge. No one has devolved into fisticuffs, so that may be the best we can hope for on Day Two of this endeavor.”

She frowned. He was teasing her, as he often did, but in this moment what she was doing felt very serious. She shook her head. “Cav.”

He cleared his throat. “The doves were a lovely trick. Turtle doves have such beautiful rainbow markings on their wings—the ribbons were the perfect touch.”

“Thank you. Though it was really Mr. Jennings who trains the birds and was kind enough to allow me to borrow their talents for a few moments.”

“They will be talking about it for years to come. I’d wager a few of the mamas might steal the idea for one of their parties.” He winked at her. “Though likely not Countess Mulberry.”

She had to laugh at that. “The twins did seem more terrified than pleased when two birds swooped down to land on their hands.”

“I think Lady Honoria was trying to shake hers off,” he said.

She stopped on the path with a gasp. “Was she? I didn’t even notice.”

“She leaned back so far I thought she was trying to detach her arm rather than untie the ribbon,” he said.

She bent at the waist as laughter rocked her. “Well, birds are not for everyone. I feel terrible that they are going to have to endure so many. But it is for a good cause.”

He motioned her to walk again, and she did. This time the silence was more comfortable, but it remained charged. “I know you have something to say,” she said at last. “I can practically hear that mind of yours buzzing.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m just realizing how truly invested you are in this endeavor, Emily. I thought it was a lark, one of your fantastical ideas, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Why?” he asked.

She ignored him and kept walking. The rest of the party had gathered in the clearing where tables were set up and a spread of delightful winter delicacies awaited. A few more steps and she would be safe from Cav’s watchful eyes and his questions that poked into the softer parts of her.

Places he likely shouldn’t go, no matter how friendly they were.

“Emily,” he said, his tone suddenly firmer. He caught her hand, and she was kept from going down the hill to her guests. She pivoted slowly and faced him. His blonde curls had been stirred by the light breeze as they walked, and she felt the strongest desire to reach up and smooth them. Her gaze flickered unexpectedly to his lips, a little darker in the cold air. Full, though. The kind of lips other women dreamed of kissing.

Not her. Other women.

“Why?” he asked, his voice suddenly lower, rougher.

She swallowed hard and looked down at the others milling about, some still in their original pairings, some broken off in other groups. She ought to be marking that, adding it to her notebook of what was working and what wasn’t.

Instead she tried to find an answer for a man who knew her almost as well as she knew herself.

“I had love,” she whispered, bent her head to look at the brown grass at her feet. “And like this grass, it died. But I know the power of it. The beauty of finding a person who completes your heart.”

She looked up and expected Cav to have sympathy on his face. Understanding. That was his usual expression when they discussed the past, Andrew, what they had both lost.

Today, though, it was different. His expression was guarded, those full lips now pressed together as if he were…upset at the topic. His body was filled with tension, his fingers flexing open and shut at his side.

“You can’t force that, though, Emily,” he said softly. “I know that better than most. You can’t make people love each other by marching them down to the clearing and giving them punch.”

She wrinkled her brow. “I’m…not trying to make them. I just think everyone deserves love. Or at least a chance at it. Don’t you believe that?”

“Yes,” he said, his tone a little strangled.

She worried her lip. This exchange was troubling. Not what she had expected. She moved