O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,256

of them, standing out on the veranda in the moonlight, watching the snowfall.

“Yes,” she said, dragging her eyes away and looking out across the grounds of Pendle Hall, now in darkness. “It is so beautiful. ’Tis here and then gone in an instant, cold but warming, utterly different every time.”

“Reminds me of someone I know,” he breathed.

Prudence shivered. This was more than she could ever have hoped for, but now she was in this situation, she was not entirely sure what happened next. There was no script for declaring one’s love for a gentleman, especially when that man was someone you had known most of your life.

How did you tell a gentleman you wanted a kiss under the mistletoe–a real kiss? If only Chalmesbury had placed mistletoe every few yards in the house.

“Really?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. “She…must be an impressive woman.”

“She is,” came his reply, even closer now. “I have known her for years, and with each passing year, she shines even brighter.”

Did he mean herself? Surely, he must. Surely Alexander would not be so cruel as to stand here in this intimate fashion and whisper sweet nothings to her about another woman!

“I would like to meet her,” she said with a smile, still refusing to turn around.

Alexander sighed, his warm breath on the back of her neck. “You may be a woman, Pru, and a beautiful one, but you have never lost your childlike joy.”

A wintery breeze moved past them and something rustled. Prudence slowly raised her gaze and gasped.

There, tied carefully with golden ribbon by the window and now hanging right above them, was a sprig of mistletoe.

She swallowed. This was it. This was the moment. She could not have planned it better, and it was time to take what she wanted.

Turning, her sleeve brushing against his jacket, she looked into the fierce gaze of Alexander. He wanted her. He needed an excuse to kiss her, and it would be heavenly, better than her dreams, better than anything…

“You have never lost your childlike joy.”

“You have,” she said simply. “Alexander, after years of…of knowing you so well, I wonder whether I do this year. Money has become your object, your reason for existence.”

“Not at the moment,” he breathed, kissing her firmly on the mouth.

It was impossible. It was a dream. It was a wild impertinence, coming from anyone else, but from Alexander?

Prudence threw herself into the kiss, arms around his neck, leaning against him and finding herself wrapped in his arms.

This was definitely a kiss for a woman, not a child. He had parted her lips carefully, gently, but the intensity of the kiss had deepened, and she gasped at the heady sensations which tore through her body as his lips worshiped her.

This was far naughtier than a vicar’s kiss ought to be, but she wanted more. This was her first true kiss under the mistletoe, and she was desperate to ensure it would not be her last.

Alexander broke away, wildness in his eyes. “I-I hope I do not offend, Pru. I simply–”

She lifted her lips to his and stopped his words the only way she knew how, by kissing him fiercely.

Before she knew it, he had pushed her and pinned her up against the wall. Snow seeped into her shoes, but she did not care. The sensation of the brickwork against her back and Alexander’s strong chest against her own was enough to make her cry out, but she could not–his mouth simply would not release her, and she melted in his arms.

Eventually, their second kiss ended.

“I have wanted to–”

“I had no idea you–”

They laughed nervously, their words spilling over each other. His hands were on her waist, holding her steady against the wall for which Prudence was grateful. She felt unable to stand, her heart beating frantically, her legs turned to jelly.

“I had hoped,” she breathed, “to find you under the mistletoe. During your stay here, I mean.”

Alexander smiled, his face lit up by the candlelight streaming through the drawing room windows. “By God, I am glad you did.”

He leaned forward, and this time Prudence knew exactly what she wanted. Her fingers moved to his cravat, pulling at it as his tongue teased and worshipped her neck.

“Oh, Alexander,” she murmured, unable to stop herself. “Yes…”

He groaned. “God, Prudence, I want–I want what I shouldn’t want.”

“I know,” was all she could manage. “I-I want it, too.”

Before she knew what was happening, their instincts took over, and he crushed his mouth on hers once