Page 53 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
A gasp of delight transformed into a frosty puff in the air. “Mrs. Hanover! I’ve heard stories, of course, but to actually attend one of her infamous fetes … You were right to suggest this outing. It’s high time I take advantage of my widowhood by frequenting wicked parties previously closed to me.”
“Temper yourself, love. I won’t let you run too wild.” Unless she ran to him.
“I’ll do as I please, Captain Davies.” She emphasized his title as if he were a wayward child in need of scolding.
Minutes later, their footsteps—his measured to match her shorter strides—carried them up the stone steps of Berkshire House, and he knocked on the grand entry door before issuing one last warning. “Noted, but know I’m not afraid to dole out discipline when necessary.” His palm twitched just thinking about it.
Stubbornness outlined Bryony’s features until the door swung open with a sweep of the butler’s arm.
“Welcome! Welcome!” Lucille Hanover motioned them into the sparkling entrance hall decked in green foliage to mimic a rustic Christmas, despite it being weeks too early for such decor. But Lucille never followed etiquette; she broke it with nary a thought. “Before you enter my little soirée, the toll must be paid.”
She pointed upward where a ball of mistletoe hung above the doorway. Laughter and music emanated from the room beyond, but nothing could be seen until they paid their dues.
Damn and blast! Nathaniel’s focus bounced between the mistletoe and Bryony. He’d wanted to show her the freedom afforded a widow, to erase the air of melancholy that surrounded her at the charity assembly, but this wasn’t in his plan. Foolish, really. He knew the types of parties Lucille threw, yet somehow, he’d conveniently ignored the price they might need to pay for entry.
“Come now, Lucille. I’m a wounded captain.” He rubbed a hand down the arm he’d injured while chasing down a Spanish ship full of armaments, the reason he’d been honorably discharged from the Royal Navy. “Surely, I deserve a reprieve from your silly games. Lady Chapman is new to this world. We mustn’t frighten her away yet by forcing kisses.”
“I’m not frightened,” Bryony piped up from beside him. The hand wrapped around his forearm squeezed harder as he felt the lush curve of her bosom press into his side.
Lucille smirked, and glee sparkled in her eyes. “See? The only one with an issue, it seems, is you, Captain Davies. You’re no novice when it comes to my parties. You knew what you were getting yourself and your lady into. Now will you pay the price of admission, or shall I refuse you entry?”
“We’ll pay it.” Bryony—a previously proper Englishwoman suddenly transformed into a hot-blooded siren—swept forward with determination swishing her skirts before turning to look at him expectantly.
He couldn’t kiss her. She was his best friend’s little sister.
A best friend who apparently had approved of this little jaunt.
Besides, she was a grown woman who’d been wed and widowed—no virginal miss here.
Her full mouth beckoned Nathaniel. Tempted him beyond restraint. To hell with it. He’d take what she offered him—savor what was being forced on them—and damn the consequences.
CHAPTER 5
Happy Christmas. The holiday might officially be weeks away, but Bryony’s gift had arrived early. Because Nathaniel’s firm mouth was pressed to hers in a real-life kiss. A kiss previously only ever enjoyed in her dreams. Reality was a great improvement.
She dug her nails into the front of his jacket, afraid he’d pull away too soon, retreat before she had enough time to imprint this moment on her heart, her soul—into the very essence of her being. It wasn’t salacious. It wasn’t fiery with passion.
Instead, it captured her entirely with its simple sweetness.
The beginning of a night beard shadowed Nathaniel’s chin and cheeks, grazing her sensitive skin in a delectable slide. Warm remnants of brandy lingered on his breath, and Bryony yearned for more.
Nathaniel eased away with a gentle push to her hips and confronted Mrs. Hanover. “Will that suffice?”
Bryony struggled to regain her composure.
A rigidity hardened his muscles—the cords of his neck lengthening, his shoulders bunching—did he dislike their kiss? Or the fact they’d been compelled to, not out of desire but for a silly parlor game?
“Don’t look so stern, Captain. Your lady enjoyed herself as well as you did.” Mrs. Hanover’s attention dropped lower to below Nathaniel’s waist, where Bryony saw a sizable bulge stretched the fabric of his trousers. Elated by the sight, feminine satisfaction bloomed in her belly.
He didn’t dislike kissing her at all …
Another knock sounded on the door as Nathaniel ushered Bryony forward past a smug Mrs. Hanover. Boughs of holly and mistletoe hung from the walls and ceiling while a string quartet played a merry holiday tune. The entire decor centered around the holiday season.
“Mrs. Hanover holds quite a fascination for Christmas, doesn’t she? It’s not even December yet.”
Nathaniel nodded. “With the Season ending later this year due to Parliament, she wanted to take advantage of having everyone in London for an early Yuletide celebration.”
“Here we come a-wassailing …” A trio of young men stumbled by them while caroling to no one in particular, and Bryony covered a laugh at the ridiculous scene.
