Page 2 of A Hellion's Christmas Kiss
Rosella rushed up to her bedchamber to retrieve the gift. They didn’t always exchange any gifts, but in the last couple of years, they had. This year, they were six and ten, and she wanted to get something special for Noelle. She grabbed the small box and then went down the stairs. She tripped on the last step and stumbled forward. Her arms flailed and the tiny box went flying. Rosella would have hit the floor if not for the quick thinking of someone nearby.
“I have you,” Lucian said. His arms were wrapped around her and she was flush against him. She blinked up at him several times. Rosella had never been at a loss for words before. But then again, she had never had the privilege of being held by Lucian either.
“Thank…” She swallowed hard, then began again, “Thank You.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He smiled at her. Was it her imagination or was it a little roguish? As if it truly was his pleasure to hold her? She shook her head. No. That could not be right. It was definitely the musings of a wishful mind.
“You can let me go now.” She really didn’t want him to, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
“Can I?” He lifted a brow. “Are you certain? You might trip over your feet at the sight of me again and fall to your death.”
It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Do not flatter yourself,” she told him. As if… Though to be honest, he wasn’t that far off the mark. “My clumsiness has nothing to do with you.”
“If you say so, love,” he said. There was something almost roguish there. Surely, she wasn’t mistaken in her observation. What was he playing at?
“I do,” she said, more firmly this time. “I need to go find that gift I dropped.” She had to make sure it wasn’t broken. Please let it not be broken…
“A gift?” He tilted his head to the side. The scoundrel was still holding her. What could she do that would ensure he let her go? Did she really want him to remove his arms from around her? It did feel good… “What did you get for me?”
“Absolutely nothing,” she said. She would not allow herself to give him anything. Rosella feared he would know how she felt if she did. “That gift is for Noelle.”
“Ah,” he said, feigning disappointment. “I see where I stand. My heart may never recover from the slight.” Her heart ached to give him everything.
“You have never wanted a gift from me. You are mocking me.” She licked her lips. “Why would you want anything I had to offer?”
“Love,” he said huskily. Lucian’s expression softened. “Perhaps I want more from you than you know.” He shook his head and started to release her. She mourned the loss of his warmth. “I’ll help you find the gift.” There was a solemness to his tone now. The moment was lost. Whatever it had meant, she did not know. Something had passed between them though, and part of her wanted to insist he explain himself. That last statement had been far too cryptic.
She never had a chance to ask him, though. He retrieved her box and handed it back to her. “Have a wonderful Christmastide, Rosella,” he said in a soft tone. She tightened her grip on the box as she met his gaze. “I hope it’s all you dreamt it would be.” Then he walked away as if nothing had happened. Nothing really had happened. It just felt like it had been important somehow. Why had he pulled away? What had he wanted?
Rosella feared she would never know the answers to those questions, and that made her sad. She stopped to check the box and breathed a sigh of relief. At least one thing had gone right. Her gift for Noelle was intact. Now to just meet with her friend and give her the gift.
She let her moment with Lucian fall from her mind. It would only frustrate her to continue dwelling on it. Lucian still didn’t see her the way she wanted him to. That had to be a trick of her imagination. His little endearments had meant nothing too. She wasn’t his love or anything close to it.
Her brother had been correct, her wishing on a star wouldn’t give her what she wanted most. She loved Lucian, but he would never truly love her. If only wishing made it so…
One
Lucian Abbot, the Marquess of Kistleton, had no desire to travel to the country for Christmastide. These annual family gatherings had become insufferably tedious. If it were only his family in attendance, he might not find them so irksome, but they shared the season with another household—one now tied to his own by marriage. This year marked the first Christmastide house party hosted by his sister, Noelle, and her husband, the Marquess of Daventry.
Lucian liked Daventry well enough—had always liked him, in fact. That did not mean he enjoyed the knowledge that his closest friend had married his sister. The thought of them as a couple made him shudder. Best not to dwell on that unpleasant image. They had been married nearly a year, having fallen in love after being trapped at an inn during a snowstorm last Christmastide. Once the storm had cleared, they had eloped and arrived at the house party with their scandalous news.
Lucian grimaced at the memory as the carriage jolted over a rut in the road. That fateful day had not been his favorite. He had spent most of it arguing with Lady Rosella Prescott over holiday decorations. Their bickering was a near-constant occurrence, and he dreaded the thought of spending yet another Christmastide under the same roof as her.
Rosella was the bane of his existence.
She was also the only woman who had ever captured his heart.
Lucian sighed heavily. He had to find a way to let go of his feelings for Rosella. She loathed him—or at least acted as though she did. Their interactions were filled with sharp words and heated arguments. Her fiery nature, which he so admired, was directed at him with relentless precision. He knew he should stay away from her, but the thought of doing so was a torment all its own.
The carriage turned onto the long, winding drive leading to Daventry Manor. Lucian suspected he was the last guest to arrive. He had intentionally delayed his departure, under the pretense of attending to business, but in truth, he simply had not been eager to face what awaited him. His parents, the Duke and Duchess of Kissinger, and Daventry’s parents, the Duke and Duchess of Clare, would already be settled in. Perhaps his uncle, the Viscount of Greenville, would be there too. Lucian hoped so. Greenville, only a few years his senior, had always been a source of mischief and camaraderie. Greenville was his mother’s much younger brother. One day he would be the Earl of Riverdale once his grandfather passed on, but for now his uncle was content to live the life of a rogue.
The carriage came to a halt, and Lucian braced himself. Now he had to go inside and pretend that he was happy. With a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped out into the brisk winter air.
“I’ll ensure your trunks are taken inside, my lord,” one of the footman said.
“Thank you, Connors,” Lucian replied before making his way to the front door. He lifted the knocker and rapped it sharply against the heavy wood.
The butler, an elderly man with snowy white hair, opened the door and bowed. “Good day, my lord. Please, come inside.” His tone was solemn as he met Lucian’s gaze.
