Page 7 of A Hellion's Christmas Kiss
“I’ll explain once the boys arrive.” Though they were all adults, to their parents, they would always be children. It was almost endearing.
As if on cue, Asher and Lucian entered the room. They each surveyed the space with wide eyes, but neither spoke. Instead, they turned their questioning gazes to the dukes. The Duke of Kissinger barked out a laugh, while the Duke of Clare appeared sheepish—a testament to their opposing personalities. “Come on in,” Kissinger said. “It is time to explain what we have in mind.”
Everyone gathered around the dukes, awaiting their instructions. “We asked Noelle to leave the estate undecorated,” Kissinger began, “so that we could take this opportunity to do it ourselves. It is our celebration, and we should do this to make it more memorable.” He motioned toward the array of supplies. “We have everything we need. Now we just need to create and hang the decorations.”
“This will take some time…” Asher frowned. “I suspect it will consume a good part of the day.”
“It very well might,” the Duke of Clare admitted. “But what fun it will be.”
“It seems… messy,” Noelle replied distastefully. “Must we do this?”
“Yes,” the Duchess of Kissinger said, beaming at her husband. “This is a brilliant idea, and I think it should become a new tradition.”
“Oh, bother,” Noelle said. “Very well. I will string some holly together. It might not be as terrible as it seems.”
Asher laughed and strolled over to his wife, pulling her into an embrace. “It won’t be, love,” he assured her. “I am here to help you, after all.”
The glance between them was breathtaking. Their mutual adoration was plain to see. Rosella felt a pang of envy at the love they shared. She stole a glance at Lucian and nearly sighed. He was her everything, and hopefully, given time, he would feel the same. For now, they had this chance together. The married couples would undoubtedly pair off to create their decorations. That left Rosella and Lucian to work together, and she could not have planned it better herself.
Lucian stared at the piles of holly and pine branches and frowned. What the blazes did his father expect him to do with all of this? He had never made decorations, nor had he ever wanted to. He sneaked a glance at Rosella and frowned again. She seemed remarkably happy about this development. Perhaps, however, there was something useful to be found in this endeavor. Noelle was occupied with her husband, and his parents were already working together, as were the Duke and Duchess of Clare. That left him with one logical partner for this project: Rosella.
If she wanted to make decorations to adorn the manor, then so did he. It would give him an opportunity to spend time with her—a chance he would not waste. This clearly mattered to her; therefore, it would matter to him. While he cared little for the decorations themselves, her enthusiasm made them important.
“Where should we begin?” Rosella asked, gesturing toward the piles of greenery, ribbons, and other various items scattered before them. “This is…”
“A mess?” he suggested.
Rosella chuckled. “Well, it is that,” she agreed, “but I was going to say overwhelming. I do not have the faintest idea where we should start.”
He frowned. She had a point. He suspected that neither of them had any experience in creating decorations. “What would you like to make?” he asked. That seemed the best place to start. With a clear idea in mind, they could sift through the materials and find what they needed.
She tapped her chin thoughtfully before replying, “We could use the holly, ivy, and rosemary to make boughs to hang along the banister and the grand staircase.”
“All right,” he agreed. “I will gather the materials, and we can begin stringing them together.”
It was fortunate that Christmas was only days away. The greenery would wither quickly if it had to last much longer. Still, it smelled wonderful, and even though he had not wanted to make decorations, he found the scent strangely pleasant. He carried the necessary materials over to Rosella and set them before her.
She sorted the ribbons and string into neat piles before starting to weave the holly and ivy together with an efficiency he could not help but admire. “You have done this before, haven’t you?” he asked.
Rosella shrugged. “Not exactly. My mother has projects she often has me help her with, and this is similar to some of those.” She picked up a sprig of rosemary and added it to the greenery. “It is not difficult.” She handed him a piece of string and a sprig of holly. “Would you like to try?”
Lucian considered for a moment before nodding. He took the string and attempted to attach the ivy and holly, but it did not go well. The whole thing fell apart and landed at his feet. Rosella giggled. “Here, let me show you.” She moved closer and held the string before him, her body brushing against his. He nearly groaned at her nearness. It would be so easy to pull her into his arms and revel in her warmth. But not here—not with everyone else around. For what he wanted, he would need privacy.
“Do you see what I am doing?” she asked.
Hell… he had not been paying attention. His thoughts were entirely consumed by her—her scent, her proximity, her everything. “Could you show me once more?” he asked. “I want to be sure I have got it right this time.” It was a lie, of course. He needed her to repeat herself only because he had not been listening. What a fool he was.
“Do you have any questions?” she asked, glancing up at him.
Yes. Far too many. He wanted to ask if he could kiss her. More than that, he needed to know if she could ever love him. But this was neither the time nor the place for such questions. He would have to find a way to get her alone. For now, he shook his head. “I think I’ve got it now. Thank you for your patience.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away. “It is nothing,” she murmured. “I am glad I could help.”
Lucian studied her carefully. Was she nervous? And if so, why? Could it be that she harbored feelings for him as well? Had their years of bickering been nothing more than a way to mask deeper emotions? The possibility intrigued him. Yet another topic to add to the growing list of things he wished to discuss with her.
They worked in companionable silence, crafting boughs of holly and ivy. When he finished his, he held it up for her inspection. “Do you think it is acceptable?” he asked.
Rosella grinned. “It is perfect.”
