by Anthology
“Lady,” he corrected with a small bow towards her body. He released her hand and walked over toward the large door leading out into the maze.
With his back to her, he couldn’t see her approach.
But he felt her.
He always felt her.
“I love Christmas,” she whispered from his right. He risked a glance from the corner of his vision. Her bright eyes twinkled as she smiled at the ice. She smiled at the ice the way he wanted her to smile at him.
Without saying a word, he reached for her hand and simply held it.
He’d been toying with the idea of courting her for the past year. Though they only saw each other on the holidays now that they were older, it seemed to fit. After all, the children of the families were almost always at odds, but that was what happened when three little boys were placed in an enclosed space with three, hellion little girls.
Chaos.
Though he’d grown to thrive off of the bickering.
Yes, Jackson knew his heart would most likely break if he went another day without a biting word from Sara — or a smile. Either would do, for he treasured them both.
“Jack,” Sara called his attention back from the maze. Her eyes were downcast, staring at their palms pressed against one another.
Slowly, Jack moved his other hand to her hip, sliding his gloved fingertips across her ribs, tugging her small body against his.
Her eyes searched his.
He wanted this.
He wanted her.
And he was damned tired of fighting. War was fine — but he wanted the other half — the love with the war, and the only woman he would have that with would be Sara. He knew it.
“This will change everything,” she whispered as his mouth lingered near hers.
“Perhaps.” His voice was shaky. Why was his voice shaky? ”But some changes are for the better.”
“Yes.” She breathed out the answer with a sigh as she curled her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his.
Holy God, she tasted like heaven.
Her lips tasted like sweet cider and sunshine. He licked the seam, gaining entry with his tongue as he slowly drew out a languid kiss that had his knees weakening and his morals cheerfully nose diving right out the window.
Sara let out a breathy moan as she tangled her hands in his curly hair.
He lifted her off the ground and swung her around, memorizing her taste, the velvet softness of her tongue as she met him kiss for kiss, pleasure for pleasure.
“Ahem.” A throat cleared.
He stumbled back, dropping Sara to her slippered feet.
“What is this?” The Duchess of Ashbury demanded an answer, but Jackson really didn’t have one, too shocked, and dumbfounded from that kiss, all he could do was stare at her. For he knew it wasn’t done.
Kissing a green girl in the dark shadows.
Kissing an innocent girl, regardless of his intentions, could ruin her, and the very last thing he wanted to do was ruin Sara.
Thankfully, he’d planned for everything and foolishly had been ready to do anything to gain a kiss, so he’d put mistletoe in his pocket.
With a smile, he swiftly pulled it free from his waistcoat and held it out. “It fell, but rules are rules, though we may have gotten carried away.”
The lie fell easily from his lips.
The duchess offered a stern expression then muttered, “Well, it is Christmas Eve.” And sauntered off.
Jackson exhaled a curse and turned to offer Sara an apology, but she had slipped away.
The very next day he went in search of her, only to find out she was already gone, their family had been called away on Christmas Day.
Weeks later, he searched for her at a ball, desperate to convey his affections, but he was trapped by a widowed seductress hell-bent on becoming his mistress — she’d accosted him with her mouth so hard he nearly gained a bruise from her mouth.
By the time he rejoined the ball, Sara was already dancing with someone else, and when he approached her later…
The cut direct.
“So, this is war,” he whispered, more to himself than anything. There was no love, not where she was concerned.
It was a kiss.
A kiss he read into entirely too much, for he wanted to offer for more than her hand — but her heart.
Jack was nothing but a kiss.
A tempting kiss in the shadows.
He took a look around the ballroom as people danced and laughed, suddenly sick to his stomach, he averted his eyes, and stomped away from the merriment. Away from the memories attached to it.
Away from it all.
Because of Sara.
It was always because of Sara.
CHAPTER FOUR
SARA WAS IN A foul mood, and after sparring with Jackson, the ball had lost all its holiday wonder, for when she looked at the smiling faces, the laughter, the dancing, all she was reminded of was the one boy who had kissed her with the lips of forever.
And claimed it a Christmas game.
She swallowed the lump in her throat then pressed her fingertips to her lips. At least she’d been kissed well.
There was that.
Dratted man! How dare he ruin her for every other man! Because that was what Jack did. He ruined things, shattered fragile china into a million sharp pieces then stomped his shiny Hessians right over them just to be sure there was nothing left but dust.
She saw the promise in his eyes, had known it was coming, his offer for courtship. After all, that was the logical step to take between them. They might be the youngest of the six, but they’d always been forced to stick together, while everyone else fought.
They stole brandy from the pantry.
Cheroots from the study.
And yes, at one point, lit Jack on fire. But the man had panicked! Therefore she had panicked.
“I believe,” came Jackson’s deep voice. “That you set me on fire, near that very tree.” He pointed to the tree near the maze.
She straightened her shoulders, ready for another all out war that would leave her exhausted. “Yes well, I had no idea the fire would leap from the ground to your short sleeves. And we were only twelve.”
“And last night? During the maze? What is your excuse then?”
“Oh, that…” She turned to face him, “…was entirely on purpose. They say memories are good for the soul, I was merely providing you with my favorite.”
“Ah.” His eyes twinkled. “Why doesn’t it not surprise me that your favorite memory of us includes my almost dying?”
“To be fair,” she mused. “At one time it had been my favorite game. The many ways to kill Jackson Mayford.”
He nodded seriously then offered his arm. Begrudgingly, she took it as they made their way outside toward the still torch-lit maze.
“There were the spiders.” His voice pierced through the chilly silence.” And my personal favorite, strangulation by bed sheets.”
“Don’t forget a horrible carriage accident that leaves you disfigured.”
He shuddered. “It worries me, the way your mind always leans towards the most graphic of affairs. Have I not warned you? All I have is my face?”
She snorted.
“Did you not threaten to drown me once, too?”
Sara smiled. “You took my favorite doll! Of course I threatened to drown you, for what other option did I have? You’ve always been taller!”
“Death is a very unladylike threat.”
“Funny, I’ve never felt very ladylike.”
“Impossible.” He stopped walking, causing her to stumble forward. “You act like a lady.” He offered a heart-stopping smile. “Sometimes.” Jackson released her arm and began to slowly circle her as if she was a zebra, and he a lion. “You look like a lady, save for that constant venomous glare you often save for me and only me…” He stopped directly behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “You are… every inch the lady, the lady, I am sure, many a woman tries to
measure up to… and fails.”
Sara gasped, unable to help her reaction as her chilled body suddenly filled with warmth from her slippered toes all the way up to her chest — the sore chest, the chest that held the heart that cautioned her to not allow it to break — again.
“What are you about, Jack?” she whispered, unable to keep her voice from trembling. “Is this a true cease fire?”
“It is,” he said softly. “But, before I lay down my pistol for good… a simple game. Winner takes all.”
“Oh?” Her heart leapt. ”What is this game, and what shall I win?”
“So certain?”
“I never lose,” she snapped, feigning an arrogance she didn’t feel.
Jack moved to her side and pointed with a gloved hand. “The maze, we’ve both been through it now… I shall race you, without clues, to the end. It must be done entirely of memory. If you beat me, I shall give you the cease fire you so desperately want, and I will leave first thing this evening, never to bother you again.”
It was what she wanted. Right?
Confused, she stared down at the frosted glass. “Good.” It was said completely without conviction. “And if you win?”
“A kiss,” he said in a low whisper. “I get a kiss.”
Her eyes widened in horror. It was a bad idea. A terrible idea, she would be left exposed, vulnerable, all over again.
But if she won.
She glanced back at the maze, her eyes quickly calculating all the different ways to be free of the ice and make it to the other side.
“Afraid?” he taunted in her ear, the whispered word no less than a challenge.
With a shiver she took a step back and held out her hand. “Deal.”
He gripped her fingers tightly and smiled wickedly. “Ready. Set. Go.”
CHAPTER FIVE
EITHER WAY, HE WOULD win, but she need not know that. After leaving the ball he’d rummaged around the maze only to see her staring out at the garden, completely unaware of his dark mood. Her eyes were lifted towards the moon. She’d looked like an angel — as beams of light streamed across her soft face.
And he knew.
In that moment.
If he was going to burn.
If he was going to get rejected.
If he was going to live out the rest of his days without her — he needed to at least know for sure, that it was because she had no interest.
Let her say it to his face.
Let him stop living with justifications.
No more before Sara.
No more afters.
No more because of Sara.
He needed her to be the solution — not the problem. And she would always be the problem, if he allowed her to be. Therefore, one more game.
For old times’ sake.
For Sara.
He fastened the mistletoe directly above the end of the maze where it was well lit, and made his way back into house to set about challenging her.
She was never able to turn down a chance at besting him.
And he knew it, regardless of how she felt about him.
She would jump at the opportunity to eradicate him from her life — the only jarring part was how fast she’d agreed.
Did she want him gone so desperately?
“Ready. Set. Go!” The words left his lips as Sara raced past him. He allowed it, because he’d walked through the maze thrice now. In her desire to win, she would be blinded by the second turn.
He quickly ran after her, and took a left, then another right. He saw the flutter of her skirts as she raced ahead.
Jack’s breathing came out in short laborious bursts as the cold froze to his lungs, coating his throat and every other useful organ he’d need come Christmas morning.
The end was in sight.
But Sara was nowhere to be seen.
He frowned, glancing from left to right, ready to turn on his heel and run in search of her when he heard a yelp and then ”Jackson!”
She never used his full name.
Not unless he was in trouble — or she was in trouble.
Panicked, he raced back through. “Sara? Are you alright? Where are you?”
“Here!” Her voice was weak, defeated.
“Say something else,” he called out. “So I can locate you.”
“Something else.”
He chuckled. “You can do better, Sara.”
“I hate you!”
“More talking, less threatening.”
“You’re a horrible man!”
He took a left and came face to face with an ice wall. Irritated, he ran back the other direction.
“And you, you, you—” she cursed.
It was impossible to keep his laugh in.
“Stop laughing at me!”
Her voice sounded closer, he turned the next corner to find her sitting on her bum, in a pile of snow.
“Are you pouting? Or did you simply give up?”
She pointed to her ankle.
“Ah, my one weakness. Very cruel, I suppose the very moment I get on bended knee you’ll jump to your feet and race past me. Unfair.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
His chest tightened as he lunged forward. “Oh, Sara. Does it hurt?”
She nodded. “I slipped on the bloody ice!”
Jackson laughed.
“Stop laughing!” She joined in. “And don’t you dare tell Meredith I said bloody.”
Jackson easily leaned down and pulled her into his arms. “I’ll just add it to the list, shall I? Things that Jackson Mayford may never reveal to Meredith or Louisa. Like the time we smoked cheroots until we both got sick over the balcony. Or when we drank enough whiskey to breathe fire and promptly passed out in the same room for more than five hours.”
Sara pressed her lips together in a smile.
“What about the time you asked me how to kiss?”
“Lord help us,” Sara muttered under her breath. “Good thing cook overheard us and stopped that disaster from taking place.”
“Yes, well, we were only six.”
They made it safely out of the maze.
As Jack slowly set her to her feet, her body slid down his. “Or how about the time, three years ago, when I held your hand and kissed you with all the passion I’d kept pinned inside… only to have you run away.”
Sara took a startled breath, her cheeks tinting with red. “You told the duchess it was a game!”
“Of course I told the duchess it was a game!” He threw his free hand into the air. “You had not even had your come out ball yet! You could have easily been ruined because of my lack of self control.”
She frowned, and then hunched her shoulders. “It matters not. It was for the best, right Jack? Besides, it didn’t take you long to move on.”
She tried to escape his grip but he held her body tight. “Not a chance in hell I’m letting you get away. I’ll chain you to the ice before I let that happen.”
“That’s quite violent, even for you, Jack.”
“You bring out the worst in me, I’m afraid. Always have,” he muttered.
She leaned against him, probably more out of pain than affection, but he would be thankful and take what he could get.
“Now, what do you mean by that statement? It didn’t take me long to move on? Have I a mistress I know nothing about? A wife?”
She rolled her eyes. “The Rawlings’ annual ball, you were kissing the Dowager of Prine.”
Jack burst out laughing then sobered. “Oh, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
She nodded, tears filling her eyes.
“Sara,” he whispered, shock etched into his voice. “Why did you not say something? The woman was insane. She launched herself at me before I had the chance to utter no, and she had just lost her husband. I may be an ass, but I wasn’t about to show her disrespect just because she was lonely and in mourning — that’s not the way I am.”
Sara’s blue eyes seemed to brighten. “So… you were not—”
“I most certainly was not.” He shook his head and then winced.” But, soon after, when I thought you had rejected me, when you gave me the cut direct, I may have… gone a touch mad.”
“A touch?” Her eyebrows rose in mock shock. “A touch mad would be taking your breakfast with the staff, a touch mad is collecting waistcoats, a touch mad,” she continued her voice rising an octave, “is dancing naked in the rain. Not bedding half of London!”
“To be fair, we don’t really have an accurate assessment of the current London population, at least in town. I sincerely doubt it’s half.”
“Jack…”
He grinned. “One-tenth? Maybe a quarter. But half, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“You are — impossible.” She snorted, tossing up her one dainty hand into the air then making a fist with it.“ Impossible.”
He nodded. “Yes. Because living a life of impossibilities seems to be my calling… being impossibly impossible is what I do. Loving the impossible… Desiring the impossible… wanting what is within my reach sounds quite boring doesn’t it?”
“What are you saying?” She searched his face.
With a smile, Jack pointed up. “I won.”
Her eyes widened at the mistletoe. “You cheated!”
“I still won, and I rescued you, therefore, I think two kisses are in order.”
She scoffed, “You rake!”
“The word loses its effect after being thrown at a person so many times… Calling me a rake is like throwing a dull arrow in my direction. I’ll simply flick it out of the way and keep marching.”
Sara was back to making a fist with one hand while the other clung quite tightly to his jacket. “One kiss.”
“Three.”
She burst out laughing. “You just said two!”
“Right, but it just occurred to me that I also saved you,” Jack said with a smug grin. “Not only did I win, but we’re standing under mistletoe, and I just saved your life.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Three kisses.”
“Saved my life?” she said in disbelief. “Had I known you would have demanded payment, I would have crawled on my hands and knees!”
Jack made a face. “Cease teasing me, woman. What I wouldn’t do to see you on your—”
