Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “A missive is just arrived for you, Lady Almira.” Mildred surrendered the expensive stationary.

  “Who could be writing me?” Curious, Almira examined the back side of the envelope, and the impressive wax seal embossed with an even more imposing coat of arms. “Upon my word, this is from the duchess of Rylan.” In minutes, she withdrew the elegant invitation, read and reread the contents, and almost fainted, as it appeared her prayers had been answered. “Oh, my dear Mildred. Pack our trunks, as we journey to Portsea Island, Friday next.”

  HOLD ME, THRILL ME, KISS ME

  CHAPTER TWO

  Portsea Island

  Delicate snowflakes danced in the air, amid a bleak backdrop of ominous clouds, and the wind whispered and howled, as a winter storm approached from the Channel. Standing in Dalton’s study at Courtenay Hall, and gazing out the window, which afforded a spectacular view of the white-capped ocean, with a heavy heart and a mood to match the tumultuous weather, Nicholas anticipated Almira’s arrival, and he was never more terrified in his life.

  “You know, this is much more fun when you have survived a brutal tour of that beastly brand of warfare known as courtship.” His Grace snickered. “And you squirm so brilliantly, Waddlington. Will you not resume pacing, as you manifest a little tic above your right eye that keeps time with your strides, and I find it rather amusing?”

  “I almost feel sorry for you.” At left, Dalton smacked Nicholas on the back. “Then again, you cannot truly appreciate the joy that is matrimonial bliss unless you have endured the hellfire and damnation inherent in the precursory adventure.”

  “Are you sure you have chosen the correct path?” At right, the duke of Rylan chucked Nicholas’s chin. “No second thoughts plaguing the wee hours?”

  “What am I, a punching bag at Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Salon?” Rubbing his jaw, Nicholas grimaced. “Since when did we become so chummy?”

  “Did you or did you not ask us to help you catch a reluctant bride?” When Nicholas nodded the affirmative, His Grace chuckled and waggled his brows. “Then we have surpassed the bonds of friendship and charged, headlong, into familial intimacy, as nothing unites men more than the dreaded parson’s noose.”

  “Good afternoon, brothers.” Jason Collingwood, another of the invitees strolled into the study, spotted Nicholas, and halted. “Lord Waddlington.” He opened his mouth but said nothing, and in silence Nicholas vowed to endure the reaction with aplomb.

  “I know it is strange, but I gather you received my note.” Dalton walked to a side table, poured four glasses of brandy, and served the guests. “So there will be no bloodshed, and you will not kill Waddlington.”

  “Well you are no fun.” Collingwood cast a wary glance, and Nicholas tugged on his cravat. “Then again, I am the last person to sit in judgment of another, as I have made my share of mistakes.”

  “That is putting mildly.” Blake snorted. “If memory serves, you swept the pool with Alex.”

  “You are one to talk.” Jason tapped a finger to his cheek. “Are you not the same ignorant arse who dared declare of Lenore, ‘her consent is of no consequence, as she will marry me because I say so,’ and then promptly fell flat on your face when she refused you?”

  As another tempest brewed in the study, Nicholas winced and stepped clear of the line of fire.

  “Lenore did not refuse me.” The duke narrowed his stare. “She simply delayed her acceptance.”

  Jason and Dalton burst into laughter.

  As the men traded barbs, neither flippant nor serious, Nicholas drew a narrow box from his coat pocket, lifted the lid, and gazed upon the smooth red coral necklace he gifted Almira during their engagement. A disreputable shopkeeper contacted Nicholas prior to his departure from London, and his heart plummeted when he discovered she sold the last remnant of their young love.

  “That is the fifth time you have studied the bauble, since we broke our fast.” Dalton peered at the trinket. “What is the significance?”

  “I gave this to Mira on her thirteenth birthday, with a pledge of eternal devotion, which she returned, so I am puzzled by her actions.” Toying with the gold clasp, he wondered how she could part with the cherished item. “What concerns me are the circumstances surrounding her decision to barter what I consider a priceless keepsake, as I shudder to fathom what she endures, even now.”

  “I think the implication obvious.” Collingwood snorted. “Either Lady Almira wants nothing to do with you, or her financial situation is far worse than you realize.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Or both.”

  “You know you really are smarter than you look.” His Grace elbowed the big blonde sea captain in the ribs. “Can you not see the man is distressed over the mess he prepares to confront, with little hope for success? Must you add to his discomfit?”

  “Well I am certain that just inspired confidence.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Blake, trust me, you provide ample proof that rank does not equate intelligence.”

  “Now see here.” The duke squared his shoulders, and Nicholas winced.

  “Should we prepare the pistols?” He retreated to the relative safety behind a Hepplewhite chair, as Jason and Blake hurled a series of insults. “Or will they settle their argument with fisticuffs?”

  “That sort of banter is customary between those two, almost like a mating ritual in which they are compelled to engage before they can enjoy each other’s company.” Shaking his head, Dalton chuckled. “You will accustom yourself to it.”

  “Will I?” As Nicholas assessed the confrontation, which would have brought lesser men to their knees, he realized Dalton did not underestimate the verbal jousting. The duo cast aspersions on everything from sailing ability to the length of their Jolly Roger, sprinkled with laughter, which evidenced deep-rooted familial bonds unlike any Nicholas had ever known. “And I thought our affiliation ended, once I fulfilled my part of the bargain.”

  “You must be joking.” Without missing a beat, Dalton whistled. “Brothers, if you damage my wife’s portrait, you will both sleep in the stables with the other animals, as it took the artist three attempts to capture her inner fire.”

  “He started it.” Blake shoved Jason and then leveled a lethal stare on Nicholas. “And if I am to reduce myself to the role of matchmaking mama, for however brief, you shall maintain our newfound acquaintance and withstand suitable recompense in the form of good-natured badgering.”

  “Indeed, whether or not you appreciate it, you are part of the family through our shared pain, which binds us forever.” Jason scowled. “Never in all my years of service in the Navy did I ever anticipate my military skills being engaged as a romantic intermediary, and if this gets out, I am finished in the seafaring circles, so you are sworn to secrecy.”

  “I concur with Collingwood, as I cannot afford to have my reputation as a gentleman undermined.” The duke of Rylan downed the last of his brandy and rubbed the back of his neck. “If you tell anyone of our involvement in your scheme, I will bury you beside your father.”

  “Now you know you are unequivocally one of us, as he only threatens close relations.” Collingwood snickered. “Your little endeavor may have cost you more than you were prepared to cede, Waddlington.”

  “Please, do not call me that, as I know not if His Majesty will permit me to retain the title, and I never wanted it.” In fact, his status as firstborn held only a single lure. “All I ever wanted was Mira.”

  “And you honestly believe she covets the same thing?” Jason glanced at Blake and then Dalton. “Forgive my bluntness, but I heard the rumors. It is suggested that Moreton passed her off to friends and business associates.”

  “Do not speak to me of idle gossip spread by those with naught better to do than besmirch a gentlewoman whose sole crime is widowhood. And what husband would use his wife thus?” Yes, he confronted the talk about town, and he engaged in questionable behavior with Mira, after Moreton’s death, but Nicholas had his reasons for doing so. “You know what becomes of widows, espec
ially the young ones, in society.”

  “But what of the muddle you enacted with Lady Almira and Dalton, which left the three of you mired in scandal?” As usual, His Grace did not dissemble. “She is ruined because of your lack of discretion and judgment.”

  “And you think I do not know that?” That was the problem, because Nicholas had yet to secure her forgiveness. “After making every possible attempt at reconciliation, I supposed I should accept defeat. When I found my brother’s letters to my father, I thought fate gifted me an opportunity to do the right thing, by you and Almira, but believe me when I say I would give anything to go back to that wretched day and fight to my last breath for a different outcome.”

  “What will you do if the whispers are true?” Despite Dalton’s query, Nicholas refused to reflect on the prospect. “Can you overlook her past, in order to marry her?”

  “I know my Mira, and regardless of what Moreton may or may not have done to her, my sweet girl remains, and I will find a way to reach her.” In desperate need of distraction, he returned to the large window and noted the arrival of a large black traveling carriage sans a coat of arms, and his blood ran cold. “Almira is here.”

  Checking his attire, he brushed a speck of lint from his sleeve and tugged on his cravat. Following in his host’s wake, Nicholas lurked in the shadows, as Mira descended the elegant rig he hired to convey her to Portsea Island. The footmen carried in her trunks, and her old lady’s maid Mildred admonished a servant who dropped a bag.

  “Your Grace.” The consummate noblewoman, Mira curtseyed. “I was so honored to receive your invitation to spend the holidays with your family.” Then she peered at Daphne, and Nicholas braced for a wicked row, as the two shared a notorious history. “Mrs. Randolph, I cannot adequately convey my gratitude for your hospitality.”

  “Welcome to Courtenay Hall, Lady Moreton.” The genial host, Daphne took Almira by the hand and led her into the foyer. “Of course, you remember His Grace and Sir Jason Collingwood. Lady Alex naps in her room, as she is increasing and needs rest, but she will join our party, later.”

  “How exciting.” Mira dipped her chin and doffed her outwear. “I look forward to forming an acquaintance with everyone, as we celebrate the holidays.”

  Standing tall, Nicholas fought to master his nerves, as he feared he might swoon. As the small party shared polite conversation, he sought an opportune moment to insert himself into the dialogue. But years of separation and frustration combined to manifest a seemingly impenetrable barrier, and he second-guessed everything about his plan.

  When Daphne approached, he snapped to attention and vowed to endure Almira’s response. “And I believe you know Lord Waddlington.”

  Holding his breath, he uttered a silent prayer, as Almira noted his presence, stiffened her spine, and compressed her lips.

  “You.”

  T

  In a single fragment in time, the universe aligned, the stars shifted, and the forces of nature conspired against Almira to spoil what should have been a triumphant return to society. In the blink of an eye, the fog lifted, and she deciphered the unveiled purpose of her invitation. Well she would not yield without a fight or, at the very least, dictating terms.

  “While I do not wish to be rude, I wonder if I may have a word, in private, with Lord Waddlington?” As she bolstered her defenses, she gazed at Daphne. “If it is not too much trouble?”

  “It is none, at all. If you will follow me.” Mrs. Randolph led Almira down a side corridor of the luxuriously appointed home bedecked in various shades of blue trimmed in old gold. “You may avail yourself of my husband’s study, and we will await you in the drawing room, for refreshments.”

  “Thank you.” In the elementally male domain, which boasted wall coverings of leather and rich navy velvet drapes, Almira assumed a position of dominance before the hearth. The massive window afforded a spectacular view of the approach to Courtenay Hall, as well as the Channel, and she might have enjoyed the majestic landscape under different circumstances. When the soft click of the latch signaled the hostess’s departure, she whirled about and faced her nemesis. “How dare you bring me here to act as your personal escort, and I refuse to comply.”

  “Almira, calm yourself, as you misinterpret my intentions, which I assure you are honorable.” Still as handsome as the day he abandoned her to Lord Moreton, Nicholas could slay a thousand women with his patrician features, thick brown hair, pale blue eyes, and chiseled cheekbones, as he splayed his hands in supplication. “If you will hear me out, instead of leaping to unsupported conclusions woven from whole cloth, which only insult you, I can spare us both a world of hurt.”

  “Why should I listen to anything you have to say?” In a flash, she revisited salacious memories, bodies twining and grinding, and the subsequent cold emptiness when he departed her bed, and anger sparked anew. “You speak to me of honorable intentions, when you have never treated me thus. Give me one reason to remain in this house another instant, as my every instinct presses me to return to London.”

  “How is this for justification?” Nicholas neared, and his signature sandalwood scent tickled her nose. “Because I wish to marry you.”

  The mantel clock counted the passage of time, as her ears rang with shock. In her chest, her heart hammered a rapid beat, and her knees buckled. When he grasped her about the waist and offered support, she shoved free and sheltered behind the massive, hand-tooled desk.

  “Are you mad?” The young girl in her sang the chorus from Handel’s Hallelujah, but the fallen woman exercised restraint. Cloaked in the invisible armor of a pragmatist, she studied the damask pattern on the daybed. “Are we not a little old for fairy tales, Nicholas? Our engagement ended long ago, and I am far from the virgin debutante you professed to love. Let me assure you, she met a painful demise, after a healthy dose of reality, and what you see is a shell of my former self.”

  “I do not believe you, as your inherent sweetness betrays you, even now.” When she met his gaze, he arched a brow. “You never could fool me, Mira. Whatever happened with Moreton, it is in the past. He is gone, along with my father, and nothing remains to keep us apart, except your stubborn refusal to forgive my slight, which was born of jealousy and immaturity.” With a look of steely determination, he rounded the desk and backed her into a corner. Palms planted on her hips, he rested his forehead to hers and sighed. “Oh, love me, Mira. Love me, as you did once.”

  And then he kissed her.

  In all the licentious liaisons in which they engaged since Lodge’s death, Nicholas had never kissed her. Instead, he took what he wanted, a quick release, and abandoned her to an empty bed and a cold pillow, and that hurt worse than her husband’s cruelty, because she never stopped loving her first fiancé. Yet, despite everything that happened, when their lips met after so many years, it was as though they had never separated.

  The walls crumbled about her, the floor seemed to pitch and roll, and passion erupted, as he pulled her into his unfailing embrace. Searing a path from her head to her toes, a hunger like no other exploded beneath her flesh, and she scored her nails to the nape of his neck, as she mingled her tongue with his and moaned. To her delight, Nicholas angled his head and deepened the connection, as he walked his fingers to the swell of her derrière, and she broke their contact.

  “This is wrong.” She pushed free and wiped her mouth. “We cannot turn back the clock and undo what has been done.”

  “But we can begin anew, my dear.” He followed her to the hearth. “If you give us a chance, we can start over, and leave the past behind.”

  “You make it sound so simple, when you know naught of my experiences.” And if he knew the whole horrible truth, he would spurn her, once and for all, and that would destroy her. “We are not children, Nicholas. We are grown adults, and it is pointless to try and recapture something that, if we are honest with each other, never really existed. It was a dream, a lark from a bygone era that was never going to succeed, and what you hope to recov
er is but a myth.”

  “But I am not a myth. I am real life, flesh and blood.” Clutching her wrist, he pressed her palm to his chest. “Do you feel that?” When she nodded, he smiled. “It beats for you, Mira. It always has. While I know I made mistakes, and I did not treat you as I should have, after Moreton died, I am asking you to take a leap of faith with me.”

  “So you would take two disreputable people mired in scandals and scorned by society and combine us into one large catastrophe?” The prospect inspired a shiver of dread. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “To the devil with the ton, and anyone who dares frown upon us.” If only he displayed such fortitude the day her father reneged on the marriage contracts. “Does their good opinion matter, in the grand scheme, if we are together?”

  “But you make no sense, as you retain your title, thus you must navigate the Season, whereas I know no such obligation and would bring only shame upon the earldom.” She withdrew to stand by the window. Outside, the snow blanketed the world in a thick coating of ice every bit as frigid as the chill encasing her heart. “And it is too late for us, as I put my townhome on the market, because I intend to abandon London, for good.”

  “How fortunate, because if you wed me, you will have no need of your residence.” How his boyish optimism harkened to fonder days, but she could not risk another disappointment. “As for the rank, the duke of Rylan believes His Majesty will revoke the earldom, but I will maintain the estates and fortune, so we will not be paupers. And that will have no impact on your title as dowager.”

  “Except I shall discard the privilege, when I move to the country, as I prefer a life of quiet anonymity.” A poor sea gull fought the wind, in a stark representation of her personal battle, and she prayed the creature found a safe haven. “I long for the provincial existence in a tiny town, where I might blend into the background.”

  “What of your family?” In an achingly familiar demonstration of affection, he traced the crest of her ear with a finger. “Will they not offer you shelter?”