Kissed at Christmas

by Christina McKnight

  They emerged from the hedgerow maze and found themselves near the kitchens. In addition to the main kitchens, the castle had an outside building that had been used hundreds of years ago, to prevent fire from reaching the main keep. Delicious aromas scented the air, luring them closer.

  “Is that gingerbread?” Marjorie wondered aloud, eyeing the kitchen.

  A boyish smile slid over William’s face. “I, for one, am starving. We should go and find out what it is. And better, if they have any scraps to share.”

  Chapter 3

  They hurried toward the outbuilding, which was constructed of rough limestone. Smoke swirled from the brick chimney, and her stomach rumbled when they drew closer. “I’m hungry enough to eat the house,” Marjorie admitted.

  Sir William opened the door for her, and the heat from the kitchen hearth was a blessed relief. Marjorie froze at the sight of food before them, and it was all she could do not to throw herself at the table of sweets. Several layer cakes were filled with dried fruit and soaked in brandy. The cook, Mrs. Woodbead, had also made dozens of mince pies, sugared almonds, and gingerbread dotted with currants.

  Sir William cast a sidelong glance at the table. “This gingerbread appears slightly burned.”

  Marjorie understood exactly what he was implying. “Cook cannot serve that at the wedding feast. It would be a bad reflection of her skills.” She glanced around and saw no one. And truthfully, she was the daughter of Lord Banfield. It was not as if she couldn’t help herself to the gingerbread, since she lived here.

  She found a wooden spoon and handed it to Sir William and then chose another for herself. There was a small container of clotted cream, and she offered it to him. “Would you like cream with your gingerbread?”

  “Pour it over the entire cake,” he suggested.

  She did, never minding that the cake was still warm. They pulled up stools beside the kitchen table and devoured the gingerbread with their spoons. For a time, it was as if they were children, sneaking sweets when no one was around. The cream was delicious upon the hot spiced gingerbread cake, and she took an enormous spoonful.

  “I don’t care that it’s burned. I do love this.” She wiped at a bit of the cream on her lip, smiling at him.

  Sir William slid his spoon into the gingerbread and devoured his portion. “You like dessert, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Very much, though I am not supposed to have it very often.”

  He shrugged. “There’s no harm in enjoying cake, is there?”

  “There was a time when I was not permitted to have it at all,” she confessed.

  In answer, he pushed a generous spoonful toward her. “Did your parents forbid it?”

  “No, it was…someone else.” She wasn’t at all certain she wanted to admit the truth to Sir William, though many people knew she had been engaged to Viscount Dewbury. To distract herself, she ate the gingerbread.

  He frowned, as if trying to discern the truth. His blue eyes seemed to drink in her features, and her face warmed with a sudden flush. She realized that she was enjoying herself in his presence.

  She liked Sir William very much—perhaps too much. It was better not to let her feelings wander past friendship. Her sisters would be married tomorrow, and he would leave soon afterward. The thought was strangely disturbing. It shouldn’t matter, and yet…it did somehow. If she didn’t gather command of her senses, she might make an idiot of herself.

  Like all men, he will tell you what to do. He will seize control of your life, and you will have no freedom of your own. She had to recognize the risks and protect herself from falling into the trap of romance.

  “You’re staring at me,” he remarked.

  “I’m sorry.” She grasped for an excuse and saw a bit of cream on his upper lip. “You have something on your mouth, just there.”

  His expression turned to one of interest. He reached for her ungloved hand and drew it toward his face. “Show me.”

  His cheek was warm beneath her palm and clean-shaven. She was fascinated by the hard planes of his face and traced the edge of his jaw, before wiping at an imaginary place above his mouth. “I think that’s it.”

  Her voice came out as a whisper, and he caught her hand and held it to his face. For a moment, she remained frozen, knowing she should pull away—and yet not wanting to.

  “I think you have something on your mouth as well.” He reached out and cupped her face in his hands. His thumb stroked down the edge of her cheek, ending at her mouth.

  She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Her heart was pounding, and he gave her every opportunity to pull back before he leaned in to kiss her.

  His mouth was warm, an offering that slid past the edges of friendship, inviting her toward something more. She tasted the gingerbread upon his mouth, and it felt as if he were devouring her. Her body warmed to his, and she surrendered to the kiss, despite her own inhibitions.

  Don’t do this, her mind warned.

  But her body ignored common sense, and she realized that she was kissing him back. It was wrong to indulge in this moment, but a part of her reveled in the unexpected affection.

  A blast of frigid air made her break away from him, shocking her back into reality. The kitchen door was flung open, and a moment later, she heard a female voice screech, “Who is eating my cakes?”

  Marjorie turned and saw an older woman with gray hair, wearing a black dress. She had never seen the servant before. “Who are you?”

  “I am Mrs. Hechs. I was hired to help the cook with all the food for the wedding feast.” She hobbled toward them and placed her hands akimbo. “Were you that hungry, dear?”

  She spoke the word dear in the same tone as if calling her a horrid creature. But Marjorie refused to be cowed. “The gingerbread cake was burned, and we were hungry. It wasn’t fit to serve to anyone.”

  Her words seemed to incite a vicious anger in the older woman. Mrs. Hechs glared at her as if she wanted to set her on fire. Instead, she held her tongue and turned back to Sir William.

  “That cake was for the wedding tomorrow,” she said coolly. “Though I see you could stand to be fattened up, sir. You look as if your family denied you any food.”

  The woman’s acerbic nature startled Marjorie. She was about to chide the woman, but William interrupted, “I assure you, they did not.” Then he continued, attempting to soften her temper. “The cake was delicious, however. My compliments on your cooking.” It was clear he was trying to soften the woman’s anger, and it seemed to work.

  Mrs. Hechs smiled at him. “I have other cakes and a boiled pudding with a delicious brandy sauce you might enjoy,” she said, in an inviting tone. “They are stored in the pantry for now. Would you like to see them?”

  Was the cook flirting with him? Marjorie’s gaze narrowed, but she found her own amusement in Sir William’s discomfort.

  “I think it’s time that I returned to the house. But thank you.”

  “Oh, but I must insist.” She reached out to touch his hand, but William flinched and backed away. “At least come inside and tell me what you think of the sweets.” The old woman opened the pantry door and beamed at him.

  “Another time, perhaps, Mrs. Hechs.”

  The cook batted her lashes. “Do you know, you are quite a handsome man. If I were twenty years younger, I could eat you up.”

  It was all Marjorie could do not to laugh. William looked as if he were trying to maintain a straight face, but his eyes held horror.

  “Come inside and have a taste,” she invited. Marjorie followed, but a sharp look from Mrs. Hechs reminded her that she was not invited to partake in the sweets. Which was odd, really, since her father paid the woman’s wages. Instead, Marjorie remained at the doorway of the pantry, a slight smile on her face. Sir William was clearly cornered, though he tried to make polite compliments about the boiled pudding with the holly sprig on top.

  “Shouldn’t you be preparing a tray for tea?” Marjorie suggested. “We have dozens of hungry guests.
Sir William and I can leave you to it.”

  It was clear that Mrs. Hechs did not want to leave. She shot the pair of them a look and then wiped her hands on her apron and seized a tray containing four spice cakes. “Do not eat anything else until I return,” she warned.

  When the old woman had gone, Sir William asked, “Was it me, or did her behavior seem strange somehow?”

  Marjorie shook her head. “I have no idea. Don’t pay her any heed.” But she thought of mentioning the new cook’s behavior to her mother. It was quite strange indeed. And where was Mrs. Woodbead?

  Sir William reached toward one of the trays and picked up a sugared plum. “I am sorry if I overstepped earlier, when I kissed you. It was an impulse.”

  Marjorie’s cheeks burned, and she took another step into the pantry, feeling uncertain about what to say. Should she be honest? Should she tell him never to do it again? She could hardly find any words at all to speak. The kiss had startled her, but she had enjoyed it. In fact, she rather wanted to be kissed again—especially since she might not see him again after he departed. Without knowing why, she lifted her chin and murmured, “I am not sorry.”

  She couldn’t understand the sudden yearning within her. William drew closer, and she backed into one of the shelves. He rested both hands on the shelf behind her, and she could feel the length of his body pressed close. “I liked kissing you, too. You are a beautiful woman, Lady Marjorie.”

  “I shouldn’t be here with you,” she murmured. “Neither of us is looking for marriage.”

  But her hands moved up to rest upon his cravat. It was the only invitation he needed, and this time, he claimed her mouth with a reckless abandon. He kissed her as if he wanted no other woman in the world, and she yielded to him, reveling in the fire that rose between them. She wound her arms around his neck and surrendered to the kiss. His tongue slid inside, and she moaned, feeling the echo of sensation between her thighs. Never before had she felt such desire—she hadn’t known it existed. Lord Dewbury had only kissed her hand, and even then, it had evoked no reaction at all.

  With William, the kiss was like a forbidden sweet—and she enjoyed it without fearing the consequences.

  His mouth moved from her lips to her cheek, nibbling at her neck. “You’re making me lose myself. And I find that I don’t care.”

  Shivers erupted across her skin, and her breasts tightened against her chemise. Her body was so sensitive to his touch, she felt as if she were taut with need.

  “I’ve never been kissed like this before,” she admitted. “It’s almost frightening.”

  At that, he pulled back, nipping at her lips one last time. “That wasn’t my intention.” He stepped back and then drew her out of the pantry.

  A sudden breeze swept into the kitchen, and Marjorie felt the chill beneath her red cloak, freezing the very air. She tensed, for in the past, a sudden gust of frigid air meant that one of the castle ghosts was nearby. But this time, she could see nothing.

  “We should go back inside the castle,” she told him.

  William was staring at something behind her, and his own expression transformed. “I agree.”

  She took his arm and started to walk toward the door, but he paused a moment. “Wait, Lady Marjorie.”

  The air was so frigid, she already knew what he was seeing—one of the ghosts. “We have to leave, Sir William. It’s so cold in here.”

  But the moment she took a step forward, an unseen presence slammed against her shoulders. It was like a wall of ice throwing her backwards, and she gasped as she lost her balance. She was falling toward the kitchen hearth, where the fire burned brightly. Marjorie tried to right herself, but the ghostly presence shoved her back. She nearly tumbled into the fire, but William seized her waist and jerked her back again.

  And then she saw Mrs. Hechs, who had returned to the threshold.

  “Were you trying to eat my cakes again?” The woman’s tone was menacing, and she advanced toward them. Her voice grew louder, and in that moment, she reminded Marjorie of a witch. “I told you not to touch them! Get away!” She rose from the ground, and her features grew more transparent.

  There was a young maid standing at the door behind her. Sir William caught sight of her and demanded, “Fetch Lord Snowingham. Now!”

  The girl dropped her tray, fleeing the kitchen. More than anything, Marjorie wished she could do the same, but it was all she could do to fight against the invisible hands pushing her backwards. Now, it was becoming clear—Mrs. Hechs was not, in fact, an extra cook hired to help with preparing food for her sisters’ weddings. She was something far worse—a castle ghost with the power to cause true mischief.

  And now, she understood why Sir William had summoned Lord Snowingham. There were rumors that Lord Snow possessed the power to repel ghosts because of an ancient Viking ring he had inherited. Some had claimed that the Grimstone ruby glowed in the presence of spirits. She didn’t know if that was true or not, but any help at all was welcome now. She met William’s gaze, and there was a silent exchange between them. “We will leave now, Mrs. Hechs. I am sorry we ate your gingerbread cake.”

  “You won’t be going anywhere!” the ghost shrieked, and Marjorie ducked when one of the pans came flying toward her head.

  William seized a cast iron skillet and used it as a shield, taking Marjorie by the hand. Mrs. Hechs grew enraged, and another frigid blast of air knocked Marjorie to the ground. Each time she tried to stand, the ghost shoved her closer to the hearth fire. Sir William dropped the skillet and helped her to stand, gripping her hand tightly. “Let’s go.”

  Marjorie felt the frigid air swirling around them, but William used his strength to keep her away from the fire. He took one step toward the door, then another. Behind them, the flames rose hotter, as if Mrs. Hechs were stoking them.

  Marjorie held on tighter to Sir William, as if to hold back the ghost’s power. When another gust of frigid air knocked against them, Sir William lost his balance. Marjorie fell on the floor and seized a linen towel, using it to pick up a hot poker near the hearth. No longer would she remain this ghost’s victim—not now. She used both hands to wield it against Mrs. Hechs.

  “I will not be threatened in my father’s house,” she insisted. “Ghost or not.” She wasn’t entirely certain what she would do with the hot poker, but as she neared Mrs. Hechs, steam rose within the air, and hot water dripped down the iron rod. The ghost backed away from the fiery poker, and William seized the shovel beside the hearth, joining her in the fight. They had nearly reached the doorway when suddenly, there came a loud crack of thunder and the ghost abruptly vanished. Lord Snowingham stood a few feet away, shadowed by the terrified maid.

  His gaze turned somber, and he asked, “Are you all right, Lady Marjorie? And you, Sir William?”

  She nodded. “I’ve never seen that ghost before. She was pretending to be the cook.”

  Lord Snowingham rubbed at the glowing ruby ring upon his right index finger. Marjorie hadn’t truly believed that the Grimstone could drive away ghosts…until now.

  Snowingham continued, “The kitchen maid came to fetch me when she saw—”

  “—Mrs. Hechs, yes,” Marjorie finished. “Thank goodness she’s gone.” Her heart was still pounding from the encounter, and she was grateful that the earl had come.

  “I am glad you are unharmed,” Snowingham finished. “What of you, Sir William?”

  He set down the shovel and let out a slow breath. “I never really believed in ghosts before. But this castle is quite…unusual, I must say.”

  “You look as if you could use a brandy,” the earl remarked. “Shall we go?”

  Marjorie glanced behind her and took one of the boiled puddings soaked in brandy, placing it on a small plate. Since her mother would never permit a lady to indulge in spirits, it would have to do. Then she located her basket of greenery and looped it over her right arm.

  Sir William helped her with the small plate. “I believe we should all share the pudding, along
with some brandy. It has been a terrible afternoon, don’t you think?”

  Not as terrible as it could have been, had she been alone in the kitchens. They continued walking toward the castle, and along the way, Marjorie spied a handful of holly berries, leading toward one of the castle doors.

  “Did you drop those?” Sir William inquired.

  “No. And after what we’ve just endured, I would suggest that we don’t follow that pathway.” She smiled and they returned to the stairs leading to the back door. From behind her, there came a frigid gust of wind, as if another ghost was trailing them.

  Marjorie stiffened her shoulders and ignored it, refusing to look back.

  William was only too glad to get away from the kitchen, in search of a quiet room and a brandy. When they entered the castle, Lord Snowingham was about to join them in the parlor, when he suddenly caught sight of Marjorie’s sister, Rose. “Forgive me, but I suddenly remembered a prior engagement.”

  Marjorie’s face stiffened, but she murmured a polite farewell. Once he had left, William asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “No, not really. But did you see his face?” She strode into the sitting room, and set the pudding down upon a small table. Then she sank into a chair and rang for a servant. “He is fascinated by my sister. I cannot believe it.”

  “Didn’t they meet only a few days ago?” William kept his tone relaxed, but his own mood tightened. He had shielded his emotions, revealing no response to the past hour. Yet inwardly, he’d been shaken by what he had witnessed. He had never seen a ghost before in his life, much less one with the power to do harm.

  Even more unnerving was his reaction to the danger. He had fought to save Marjorie, and even now, energy coursed through his veins. He felt the need to release the tension in some way, but there was no means to do so. Sometimes, he went riding when he was restless, but there were far too many guests to make that possible.