Kissed at Christmas

by Christina McKnight

  “I cannot imagine falling in love with someone I only just met,” she remarked. When the footman arrived, she ordered brandy for William and tea for herself. Then she thought a moment and stood from her chair. “I wonder if they are still there. Perhaps Rose might wish to join us.” She went to stand at the door, and William joined her, peering over her shoulder. At the end of the hall, Lady Rose smiled up at Lord Snow, and he held her hands in his.

  “He looks quite taken with her.” William stood so close to Marjorie, he could smell the scent of flowers in her hair, and the barest hint of gingerbread. Her back was pressed to him, and he found himself wanting to pull her into his arms and kiss her again. It was as if he were caught under an enchantment, needing to taste her lips again. If this was indeed a spell, he wasn’t certain if he wanted anyone to break it.

  “He does,” Marjorie lamented.

  “Why does that upset you? Don’t you want your sister to be happy?”

  “I do.” But her voice sounded sad. He waited for her to elaborate, and she added, “I’m just a selfish woman who doesn’t want to be left alone. Tamsyn and Morgan are getting married. And now Rose and Gwyn are husband-hunting. I know it’s terrible of me, but it feels as if our family is breaking apart.”

  “It might not be as bad as you think.” It was the only thing he could think of to say, but he knew all about relationships falling into pieces.

  Marjorie turned abruptly, and he realized he had his arms around her. She cleared her throat, and he released her immediately. “Sorry.”

  Two footmen arrived with tea and brandy, along with a second plate and two silver forks for the pudding. “Shall I send for your mother, Lady Marjorie?” He gave a pointed glance at William in a reminder that they both needed a chaperone.

  “No, she will be immersed in wedding plans. Ask Lady Octavia if she will come to chaperone,” she countered. “And bring another fork for her, in case she wishes to share the pudding.”

  After the two footmen had left, William regarded her. “Are you afraid of others talking about us?”

  Marjorie shook her head, but he didn’t miss the blush on her cheeks. “We won’t be left alone for very long. And besides that, anyone could walk in. There’s nothing wrong with having tea.”

  He lowered his voice. “But when our chaperone arrives, I won’t be able to kiss you the way I want to.”

  Her face turned scarlet, and she took a fork from the tray and dug it into the pudding as a distraction. “We won’t speak of that again. It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “But it did. And can you deny that you enjoyed it?”

  She ate a bite of the pudding to avoid answering his question. “Today was a trying day, one that I still don’t understand. What happened in the kitchens with that ghost was awful, and I don’t want to think of it.”

  He passed the brandy to her, offering to share the drink. Marjorie glanced around and then took the glass, taking the tiniest sip. She winced and took a breath. “Goodness, that is strong.”

  He took the glass back, swallowing more brandy without taking his eyes off her. She slid the fork into her mouth and closed her eyes again while she chewed. Whenever she ate sweets, Marjorie looked like a woman about to tumble into a lover’s arms.

  “Are your sisters eager to be married?” he asked.

  Marjorie’s face softened. “Both Tamsyn and Morgan love their husbands to be. I am happy for both of them.”

  “But you still have no wish to marry?” He wondered if some gentleman had broken her heart years ago.

  She shook her head. “I have no wish to be imprisoned within matrimony. Not when it means becoming a man’s puppet, where he tries to control my every word and deed.”

  It was a strange thing to say, but before he could ask her more, she gave a rueful smile. “As I told you earlier, I would marry cake, if I could.” She took another bite, and then poured herself tea. “To be honest, I know that most men want control of my dowry and not much else.”

  She cast a sidelong glance at him, but William said nothing. He only had a lesser title, and likely she believed he was a fortune hunter like other gentlemen. Most women overlooked him for that reason, never dreaming that he had wealth of his own. Laurie had been the exception, until she had changed her mind on their wedding day.

  He reached for his own fork and dug into the pudding. The heavy scent of spices, mingled with rum and dried fruit, was intoxicating. After the first bite, he took another, larger portion.

  “Don’t eat it all,” Marjorie warned. “Save some for me.”

  He rather liked a challenge, so he reached with his fork, only to be blocked by Marjorie’s fork. A sly smile came over her face, and she held it like a rapier. “En garde.”

  “Sword fighting with a fork, Lady Marjorie?”

  “I’m merely protecting my best interests.” She clanged her silver fork against his, and he parried the blow with his own, biting back a laugh. Marjorie was amusing in a way he’d never expected, and their forks clashed, over and over. When at last she locked forks with his, he reached out with his other hand and broke off a hunk of the pudding.

  “Cheating knave,” she accused.

  He bit off a piece of the pudding and then reached out to put the rest in her mouth. “I’ll share.” His thumb brushed against her silken lips, and she suddenly went quite still.

  Though she ate the pudding, her brown eyes held uncertainty. William cupped her cheek, tracing the delicate line of her jaw. Those lips tempted him to pull her nearer, to taste her once more.

  And though he knew it was too forward, he gave in to the urge.

  He captured her mouth, kissing her deeply. There was something about Lady Marjorie that made it impossible to stop with only a kiss. He didn’t care about the consequences just now, only enjoying the softness of her mouth and her hands resting upon his shoulders.

  He pulled back, wondering if she felt the same way he did. Her eyes were bright, and her lips red. And yet she wasn’t pushing him away.

  “Sir William, we shouldn’t—” Marjorie began.

  He ignored her and kissed her again, this time sliding his tongue against the seam of her lips. She yielded to him, welcoming him inside. There was the tentative answer of her own tongue, and she wound her arms around his neck.

  Heat roared through him. The very idea of this liaison was forbidden, but he craved her deeply.

  A slight gasp interrupted the kiss, and he broke away, only to see Ariadne Cushing standing at the door. Her face had gone white, and she demanded, “Were you laughing at me, all this time?”

  “Ariadne, no. I’m sorry—this isn’t what you think. We didn’t mean to—” Marjorie stood, clutching her hands together, her expression pained. “No one was laughing at you.”

  “You said you would help me, Cousin Marjorie. But now, I think both of you were scheming, only to make a fool of me.” The young woman’s face held humiliation, and she closed her eyes. “I suppose it serves me right to think that any man would want someone like me.”

  “You’re wrong,” Marjorie insisted. “And I am sorry for this. I never meant for it to happen.”

  “Your footman asked me to come as a chaperone, since Lady Octavia was not here. And then I find you kissing the man you were trying to match with me?” She shook her head and took a step backward. “I never thought you would behave in such a despicable way, Marjorie. I thought you would help me, not betray me.”

  William didn’t want to stand by and say nothing, so he intervened, “I am sorry for all of this, Miss Cushing. But I do not think we would have been suited to one another, and I blame myself for not being honest from the first. If you would prefer an introduction to another gentleman, I could try to help.”

  “The last thing I want is help from either one of you,” she fired back before she strode out of the room.

  Marjorie’s face was pale, and she kept her hands clenched together. “I never meant to hurt her like this.”

  He didn’t know what to
say or do, for he was responsible for embarrassing the young woman when he hadn’t meant to. “There may be a few of my friends who might be interested in speaking with her.”

  She pushed aside her teacup. “I need to apologize to her. I feel terrible that this happened.”

  He disagreed and took her hand. “I don’t feel terrible for kissing you, Lady Marjorie.” To the contrary, he had enjoyed being with her.

  A broken smile twisted her face. “But where can it lead? Neither of us wants marriage.” She stood from her chair and faced him. “I think it’s best if we end it right now and remain only friends, Sir William.”

  The sadness in her eyes took him aback, for her mood seemed to belie her words. But there was nothing more to say, was there?

  Without waiting for a reply, she walked out of the room.

  Chapter 4

  It was the morning of her sisters’ weddings, and Marjorie had barely slept at all. Castle Keyvnor had been decorated beautifully, with swags of greenery and green wreaths on every door. Cheerful red and white ribbons were hung here and there, and holly branches adorned the fireplace mantel. Marjorie also spied sprigs of mistletoe in hidden corners.

  Which was probably Gwyn’s doing, for her sister was a true romantic.

  After she counted the fifth sprig, a blush spread over her cheeks. The very thought of kissing turned her insides into custard. How could she have ever thought Sir William was a boring, quiet man? His kisses had turned her inside out, and she secretly craved more.

  She wore a light green gown trimmed with lace, and her maid had arranged a cluster of holly in her hair, the thorns shielded by red ribbons. Gwyn had arranged for the decoration, insisting that she wear it for the wedding.

  Her sisters were almost giddy with joy this morning, and a knot formed in her stomach. They both acted like women in love, and soon enough, Marjorie would be left alone. The thought evoked an ache in her heart, for she could not imagine an empty household without her sisters.

  A few guests had arrived only this morning, just in time for the wedding. Her mother had greeted them, but Marjorie had paid little attention to the newcomers.

  Until she heard Ariadne approaching. She was about to apologize, when her cousin interrupted. “Did you know that Sir William’s fiancée is here?”

  She frowned, not understanding. “He isn’t engaged to anyone, Ariadne.”

  Her cousin’s face tightened. “Oh, but he was last Christmas. And she’s here now. Just look.”

  Marjorie wasn’t certain who Ariadne was talking about, but she turned toward the group of guests and saw a beautiful blond-haired woman wearing a dress the color of a delicate pink rose. The wedding had not yet begun, and the woman crossed through the dozens of guests until she stood before Sir William.

  The emotions on his face shifted from shock, to longing, to anger. But there was no surprise on his face, and when the woman reached out to touch his arm, he didn’t pull away.

  Marjorie felt as if she’d taken a fist to the gut. Sir William had said that he didn’t want to be married, but he had never mentioned that he had once been engaged. She should have expected it.

  And if it had happened during Christmas last year, it explained his reasons for not liking the holiday. She pushed back the emotions rising within her and murmured to Ariadne, “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Laurie Kent. And from what I understand, she left him because she didn’t want to marry a pauper.” Ariadne’s anger seemed to soften, and she let out a sigh. “I suppose it’s better that Sir William didn’t want someone like me. And now that Miss Kent has returned…” She let her words trail off, knowing that Marjorie would predict her meaning.

  Her gaze sharpened upon them, and she suppressed the unwanted flare of jealousy. It shouldn’t matter if he saw Miss Kent or even if he reunited with the woman he had once loved. Why should she care if he did? They were friends, nothing more. Marjorie tried to tell herself that he could do as he pleased, but inwardly, she felt an unexpected sense of loss.

  Yesterday had been a troubling day, one that had filled her with uncertainty. She could not deny that she was attracted to William or that she had enjoyed every kiss. Even now, her feelings were bruised and downtrodden, for she was beginning to understand why he refused to consider marriage—if he was still in love with someone else. The kiss had been an impulse, just as he’d said. He might have been toying with her, pushing the boundaries of propriety…and she had fallen into that trap.

  Marjorie took her place beside her mother as the wedding began, and when she saw her sisters gazing into the eyes of their bridegrooms, her heart constricted. This was what love looked like. Morgan smiled up at Hal as if he was the man of her dreams. And Tamsyn gazed into Gryffyn’s eyes as if she could not wait to become his wife.

  Marjorie searched the crowd of people until she caught sight of Miss Kent. The young woman dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and she stared at Sir William, whose eyes were fixed upon the clergyman.

  Had he ever kissed Miss Kent in the way he’d kissed her? Surely, he had.

  Again, she berated herself for even thinking of it. His past didn’t matter, and they had no future together. They would not sit across the table from one another, dueling with forks. They would not steal Christmas puddings from the kitchen or play cards against one another.

  A heaviness cloaked her emotions, for she hadn’t thought it was possible to have strong feelings for a man—not this soon.

  She joined the guests in applauding when the wedding was over and her sisters had kissed their new husbands. Beside her, Lady Banfield wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, smiling through her tears of joy. Marjorie hugged each of her sisters, wishing them happiness, and she truly did want that. Tamsyn and Morgan were both very dear to her, and she sincerely wanted the best for them.

  While the other guests stood in line to wish them well, Marjorie slipped out of the Great Hall and found a quiet corner. She took comfort in the quiet and told herself that she had done the right thing, telling Sir William that there could be nothing more between them. Especially if he cared for someone else.

  But when she saw him walk into the corridor, Marjorie ducked behind the staircase, not wanting him to see her. Just as she’d feared, Miss Kent followed him. It wasn’t right to eavesdrop, and Marjorie knew she ought to step out of the shadows, but curiosity kept her there.

  “You look well, William,” Miss Kent said softly. “I am glad to see you once again.”

  He didn’t answer, and Marjorie felt a slight sense of satisfaction that the brooding, silent man was back. Good. If Miss Kent had abandoned him at the altar, she deserved that.

  “I didn’t realize you knew Lord and Lady Banfield,” Miss Kent continued. She drew closer to Sir William, who took a step back.

  Marjorie peered through the banister and saw the grim expression on his face. “Why are you here, Laurie?” he demanded.

  She appeared taken aback. “I was invited to the wedding. And when I learned you were attending, I . . . I hoped to see you again.”

  “For what purpose?” His voice was rigid, and Marjorie sensed the anger and pain within it. She couldn’t help but share his sentiments.

  “To apologize,” she said quietly. “I was wrong to leave you the way I did. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right.”

  Silence again. Marjorie was secretly glad of it, and she waited for him to tell Miss Kent to go away. He didn’t. Instead, he said quietly, “I accept your apology.”

  What? Was he simply going to open his arms to this woman and let go of the past? She nearly blinked at that.

  Miss Kent’s smile was stunning, and she took his hands in hers. “I am so glad to hear you say this. I wanted to atone for my mistakes and start again.”

  He leaned in, and Marjorie couldn’t hear what he said. But within a moment, Miss Kent squeezed his hands and smiled before she departed to mingle among the guests.

  Rubbish. She’d hoped to find out what was happening, even if t
hat did make her a busybody.

  But she wasn’t expecting Sir William to clear his throat and say, “You can come out now, Lady Marjorie.”

  Color flooded her cheeks, but she obeyed. He was watching her with a knowing look, as if he’d been aware she was in hiding. “Spying on me, were you?”

  “To be fair, I was enjoying a quiet corner when the pair of you came along. I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation.”

  “Because you were spying.”

  “Not exactly. But I didn’t want to spoil your moment together.”

  He leaned up against the staircase and sent her a knowing look. “Miss Kent and I were engaged to be married, nearly a year ago.”

  “I suppose that’s why you despise Christmas, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not my favorite holiday.” He cast another look toward her. “What else did you want to know? That she broke our engagement and fled the wedding, with no explanation?”

  “Cousin Ariadne told me she left you because you were a pauper.”

  An odd expression slid over his face. “She never said why she left. She only left a note that she no longer wished to marry me.” He moved to stand beside her then, in the shadows. “I suppose we would not have made a good marriage, after all.”

  Perhaps it wasn’t very nice, but Marjorie was rather glad of that. “If my cousin is right, and she walked away from you because she was afraid of poverty, you’re well rid of her.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?” he countered.

  “I never had to worry about money, to be honest.” Her father’s wealth had meant that it was never a concern. Her dowry had lured Viscount Dewbury, and if she wanted to find another man to wed, it would not be difficult. Which she didn’t.

  Then she turned back to him and remarked, “You never told me about Miss Kent.”

  “You never told me about anyone from your past, either,” he pointed out. “Does it matter?”

  She wanted to say no, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to speak. For he was right. She had never once mentioned Lord Dewbury to him. Should she? But then again, her mistakes were better forgotten. “No,” she said quietly. “I suppose the past doesn’t matter at all.”