The Mistletoe Wager

by Christine Merrill

  ‘For what reason would I wish privacy?’ She sounded confused by the idea. Perhaps even after two months Tremaine was an idle threat to their marriage. She shrugged as though nothing could occur to her, and gave a tired laugh. ‘In any case, what good would it do to lock the door against you? You have the key.’

  He held his hands open in front of him. ‘I have all the keys, Elise. I could open the door of any room in which you slept. You must have realised that when you came home. But do you really think me such a villain that I mean to storm into your room without your permission and force myself upon you?’

  She caught her breath and her eyes darkened. For a moment his threat held definite appeal.

  Then he cleared his throat and continued, ‘Am I really the sort who would take you until you admitted that there was no place in the world that you belonged but in my arms and in my bed?’

  She froze for a moment, and then glared at him. ‘No, Harry, you are not. On more careful consideration, I think that I have nothing to worry about. Goodnight.’

  And, perhaps it was his imagination, but the way she carried herself could best be described as stomping off to her room. When the door shut, he suspected that the slam could be heard all over the house.

  The next morning Harry was up well before dawn, had taken breakfast and dressed in clothes suitable for the weather before going to roust Tremaine. He could not help but smile as he pounded smartly on the door to the poor man’s bedroom. He could hear rustling, stumbling noises, and a low curse before the door in front of him creaked open.

  Tremaine stood before him, bleary-eyed and still in his nightshirt. ‘Eh?’

  ‘Time to get up, old man.’

  Tremaine squinted into the hall and croaked, ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘No problem at all. Did I forget to tell you last night? So sorry. But you must be a part of today’s proceedings. Elise is expecting you.’

  ‘Then come for me in daylight.’

  ‘No, no. What we are about must be done at dawn. And on the morn of Christmas Eve. There is no better time. Pull on some clothes, man. Warm ones. Your true love is awaiting you in the hall.’

  At the mention of Elise Tremaine’s eyes seemed to widen a bit. Then he stared back at Harry, as though trying to gauge his intentions. At last he sighed with resignation, and muttered something that sounded rather like, ‘Damn Rosalind.’ Then he said, ‘A moment.’ And then he shut the door.

  ‘A moment’ proved to be the better part of a half an hour. Tremaine appeared at the door again, no happier, but reasonably well dressed for Harry’s purposes, in a fine coat of light wool and soft, low shoes. He stepped into the hall and shut the door behind him. It was only then that he noticed the axe in Harry’s hands. ‘What the devil-?’

  Harry nudged him with the handle and gave him a mad grin. ‘You’ll see. You’ll see soon enough.’

  Tremaine swallowed. ‘That is what I fear.’

  ‘Downstairs.’ He gestured Tremaine ahead of him, and watched the cautious way the man passed him. There was a tenseness in his shoulders, as though his back was attempting to climb out of his coat while his head was crawling into it. His neck seemed to have disappeared entirely. He did not relax until he saw Elise, pacing on the slate at the foot of the stairs, probably assuming that Harry would not cut him down dead in front of a lady.

  ‘There you are.’ Elise was trying to display a mixture of irritation and trepidation at what was about to occur, but she could not manage to disguise the same childlike excitement that she had shown whenever they had done this in the past. It made Harry happy to look at her. ‘I was not sure if you would still hold to the practice.’

  Harry smiled. ‘Perhaps if you had not come home I might have forgone it. But if you are under this roof then Christmas will be every bit as full as you would wish it to be. And if we are to do it at all, then we must bring Tremaine, so he will know what is to be expected of him next year.’

  If she meant to rescue the poor man, she gave no indication of it. Instead, she nodded with approval. ‘Let us go, then.’

  ‘Go where?’ Tremaine had found his voice at last.

  ‘Outside, of course. To cut the Yule Log.’

  ‘Oh, I say. You can’t mean…’

  ‘A massive oak. I have just the thing picked out.’ He turned back to his wife, ignoring the stricken look on Tremaine’s face. ‘You will approve, I’m sure, Elise. The thing is huge. Sure to burn for days, and with enough wood for two fireplaces.’

  ‘Really?’ She was smiling at Harry as though he had offered to wrap her in diamonds. Any annoyance at the chill he would take tramping about the grounds in a foot of fresh snow was replaced by the warm glow of her presence.

  But the Christmas spirit did not seem to be reaching Tremaine. He grumbled, ‘Surely you have servants to do this?’

  Harry shook his head. ‘I could never expect them to do such. It is tradition that we choose one ourselves. Elise is very particular about the choice, and she enjoys the walk. I could not begrudge her the experience.’

  Elise looked at Tremaine in disapproval. ‘You are not dressed for the weather.’

  ‘Here-we can fix that.’ Harry removed his own scarf and wrapped it twice around Tremaine’s neck, pulling until it constricted. ‘There. All better. Let us proceed.’ He opened the front door wide and shepherded them through.

  Elise took to it as he had known she would. Though she might claim to adore the city, she needed space and fresh air to keep her happy. She strode out into the morning, with the first glints of sunlight hitting the fresh snow, twirled and looked back at them, her face shining brighter than any star. ‘Isn’t it magnificent?’

  Harry nodded in agreement. As he looked at her, he felt his own throat close in a way that had nothing to do with the tightness of a scarf. She was so beautiful standing there, with the dawn touching her blonde hair. And he thought, You used to be mine. He chased the thought away. He would make her come home again. For if he had lost her for ever he might just as well march out into the snow, lie down and wait for the end.

  He looked around him-anywhere but at Elise. For until he had mastered his emotions he could not bear to look in her face. And he saw she was right: with a fresh coating of snow over everything, and frost and icicles clinging to the trees, it was a most beautiful morning indeed.

  Tremaine merely grunted.

  ‘This way.’ Harry pointed to the left, up a low hill at the side of the house. ‘In the copse of trees where we used to picnic.’ He set off at a brisk pace.

  Elise followed him easily in her stout boots and heavy wool skirt. ‘You do not mean to take the tree where we…’ She was remembering their last picnic in the oak grove, and her cheeks were going pink in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Not that one, precisely. But very nearby. This tree is dying, and we will have to take it soon in any case. Why should it not serve a noble purpose?’

  Behind them he could hear Tremaine, stumbling and sliding and cursing his way up the hill. He was falling further behind as Elise drew abreast of Harry.

  She said softly, ‘I am still amazed that you are willing to do this after what has gone on between us. Although you always complied with my wishes, you complained about the bother of it in years past.’

  He appeared pleased, and looked at the ground. ‘Perhaps I did. But I found, though I meant to leave it off, that the habit was ingrained. Although I complained to you, perhaps I enjoyed it more than I knew.’ He glanced back over his shoulder. ‘In future you will have Tremaine to complain over it, when he takes my place. But for myself I mean to spend a quiet hour on a winter morning, watching the sun come up.’

  She smiled at him in approval, and then blushed and looked away. He glanced back again, so that she could not see his answering smile, and called, ‘Keep up, Tremaine, or you shall miss the best part.’

  The tree he had chosen had been carefully notched by a servant, so that most of the work was
done and it would fall correctly. In truth, there was so little left to do that it was fortunate the thing had not fallen on its own in the storm. A few blows of the axe would give the impression to his lady love of manly competence without undue exertion.

  He stepped around to the far side and swung the axe into the wood. It struck with a satisfying clunk that made Tremaine flinch. ‘See? We strike thusly.’ Harry swung again, and felt the unaccustomed labour jar the bones of his arms. After several Christmases just like this, at least he was prepared for the shock. It was much better than it had been the first time his wife had suggested the activity. ‘It takes only a few strokes to do the job.’ He smiled at his adversary again. ‘Step away from that side, sir. For the tree is likely to come down when I least expect it.’ He took a short pause, turned so that Elise could not see the expression on his face, and stared at Tremaine, not bothering to smile. ‘I would hate for an accident to befall you.’

  Tremaine fairly leapt out of the way, standing safely behind him. The man was terrified of him.

  Harry grinned to himself and swung again. ‘It is a dangerous business, using an axe.’ Clunk. ‘No end of things can go wrong. Should the handle slip in my hands, for example.’ Clunk.

  He glanced up at his wife’s friend, who had gone bone-white with cold and fear. Harry offered him the axe. ‘Here. You must try. For I expect Elise will wish you to learn the ways of this.’

  Tremaine muttered low, under his breath, ‘If you think next year will find me chopping wood for the holiday, you are both quite mad. I have no property in the country, nor do I plan to acquire one. And I seriously doubt that I will be motivated to march through Hyde Park with a weapon in my hands, doing damage to the landscaping.’

  ‘Oh, Nicholas,’ Elise laughed. ‘What a droll idea.’

  But Tremaine took the axe from Harry’s hands, and looked relieved to have disarmed him. Harry stepped back as the other man took a mighty swing at the oak, overbalanced, and fell on his seat in the snow.

  ‘Hmm. It does not seem that you have the hang of it yet. Best let me finish it after all.’ He retrieved the axe, and a few more chops and a stout push was all it took. There was a loud cracking noise, and he put out an arm to shield Elise. Tremaine scrambled to safety, away from the falling tree.

  It crashed to the ground and they stared at the thing for a moment-Tremaine in disgust, and Elise with obvious satisfaction. Then Tremaine said, ‘I suppose now you will tell me that we must drag it back to the house?’

  Elise giggled, and Harry said, ‘Oh, no. Of course not. This is still much too green to burn. This is the log for next year’s festivity. Some people save the cutting for Candlemas, but we have always done it on Christmas Eve morn. And this year it is my gift to you, Tremaine. You will need it next year, when you celebrate Christmas with Elise.’ He gestured to the enormous tree on the ground before them. ‘You can take the whole thing back with you when you return to London. The servants will take care of it in good time. They are just now bringing in last year’s log. We shall see it when we go back to the house.’

  ‘Mad.’ Tremaine stared at them in amazement. ‘You are both quite mad.’ Then he turned from them and stalked back to the house, sliding ahead of them on the downward slope.

  Harry looked after him. ‘I do not think Tremaine appreciates my gift.’

  Elise looked after him as well, trying to look stern, although a smile was playing around her lips. ‘That was horrible of you, you know. To drag the poor man out in weather like this. And so early in the morning. He abhors mornings.’

  Harry tried to focus on the snow-covered back of the retreating man. Not on the beautiful woman at his side and what her smile might tell him about her intimate knowledge of Nicholas Tremaine’s morning routine. ‘A pity. For it is the most beautiful time of day. You still enjoy mornings, do you not? Or have your ways changed now that you are not with me?’

  ‘I still enjoy them,’ she admitted. ‘Although they are not so nice in the city as they are here. It is the best time to ride, though. For many are still sleeping from the night’s revelry, and the park is nearly empty.’

  ‘Oh.’ He tried not to imagine what a handsome couple his wife and Tremaine would make on horseback in Rotten Row.

  ‘But the city is quite empty at Christmas. And I will admit it would have been lonely to remain there.’ She hesitated. ‘I must thank you for inviting…Tremaine.’

  She had remembered, too late, that she had not been included in the invitation. There was an awkward pause.

  ‘I am glad that you chose to accompany him,’ Harry said firmly. ‘For I would not wish you to be alone. And I hope Christmas will be very much as you remember it.’ He glanced down the hill towards the house. ‘You have brought many changes to Anneslea since we married.’

  ‘Really?’ She looked surprised, as though she did not realise the merriment she’d brought with her when she’d come into his life. ‘Was not Christmas a joyous time when you were a boy?’

  He shrugged. ‘Much like any other day. When I was small my father was often ill, and there was little cause for celebration. My stepfather, Morley, did not hold with foolishness on a holy day. And once I came here, to stay with Grandfather?’ He shrugged again. ‘It was a very quiet festival. There was dinner, of course. And gifts.’ They had arrived back at the house. A footman grinned as he opened the front door, and they entered the front hall to the smells of pine and spices and an air of suppressed excitement. He looked around him. ‘But it was nothing like this. Thank you.’ His voice very nearly cracked on the words.

  ‘You’re welcome, Harry.’ Her eyes were very round, and misty blue in the morning light. Then she looked away from him quickly, letting a servant take her outer clothes and enquiring about tea, which was already poured in the library, just as it had been in years past. It was still early, but any guests who had risen would be in the dining room taking breakfast. For a time it would be just the two of them, alone together.

  In the library, she glanced around the room with a critical eye. And Harry noted with some satisfaction that she seemed unconcerned by the presence of only two cups on the tea tray. Apparently, after his disgrace in the woods, she did not care that Tremaine would be left to fend for himself.

  ‘Do you mean to have Rosalind here for Christmas from now on?’ she said softly.

  ‘It depends, I suppose, on whether Morley allows it. But I do not know what I would have done without her help this year.’

  Elise looked up from her cup, her eyes still wide with sympathy. ‘Does she know that the family recipes as they are written are not accurate?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Rosalind. There are changes in the Christmas recipes, and she should remember to remind Cook.’

  Harry waved a dismissive hand. ‘I expect she will manage as best she can. It will be all right.’

  ‘Perhaps I should help her.’

  ‘No,’ Harry said, worried that her sudden interest in the menu was likely to take her away from him again. ‘There is no need, I’m sure. No one will notice if things are not quite up to standard.’

  She stared at him. ‘Really, Harry. You have no idea how difficult a house party can be.’

  He looked warmly at her. ‘Only because you made it look so easy, my sweet. But you need not bother.’ He gave a slight sigh. ‘I will want you here tonight, of course. When it is time to light the Yule Log. For it is still very much a part of you, since you helped me to choose it. And I’ve still got a piece of last year’s log, so that we may light the new one properly.’

  Her agitation seemed to fade, and she smiled a little, remembering.

  ‘If we have any regrets from the old year we can throw them on the fire,’ he announced. ‘Next year we shall start anew.’

  She set her teacup down with a click. ‘And behave as if none of this has happened?’

  He sighed. ‘Is it really necessary to retread the same ground? If you are ready to come home, then I see no reason to refer to any of thi
s again.’

  ‘If I am ready to come home?’

  He had spoken too soon, and ruined all that had gone before. For the coldness had returned to her voice, and she was straightening up the tea things and preparing to leave him.

  ‘Perhaps I should go to my room and dress for the day. If you will excuse me?’

  He followed her to the door and in a last act of desperation held up a hand to stop her as she crossed the threshold, touching her arm and pointing above them. ‘Mistletoe.’

  She frowned. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Not even for old times’ sake?’

  ‘Certainly not.’ She reached up and caught the thing by a twig. She pulled it down, then threw it to the floor at his feet.

  He stared at it, unsure whether to be angry or sad. ‘Pity. I would have quite enjoyed it. I think it is your kiss I miss the most. But there are so many things about you that I miss it is hard to tell.’

  ‘Miss me?’ She laughed. ‘This is the first I have heard of it. It seems to me that you are managing quite well without me, Harry.’

  ‘It bothers you, then, that I have put Rosalind in charge?’

  ‘Not particularly.’

  ‘But something has made you unhappy again. Are you ready to discuss why you are here?’ he asked.

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘You have come back to me, Elise, just as I knew you would. It was no real surprise, seeing you. I had a devil of a time persuading Tremaine to take the invitation, but I knew if he came you would not be able to stay away. And I was right.’ He looked at her, searching her expression for some evidence that she was weakening again.

  ‘It should not be so terribly strange that I would wish to return with him. I lived here for several years, and associate many happy memories with the place.’

  Harry sighed. ‘Do you really? When you left I thought you never wished to see the place again. Or was it just the owner you wished to avoid? Because you must have known I’d be here as well.’