Mistletoe Wishes

by Anna Campbell

  She scooped in a shallow breath, sharp with frankincense and old, damp stone and made herself speak. “Why on earth does everyone think I’ve set my cap at Paul Garside?”

  With a mocking smile, Giles set his hat on the seat beside him. “Dear me, I have no idea.”

  His sarcasm made her wince. “Hmm.”

  Blindly she stared toward the altar, decorated for Advent with an embroidered violet cloth and holly wreaths. After a long time—or what felt like a long time—Giles murmured, “There’s no need to be reticent. He’s well and truly reconciled to being caught.”

  She wanted to tell this overweening lout to mind his own business, but to her surprise she responded honestly. “That’s easy for you to say.”

  Giles’s expression was unreadable. She should be used to that by now. “Trust me.”

  Serena told herself not to respond. She’d said enough. More than enough. Giles and she had never been confidantes. In fact, however constant a presence he’d been in her life, they’d never progressed much beyond wary acquaintances.

  But some imp inside her remained determined to pursue this mortifying conversation. “I’d…I’d like to think he might do at least some of the chasing.”

  “Just as a matter of pride.”

  “Exactly.”

  Characteristic irony twisted his lips. “I’m sure a clever girl like you can snare a fellow who’s already set on having you.”

  Self-derision edged her laugh. “Then you have more faith in me than I have. When it comes to feminine wiles, I’m a complete novice. Whereas you two have spent the last few years playing the rake in London.”

  Amusement lit Giles’s dark eyes. “I take umbrage at that.”

  “I can’t see why. It’s true.”

  “And how the devil do you know that?”

  “Frederick is indiscreet in his cups.”

  His laugh brushed across her skin like velvet and made every fine hair stand up. “Damn.”

  “Paul is used to sophisticated women.” As her blush heated to fire, she squared her shoulders. She may as well finish this awful discussion. Retreat no longer seemed like an option. “I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

  Giles appeared almost as shocked at her confession as she was that she’d made it. Fleetingly he stopped looking like Lucifer sulking in the underworld, and instead became the boy who was a mere five years older than she was. “Serena…”

  “There. Now you know the dreadful truth.”

  Giles had always been something of a mystery to her—this was the longest time they’d ever spent alone together—but his reaction now was particularly cryptic. His marked eyebrows drew together, more in consideration than disapproval, she thought. “You know, perhaps I could help.”

  Her lips turned down. “How?”

  She had the uncanny feeling that he waged some battle with himself. When he met her eyes, she drowned in the dark depths. “I could show you how to kiss a man.”

  Serena hardly heard. Blood pounded in her ears, and she felt giddy. She had the oddest urge to lean forward and rest her head on that broad chest. Just rest.

  Which was mad, when Giles had always been too disagreeable and difficult to be a comfortable companion.

  “I’m sorry.” Avoiding her eyes, he picked up his hat. “I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

  “Suggested what?” She blinked, forcing herself back to the real world where she wanted Paul, and Giles was just an annoying interloper. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Oh.”

  “So what did you say?”

  When the raffish Lord Hallam turned charmingly sheepish, her heart performed another of those bewildering little skips. “I offered to be your tutor, to help you cultivate the skills to bewitch the gallant Sir Paul.”

  “Tutor?”

  “I offered to kiss you.”

  Her heart slammed to a stop. Good heavens above. Giles was talking about kissing her. How astonishing.

  She should be offended. Or angry. Instead the idea lodged in her mind, and wouldn’t shift.

  The more she thought about it, the more appealing it became. Would it really be so disgraceful to kiss Giles? Serena had long been curious about what a kiss was like. She’d always imagined Paul would be the first man to kiss her. But it might be best to get her clumsy first attempts out of the way with someone whose approval didn’t matter quite so much.

  Perhaps this was the meaning behind that bizarre, unsettling dream. That Giles was to be her path to Paul. If she’d stayed in the dream longer, maybe Paul would have appeared to oust Giles from the central role.

  “Here?” She glanced around the empty church, decorated with green boughs and walls of memorials to long-dead Talbots.

  Wonder lit his face. “You agree?”

  “Yes, I think I do,” she said thoughtfully. “I have a feeling you’re quite good at kissing.”

  A tilt of those expressive eyebrows. “Only quite good?”

  Some hitherto unrecognized female instinct was convinced that if Giles set his mind to the task, his kisses would burn her to ashes. But that same instinct warned against sharing that insight. “Don’t push your luck.”

  With a grunt of laughter, he stood. “Never.”

  She frowned up at him. He was so tall, taller than Paul or Frederick, who were both at least six feet. As a boy, he’d been all gangling awkwardness, hands and feet too big for his lanky limbs. A nose too large for his face. And those swarthy, heavy features were too striking for a child’s face to carry with any conviction.

  But somewhere in the last few years, he’d grown into all that character and strength. For the first time, she understood why the London ladies were mad for him. He’d never be classically handsome but, by God, he was interesting and vivid and compelling.

  “Giles, if you were teasing about teaching me how to kiss, I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Perish the thought.” Attractive self-mockery twisted those full lips. “How the devil can I resist turning you into another man’s dream lover?”

  Dream lover…

  Memories of that disturbing dream washed over her again. Staring at Giles, Serena had a sudden discomfiting suspicion that, despite knowing him most of her life, she didn’t really know him. And that accepting amorous lessons from him mightn’t be altogether wise.

  The cynical tinge faded from his smile. “Second thoughts?”

  Chapter 3

  Serena sucked in a deep breath of cold ecclesiastical air and told herself not to be a ninny. She always responded to a challenge—and the idea of kissing Giles was sinfully appealing. “I’d be a fool not to take advantage of your expertise.”

  Unholy delight lit Giles’s dark face to flashing brilliance. She realized that while he mightn’t be handsome, he was breathtakingly attractive and brimming with potent masculinity more powerful than mere good looks.

  “Consider me at your service, Miss Talbot.” He extended his hand toward her. “Shall we go?”

  She took his hand and started when the contact burned, even through his fine leather gloves. Her heart leaped about like a March hare, and anticipation fizzed in her veins. “Go?”

  He cast a cool eye around the cavernous church. “Your illustrious ancestors are making me deuced self-conscious.”

  She and Giles couldn’t stand in the middle of St. Lawrence’s and do naughty things to one another. What had happened to her brain? “So where?”

  He tipped his chin toward the doorway. “That’s a very fine kissing bough in the vestibule.”

  “Yes, there is,” she said shakily, as the ghost of her dream stirred anew. The mistletoe that had caused all the trouble came from that kissing bough. “The vicar doesn’t altogether approve of a pagan symbol in a Christian domain, but the villagers would throw rocks through his stained glass windows if he banned the tradition.”

  “I’m all for tradition.” Giles drew her down the center aisle and through the doorway to the narrow room marking the boundary between the church and th
e outdoors. A shadowy domain between the sacred and the profane, where worshippers could pause to remove their coats and gather their thoughts. And at Christmastime, a place for village lads and maidens to steal a kiss or two.

  As Giles positioned her under the pretty ball of ribbons and greenery, Serena shivered with a mixture of dread and tremulous excitement.

  “Are you cold?” he whispered, although there was nobody to overhear them.

  Yes. No. It was colder here than in the body of the church—and that had been like an Eskimo’s kitchen. “I’m…nervous.”

  He stepped back and observed her dispassionately, as if checking to see if a painting was straight. “I promise this won’t hurt.”

  She shifted from one foot to the other. It might be lily-livered to confess it, but she felt much braver when he touched her. “That’s not why I’m nervous, and you know it.”

  Unexpected and breathtaking tenderness tinged his smile. “You can change your mind.”

  She straightened and tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice emerged as a croak. “If I deny a kiss under the mistletoe to anyone who requests it, I won’t get married next year.”

  He tugged off his gloves and slid them into his pocket. Something about the deliberate action made her shiver again. “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” she said on a thread of sound. “In Torver, we’re very serious about our superstitions.”

  “Superstitions are dangerous things.”

  After her unacceptable dream, nobody knew that better than Serena. “I know.”

  “In that case, I shouldn’t tempt fate.” He caught her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. A thrill jolted her, even as he released her and crossed to shut and bolt the door to the outside.

  Good heavens, he looked like he meant business. How daunting. How…intriguing.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Had his walk always been a tiger’s prowl? How had she missed that Giles Farraday oozed sexual confidence?

  “What if someone wants to use the church?” she asked shakily.

  “They can come back later.”

  Serena wanted to ask how much later, but her courage failed. In fact, fears the size of monster frogs performed acrobatics in her stomach. As if observing herself from a distance, she wondered why she didn’t run away shrieking. But however frightened and unsure she was, an army couldn’t drag her away.

  He returned to stand before her, cradling her head between his hands. “Are you ready for your lesson?”

  His hands were warm and gentle against her hair. She gulped for air, but it did nothing to soothe her nervousness. “I…I think so.”

  “I have a feeling you’re going to prove an excellent student.”

  “I wish I did,” she admitted.

  His laugh was soft. “Don’t worry. You’re in safe hands.”

  And the lunatic truth was she absolutely believed that.

  Giles leaned in slowly, she suspected to give her time to back out of their arrangement. But curiosity remained her most powerful reaction. She was desperate to discover what a kiss was like.

  No, it was worse than that. She was desperate for Giles Farraday to kiss her.

  His breath brushed across her lips, awakening tingling sensations all over her body.

  When still she didn’t shift away, his lips skimmed hers with an inquiry that shuddered through her like cannon fire. She closed her eyes, and a hum of welcome escaped her.

  Giles’s lips settled and moved on hers. Gradually the shock faded, and Serena became aware of details beyond his overwhelming nearness.

  His scent. Fresh as snow, although no snow had yet fallen. The touch of his hands on her head. The strength he held in check. His beckoning warmth.

  That intimate, unforgettable contact of mouth on mouth.

  She started to sway, and the world turned red at the edges. But when Giles withdrew at last, she ached to call him back. Her hands fisted in her skirts as she fought the urge to grab him and haul him close. She prayed that her rubbery legs would hold her up.

  “Breathe, Serena,” he murmured. “For God’s sake, breathe.”

  She opened dazed eyes to find him regarding her with a quizzical expression. Through her giddiness, she realized she hadn’t drawn a breath since the kiss began. When she inhaled, the pain in her lungs and the thickness in her head eased.

  “That was…interesting,” she stammered.

  “Only interesting?” He released her and stepped back. “I must be losing my touch.”

  “Nice,” she said quickly, although that was an inadequate description of those turbulent seconds when his lips met hers.

  He burst out laughing. “Is that the best you can do?”

  She’d imagined thunder and lightning, something to change her life forever. Kissing Giles had made her blood swirl with muddled longing, but it hadn’t set her world alight. “Enlightening?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Inoffensive.”

  He groaned theatrically. “My vanity will never recover.”

  “Look, I know you’re doing me a favor.” Serena glared at him and remembered why she’d spent much of her girlhood wanting to shove Giles Farraday into the nearest puddle. “I’m grateful. Of course I am. But I expected…more.”

  Her fumbling explanation didn’t meet with his approval, she could see. He returned to studying her as if she belonged to some unidentified species. “What kind of more?”

  She hissed with frustration. Frustration with him, and with the dissatisfaction curdling her stomach. “I don’t know. You’re the blasted libertine. You tell me.”

  “Perhaps the fault lies with you—I’m unaccustomed to kissing ladies who do their best to imitate a block of wood,” he said lightly.

  Stabbing hurt prompted an incoherent protest. “That’s not fair. I told you I’d never done this before.”

  With unconcealed displeasure, he folded his arms and surveyed her down that long, crooked nose. “I hoped some natural instincts might kick in.”

  “Perhaps my natural instincts only work when my affections are engaged,” she retorted.

  Those fearsome brows lowered over glittering dark eyes. If she hadn’t been so het up, she might have been afraid. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  She put her hands on her hips and drew herself up to her full height, frantic to claim every inch she could against him. “If Paul kissed me, I’m sure I’d get into the spirit of things.”

  Chagrin flashed in his face, and if he’d been a different, less self-sufficient man, she might wonder if she’d hurt his feelings as he’d hurt hers. “If that’s so, by all means go and kiss Paul. But remind him to bring a muffler and some thick socks so he doesn’t get frostbite.”

  She faltered back with a cry. “That’s cruel.”

  He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “It was. I’m behaving like a brute.” The anger drained from his face. “I’m sorry, Serena. For your first kiss, that was a creditable effort.”

  She frowned, her own anger receding. Grudgingly she admitted that she’d been ungracious first. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Still, I had no right to be unkind.”

  Her arms flopped down by her sides in a gesture of defeat. “Perhaps I’m just no good at kissing.” She started to turn away, misery tugging at her. “I’m sorry for bothering you—and for being so rude. I’m sure with a more promising candidate, your kisses are perfectly lovely.”

  “Hold on.” He caught her arm and despite everything, heat zapped along every nerve. “Don’t give up so fast.”

  Puzzled, she faced him. “Why on earth would you want to try again?”

  “I hate to leave a job half-finished.”

  His earnestness summoned a bleak laugh. “Very commendable.”

  “I’m game if you are.”

  She straightened and narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m always game.”

  Serena waited for him to deride her bravado, but he gave her another of those uncommonly sweet smiles. “I
know you are. I’ve always admired your courage.”

  In all their years of acquaintance, he’d never given her a compliment. Before she could muster a response to that astonishing statement, he set her back beneath the kissing bough.

  She twined her hands at her waist and stared at him, troubled. “Perhaps it would help if you don’t rely on my instincts, and you tell me what to do.”

  “You hate people telling you what to do.”

  That was, unfortunately, true, although she’d never imagined Giles had paid her enough attention to notice. What a day of surprises this was. “Today I bow to your prowess.”

  “Thank you,” he said with a hint of familiar irony. He caught her restless hands. “First, let’s put these somewhere useful.”

  When he placed one hand on his shoulder, she started to draw away. After the kiss, touching his shoulder shouldn’t matter, but there was something fiercely unsettling about having her hands on him. “Is it necessary to touch you?”

  “Definitely.” He replaced her hand where he’d set it. Then he caught the other. “Now where to put this one?”

  “Giles…” she said in warning.

  He ignored her repressive tone and curved her arm around his back, forcing her closer. “Here, I think, for the moment at least.”

  She was painfully conscious of the powerful male form mere inches away. The rest of the church might be bitterly cold, but under the kissing bough, sultry summer ruled. “What do I do now?”

  “Stare into my eyes as if it would kill you to look away.”

  “I only want to learn how to kiss,” she muttered, directing her gaze everywhere but at him. If she obeyed, he’d guess that her heart raced with forbidden excitement.

  “No, you want to learn how to capture a man’s attention and keep it. Kissing’s just part of the game.”

  She wanted to argue, but he was right. Blast him. The most terrifying part of this terrifying encounter was that just now, the man she wanted to attract was standing in front of her. And that was completely insupportable.

  “Look at me, Serena,” he said in a deep voice she’d never heard before.

  This time, she couldn’t deny him. She raised her chin and stared into those dark eyes. Who knew a man’s eyes could be so fascinating? As the silence extended, her head started to swim. After last time, she knew enough to snatch a breath before she lost her balance.