Mistletoe Wishes

by Anna Campbell

  She lifted her coffee to her lips and grimaced. It was ice cold. She was rising to fetch a fresh cup when the door opened.

  “Oh,” she said with a dismal little squeak.

  Paul looked serious and sheepish. Neither expression was characteristic. “Good morning, Serena.”

  “Good morning, Paul,” she said warily, searching in vain for some hint of the condemnation she deserved. “I was just finishing.”

  He made a curiously pleading gesture. “Please… I’m sure you don’t want to see me this morning. But I’d very much like to talk to you.”

  Probably to explain that he wouldn’t be proposing. “After last night, you must hate me.”

  He shook his head and advanced to take the seat cornerwise to her. “You can’t think I blame you.”

  “You should,” she said frankly, sinking back into her chair. Perhaps it was best to get this over with.

  “It’s that swine Hallam.” To her surprise, his eyes were full of remorse. “The arrogant devil even warned me that I was a fool to take you for granted.”

  He caught her hand. Serena waited to experience a thrill—after all, she’d spent most of her life wishing that Paul Garside would look at her as if she was the only girl in the world.

  Unfortunately she felt nothing but stirring impatience.

  Paul went on, before she could correct his impression that she’d been a complete innocent in last night’s brouhaha. “You’re a naive country maiden, and he’s a rake. The ladies in London were mad for him. One click of his fingers, and he had any woman he wanted. You didn’t stand a chance, my darling.”

  Vaguely she noticed that Paul had called her his darling. More immediate was the unwelcome image of hordes of sophisticated harpies clamoring for Giles’s attention. She mightn’t know those strumpets, but she’d dearly like to kill them.

  “You were furious,” she said in a subdued voice.

  “With him. Never with you.” He paused. “It was my fault. I neglected you and left you easy prey for a ravening wolf.”

  She bit back the impulse to tell Paul that she, not Giles, had done most of the hunting. “You make me sound like a ninnyhammer. I went into sin with my eyes wide open.”

  Again Paul shook his golden head. She started to find it annoying. “That’s a rake’s tactic, my dear, to let you think you’re making the running, when all the time he’s luring you to ruin.”

  “You seem to know a lot about it.”

  His remorse deepened. “I can’t lie and say I’ve lived a pure life, but I’m ready to put aside my bachelor ways and settle down with a good woman. You’ll never have to worry about my fidelity, Serena. You’ve always been the one for me.”

  Oh, no, she knew what was coming. And she absolutely wasn’t ready to hear it.

  “Paul…” she began, not sure what to say. It seemed stupid to ask him to give her time, when they both knew she’d been waiting for this moment all her life.

  His hand tightened, and he spoke over her. “There’s no lady I esteem more than you. I believe we will be very happy together, and our families will be delighted if you do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

  She stared appalled at him, having no idea how to respond. He paused in clear expectation of an eager acceptance.

  When she didn’t speak, he frowned. “My dearest, I promise no woman will be more cherished and protected and respected.”

  She swallowed to shift the jagged rock blocking her throat. It didn’t work. She swallowed again.

  “Last night you caught me kissing another man.” Her voice sounded rusty, as though she had a cold.

  His gesture dismissed her statement. “I’ve already told you—it’s forgotten.”

  She tried and failed to pull away. “I haven’t forgotten.”

  He smiled at her, as though she was a foolish, pretty little thing who should yield to his endless masculine competence. With a shock, she realized that was how he’d always treated her. As if she needed to hold his hand to cross the road.

  Once she might have accepted it—she’d been so blind with infatuation, she’d accept anything in exchange for a morsel of Paul’s attention. But after these last tumultuous days, she came to suspect that she wasn’t sweet at all. Instead she was wild and wayward, and she wanted a man who treated her as an equal, not as a fragile charge on his chivalry.

  “I told you, you don’t need to apologize. You were blameless in what happened. In fact, I almost commend your innocence.”

  This time, she managed to tug her hand from his. She hid it under the table where it clenched in her skirts. “Now that’s going too far.”

  He cast her an uncertain glance. The first sign of uncertainty he’d shown, she realized. As far as Paul was concerned, he was tying up the loose ends on a sure thing.

  “Serena, I don’t want to talk about last night. I want to talk about our bright future together.”

  She stared hard at him. His proposal had been very pretty. But one vital ingredient was missing. This time, her voice emerged steady and decisive. “Do you love me, Paul?”

  He’d reached for her hand, but now he straightened in his chair and regarded her with disquiet. She wasn’t used to seeing Paul less than confident. He was much more appealing when he didn’t act like the master of all he surveyed. Over the last few days, she’d noted everything about him that annoyed her. Now she recalled the qualities she liked very much.

  “Of course I do.”

  She mistrusted his swift response. “Why?”

  He looked completely baffled. “We grew up together. I was here when you took your first steps. I was your first dance partner. We’ve shared every Christmas. You know I love you. I love your whole family.”

  “That was a nice answer,” she said softly, picturing herself at sixteen, starry-eyed because handsome Paul Garside led her out at her first assembly in Dorchester. She’d felt like a princess in a fairytale.

  Another thing she liked about Paul was that, while on occasion his self-importance misled him, he was no fool. “Only nice?”

  This time she took his hand, surprised to realize that when she’d been mad for him, she’d have hesitated to touch him. Somewhere in the last days, that particular madness had passed. “Yes, nice. I love you, too.”

  He brightened. “Then…”

  It was her turn to shake her head. “Your presence is wrapped up in all my lovely childhood memories.”

  “Surely that’s enough,” he said. “Affection and friendship add up to a lot.”

  “But not to love. The sort of love a man and a woman should feel for one another when they plan to marry.”

  Disapproval darkened his features. “You’re talking about desire.”

  “Partly.”

  “You’ve let Hallam’s kisses turn your head.”

  She stared down to where their clasped hands rested on the white tablecloth. Color stung her cheeks. “If I’m in love with you, I shouldn’t feel the way I do when he kisses me.”

  “But all your life, you wanted to marry me,” he said in disbelief.

  She nodded. Her pride might flinch at her pursuit being no secret, but what was the point of denying something they both knew to be true? “You were very kind when I followed you around like a puppy.”

  His hand firmed on hers. “I want you to follow me around for the rest of my life.”

  “That’s the problem.” Gently, she withdrew, and this time, he didn’t try to stop her. “I don’t want to follow the man I marry. I want to walk by his side as his equal.”

  “You’re twisting my words.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Abruptly he stood, and the flush on his spectacular cheekbones betrayed his chagrin. “Serena, will you marry me?”

  Serena felt like crying. All her life, she’d lived with one dream. Now it came true, just as she realized it had always been the wrong dream.

  She made herself meet his eyes. He looked baffled and disgruntled. And disappointed. What he didn’t look was hurt to t
he heart.

  Because only real love could hurt like that.

  “Thank you for asking me, Paul.” A crooked smile twisted her lips. “But I’m afraid my answer must be no.”

  His blond brows lowered. “Nothing I say will persuade you otherwise? I’m happy—well, willing—to wait while you reconsider your decision. Take as long as you want. I think you’re being rash and headstrong.”

  “Indeed I am.” Her smile widened. “And you don’t want a rash and headstrong bride. You want someone peaceful and sweet and conformable.”

  “I want you,” he said stubbornly.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “But all this time—”

  “I know. I’ve been utterly unfair. And flighty, and female, and foolish. I’m grateful and flattered that you asked me to marry you. But my answer will always be no.”

  For a long time, he studied her. Then he drew himself up to his full height and bowed as if to a stranger. “Very well. I believe I will return home. I have estate business waiting. I wish you a very happy new year, Serena.”

  His manner was severe and distant. To her regret, he was upset. Of course he was. And she could imagine his considerable vanity was stinging like blazes.

  “You don’t have to go, Paul,” she said, wondering if he’d ever forgive her. His coldness smarted, but not enough to make her change her mind. “Mamma and Papa expect you to stay until after Twelfth Night.”

  “Life is full of small disappointments,” he said curtly. “Now if you’ll excuse me?”

  Oh, Paul.

  But he was entitled to his fit of the sullens. He’d expected his proposal to prosper, and why shouldn’t he? Handsome Paul Garside had probably never heard a woman say no. She couldn’t blame him for being put out.

  “Happy new year to you, too,” she murmured. “And…I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” he said shortly, and gave her another of those chilly little bows. “Your servant, Miss Talbot.”

  He turned on his heel and marched out, every line of his body bristling with offended masculinity. Serena watched him go, then picked up her coffee. Her hand shook so badly, the cold liquid spilled all over the tablecloth.

  “Oh, bother,” she choked out and burst into tears.

  ***

  “So this is where you’re lurking.” Paul leaned one brawny shoulder against the doorway to a loosebox in Sir George Talbot’s opulent stables.

  Giles didn’t turn from where he tightened his saddle straps, but his mouth thinned in displeasure. Paul was absolutely the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

  In fact, make that ever.

  “You know,” he said neutrally, “you’re always accusing me of sneaking around, as if I have no right to be here. When I’m just as much the Talbots’ guest as you are.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paul wince. “Sorry, old man. Didn’t mean to imply that at all.”

  Giles frowned at his gray’s glossy flank. It would be so much easier to hate Paul Garside, if he wasn’t basically a decent sort. Too full of himself, which he couldn’t help when every soul in the entire world fell over themselves to adore him. But still, at heart a good man.

  He should be glad of that. He didn’t want Serena matched with a cad.

  He sucked in an impatient breath—he’d intended to leave at dawn, but the weather was dangerous for his horse. He didn’t much care whether it was dangerous for him. If he froze to death on the road back to London, it would save him freezing to death over the coming years, when his disappointed love turned cold and sour.

  He turned abruptly. “What the devil do you want, Garside?”

  “Oh, my good God,” Paul gasped, retreating a couple of paces.

  With a self-conscious gesture, Giles raised a hand toward his black eye without touching it. He’d quickly learned touching it was a bad idea. “Pleased with your handiwork?”

  “Yes.”

  Giles began to wish he’d set off into the blizzard at first light. “Go back to the house, Paul. I’ve no idea why you sought me out. If you’re here to gloat over your forthcoming nuptials, I don’t want to hear it. You’d be much better inside, celebrating with the family.”

  Paul straightened and spoke calmly, “There isn’t any celebration.”

  “So you haven’t asked her yet.” Wondering why the world continued to torture him, Giles turned to fiddle with his saddlebags. “Are you seeing all rivals off your patch, before you stake your claim?”

  “It turns out I have no claim to stake.”

  Giles whirled around in genuine anger. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided against asking Serena to marry you, because of what you think you saw in the library. Anything that happened was my fault. And given how you’ve kicked your heels up in recent years, you’re a hypocrite of the first order to begrudge her a few kisses. If you break that magnificent girl’s heart by jilting her, I swear I will shoot you.”

  Paul studied him, without rising to his anger. “You really do love her.”

  Giles’s fists curled at his sides. How he wanted to thump Paul. “And you really are a mean bastard. You can’t possibly blame Serena for last night’s mess. She’s as pure as a lily.”

  “I don’t blame her,” Paul said steadily.

  After a pause while Giles waited for his friend—his former friend—to berate him once more for trying to steal his bride away, he said, “Good. Don’t you have to go away and make a proposal?”

  Paul shook his princely golden head. “I’ve already made it.”

  “So go away and break out the champagne. You’ll forgive me if I find myself otherwise occupied, but I’ll raise a glass in your honor when I get back to London—and damn you as the luckiest man in England.”

  “I’m not the luckiest man in England.”

  Giles frowned and finally looked properly at Paul, without the gray mist of misery clouding his vision. That statement might mean Paul no longer considered Serena a prize since she’d kissed Giles. Or it could mean…

  “I don’t understand,” Giles said, although perhaps he started to.

  Paul didn’t look like Apollo ruling the sun this morning. Instead he seemed tired and defeated. Those broad shoulders held a hint of a slump, and the blue eyes were dull.

  Good God, Paul looked almost…human.

  “She won’t have me.”

  “Don’t be an idiot.” Giles couldn’t make sense of this. “You’ve been her dream since she could walk.”

  The bitter smile curving Paul’s lips made him seem suddenly older. “Apparently she’s moved on to other dreams.”

  “Ask her again.” Giles had been hurt too often to leap to conclusions. “You’ve made her wait. She’s just repaying the favor.”

  “Does that sound like Serena to you? She’s always been the most forthright of women. No, my friend, she refused me, and I’ll wager my estate twice over that I stay refused.”

  “But why?”

  The bitter smile lingered. “I think she’s in love with someone else.”

  “Someone else?”

  Paul sighed, and to Giles’s surprise, he reached out to clap him on the shoulder with a hint of their old affection. “Love has turned you into a buffle-headed idiot, old chum. You’re usually quicker on the uptake.”

  Giles stared speechless into Paul’s face, at last reading the truth. Without a word, he shoved past the other man and set off for the house at a run.

  Chapter 13

  “So I’ve found you.” His heart racing, Giles burst through the high marble doorway of the summerhouse where they’d quarreled a few days ago. Since then, he felt as if he’d lived through a lifetime.

  He hurtled to an abrupt stop. Serena sat hunched on the bench. However hard she tried to shrink into the shadows, he could see she’d been crying.

  “I thought you’d gone,” she said in a thick voice.

  Late last night, he’d sent her a note, apologizing for his behavior and wishing her well. Fighting his dismay at finding her in te
ars, Giles brushed the snow off his shoulders. “I…changed my mind.”

  He’d searched for her through the house and gardens, without success. It had taken him too long to think she might be here. But now he saw her, an odd diffidence held him captive. Blurting out his love and expecting her to declare hers in return seemed as impossible as it always had.

  After all, just because she didn’t want to marry Paul Garside, it didn’t mean she wanted to marry Giles Farraday.

  She swiped at her wet cheeks with shaking hands. “You look terrible.”

  “Your beau has a fist like a brick.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  Like the very devil. “It’s not too bad.”

  She cast him a skeptical glance but to his relief, didn’t pursue the subject. When he ventured a step closer, she stiffened against the wall. Damn it, she looked as likely to take to her heels, as give him a minute of her time.

  “Giles, I’d really rather be by myself.”

  He gave a dramatic shiver. “By yourself and freezing.”

  She didn’t smile. “Please go away.”

  “I can’t leave you here crying, Serena.” Ignoring her unwelcoming manner, he crossed the tiled floor and sat beside her. “Paul told me you’d refused him.”

  She gave a horrified gasp. “He didn’t try to hit you again?”

  “No. We both acted like civilized men, instead of savage brutes.”

  “Thank goodness.” She started to torture her soggy handkerchief. “Was he very angry with me?”

  Giles settled his back against the cold stone wall behind him. While he itched to touch her, her brittle air warned him to keep his distance. He needed to tread carefully. All his future happiness depended on the next few minutes. “I think he was hurt.”

  She flinched. “He was so confident I’d say yes.” She stared down into her lap. “He doesn’t love me.”

  “Are you sure?” Giles frowned. “He’s always been fond of you, and he came down here all fired up to propose.”

  Why the devil was he defending his rival? Except that his rival had been extraordinarily gracious in defeat.

  Without meeting his eyes, Serena shook her head. “Oh, he likes me, and he was convinced I’d make a good wife. But love is more than friendship and affection, however sincere.”