After the flurry of polite hellos and the taking of coats and cloaks, Lord and Lady Danbury came to meet them in the holly-decked hall. Lizzie had come to stand next to Hal as the hosts greeted each guest individually. As they were at the end of the line, the raucous sounds of laughter coming from the crowded drawing room bizarrely gave them privacy. ‘I am sorry about my papa’s behaviour towards you the other evening. He means well, but has a tendency towards over-protectiveness.’
‘Think nothing of it. I am quite used to that sort of reaction, I can assure you. It is probably deserved.’ He was lying. It was definitely deserved, although for once he felt a little ashamed of his past. Aaron’s reservations were also bothering him.
‘Doesn’t it upset you? Having everyone judging you and dismissing you as a superficial hedonist?’ It hadn’t up until now. For years, he had worn the mantle of rake proudly to vex his father. The more scandal he created, the more satisfying his father’s explosive reaction was. However, whilst he could not deny his past, Hal realised he did not want that to be how she judged him.
‘The ton loves to gossip and I give them an outlet to do so. However, compared to some, I fear I am not as great a scoundrel as the gossips make out. I have hidden depths.’ What had possessed him to say that? He had meant it to come out as a flippant, flirty remark, instead it had sounded too earnest, because it was true. There were many aspects of his character he kept hidden. His new conscience being one of them. Aaron would have a field day if he knew he was getting to him.
‘Oh, I am well aware of your hidden depths.’ She was smiling, but not in a patronising way. ‘Beneath the layer of boyish charm lies a thoughtful and intelligent man. You are well informed, clearly read the newspapers and not just the gossip pages, have a great understanding of commerce and diplomacy...’
‘Diplomacy? I wouldn’t go that far.’ Except Hal desperately wanted the compliments.
‘A diplomat knows how to deal with all manner of people, something you manage to do very effectively without causing an argument. Look at how deftly you stopped Lord Hewitt from dominating the conversation with his own silly opinions. Or how you politely chastised my father for foisting those dullards on me the other evening. You were quite wonderful. Your comments hit home, by the way. He has been most introspective about it all since. He even apologised for springing them on me and for promoting Lord Hewitt as a potential suitor. Thanks to you, he learned quickly what sort of a pompous fellow Lord Hewitt is. A man who can achieve all that, so casually and without causing an argument, is very skilled at the art of diplomacy.’
You were quite wonderful. For some reason Hal had latched on to those words and swore his chest expanded with pride at the sound of them. At least he hoped it was pride, although pride didn’t tend to make one’s heart hammer excitedly or one’s throat tighten with emotion. And why was it he was suddenly unable to look away from her?
‘Oh, look! Our two lovebirds are under the mistletoe.’ Lady Danbury’s excited voice brought him sharply out of his daze and simultaneously he and Lizzie both glanced up. Suspended from the chandelier on a long piece of scarlet ribbon was a huge ball of mistletoe. ‘You must kiss her. It’s bad luck to ignore it!’
‘Yes, Hal—kiss her!’ Connie joined in the call and every eye in the hall was suddenly locked on them expectantly. Apart from the Earl of Upminster, who appeared most aggrieved at the suggestion, and Aaron, of course, who was glaring with barely concealed disbelief at the fickle hand of fate. It was probably that glare which cut through the sudden and inexplicable nerves and convinced Hal to go for it. Another berry would soon be plucked and poor Aaron would be there to witness it all. Although, he doubted that had much bearing on the giant butterflies which were now flapping away in his stomach.
He looked down at Lizzie, who was a little wide-eyed and clearly waiting to follow his lead, watched her lick her lips nervously and felt his own warm in readiness. ‘We wouldn’t want to court bad luck, would we, fair maiden?’ His voice came out deeper. Softer. Hopeful.
She shook her head imperceptibly and he watched the tip of her tongue dart out to moisten her lips as her face tilted up a little. An invitation? He hoped so. Hal would rather they did not have an audience, although usually something like that would not bother him, but he was damned if he would let such a sterling opportunity slip. His hand came up to touch her cheek of its own accord before his mouth came down to lightly touch hers and, in that instant, everybody else disappeared.
She tasted of home.
Those were the first thoughts which permeated his brain after his body rejoiced at the contact. Warm and comforting, yet at the same time incendiary. The second her lips had touched his, his body had needed more—however, his heart appeared very content to simply savour the peculiarly intimate moment. He felt no desire to hurry nor could he deepen the kiss in public, so he simply stayed exactly where he was, grateful she did not step back either.
‘That’s quite enough of that!’ Lizzie’s father tugged her away and shot daggers at Hal through eyes narrowed to slits and the beautiful, sensual spell was broken. ‘Come along, Lizzie, we have dawdled in this hall long enough and we both need to change for dinner. We do not want to hold the meal up.’
Her cornflower eyes slanted briefly to his in apology and Hal did his best approximation of a roguish smile to fluster her already flustered father some more, and saw the delicate blush staining her cheeks at being made a spectacle. Then she dutifully followed her father and a footman up the stairs.
She moved with such grace, he noticed, her trim hips undulating slightly in a very pleasing, feminine fashion with each step. At the top she turned and their gazes locked once again, except there was no apology in them this time, more bemusement, making him wonder if their very short, very chaste kiss had had the same effect on her as it had on him. Hal’s head was spinning. His pulse a notch too fast. His cravat suddenly far too tight and his body desperate for more.
Of her.
The urge to bolt up the stairs and simply take was extremely unsettling.
All this time he had wondered where his missing vigour had gone and it had chosen this precise moment, when he was on full display in a crowded hall, to suddenly reappear with a vengeance.
He wanted Lizzie.
Good gracious!
Properly wanted her. It had nothing whatsoever to do with his wager with Aaron and he was quite certain this new feeling of actual desire for Lizzie was certainly contrary to the terms of their alliance. Nor did it resemble any of the multiple ways he had wanted women before. Those had been solely about passion. Whilst he most definitely felt that for her, there was also something else lurking inside, something dangerously bordering on affection and emotional need rather than the purely physical.
Good grief! His heart was engaged.
A new startling and unexpected development Hal needed to think about.
Alone.
His suddenly weak knees nearly buckled at the revelation. How the devil had that happened?
‘Oh, look!’ Lady Danbury decided to clap her hands together at the same time to achieve maximum impact. ‘They cannot bear to take their eyes off each other. Look at the pair of them gazing at each other over the banisters! When they are wed, I shall proudly tell everyone the romance blossomed under my very roof!’
The word ‘wed’ made him feel decidedly queasy, but Hal managed a weak smile while he gathered his wits together and tried not to feel guilty to see both his sister and mother beaming at him in excitement as they began to follow another footman upstairs. The only person not beaming was Aaron, whose expression was best described as total incredulity mixed with disgust.
‘It staggers me that luck continues to favour you when you really don’t deserve it.’
‘Don’t be a poor sport, Aaron.’ Hal took the stairs two at a time with his heart thumping, hoping he appeared nonplus
sed. ‘I did not even see that fortuitous ball of mistletoe and neither did you.’
‘Aha! So you admit it was a fluke? Therefore, it doesn’t count towards the five.’
‘There was no stipulation that fluke kisses were not included, old boy, and well you know it. I am three down and have only two left to go. You are just peeved you did not spot the mistletoe first.’
‘If I had, I would have stood beneath it myself and refused to move.’
‘It is Christmas, and at Christmas one has to expect mistletoe to crop up somewhere, and thus I am now hopeful a few more stray sprigs will be conveniently dotted around this estate—in entirely different locations, of course, as stipulated in the terms of the wager—although we both know I won’t need the aid of mistletoe. I am irresistible to the ladies. I doubt you remember what that feels like now you are past your prime, old boy.’
‘I am blissfully married to your sister, not past my prime.’
‘If you say so. I am blissfully thrilled that you could be there to witness that kiss. Your face was an absolute picture. Who knew your jaw could fall open that wide? Seeing it has made the inevitable victory significantly sweeter.’
‘What are you two whispering about?’ Connie was stood looking down at them suspiciously.
‘I was just commenting on how splendid the Danburys’ mouldings are, my darling. Why, the craftsmanship on the ceiling is positively exquisite.’ His friend smiled innocently up at his wife although it was plain she did not believe her husband one bit.
‘Oh, really? Miraculously, after five years of marriage, you have a sudden interest in mouldings?’
Aaron threaded her arm through his. ‘Five blissful years of marriage, Constance. You keep forgetting the word blissful. Ah, look! Our bags have arrived.’
His wife suitably distracted, Aaron made a very rude hand gesture to Hal below, then they went left on the landing while another footman waited to escort him and his baggage to the right, explaining Lady Danbury had ensured the single ladies were placed alongside the married couples whilst the bachelors were to be housed at the furthest end of the west wing for the sake of propriety. Although that kept him firmly and gratefully away from the clutches of the hordes, it also neatly separated him from Lizzie which was probably just as well now that his missing vigour had crawled out of its hiding place and still lingered in his breeches.
Hal watched his brother-in-law’s retreating back and could not resist a final dig. ‘Oh, Aaron, aren’t you forgetting something?’
He sent the third white berry whizzing through the air with such perfect timing, it hit its intended, and supremely irritated, target smack in the middle of the forehead.
Chapter Ten
Lizzie closed her bedchamber door and gratefully sank on to her mattress, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. A silly, innocent kiss under the mistletoe should not have turned her insides into mush and given her body ideas it had no right having. There should be a warning note pinned to Hal, letting all ladies know never to let his lips anywhere near their person as it scrambled the brain. Hours later and she was still flushed from the experience. Hot all over and thankful they had been in company all night and that her father had brought the kiss to an end swiftly, else she probably would have quickly lost all sense of reason, wound her arms around his neck and happily dissolved into a puddle at the man’s feet.
And if she was brutally honest with herself, it was not only the intoxicating nature of his kiss which was worrying. The moment she had seen him standing on the drive, six feet and some of glorious, handsome male, a rakish smile on his face and a knowing glint in his eye, Lizzie had been ridiculously happy to see him and more than a little excited at the prospect of spending the entire weekend in his company. Why she was having these thoughts, when he was a charming rake like Rainham, who by his own admission was wholly against marrying any time this decade, and when she was a confirmed spinster who had sworn off men for ever, was a mystery. However, there was no point denying the odd frisson she felt whenever she was near Hal was attraction and perhaps there was a little affection in the mix. Henry Stewart, Earl of Redbridge, for all his faults, was very easy to love.
Not love! Lizzie hastily corrected with alarm, sitting bolt upright again...like. He was very easy to like and, truth be told, she was in grave danger of liking him a great deal.
Fortunately, their hostess had seated them at completely opposite ends of the dinner table because Lizzie had needed the distance. Unfortunately, the pair of them kept locking eyes during the meal and what was worse was that a great many of the other diners noticed. Hal’s sister was one of them and clearly delighted at their interest in one another. When the interminable dinner was over, Lizzie initially avoided him. A situation which he complied with, as if he sensed her reluctance or perhaps felt the need for some distance himself. A sobering thought indeed, especially as the idea he was attracted to her, too, and similarly avoiding her hurt. Which was, of course, ridiculous. For an hour, they were across the room from one another, yet at all times Lizzie was painfully aware of exactly where he was and exactly what he was doing.
When two young ladies commandeered him, practically backing him into a corner of the room, Lizzie realised she was being unfair. Her odd mood was hardly Hal’s fault and she had agreed to keep the hordes at bay. Thanks to his well-chosen words to her father, for the first time in years, he was not openly trying to matchmake at a social function. A whole weekend of peace stretched before her and Hal had been entirely responsible for that. Just because she was no longer suffering did not mean the need for an alliance was at an end. That would be unforgivably selfish. Fair was fair and she owed him. Taking a deep breath, Lizzie had straightened her spine and set a course to rescue her Earl.
‘Oh, there you are, Hal, darling.’ She had pushed her way through the barricade of persistent silk and wove her hand possessively around his elbow. ‘I am sorry to interrupt, ladies, but I must steal him away. Your sister has been searching for you.’
His warm palm came to rest atop hers and had squeezed gratefully. Once again, her body seemed to stand to attention at his touch. ‘Is she indeed? Then you had best take me to her. Quickly.’
‘I shall expect you back presently my lord,’ said Lady Arabella Farlow, a statuesque blonde with far too much of her décolleté on show and a permanent and well-practised pout which she obviously thought was attractive. ‘Lady Elizabeth has monopolised you quite enough this yuletide and I am dying to get to know you better.’ She punctuated this with a little wiggle of her shoulders which made the parts of her spilling out of her dress wobble.
Lizzie had blatantly stared at the younger girl’s chest, mimicking the disapproving face her mother had used to such great effect. ‘My dear Lady Arabella, I do believe you have misplaced your fichu. It might be prudent to retrace your steps to go find it.’
As intended, Lady Arabella coloured with embarrassment and Lizzie whisked Hal away before the vixen found her bold voice again.
‘You might want to give Lady Arabella a wide berth.’
He sighed and squeezed her hand again. ‘I have been trying to give that chit a wide berth for months, but she is outrageously persistent. Just before you saved me, she was quizzing me about the exact directions to my bedchamber.’
‘I hope you did not give them to her. She’s the type to visit.’ Lizzie tried, and failed, to ignore the knot of irrational jealousy that clawed in the pit of her stomach, reasoning she was merely being protective of her friend. Hal was her friend now. Odd feelings aside, she genuinely liked him and enjoyed his company. They looked out for one another. Who’d have thought she would have befriended a notorious rake? Not her. A month ago, the very idea would have sent her into a rage.
‘Oh! I gave her directions all right. The third room to the right as you go into the west wing.’ Lizzie paused and stared at him in disbelief, only to watch
him throw his dark head back and laugh. ‘The third room to the right is not mine, you nodcock. I am not that stupid. It’s Lord Hewitt’s.’
Lizzie tried to maintain her outrage, but her lips were already twitching at the thought of the pompous Hewitt being awoken by the predatory and pouting Arabella. ‘You shouldn’t have done that either.’
Hal laughed heartily and once again her insides did a funny little wiggle and she found herself staring hungrily at his lips. ‘Nonsense. Of course I should. Besides, I couldn’t resist a bit of revenge on Hewitt, and who knows? They both might thank me one day. What an interesting couple they would make. I am so delighted with myself, I might stay awake all night and wait for the screams. Which one will scream louder, do you think? My money is on Hewitt.’
* * *
For the rest of the evening, they remained together wherever possible, drinking far more wassail than was sensible and laughing conspiratorially at one inappropriate comment after the next. He partnered her in charades and spillikins, and then sat, with her father sandwiched unsubtly in between them, for a long and raucous game of speculation, which he won with very little effort and to her father’s complete and utter disgust. And just now, he had stared deeply into her eyes as he had bid her goodnight and then he had kissed her hand, in that slow and sensual way of his, so she practically floated up the stairs thinking a stream of silly thoughts which were most unlike her.
There should definitely be a warning pinned to his coat. Tomorrow, perhaps a brisk, solitary walk across the cold, hilly parkland was in order? The exercise might help to unscramble her wits. This alliance was not quite working out the way she had expected, because she had certainly never expected to develop any feelings for the man. Or for any man for that matter. Especially charming, handsome men with tarnished reputations and a way with women. Yet with each passing hour, a little bit of her resolve was steadily chipped away. If he hadn’t been a rake, and if she was in the market for a husband, Lizzie would be sorely tempted.
His Mistletoe Wager Page 11
