Mistletoe and Mischief

in his arms. He knew only a deep longing to prove her wrong, a desire that had built up inside him until it begged to be released.

He lowered his lips to hers. He could feel them respond beneath his gentle touch. Louisa wrapped her arms about his neck and clung to him.

Lost and floating… yet somehow vividly conscious of every inch of her… Charles discovered the curve of her waist beneath his hands, the taste of her sweet mouth-like berries with sugar-the satisfying warmth of soft breasts pressed to his chest.

He gave in to temptation and explored deeply inside her mouth. Louisa gasped, and they fell apart.

They stared at each other for a split second, and then Charles said huskily, “You are damnably desirable, if that answers you!'

Louisa nodded, open-mouthed, her eyes as round as pools. “Damn!” Charles said. He had fought the attraction as hard as he could, but he blamed himself for giving in. And still-he had to fight it. It would be harder now, he knew, to keep his hands off her.

Louisa had blushed, appearing to understand at least some of his frustration. He had left her trembling, and the knowledge exhilarated him.

“Charles,” she said shyly, casting her eyelashes down in a most provocative way, “you shouldn't swear on Christmas.'

“No, I shouldn't, but you make it damnably hard not to!'

He might have reached for her again, but for Eliza, who jumped against his trouser leg and raked him with her claws.

Thankful for the reminder, he bent to pet her and collected himself with difficulty. “Louisa-” he straightened “- Miss Davenport, you have placed yourself under my protection. It would be the height of dishonour for me to abuse your trust in me… to give in to the temptation which is certain to exist between a man and such a beautiful woman…'

While he stammered, she had been watching him with a questioning look. Now, a glint lit her eyes, and she said with false brightness, “Was that what it was? How kind of you to explain.'

She pointed to the kissing bough above her head. “I merely thought you were observing that heathen custom you referred to.'

Charles felt a flush of shame sweep through him, but he did not apologize. It would be wiser to forget their kiss, to make it a bone of contention between them. Much better that than let it lead to more liberties while she was in his charge.

At least, he thought, Louisa was willing to excuse him-even to provide him with an excuse, when she might have made claims upon him. The mistletoe would provide his reason, even though that had been no mistletoe kiss…

Louisa surprised him then, by standing on her tiptoes and reaching for a scroll which hung from one of the ribbons of the kissing bough. On entering the room, he had somehow missed it.

She handed it to him. It was a simple piece of paper, tied with red ribbon.

“A Christmas piece,” she said with emphasis. “I wrote it for you after we came in last night.'

Charles looked up at her, and then stared at the paper in his hands. For a moment, he could not speak.

“This is what-'

Louisa nodded. Her lips were drawn in a tight smile. “Yes. That's what I was doing under the mistletoe. Jim was giving me a hand.'

Charles took a deep breath. “Forgive me, Louisa, I should have known-I can't imagine what possessed me-'

She laughed. “Let us forget it, shall we? We must not let it spoil our day.'

Charles answered her with a feeble smile. Perhaps, she could forget it, but how was he to forget he had made such a cake of himself? How could he forget he had kissed her, when she looked so beautiful this morning?

Among Miss Conisbrough's dresses, she had found one in a deep green velvet, low across the bosom, which set off the fairness of her skin and the flame of her hair to perfection. He remembered the feel of the velvet beneath his fingertips, the warmth of her body underneath. Her taste still lingered on his tongue. Even now, he had to swallow to drive the memory from his mind.

Louisa reached up again. “I could remove the mistletoe if you wish.'

Charles caught her arm. “No need,” he said. “I promise to behave myself from now on.'

She let it fall, then returned his sudden grin with a shy smile.

“Perhaps it is not such a heathen custom, after all,” he said quietly.

The remark seemed to please her; but true to their truce, she moved away and acted as if he had not made it.

Grateful, Charles sighed. They would never make it through the next two days if she continued to bat her eyelashes at him…

Charles tucked the Christmas piece she had written into his pocket. He had nothing to give her, so he judged it best to read it when he was alone.

Louisa, it seemed, had planned their day. She called to him from the doorway, “Come along, Charles. It is time to stir the Spadgers’ pudding.'

“Whatever for?'

“For luck, of course.'

He followed her to the kitchen, where Nan stood working at her stove. Eliza, who had leapt and scurried at their heels the whole way, fell quickly upon the meal Jim had set out for her.

Charles said, “You must tie up her ears, Jim, before she dips them in.'

It was too late. Both her ears were already a few inches deep in food scraps. But Charles's comment had caused a grin to replace Jim's anxious look, just as he had intended.

Bob was sitting on a stool near the hearth, eating steadily. Thanks to Louisa and to Nan Spadger's cooking, the boy seemed to have gained a few pounds already and had lost that pinched look. He promised to be a fair charge on the Spadgers’ larder.

“It's good tha's come,” Nan said. “I be about ta put pudding in oven.'

She had already added the egg yolks, cream and brandy. A delicious smell rose from the pot.

She handed the spoon to Louisa first, who closed her eyes tightly to make a wish. Her lashes, like pale feathers, brushed the ridge of her cheekbones. Charles watched her appreciatively until she gave the pot a stir and opened them again.

“What did you wish?'

She tilted her head indignantly. “I'm astonished at you, Charles. You know I mustn't tell or it won't come true.” She held out the spoon. “Now, it's your turn.'

Charles retreated. “No, let someone else.'

“Everyone's already had a turn, and Nan is waiting for us, so you must hurry!'

She forced the spoon into his hands, and he stepped forward. Of all the foolish customs-

Charles tried to think of a wish, but the aroma from the pudding and Louisa's warmth right next to him assailed his senses. All he could think of was how much he would love to kiss her again-and he mustn't wish for that.

He closed his eyes to her, to try to concentrate, but still was aware of some great yearning he had yet to define. His feelings were in confusion: the delicious smells in the kitchen, the heat from the fire, the tension from knowing their eyes were upon him. And underlying all, the fearsome aftermath of kissing Louisa.

In the end, he did the responsible thing and wished for Boney to be captured, which left him feeling deeply unsatisfied. To wish at all was childish and foolish, but as the day wore on Charles never lost the feeling that he had wasted a precious chance.

From stirring the pudding, they went to church for Morning Prayer. Then, before their dinner was ready, they took a stroll to see the garlands in the village. The day was clear and beautiful and not so cold that he needed to hold her hand to warm it. But even bundled in his greatcoat, Charles felt a glow from Louisa at his side.

Her cheerfulness drew him into her schemes for the day and made him smile. She entertained him through their dinner, suspending all her good works and projects during the meal so he could experience some leisure before returning to work. For the first time ever, the thought of going back to Whitehall made him sigh, but he was warmly grateful he had been spared Christmas Day there.