Moonlight And Mistletoe

‘That sounds so good,’ Hester murmured, turning her face up to smile into his. ‘Peace, sleep.’ She did not finish the thought. Guy shifted position, until he was standing facing her, pressing her back against the carriage, so close she could see the pulse in his throat above his neckcloth. He had pulled off his gloves and with gentle, bruised fingers began to untie her bonnet ribbons, ‘Guy…’ The bonnet came off and was tossed up on to the seat.

‘Mmm?’ He was trailing kisses across her forehead now, down the line where her hair grew at her temple, down her neck and up again to nibble at her ear.

‘Guy, you should not…’ I should not… we should not… Hester felt her body arch instinctively against his, moulding itself to his larger, stronger frame. Despite their heavy winter clothes she felt heat from him, knew her own breath was coming in little gasps to cloud the still air.

‘Why not?’ The murmured question seemed to burr against her ear. ‘The sun is shining, we are alone and quiet and this is a sort of heaven.’

Hester put up her hands to push him away, turned her head to look him in the eye and sternly order that he stop this outrageous, immoral, scandalous behaviour immediately. Instead her fingers clenched on Guy’s lapels, her lips sought his mouth and without conscious volition she found herself kissing him.

This was not like that kiss in her dining room when she suspected he was sending her a warning as much as taking a liberty. This was a slow, gentle, mutual exploration of scent and taste and sensation as his tongue teased and caressed, his lips gentled hers into surrender and his teeth made her gasp with sudden, delicate nips. She was aware of the sunlight on her closed lids, of the cold scent of dead leaves all around them, of the harsh cry of a pheasant and the thud of a heartbeat- hers or Guy’s she could not tell and did not care.

Her fingers moved, reached for the strong shoulders above her, found the lean, muscled column of his neck, locked into the springing, virile hair at his nape. This was the man she loved, this was how his weight felt against her, how his arms held her, how his hands and mouth and murmuring voice caressed her. The man she loved.

Reality came back and with it the memory of those hours spent facing the choices before her, the memory of the decision she had made. Marriage was out of the question for her, and that left only a choice which went hand in hand with the ostracism and humiliation she had experienced before and a shame that this time she would have earned.

‘No!’ Hester twisted her head away. ‘No.’ Furious with herself, she pushed harder than she intended, her hand slipped and she fetched Guy a glancing blow on the side of his head. Startled blue eyes met hers, then he had stepped back and was standing five feet away.

‘Hester, it was not my intention to frighten you, I am sorry.’

‘I am not frightened.’ She knew she was snapping and could not help herself. ‘I am angry.’ Guy threw up a hand in the fencer’s gesture of surrender, turned on his heel and walked away from the carriage, away from her. ‘No!’ she shouted after him. ‘Not with you. Guy, come back.’

Somehow she was moving across the springy turf, a faint scent rising from the cold thyme underfoot as she ran towards him. ‘Angry with me, not with you.’

‘Why?’ He turned back, his eyes dark. ‘Be angry with me, I should have known what would happen. I just wanted to be alone with you, hold you. Hester, my feelings for you are-’

‘Much better left unsaid,’ she interjected hastily, walking past him so she was looking out over the Vale and not at his face. ‘Nothing is possible between us other than friendship. It seems there is an attraction as well. I cannot allow that to continue, not and live the sort of life I have set out for myself.’

Where the words, and the strength to say them, came from she had no idea. Hester blinked hack what felt treacherously like tears and focused hard on the village lying below her, the white line of the post road snaking past it, the glitter of water marking the canal beyond. This was home now, the only fixed thing in her life.

He had moved silently behind her; the first she knew of it were his hands on her shoulders. They rested there, heavy but undemanding. ‘Do you believe I was intending to offer you a carte blanche?’

‘I do not know,’ she replied in as calm a voice as Guy was using. ‘But I know that I should not act in such a manner that you could be forgiven for believing such an offer would be acceptable. It would not be.’ She spun round and he dropped his hands. ‘Ever.’

His eyes had gone from dark to stormy and with a shock Hester recognised anger to match her own. Anger, and, although it was hard to believe, uncertainty, almost vulnerability. She did not want him to be vulnerable or uncertain. She wanted a rock, a supporter, a friend-and had foolishly believed she could have all that and keep her feelings hidden. What Guy’s feelings were she had hardly stopped to consider, she realised with a pang of guilt.

‘I can assure you that, whatever my intentions, offering you a position as my mistress was not one of them. You may have my word that I never will.’

His anger sparked hers into fire again. Guilt, the knowledge that she was behaving badly, the tensions of the mystery that enveloped them, flared.

‘Good. In fact, excellent. We now know exactly where we both stand. And let me assure you that I will never sell you the Moon House, whatever you offer me, and you can therefore cut your losses and leave Winterbourne. If I experience any further trouble, believe me, I will call upon the local magistrate.’

Guy half turned as he stalked back to the curricle. ‘The local magistrate may well be Sir Lewis Nugent.’ He gathered up the reins and waited in silence until she reached his side, handed her her hat, then helped her up on to the seat.

Hester sat down with a thump. ‘Then I will take on Ben Aston as a bodyguard and hire a Bow Street Runner. Will you please drive me home, my lord?’

‘Very well, Miss Lattimer.’ He set the curricle in motion, his weight shifting easily as it bumped over the rough track.

Hester jammed her bonnet back on her head, yanked the ribbons together and sat fuming. By the time they reached the bottom of the hill she was feeling ashamed of herself, at the point where they passed the gates of Winterbourne Hall she realised that the pair of them staring fixedly at the road in front must present a ludicrous picture and by the time the church tower was in sight her sense of the ridiculous had got the better of her and she had to suppress a wry smile.

‘My lord?’

‘Yes, Miss Lattimer?’

‘I apologise, my lord.’

‘So do I, Miss Lattimer. I presume it has occurred to you, as it has to me, that attempting to have a row in a curricle is both impractical and undignified.’

Hester gave a little gasp of amusement that was half genuine, half the unsafe laughter of tension and excitement.

‘I trust we have not been presenting a spectacle of the sulks for any passing yokels.’

‘I never sulk. I may exhibit a brooding silence, it is quite another thing.’ This time her gurgle of amusement was wholly genuine. ‘Do you think we might revert to Christian names, Miss Lattimer’?’

‘I believe so, my lord.’

She flashed a glancing smile at him and saw the storm clouds had gone from his eyes and the twist of amusement that so charmed her was back at the corner of his lips. But she was shaken; she had never aroused such passion in a man, never had her own passions aroused in such a way. To the knowledge that she loved Guy Westrope she had to add the realisation that she desired him in every possible way and that, whatever his feelings or intentions, he felt that desire also.

As the curricle drew up in front of the Moon House the door swung open and Hester’s small household appeared.

‘Oh, Hester dear, thank goodness you are safe!’ Maria almost ran down the path.

‘Why ever should I not be?’ Hester demanded. She climbed down and was startled to find herself clutched to Miss Prudhome’s skinny bosom.

‘Because there are more roses and we did not know where you were,’ Susan said bluntly, meeting them as they came up the path. ‘Sir Lewis called in with a book he said he had forgotten to give you and seemed surprised you had not returned. You’ve been gone three hours, Miss Hester.’

‘We have been for a drive.’ Hester felt flustered at having to account for her movements, but even more so by