The Mistletoe Wager

After last night’s outburst it would not do to let the guests see that she was upset.

Of course her husband’s continual rejection of her during the game had hurt her. He had known all the girls in the room by touch, and had joked and laughed with them. In his study, he had claimed to want her back. But he had shown no sign of it a moment later. And now she must smile and chat with the women he had hugged as though nothing was wrong.

She focused her attention on the apples and dipped her face into the water, deep enough so that it lapped at her cheeks, cooling the fire in them. And if, while submerged, she imagined either of the Misses Gilroy, plunged headfirst into the same water until their hair dripped and their gowns were ruined? Then at least no one could see it in her face.

She caught an apple easily in her teeth, and rose to laughter and applause. She set the fruit on the small table beside the basin, and turned to find Harry right behind her, holding out a towel.

He grinned at her. ‘Very good, my dear. Very good indeed.’ And she noticed his eyes shift away from her face, lower, to the neckline of her gown.

She could feel a drop of water sliding slowly down her skin, ready to disappear into the hollow between her breasts. Was it this that was drawing his attention? She took the towel from him. And then, as though she were flirting with a stranger, she offered him a languid hand. He took it, and led her away from the apples.

She dabbed carefully at her face with the towel, taking care to leave the single drop of water quavering on the swell of her breast. When they reached a quiet corner of the room she paused and looked up, to catch him staring again. For a moment, she expected him to give her a guilty smile to acknowledge that he was behaving improperly, and fix his gaze upon her face. For this was her husband, not Nicholas or some other gentleman of the ton.

But, although he must know that she had caught him, he continued to stare at her body as though the passage of the water were of the utmost importance to him. He wet his lips like a man parched from too long without a drink, and gave a small sigh of longing as it disappeared from sight. When he met her gaze again, his eyes were a dark, smoky green. And for a moment she was sure that honour, pride and propriety meant nothing to him. Even though they were in a crowded hall, if she gave the slightest of nods he would bury his face between her breasts, find that drop and kiss it away.

She felt a thrill of desire, just as she always did when Harry looked at her with that strange intensity. But this time it was heightened by abstinence, and the fact that he was admiring her so obviously, in so public a place. If he had been brazen before she’d left she would have scolded him. Told him to wait for evening, until they were upstairs. And he would have laughed and complied with her wishes, banking his desire until they were safely behind bedroom doors.

But he had been behaving quite unpredictably of late. It was possible she might never again see that look in his eyes. And suddenly dread mixed with desire, and she knew that it was of the utmost importance to hold his interest.

So she played the coquette, just as she would with a gentleman whose affections were not guaranteed. She touched the skin of her throat with one hand, spreading the fingers until they gave the briefest caress to the track the water had followed, and then traced the neckline of her gown. ‘It is surprisingly warm in the house today, is it not?’

‘Indeed.’ His reply was innocent enough, but his eyes followed the progress of her hand.

‘The water was most refreshing.’ She smiled at him, gazing through her lashes. ‘I am surprised that you have not taken a turn.’

‘Alas, I have no skill in apple-bobbing. But there are other games I prefer.’ His voice was a purr, and the invitation it held was clear.

Would it be success or failure to give in to desire, just for a night? It would not solve their problems, but at least she would be sure that he still wanted her. ‘But so many games require a partner. It is most frustrating to find oneself unmatched when one wishes to play.’

‘Very,’ he agreed.

She bit her lip and pretended to hesitate. ‘You seemed quite taken with the young ladies of the Gilroy family during yesterday’s game. Perhaps either of them would suit?’ She waited for the assurance that he would much prefer someone else.

Instead, he said, ‘It is an interesting idea. They are both lovely girls-well-formed, fair of face. And on the whole I find them both to be good company. Too young, of course. Although their mother remarked, after you had left the room, that Lord Gilroy always retires early. I suspect she is also in search of a partner.’ And he glanced away from her, to Lady Gilroy, who was wearing a dress cut far too low for daytime, and bending over the apple barrel to call attention to the fact.

He looked back to Elise, and she could feel the jealous colour rising in her face, spoiling her efforts to appear coy and detached. ‘It is no business of mine,’ she snapped. ‘I am sure it does not matter who you choose to partner you.’

He sighed. ‘You are wrong, of course. I’m sure it would hurt some people very much.’

Me. It would hurt me. Even the thought that Lady Gilroy was interested caused an ache in her heart. It was even worse than seeing Harry’s innocent flirting with her daughters. But she must remember where she was, and the number of prying eyes around her. For she had a shameless urge to grab him by the arm and plead with him to assure her she had nothing to fear.

He continued. ‘Think of Lord Gilroy, knowing that his wife is eager to give her attentions to another. It is most difficult to suffer in silence.’

Suffering. He was right to call it that. For now, with each minute they were apart, she would know that he was free, and she would worry that he might choose to exercise that freedom. It did not matter that he did not care for her, nor that there were other women who would be a better wife than she had been. She was overcome with a desperate, selfish desire to have her old life back.

Harry was staring across the room in the general direction of Lord Gilroy. ‘I suppose it is easier to let people think he does not care than to appear a tired old fool who cannot keep his wife satisfied.’

Oh, God. Perhaps it meant nothing. Perhaps he was only speaking of Gilroy, and not of himself. If it mattered to him, why had he not spoken? If he truly cared for her, then every smile that she’d given to Nicholas, every dance, every shared laugh, would have been like a knife in her husband’s heart.

‘Harry?’ Her voice was shaking, as were her knees. In fact it felt as if her whole body were trembling, afraid of the answers to the questions she must ask him.

‘Darling?’ He reached out and took her hand again, gave it a squeeze of encouragement.

‘Anneslea!’ Lord Cammerville was tottering over to them, smiling broadly and gesturing with his glass. ‘So good to see you with your lovely wife at your side again.’

Harry gave a slight bow of pride.

Elise smiled as well, letting the curses flow in her mind. Why had the fat old toad chosen now to interrupt them?

‘And how have you managed to keep that delightful sister so well hidden from society? You are truly fortunate to be surrounded by such beauty.’

‘Hardly surrounded, Cammerville. This is the first time I’ve been able to enjoy the company of both of them for an extended period. Rosalind’s father, the Reverend Morley, has very little faith in my ability to watch out for the girl, even though it is long past time for him to let her fly the coop.’

Elise turned her wrath upon the absent Morley. ‘He is very foolish. There can be no better place for her than with you if she wishes an introduction to polite society.’

Harry gave a surprised smile in response to her small compliment. ‘If you asked her father’s opinion, I doubt it would be the same. I was eight when he married my mother, and he still looks on me as a wilful schoolboy with a decadent upbringing that has permanently flawed my character. Didn’t think much of my late father or his family, I’m afraid. Couldn’t abide Grandfather, who was Anneslea before me.’

Cammerville laughed knowingly. ‘Tried to cane the title out of you, did he?’

Harry winced, and laughed in response.

‘He beat you?’ Elise stared at him in surprise. For he had never mentioned any such thing.

‘Spare the rod and spoil the child,’ Cammerville answered.

Harry nodded. ‘And Morley was a firm believer in biblical retribution-especially when it concerned the sin of pride.’