Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy (9 page)

He laughed.
"How very appropriate. I will use it only if you call me Tom." He settled her there, back against him, facing the fire and the candle flame, warm all around. His arms encircled her, hands resting over hers, and one thumb rubbed against her skin.

"
Tom," she said shyly, but loving this moment. It seemed as blessed as fire on the coldest winter's night. "Now, tell me why you hate Christmas."

He spoke softly, right against her ear.
"Christmas," he said. "I don't know where it all went wrong. Perhaps in childhood. We were taught many things by excellent tutors, but not about Christmas. Christmas isn't celebrated at Oakhurst."

She shifted slightly so sh
e could see him. "You did nothing at all to mark the season?"

"
We went to Christmas Day service in the chapel, of course. We were certainly taught the religious significance of the day. But my parents don't approve of the more pagan aspects of the season. They are completely appalled by kissing boughs."

"
My parents weren't comfortable with them, either. If it hadn't been for my mother's belief in the importance of customs, we wouldn't have had one. As it was, no one was allowed to do more than kiss on the cheek."

He kissed her lightly on the cheek.
"Compromise. Very wise."

"
My parents were wise. They were wonderful." She stopped there, for she wanted to learn more about him and Christmas. "I can see that you didn't grow up with much feeling for Christmas-"

"
Ah, but there you are wrong," he interrupted. "My parents couldn't ban festivities from the neighborhood, and children are curious creatures. Each of us had a governess or tutor, and also a personal servant. Then there were the maids and footmen who cared for our rooms, not to mention the grooms who taught us to ride, grounds men who took us fishing, and the people who talked to us when we went down to the village. In the weeks before Christmas we were surrounded by excited talk of the celebrations. It became the paradise we were barred from."

Kitty was dazed by this glimpse into a noble household, and saddened by the gulf it illuminated between them. But she pursued her inquiry.
"You must have reached an age to choose for yourself."

"
I tried at sixteen. I sneaked down to the village to watch the Christmas Eve mummers. They were too frightened of my parents' disapproval, however, and took me straight home. I received a blistering lecture and strict confinement to my room on lean rations for the Twelve Days."

Kitty couldn't think of anything to say.

"You mustn't think badly of my parents," he said. "We received excellent care and education, and all other normal fun was permitted -- games, sports, fishing, riding. They just have strong feelings about pagan ceremonies. They'd love to ban well-blessing, and All Hallows' bonfires, and especially the maypole with its quite risqué‚ connotations."

Kitty chuckled, for her mother had discussed the symbolism of the maypole dance.
"Your parents and my mother would certainly have had brisk arguments."

"
Indeed. I would have loved to have seen it. But nothing would change their minds, I'm sure. And I can see their point. Most of those pagan traditions have quite improper aspects."

"
Fertility rites," Kitty agreed. "Like rice and flowers at weddings." But she realized they were in danger of drifting away from him and Christmas. "I see how difficult it was when you were young, but what when you became a man?"

"
Once I came of age, I threw off the shackles. I spent Christmas with a school friend who'd always made me envious with his stories of romping jollity."

She could see it hadn't been pleasant.
"What happened?"

"
Romping jollity." He grimaced slightly. "I discovered I'm too much my parents' son. I couldn't blend the crudeness of it with the holiness of the season. It was more than that, though. It was the hypocrisy."

"
Hypocrisy? They weren't really enjoying themselves?"

"
Oh, I'm sure they were. But everything they were doing was false. They kissed under the mistletoe -- and on the lips, of course. But mostly there was no affection in it. Often the tradition was used to tease and torment those who didn't want to be kissed at all, or those who wanted to be kissed too much. The Lord of Misrule used his power to embarrass. When the wassailers came, they made fun of them as yokels. Despite the Yule log in the grate, there was no light or warmth in it. None at all."

Kitty placed her hand over his.
"You're a good man, my lord."

"
Tom."

"
Tom," she said with a smile.

"
Good in places," he admitted, but grinned. "Just don't forget the bad spots, Kitty."

She didn't. She was shiveringly aware of them all the time.
"But that was when you were twenty-one. Have you hidden from Christmas ever since? How old are you?"

"
Twenty seven. And you?"

She'd thought him a little older, perhaps because of his sophistication.
"Twenty five."

"
Well matched for friendship, then."

That warmed her, even though she was aware of a foolish part that wanted more.

"So," she asked. "What have you done with Christmas for the past six years?"

He shifted back a little so he could lean against the sofa, drawing her closer against him. She hadn't been aware until then how tense he had been.

"Let me see. Year two I returned, chastened, home. However, I still couldn't feel that was all Christmas had to offer. Year three I spent with my newly-married sister. She had thrown herself into romping Christmas with enthusiasm, and there was some spontaneity and joy in it. Unfortunately, she'd invited some of her best friends along."

"
Why was that a problem?"

"
I was the main offering at the Christmas feast."

She twisted to look at him.
"What?"

He touched her nose with his finger.
"My dear Kitty, I've been a juicy dish on the marriage table all my adult life, and Christmas is prime hunting season. All that family feeling, not to mention all those kissing boughs, and the things an obliging Lord of Misrule can make people do."

"
How horrible for you."

"
It's not comfortable, no. Where was I? Year four I spent in Melton at an orgy. That seemed safe enough, and it was, but I found I missed the real parts of Christmas. On the other hand, when the drink-soaked, debauched company slid into singing Christmas hymns, I was offended."

"
An orgy," echoed Kitty. "I've... er... never known anyone who admitted to being at such an event."

His eyes twinkled with laughter at her embarrassment.
"I don't suppose you have. They have their moments, but are not all they're cracked up to be. Where was I?"

Shamefully, she would have liked to know more, but she said,
"Year five, I believe."

"
Year five I found quite a good solution. I spent it in Scotland, where they make far less of Christmas Day, then left for England on New Years' Eve -- their Hogmanay. But it all felt wrong. So, the last two years, I've hidden away."

Kitty turned to face him, taking his hands firmly in hers.
"You haven't been trying to hide from Christmas, you know. You've been searching for it."

He stared at her for a moment.
"Perhaps I have at that. But I fear it isn't there for the finding."

"
Perhaps it can't be found. Perhaps it must be made. Most people use their parents' traditions as a foundation and then grow from there when they have their own home. Where is your home?"

"
Here."

"
I mean, your own home."

He looked rather startled.
"I have full use of my father's properties."

"
But it could be many years before you become earl. Are you to be a waif all that time, hiding in your father's basement every Christmas?"

He touched her cheek, an almost dazed look in his eyes.
"How wise you are. But I'm not sure I know how to make a home, never mind a good Christmas." He brushed her lower lip softly with his thumb. "Would you help me, Kitty? Help me make a home and grow a Christmas there? A true Christmas full of light."

She melted at his petition, but how painful it would be when it came time to part.

"You don't seem pleased," he said, almost hesitantly. "You have doubts about me?"

"
Over your behavior? Of course not. I'm sure you won't go beyond what is proper."

"
I don't suppose I will." Then suddenly he laughed. "Kitty, you goose. Don't you realize I just asked you to marry me?"

"
What?" She knelt up straight. "You did not!"

"
I...." He sucked in a breath and cradled her head between his hands. "Pay attention, Miss Mayhew. I have fallen in love with you. No, not fallen -- slid slowly, gently, wonderfully into love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you as my wife. But I am being very practical, too. I am trying to claim the one person who can help me create what I most want -- a loving home, and endless joy-filled, light-filled Christmases. Say yes."

Kitty responded to the command with a
"Yes." But then she said, "No! I mean, I don't know. My lord -- Tom -- you've drunk too much punch. I'm no wife for a nobleman."

"
I'll teach you anything you need to know, while you teach me all the things I need to know. My father's a healthy man. We should have decades to live quite simple lives. I like this house."

"
You want to live
here?
"

"
It's a home already. Warmth has soaked into the bricks and wood, into the very air. Perhaps I'm marrying you for your house, Miss Mayhew."

Kitty stared at him, tentatively beginning to believe.

"But in return," he said -- and a touch of anxiety in his eyes could make her weep -- "I can offer you a country estate. I do own a pleasant property near Uckfield, with a neat house just big enough for a reasonable family. It's rented out, but we could claim it. I'm sure we could create an excellent Christmas there. Yule logs, and mistletoe -- with kissing on the lips, but in complete decorum and kindness. Perhaps a little less decorum for us, when the children aren't watching."

"
Children...?"

"
Children would be inevitable, I think, after all that kissing. Delightfully inevitable. Add in some mince pies, plum pudding and wassailers. What else?"

"
Holly, ivy, bay, and rosemary."

"
A Lord of Misrule who commands only kindly acts. Then on Christmas Eve the youngest capable of it will light the Yule candle, and everyone will stand around, eyes shining, and sing in praise of the light.... Say yes."

"
Yes," said Kitty, dazzled by the sweetest vision of her life. "Yes, please. If you're completely sure you're not affected by the punch."

"
I'm affected by the light," he said, smiling as brightly as if lit from within. He brushed his lips softly against hers. "I am entranced by my moonbeam queen, my candlelight angel, my firelight wanton...."

"
Wanton?" Kitty gasped.

"
Wanton," he said, rolling her to the floor beneath him and kissing her with fiery heat.

There was something about being kissed in the horizontal, thought Kitty, about a man's weight over her. Something wonderful. Something perhaps not even wicked since he wanted to marry her.

He wanted to
marry
her!

Like kindling to fire, she kissed him back, igniting a flame that swelled....

Until someone cleared their throat.

Ned and Pol were there, looking embarrassed but resolute.

"Tom," she said, since he seemed too interested in her breasts to notice. "Tom!"

He stopped, looked at her, and grimaced ruefully.
"I suppose our chaperones have returned."

"
Our
chaperones?"

Laughing, he leaped to his feet and helped her up, straightening her dress.
"Of course. Did you ever imagine that Ned and Pol would do anything even slightly improper? Or that they weren't made for each another? These past ten days have been for us, my love. I've been courting you." He kissed her with aching tenderness, and then turned to the servants. "It's all right. We're to be married."

"
So I should hope, my lord," said Ned rather primly. "Pol and I, of course, also intend to wed. And to
wait
till we're wed."

Kitty tightened her lips on a smile.
"So do we, I'm sure. And I think I'm going to need a lady's maid. Could I interest you in the position, Pol?"