A Match Made in Mistletoe

But they’d dared enough, even if his needy soul wanted to seize her and keep her forever. He was reluctantly loosening his grip, just as the unthinkable happened.

“Serena?”

Hell’s bells. Paul’s voice emerged from behind the wall separating the vestibule from the body of the church. When he couldn’t open the main door, he must have come in through the vestry at the back.

“Oh, Hades in a cookpot,” Serena whispered, her horrified gaze clinging to Giles.

“Serena, are you in here?”

“I should have locked the other door, too, damn it,” Giles muttered.

In the bristling silence, he heard the click of Paul’s heels down the aisle toward them. Serena grabbed Giles’s hand and hauled him toward a large oak settle with high sides. A place for pallbearers to catch their breath. Or a guilty lover to hide.

Taking Giles with her, she squeezed into the narrow gap between the side of the seat and the wall. The space was restricted. Delightfully so. Although with discovery so close, he was a cad to notice. Her bosom pressed into his waistcoat, and he had to lean away to conceal his sexual excitement.

“Serena?” Paul’s voice grew louder as he approached.

“Dear heaven.” She hid her face in Giles’s neck. His hold tightened, and he kissed the top of her head in reassurance.

“Stay here,” he whispered.

“No…”

“Trust me,” he mouthed, untangling her frantic fingers from his shirt.

When she nodded, he brushed a final kiss across her lips. If Paul saw Serena’s pink cheeks and swollen lips, he’d know exactly what she’d been up to. Even without Giles’s incriminating presence.

He paused long enough to straighten his clothes and check all his buttons were done up. Nothing was out of place. Things were starting to get interesting when Paul turned up. Curse him.

Giles slipped across to the door and released the latch, making no attempt to muffle the noise the heavy iron fittings made.

“Serena?” Paul appeared on the worn stone step leading from the church down to the vestibule. “Oh, it’s you, Giles. How did you get in? The door was locked when I tried it.”

“Dashed odd. I had no trouble with it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Serena shrink into the shadows beside the settle.

“Have you seen Serena?” At least Paul didn’t sound suspicious. Yet. “Frederick said he saw her heading this way.”

“I ran into her in the garden, and she said something about checking on her horse.” Struggling for a relaxed manner, Giles moved past his friend into the church. He wanted to get as far as he could from that blasted kissing bough.

Instead of following, Paul planted his feet on the step and frowned into the vestibule. “I tried there.”

If the blockhead veered one inch to the left, the game was up. Giles’s gut tightened in dread. He’d never meant to risk Serena’s reputation.

“It’s a cold day.” Giles crossed into the side aisle, hoping Paul would follow. “She might be in the library. A parcel of books arrived from Hatchards yesterday, and I know she’s keen to read the latest Walter Scott.”

“I tried there, too.”

“Well, devil if I know where the chit is. She’s obviously not here. Let’s go back

to the house and ask.”

“So you haven’t seen her?”

“If I had I’d tell you.” Liar. Liar. Liar.

The beginnings of doubt entered Paul’s eyes. “It seems odd to find you in a church, when you don’t have to be.”

True. Which said a little too much about the state of his soul. “Thought I’d take a look at the family memorials.”