Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection

She started with surprise. “Open? That seems…odd.”

He smiled and nuzzled her silky hair, tied up in its usual loose knot. If fate ever granted him a moment’s true privacy, he’d tug every pin free, until that golden mass cascaded over his hands.

“I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t,” she said shakily.

Despite her fears, she turned to glance her mouth across his with a beguiling mixture of hesitation and boldness. His heart crashed against his ribs. Heat seared away all thought of where he was, including the knowledge that the village church wasn’t the most discreet site for a tryst.

Their lips, barely parted, clung, and he tasted her sweet, humid breath. He slipped his tongue into the honey interior, letting her rich flavor flood his senses.

She made a soft sound—protest or acceptance, he couldn’t say. Then with beguiling enthusiasm, she angled up, and her mouth flowered under his. He tasted her deeply, as darkness invaded his head and desire gushed through his veins.

Serena was delicious, glorious, marvelous. Better than his dreams.

Her tongue fluttered against his, and it was his turn to groan in wordless encouragement. The kiss took fire, and he caught her up against him, lashing his arms around her, wishing to hell that he never had to let her go. A tiny glimmer of reason warned him that he went too far, too fast.

The angels who watch over foolish girls too trusting for their own good must have been listening. He became aware of a sound that didn’t belong in this paradise.

Serena must have heard it, too, because she stiffened without, he was pleased to note, moving away. “Someone’s trying to get in,” she said on a mere breath of sound.

“I locked it. I told you,” he said into her ear and couldn’t resist biting her earlobe.

“Giles…” she protested on a sensual shiver. “People will talk.”

“Let them. Nobody knows who’s in here.”

The heavy iron handle rattled again, then fell silent. Serena stared up at Giles with an expression he couldn’t read.

“See?” he murmured. “I said they’d go away. Shall I kiss you again?”

A pretty blush, visible through the gloom, colored her cheeks. “You know, I’ve never really…seen you before.”

Satisfaction flooded him. What a long way they’d come in an afternoon. For once, she wasn’t thinking about Paul. She was thinking about Giles Farraday.

How could he bear to send her away? He might go back to being invisible.

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.