Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection

“Yes. Yet even then, you danced.”

He shot her a narrow-eyed look. “What’s this about, Serena? Requests for my company. Compliments on my appearance. You mean some mischief, or I’m a Dutchman.”

Trailing her hand along the edge of a gilt and mahogany table, she stepped closer. Every hair on his body stood up in alarm—and forbidden longing. “I liked what we did this afternoon.”

“So did I,” he said, before he had a chance to question the wisdom of reminiscing about kisses, when they were alone together and at imminent risk of discovery.

“I’d like another lesson.”

Her frankness felt like a punch to the stomach. He straightened and struggled for a coherent reply. “There’s no mistletoe in here.”

“You could kiss me under the kissing bough in the hall. Nobody would look twice.”

A grunt of unamused laughter escaped. “They would, if I kissed you the way I did this afternoon.”

She bit her lip. “You could kiss me here and pretend there’s mistletoe.”

“I thought you were in love with another man.” The words felt like a blow to a bruise, but they had to be said.

Instead of taking offense, she stopped at the end of the table and regarded him with an enigmatic expression. Which was odd. He’d spent years observing Serena. He thought he knew her as well as he knew himself.

Tonight proved him wrong.

A prudent man would send her packing. But he’d been hungry for her company for so long, he couldn’t yet bring himself to banish her back to the family—and that ass Paul.

“Perhaps I’m flighty.”

Another grim laugh. “Not you. You’re the faithful type.” Unfortunately so was he, damn it. “You’ve always adored the eligible Sir Paul. You’ve never wavered.”

She looked annoyed. “It’s so embarrassing to discover that everybody has been speculating about my affections.”

Giles leaned back more naturally, starting to enjoy himself, despite everything. In the long, desolate years ahead, he’d recall every moment of this encounter when Serena had taken the trouble to seek him out. The candlelight on her skin and hair. The distant sounds of the packed house. Having her to himself when for once, she didn’t seem to want to be elsewhere.

Even if she still wittered on about Paul Garside.

Oh, well, real life was rarely perfect. Otherwise, how would a man know he’d made it to heaven? “If you mean to turn into a flighty piece, you’ll have to learn to dissemble.”

“I can dissemble,” she said in a cranky voice that made him want to hug her.

By now, she was mere feet away. One small step, and he’d be close enough to touch her.

He stayed where he was. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

“I can learn.”

“That would be a pity.”

She frowned. “Is that why you won’t give me more lessons? Because you think I’ll give the game away?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s because I’m not sure what you’re playing at. I thought I knew, but now I’m puzzled. And I never said I wouldn’t give you another lesson.”

Her body sagged with relief. He was shocked to realize that whatever went on in that busy mind, she hadn’t come after him on a whim. This was important to her. Although for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why. They both knew that she should concentrate on winning Paul, not on kissing Paul’s best friend.

“I’m so glad,” she admitted. “When you avoided me tonight, I thought I must have done something wrong this afternoon.”

“You did. You kissed me when you intend to marry another man.” If he kept saying it, he might have some chance of retaining a shred of control.

One pale hand waved in dismissal. “It’s in a good cause.”