Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection

Alicia settled herself more comfortably, pressing her lovely, lush body into his back. She hadn’t been this close to him in years. He was scoundrel enough to enjoy the contact, however reluctantly she granted it.

Maybe after all, he should be grateful to old Harold. He might even send the poltroon a case of port and a note of appreciation.

Well, that might go too far.

“Is that where we’re heading?” She tightened her arms. He wished it was because she wanted to touch him and not just because she sought a more secure seat. He also wished that when she said “we”, his belly didn’t cramp with longing for the word to be true.

Damn Alicia. She’d always held magic for him and she always would. Ten long years without her had taught him that grim lesson.

The reminder of the dance she’d led him made him respond in a clipped tone. “No, we’re going to Heseltine Hall near Whitby.”

“But you can leave me at the inn, can’t you?”

“It’s a poor place. I couldn’t abandon a woman there without protection.” He tried, he really did, to keep the satisfaction from his voice, but he must have failed. He felt her tense against his back, although she couldn’t pull too far away without risking a fall.

“And who’s going to protect me from you?” she muttered, almost as if to herself.

“I mean you no harm.” For all their difficult interactions, he’d only ever wished her well. “You didn’t come all the way from London in that spindly carriage, did you?”

“It’s inappropriate to discuss my arrangement with Lord Harold,” she said coldly.

He laughed again, against all sense, enchanted with her spirit. “Humor me.”

She sighed. “We traveled up separately to York.” Her voice melted into sincerity, and he tried not to respond to the husky sweetness. “I truly didn’t set out to cause a scandal. You and I parted in rancor, but I have no ambition to damage you or your name.”

“Whatever your attempts at discretion, you still meant to give yourself to that puppy,” Kinvarra bit out, all amusement abruptly fled.

Alicia didn’t answer.

Chapter 2

THE WEATHER HAD worsened by the time they reached the inn. Alicia realized as they approached the ramshackle, rambling building that it was indeed the rough place Kinvarra had described. But just the prospect of shelter and a chance to rest her aching body was welcome. Surely Kinvarra couldn’t intend to ride on to his mysterious manor tonight when more snow fell every minute and their horse was blowing with exhaustion.

The earl dismounted and lifted her from the saddle. His hands were firm around her waist, and she struggled to ignore the thrill that sizzled through her traitorous body. The lamps that lit the inn yard revealed that he looked tired and strangely, for a man who always seemed so indomitable, unhappy.

As he set her upon the cobblestones, his

hands didn’t linger. She tried not to note that she’d touched Kinvarra more in the last few hours than she had since she’d left him. Nor did she wish to remember that hugging his strong back, she’d felt safer than she had in years.

“Let’s get you into the warmth.” He gestured for her to precede him inside, as a groom rushed to take their horse.

Alicia had expected her husband to spend the journey haranguing her for her wantonness—or at the very least her idiocy in setting out for the wilds of Yorkshire in the depths of winter so ill prepared for disaster. But he’d remained quiet.

How she wished he’d berated her. She dearly needed to remember why she hated him. She’d spent a decade convincing herself that leaving him had been her only choice of action. A moment’s unexpected kindness shouldn’t change that.

While his body offered a warm anchor and his adept hands unerringly guided their horse toward sanctuary, resentment had proven fiendishly difficult to maintain. And when she wasn’t constantly sniping at him, it became impossible to ignore his physical presence. His clean, male scent—horses, leather, soap, fresh air. The muscles under her hands, hard even through his winter clothing. His lean strength.

Kinvarra had been a handsome boy. He’d become a splendid man.

She’d forgotten how powerfully he affected her. And the pity of it was that she’d need far too long after this to forget again. He made every other man pale into insignificance.

It was vilely irritating.

The rotund landlord greeted them at the door, clearly overwhelmed to have the quality on his humble premises. The tap room was jammed to the rafters with people bundled up for an uncomfortable night on chairs and benches. A few hardy souls hunched near the fire, drinking and smoking. One table of revelers even defied their circumstances and sang some carols in honor of the season.

Apart from a couple of serving maids, Alicia was the only woman present. Self-consciously she drew her hood around her face, as she shifted closer to the blaze. The heat penetrated frozen extremities with painful force. Even molding herself to Kinvarra’s big, strong body, the ride had been frozen purgatory.

For all that she remained standing, she’d drifted into a half-doze when she became aware of Kinvarra beside her. He spoke in a low voice to save them from eavesdroppers. “My lady, there’s a difficulty.”