A Match Made in Mistletoe
Perhaps his case wasn’t as hopeless as he thought.
Renewed optimism made him smile down at her with untrammeled delight. He’d chosen this devious course with the frail hope of diverting her interest in Paul. Jealousy was an encouraging sign. Very encouraging indeed.
“Then perhaps you should kiss her instead,” Serena said sharply, putting the lie to her words by stripping off her gloves and tossing them down with visible vexation.
Giles’s first impulse was to fling himself at her feet and declare that only one woman held his heart. But he hadn’t wasted his years in London, and he knew better than to discard the advantages this unexpected development brought. With a languor designed to taunt, he removed his own gloves and pushed them into his pocket. “She hasn’t asked for my kisses.”
“I’m sure she will,” she sniped.
“What a delightful prospect,” Giles drawled. “But something for future consideration. At present, you’re here, and Miss Duggan isn’t.”
She didn’t look pleased. Which pleased him. Right now, Paul held no place in her thoughts. “You really are a rake.”
He let his smile widen, become predatory, as he took her hand and drew her behind one of the square pillars framing the open doorway. Nowhere in the airy temple was private, but this provided some cover, and gave him a view of the clearing around the temple. Not that anyone was likely to intrude at this hour on a freezing morning.
“Shall we begin?” He let her go.
“I feel a little awkward.” She bit her lip in a way that made him want to kiss her until she forgot any nonsense about Letty Duggan. Hell, until she forgot the rest of the world. And she admitted the only man she wanted was Giles Farraday.
“No need.” Maintaining his louche manner, he leaned back against the pillar and folded his arms. Yesterday a careless air had coaxed her into surrender. Would it work again today? “You did very well. For a beginner.”
“Giles, must you tease?”
Oh, no, she started to take his measure.
“It establishes the right tone in the classroom.” When he set his hands on her waist, she didn’t jump. More progress. He fumbled in his pocket. “And I’ve brought the necessary equipment.”
“Giles!” she gasped, looking shocked and intrigued at the same time. “For shame.”
A low laugh escaped. “Serena, I’m shocked. A sweet young miss shouldn’t understand that joke.”
She rolled her eyes. “As if I wouldn’t understand, after all those holidays with you and Paul and Frederick. For pity’s sake, you three spent every minute between the ages of eleven and sixteen sniggering—and drooling over the milkmaids.”
“I’m sure we were charming.”
She laughed. “I’m sure you weren’t. But you’ve all improved since, thank goodness.”
“Well, that’s something.” He drew his hand from his pocket and opened it to reveal what lay on his palm. “And you mistake me. This is what I meant.”
“Where did you get that?”
“The kissing bough at the manor. I didn’t want to risk a refusal.”
“As if I’d refuse.” She shot him an unimpressed glance. “I invited you, remember?”
He lifted the mistletoe over her ruffled blond head and brushed a light kiss over her lips. The ride and the removal of her hat had made a delightful mess of this morning’s severe chignon. He loved to see her like this, sweet and ardent and disheveled.
“Time to see what you remember from yesterday’s lessons.” He dropped the sprig and lashed his arms around her, drawing her up for a kiss that wasn’t light at all.
Chapter Eight
* * *
Serena sank into the sultry darkness of Giles’s kiss. With an incoherent murmur of welcome, she opened to his heated exploration. The sweep of his tongue inside her mouth engulfed her in pleasure.
And desire.
Because today, she felt more than surprise and curiosity. Today she craved.