Trevor woke up in a four-poster bed in a sumptuously furnished room so entirely unlike his own rented one. There was a warming pan at his feet and a blazing fire in the hearth. He must not have stirred when the scullery maid entered that morning to make up the fire. Stretching his arms out, he felt as if he were living in a dream. These two arms had held Mary. His hands had touched her delicately rounded shoulders, and his lips had brushed hers and he had not spontaneously combusted. He could not bear to lose her. Nor wait a decade for another kiss.
Christmas in a castle made everything seem possible. But it was not. Trevor still did not have a living and could not support Mary and a family. He would not drag her down into poverty. They would have to wait longer and hope that he was offered a better position. That is, if she was willing to stay engaged to him.
Putting on a fresh suit, Trevor left his room, and a footman directed him to the breakfast room, where the family had eaten dinner the night before. The footman opened the door to the room, and Trevor realized that he was the last one there. The other five were already sitting at the table, partaking of delicious-smelling food from the sideboard. He was about to dish up his own plate when Lady Helen pointed at him.
“You are underneath the mistletoe again.”
All the girls hit their palms on the table and chanted, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
He’d nearly had a heart attack the night before when the bold young miss demanded that he kiss Mary in front of a crowd. But today he would cherish every kiss he was given. He strode to where Mary was sitting and waited for her to lift her face up for him to kiss her. Cupping her cheek with one hand, he leaned down and kissed her. She tasted sweet, like cream and strawberries. He would have much rather had her for breakfast than a meal. Reluctantly, he lifted his head and saw her beautifully flushed cheeks and sweet smile. He did not wish to ever let her go.
Lady Rebecca clapped. “Oh, much better!”
“I daresay by the end of your visit, you will be an expert kisser,” added Lady Frederica, holding her glass of juice up to him as if toasting his improvement.
Pushing down his embarrassment, he moved over to the sideboard and plentifully filled his plate. Kissing made a man ravenous. After sitting down at the table, in the conspicuously open chair by Mary, he focused on his breakfast and listened to their chatter. The Duchess of Hampford was to arrive on Thursday, the day before Christmas Eve.
After breakfast, they all filed out of the dining room, and the young ladies stopped again as he stood in the doorframe underneath the mistletoe. He did not wait to be told this time. Holding his hand out, he hesitated for Mary to step into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her lovely body. His own hands moved to the narrow part of her waist, holding her closer. A thrill ran down his neck and his fingers tingled. He slanted his mouth toward hers, slightly open, and realized that kissing was even more delightful this way. Mary’s mouth had also opened, and he could taste her more fully. Bells rang in his ears and butterflies floated in his belly. Her frame seemed to fit perfectly against his own. Her lips soft against his rougher ones. He lifted his head from her mouth and pressed a reverent kiss to her forehead before letting her go.
Mary’s glasses were all fogged up. A fact that her snickering charges did not miss either.
“Can we go sledding, Miss Perkins?” Lady Rebecca asked.
Lady Helen wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps it will cool yourtemperature?”
She yelped and dodged a swift elbow from Lady Frederica.
Trevor glanced at Mary. There was a lovely color in her cheeks, but she did not seem discomfited.
“What an excellent idea, Helen,” Mary said, straightening her spectacles. “Go and fetch your coats, wraps, and boots. Perhaps a little snow will coolyourmatchmaking attempts.”
“A hit,” Lord Hampford said with a chuckle.
Trevor thought he heard Lady Rebecca mumble, “Doubtful,” out of the side of her mouth. But Mary showed no sign of hearing it. Bowing, he left the party to return to his room and put on his own warm clothing. He could not remember the last time that he had gone sledding or frolicked in the snow. It was probably whilst he was still in school. Such behavior would have been considered undignified in a man of the cloth.
Wrapping the scarf that Mary had knitted him last year for Christmas, Trevor left his bedchamber. He met Mary and the Stringham sisters near the main double doors and they entered the courtyard together. Lady Helen and Lady Rebecca ran to the stables across the green that was currently white and came back with two sleds each. Lady Rebecca handed one of her sleds to Lady Frederica, and Lady Helen gave Trevor the other sled.
She gave Mary an arched look. “I am afraid that we could only find four sleds, Miss Perkins. You will have to share with Poor Trevor.”
Mary touched her chest and pretended to sigh. “Alas, I am well able to make that sacrifice for the greater good.”
Her charges laughed merrily and began to pull their sleds toward the south gate. His own lips quirked up into a smile. He had never heard Mary be sarcastic before. He liked it. Pulling the rope of the sled, he walked by her side. When they reached the south gate, he playfully bumped her shoulder with his.
“I don’t think I have been sledding since I was a lad.”
Shaking her head, she grinned. “We sled at least weekly in the winter. The girls make sure I have plenty of exercise.”
Trevor had always considered Mary a healthy and active young lady. She walked almost everywhere that she went. Yet he had never thought her outdoorsy before. Her cheeks were touched with a bit of red and so were her lips, but Mary’s entire countenance smiled. She belonged here. At this castle. With these jolly people.
She pointed to a hill about a half mile away. “That is the best sledding spot. Just past Ford Cottage.”
His eyes followed the line of her finger to a two-story stone home that was larger than a typical cottage, but not quite a manor. Behind the stone structure was a hill of a good size, and Trevor was wheezing by the time they reached the top of it. The Stringham ladies squealed and jumped onto their sleds, racing down the hill with reckless abandon. He glanced over at Mary, who smiled down at them.
“Helen will win. She always does at sledding. She is the lightest and the most competitive.”
Pulling up his scarf, he looked at Mary in wonder. “I’ve noticed that you do not call them by their titles, but they refer to you as Miss Perkins.”
Mary took the rope of the sled from his hand. “They do not like to be called by their titles, and I feel as if the little authority I wield would be lost if I do not insist on being Miss Perkins.”