It took all of Mary’s considerable self-control not to put her ear to the door of the duke’s study. She hoped that Trevor would keep his chin up and not be humble or self-deprecating. Such qualities were good in a clergyman, but not likely to recommend him to the Duke of Hampford. He preferred people to be forthright and fearless like the creatures he kept.
After waiting for what seemed like an hour, Trevor walked out of the duke’s study holding a bunch of mistletoe. He gave her a smile that made her stomach flip.
He offered his arm to her, and she eagerly placed her hand upon it. “May I escort you to the tower? I hear the view there is quite magnificent.”
Mary would have much preferred her betrothed confess all in the drafty hall, but there was a lightness in his countenance that she had never seen before. She thought that it might be hope. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she allowed him to escort her down the long, drafty castle corridor. Trevor nearly passed the door that led to the spiral staircase, but she stopped him and steered him in the correct direction. Mary released her hold on his arm and took his hand to go up the narrow stairs—there simply was not room for two people across.
They arrived in the circular room both breathless and blushing. The girls had clearly been there before them. There were dozens of roses around the room in glass vases. They must have cut off every bud in the large greenhouse. The only furniture in the tower was a sofa with several pillows—freshly plumped—and a single cream blanket draped artfully across the back of it.
A fluttery feeling ran down her back. Mary stepped away from Trevor to the windows that overlooked the entire estate. Everywhere she looked, snow covered the buildings, trees, and even large chunks of ice in the river. Snowflakes fell from the sky, contrasting with the red rose petals that were spread across the room. Mary did not think that she had ever seen anything so beautiful before.
She heard Trevor clear his throat and she turned around to see him on his knees. Heat rushed to her face and her lips turned upward into a smile. He held out his hand and she put her own shaking fingers inside of his.
“My dearest Mary,” he began, “this is not the first time I have asked you to be my wife. My first proposal was near a flame, but the fire is inside me now. I thought then I knew precisely what to expect in my life. I believed myself to be in a position to afford a wife and a family once I received my uncle’s livings. I thought it might be a matter of a year, not nearly four. Nor did I consider that I might have nothing to offer you except myself. No family. No high connections. Yet you have stood by my side through thick and thin. You were willing to marry me with no prospects at all. I am humbled. I am amazed by your love. By your faith in me. By your great beauty, intelligence, wit, wisdom, humor, and overall competence. And I promise that I will strive my entire life to be worthy of you. For I love you most ardently, and I can think of no greater gift than to have you as my bride. Will you marry me this very Christmas Eve, Mary?”
She only wished that her father and mother could be at her wedding, but she did not want to wait a minute longer than needed to be his wife. Water filled her eyes. Mary brought her hand to her mouth in a poor attempt to hold in all her emotions. It proved impossible. Tears fell down her cheeks as she smiled. “Yes, my dearest Trevor, the answer is yes.”
He got to his feet, the color in his cheeks high as he held the mistletoe over their heads. “May I?”
She did not wait to answer him with words but pressed her lips against his warm ones. Trevor must have dropped the mistletoe, for she felt his hands against her shoulders, holding her tighter against his chest. His hands moved down her back in a slow burn to her waist as he deepened the kiss. Mary felt warm and fluttery all over, as if happiness was falling upon her like snowflakes. She moved her own hands up his solid and delightfully hard chest, up to his cravat, and finally to his neck. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her mouth even harder against his. Trevor moaned against her lips as her fingers moved through his curls. Each of his touches burned her like fire and her knees felt weak.
He lifted his mouth from hers and Mary was about to protest, when his lips made a trail across her cheek to her ear and then he nuzzled his nose into her neck. Her pulse raced. Mary did not know that one could be kissed there, but she quite liked it and made a purring sound not unlike Frederica’s cat. She tipped her head back to give him greater access. Trevor continued to kiss her neck, and she did not know if she would have remained standing if it were not for his strong arms around her waist. She felt both helpless and safe encircled in his touch. Arching her back, she knew that Trevor would never let her fall.
His mouth returned to hers and she responded with great enthusiasm. Tasting him. After knowing and loving Trevor for four years, he was going to be her husband. There could be no greater Christmas gift. This tall, handsome, loving man would be a thoughtful companion, a gentle lover, and a wonderful husband. Mary looked forward to having her very own family to watch over. She hoped that her daughters would not be quite as strong-willed as her charges. He ran his palms up and down her arms, squeezing, and she could no longer think. His tongue entered her mouth and gently stroked hers. Her own hands ached with the need to touch and explore him.
After several delicious minutes, Trevor lifted his lips from hers and kissed her nose before pulling her with him to a seat on the sofa. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and tucked them both inside the blanket. Mary nestled against his chest and shoulder. He smelled of leather, books, and mistletoe. All her favorite things.
He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I have some wonderful news, and it is all thanks to you.”
She made another purring sound, rubbing her face into the soft material of his coat. Mary felt, rather than saw, his smile pressed into her hair.
“Lord Hampford offered me a living.”
“Because of your wonderful sermon on Sunday?”
Trevor shook his head against her curls. “No, he had already decided to offer me a living before he even met me. The duke is quite partial to you and the wonderful job that you have done with his daughters. However, he did admonish me to keep my sermons short.”
A laugh bubbled up her stomach, through her throat, and out of her lips. “The Stringhams are not fond of long sermons. Is the position close to the castle?”
If Mary were to be located several hours from her family, she hoped, at least, that she would be close to Frederica, Helen, and Becca. They were her darling termagants, as dear to her as sisters.
“Very close,” he said, putting a finger underneath her chin and tipping her head back so that she could look him in the eyes. “You are looking at the duke’s new chaplain.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Trevor said, pressing passionate kisses to her mouth, her nose, and her eyelids.
Breathless and blushing, Mary emerged from his embrace. She liked that he was no longer timid in his touch or brief in his kisses. This new, more confident Trevor was very much to her liking. Or rather, loving.
“Then we shall stay in the castle?”
Shaking his head, Trevor gazed down at her tenderly. He caressed the curls near her face. “Lord Hampford is a thoughtful man and said that newly married couples needed a little space of their own. He offered us Ford Cottage. You will still be able to see his daughters every day, if you wish.”
She placed her arms around his neck and kissed the line of his jaw as her heartbeat pounded in her chest. “I will be able to see them often. But perhaps not every day.”
Then she pulled his head down for another kiss. After all, a tower with freshly cut roses and falling snowflakes should not be wasted.
Chapter 10