Mary leaned back against the door of her bedroom and closed her eyes. She had taken a risk with Hugh and so far, it had worked. But to claim his heart, she knew she would have to hold her nerve steady.
Her fingertips touched the place on her cheek where he had kissed her. Two years and an unknown number of months she had waited for a kiss.
“It was a peck, but it’s a start.”
She had slyly watched him all evening, taking heart from his obvious discomfort at her holding him at arm’s-length. While playing with David, she had seen Hugh speak to his brother. When Ewan ventured a look in her direction, their gazes met, and he had offered up the hint of a smile before turning back to Hugh. The Duke of Strathmore’s silent approval gave her the encouragement she needed in order to stand her ground.
Hugh had asked for a few days to show her how well they would suit before expecting her answer to his proposal. She could only hope that he felt enough for her to be able to manage more than a small kiss on the cheek.
“Come on, Hugh, don’t fail me. Don’t fail us.”
The following day had an unexpected start for Mary. No one had mentioned that most of the menfolk would be out on the mountain hunting wild boar for the better part of the day. Hugh had gone with the hunting party when it set out at first light and not returned until supper.
Mary had spent the day with the Radley women, making more juniper bundles. By the time supper came around, her aching fingers had her wishing never to see another bundle of juniper in her life.
It was late when Mary and Hugh finally got a moment alone. Everyone else, except Aunt Maude, had retired to bed. Maude was in her usual spot in front of the fire, fast asleep.
Hugh, seated in the chair opposite to Mary, was nursing a badly bruised leg from the hunt.
“What did you do exactly?” she asked, pointing at his leg.
He huffed. “Nothing heroic unfortunately. I tripped over a branch on the mountain and landed heavily. I don’t know which is more bruised: my leg or my pride. The rest of the hunting party had a grand laugh when they saw me go head over heels into the heather.”
“I could rub some comfrey cream into it if you like,” she offered, trying not to laugh.
Hugh smiled warmly, reflecting the amusement she knew was on her own face. He rose from the chair and came to sit beside her.
An awkward silence settled between them for a moment before he finally spoke. “I know why I fell over this morning; I was busy thinking about you and not looking where I was going. To be honest, I have been thinking a lot about you since we left England.”
He reached out and took hold of her hand. She shuddered as he raised it to his lips and kissed her palm. Their gazes met.
“My brother thinks you are in love with me. He says he has watched you and your eyes rarely leave me when we are in the same room. I thought he was mistaken, but I watched you tonight, and I think he might be right,” he said.
“And?” Mary prayed his answer would be a swift one—if she held her breath for any longer, she may faint.
“And I need to know if you do feel something for me, because I have to tell you, my affections toward you are not those merely of a friend. They haven’t been for some time,” he said.
It was a good thing that they were seated away from the fireplace, as the whoosh of air which left her lungs would surely have threatened to put out the flames.
“You . . . you love me?” A trickle of a tear rolled down her cheek. The love she saw shining in his eyes threatened to bring on more tears.
“Yes, Mary, I do love you,” he whispered. He speared his fingers into her hair and drew her to him, placing a searing kiss on her lips. The heady scent of his cologne, the same one she had gifted him, filled her senses.
Their tongues met in a soft dance. Every kiss he offered invited her to respond—to show her love for him. Mary was determined to hold nothing back.
Aunt Maude stirred in her chair.
They released one another from the kiss and sat with their foreheads touching while they both regained their breath.
A shy smile sat on Mary’s face. “I love you, Hugh. I always have.”
He took hold of her hands. “I was a fool not to have spoken my heart to you a long time ago. I promise I won’t ever hold my love from you again.”
Aunt Maude grumbled in her sleep and yawned.
Hugh cast his eye in her direction, then looked back at Mary.
“Come with me.” He took her by the hand and led her toward the steps. When they arrived under the mistletoe, he stopped.
Mary waited, expecting another soft, chaste kiss on the cheek.
“We don’t need magic, but I think we should still avail ourselves of it just to be sure.” He let out a growl before pulling her to him, swiftly taking her lips in another kiss which was anything but chaste. She clung to him as he plundered her mouth, meeting his hungry need with her own.
When he finally released her from the kiss, he held her close. His eyes burned bright with desire—desire she knew was for her.
“I can walk you to your room and we can say good night, or you can come with me and we can greet the dawn together. Either way, we will be making an announcement tomorrow morning,” he said, his voice gruff with barely restrained passion.
Mary nodded. “The dawn sounds perfect.” She placed her hand in his and they walked from the great hall.
As they disappeared up the steps, Lady Maude Radley rose from her chair. She crossed to the sofa where Hugh and Mary had been sitting. From behind one of the cushions, she retrieved a sprig of mistletoe. She held it up and softly chuckled.
“Old-fashioned Christmas magic always goes a long way.”