BACK IN THEIR carriage on the way to the castle, Amy leaned across to take Colin’s hands. “Wasn’t that wonderful?”
“Yes, it was delicious. I was famished.”
“You and your stomach.” Giggling, she tried to pull her hands back, but he held them tight. “I meant Mary, and how happy she is.”
“Oh,” he said with an innocent grin. He squeezed her fingers and arched one dark brow. “I’m hoping we’ll have a little girl just like Mary someday.”
She looked pointedly as his dark head, then freed one of her hands to lift a hank of her own ebony hair. “I think not, no matter how hard we tried.”
Colin laughed. “I didn’t mean blond; I meant sweet. Surely we can make a sweet daughter? We’ll have to work on it more often.”
“Haven’t we been?” Amy mused with a secretive smile.
As they pulled through the gatehouse and onto Cainewood’s private road, he grumbled under his breath, “So much for working on it.”
“Pardon me?”
He reached to take Amy’s hand and pull her onto his lap. “Our days of solitude are over—not to mention our nights.”
Amy laughed. “It’s not so bad as all that! Surely we’ll have time alone together. And the family…”
Amy was very much looking forward to spending time with her new family.
“The family. The loud, boisterous, meddlesome, teasing…” He swept the hair off the nape of her neck and bent his head to kiss her there with each word. “Argumentative, childish, outspoken, pigheaded—”
Amy turned on his lap. She touched her mouth to his, just barely, so he could feel her lips move. “Affectionate, generous, enthusiastic.” She kissed him lightly. “Playful, thoughtful, alive.” Another kiss, more forceful. “Intelligent, lovable—”
Colin pulled back in mock surprise. “Good heavens, are we as wonderful as all that?”
“Well, they are. I’m not so sure about you.” The carriage wheels clattered over the drawbridge, and Amy leaned back to part the curtains as they passed through the barbican and into the quadrangle. “Oh, Colin, look.”
All around the quadrangle, garlands of ivy graced the ancient walls. A large red bow hung over each door and window, the swagged ends wound with holly and laurel.
“It’s beautiful!”
“Wait till you see inside,” Colin promised drolly. “Kendra quite outdoes herself this time of year.” But he was smiling, clearly caught up in the Christmas spirit despite himself.
Indoors, the monotone, cream-hued stone hall was asplash with red and green. Winter foliage and red ribbon twisted around the gray handrail, marching up the stairs and across the balcony at the top. Hundreds of beeswax candles sat at intervals, waiting to be lit when darkness fell. Cloth of gold swagged lavishly between the columns, held in place with enormous red bows.
Amy paused on the threshold, aghast at the splendor, and Colin seized the opportunity to kiss her, reaching overhead to pull a berry off the mistletoe afterward.
“Ah, our bride and groom,” Kendra called, coming down the stairs. “Thank heavens you’ve arrived. Our mistletoe’s been sadly neglected this season.”
“We can remedy that situation.” Colin gave Amy another light kiss and removed another berry.
Moments later, the brothers appeared. They both had resounding kisses for Amy, and the mistletoe was relieved of two more berries. Then Kendra claimed a kiss from Colin, albeit a mite more sisterly, and another berry was plucked.
“That’s more like it.” Kendra grinned, looking up. “At this rate, it’ll be bare before evening!”