Mary carefully cut a sprig of holly, the berries a bright blood-red against the glossy dark green leaves, and tucked it into her basket. Beside her, Ginny did the same, inspecting the branches for the prettiest leaves, while Captain Heelis climbed a rickety ladder in an attempt to find mistletoe. Though he and Ginny cast uncertain glances toward each other, they seldom spoke.
What a silly, romantic tangle this Christmas was, Mary thought. Ginny’s young, wild almost-marriage was thwarted, and she and Dominick—well, she simply had no idea what was happening with them. Whenever she thought of him, and of last night, she wanted to laugh out loud with the joy of it all. Yet still at the back of her mind a doubtful voice whispered to her.
Dominick made her feel young and carefree again, but the truth was things were not entirely as they had been back when she had first met him. She was a widow now, not a green girl. She twirled the bit of holly in her gloved fingers, watching the whirl of red and green. Yet that did not mean she could not enjoy her Christmas—which was turning into a bright one indeed.
‘You seem in a good mood today, Mary,’ Ginny said.
‘I am. The rain has stopped, and it’s a lovely morning.’ Mary dropped the branch in with all the others—a tangle of greenery to replenish the boughs on Lady Amesby’s banister.
‘But it’s still cold,’ Ginny said, shivering in her pelisse.
‘It’s Christmas time—it’s supposed to be cold,’ Mary said with a laugh. ‘Lady Amesby will have warm cider for us when we return to the house.’
Ginny glanced at Captain Heelis from the corner of her eye. He tottered on his ladder, dropping drifts of mistletoe to the ground. ‘Perhaps we could make a kissing bough, like when we were children! That was always fun.’
‘I think your Captain Heelis is collecting enough mistletoe for twenty kissing boughs,’ said Mary.
‘Oh!’ Ginny’s cheeks turned a brilliant pink, which had nothing to do with the chilly wind. ‘I don’t think he is my Captain Heelis, Mary. Not any more.’
‘Really?’ Mary carefully laid another holly branch in her basket, keeping her tone neutral. Ginny had a skittish air about her, as if she would dash away if pressed for confidences. ‘I would think someone who wants to marry you enough to make a dash for Scotland is assuredly yours. If you still want him.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Ginny said quietly. ‘I acted like such a ninny on our journey. The cold, the fight at that terrible inn—I couldn’t stop crying. I was sure I had made a terrible mistake, just as you warned me.’
Mary reached out to squeeze her sister’s hand. ‘Do you mean you no longer care for Captain Heelis in that way, Ginny?’
‘I do care for Arthur! And he cares for me, too, I’m sure. He was so kind when I cried. He felt terrible. But I did realise something.’
‘What is that?’
Ginny rubbed her toe along the frosty ground, staring down at the line like a child about to be scolded. ‘Well, I realised that you were quite right.’
‘What?’ Mary cried. ‘Good heavens, has the world ended? That can surely be the only explanation for you declaring I was right.’
‘Oh, Mary, don’t tease,’ Ginny protested, but she did laugh. ‘You were right that I could not be happy without my family and friends, without a proper home. I want to marry Arthur, but only if things are as they should be.’
‘Oh, Ginny, dearest. How very grown-up that sounds.’ Mary kissed her sister’s pink cheek. ‘You are young—you have time to make sure things are just right before you make any decisions.’
‘But you were my age when you married.’
‘That was different.’
‘Oh, I know,’ said Ginny. ‘You had to take care of us all.’
Mary was surprised by Ginny yet again. She had been just a child when Mary had wed William; surely she had not known the truth of their circumstances then? ‘I was hardly a maiden in a fairytale, sacrificing herself to save the village from a dragon.’
‘No. Lord Derrington was not a dragon,’ Ginny said, turning away to cut more holly. ‘But he was not much fun, either. I’m not sure someone who does not care for music can be entirely trusted.’
Music was only one of the things William had not cared for, Mary thought sadly. But … ‘He was a good man.’
‘I am sure he was.’ Ginny dropped a handful of leaves into the basket, waving at the Captain. He nearly fell from his ladder, waving back. ‘Lord Amesby is very handsome. Charming, too.’
‘Yes, he is.’
‘Just as handsome as he was when you were my age?’
Before Mary could even begin to answer Ginny skipped away to meet Captain Heelis as he climbed down. They gathered up the branches of mistletoe, then turned back to the house. Mary was left alone with only the holly to hear her thoughts. At least it seemed Ginny had decided to be sensible. Could she do the same? Could she be brave enough to dare to start life over again? To hope again?
She looped the handles of the basket over her arm and followed the young couple to the house. As she neared the gravelled drive she heard the pounding of hooves and turned to see Dominick galloping towards her.
Her breath caught as she watched him. He was so beautiful, so powerful. He had always been a good horseman; now he seemed one with the horse, moving so elegantly. His head was uncovered, his hair gleaming like old gold in the greyish light, tousled over his brow. He laughed as the horse wheeled around—a sound full of pure, joyful freedom.
It made Mary laugh, too. She hurried near him as he reined in the restive horse.
‘So that is where you disappeared to this morning—off for a ride,’ Mary said. ‘I should have known.’
Dominick patted the horse’s glossy neck, and the beast pawed happily at the ground. ‘Aunt Beatrice said he hadn’t been properly exercised in a while, poor thing. I took him for a gallop into the village.’
And Dominick was certainly good at properly exercising—as Mary well knew. To cover her sudden blush, she reached up to stroke the horse’s velvety nose. ‘Are you sure you weren’t just trying to get out of collecting holly for your aunt’s decorations?’
He laughed, swinging down from the saddle to stand close to her. She smelled the warmth of him in the cold air, the heady scent of soap and leather and clean, masculine sweat. ‘I had very important errands, I would have you know. And it seems you have done a good job of holly-collecting all on your own.’
‘I did have some assistance from Ginny and your cousin, I admit.’
He took the heavy basket from her arm, giving over the horse’s reins to a groom. ‘And how are the young runaways?’
‘Thinking better of their actions, I’m glad to say. Ginny still cares for Captain Heelis, but she does see that their situation must improve before they are ready to marry.’
‘Well, I am sure their situation will soon be not as hopeless as everyone fears.’
Mary gave him a puzzled glance. ‘You are up to something, Dominick?’
‘Of course I’m not. I’m innocent as a newborn lamb, and quite hurt you would think me up to some scheme.’
‘Ha! You, Lord Amesby, are the least innocent person I know.’
Dominick suddenly caught her by the arm with his free hand, tugging her with him around the corner of the house. He dropped the basket and took her into his arms, his lips coming down on hers in a hot, desperate kiss.
That shimmering haze of desire swept over her, her heart pounding louder than the horse’s hoofbeats. She went up on her toes, burying her hands in his tousled hair as she met him passion for raw passion.
‘You didn’t seem to mind my deficiency of innocence last night,’ he muttered, his mouth tracing her jaw, the soft, sensitive spot just below her ear. He licked at the pulse pounding there.
‘Oh, do be quiet and kiss me again,’ she answered, curling her hands into his coat to pull him to her. She knew the answer to her earlier doubts now—she did dare to start again. To believe again. With him.
Dominick laughed roughly. ‘Whatever her ladyship commands.’
Dominick lay beside Mary as she slept, listening to her soft breath, the silence of the house. Soon that silence would be broken, the household would stir for Christmas, and he would have to leave her. But he had these precious moments to hold on to.
When she had greeted him so warmly on his return from his errand, kissing him so joyfully, his heart had soared. He’d felt things he’d been sure were gone for ever—hope, joy. Love. A true Christmas spirit. Even the thought that maybe he could have a family, that he could be a good husband, even a father.
Just maybe …
Mary sighed in her sleep and cuddled closer to him. She trusted him again; could he trust himself?
He pressed a kiss to her soft tousled hair and smiled. Maybe, just maybe, he could.