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December 22, 1818
After midnight
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nable to sleep due to his mind tumbling over like a pinwheel, Stephen had taken to prowling the halls. What had occurred between Lynette and her mother after he left them earlier that night? He wasn’t given the opportunity to talk with her, for she’d retired upstairs shortly after and had refused to leave her bedchamber even after he’d had a maid deliver a note asking for a quick meeting.
After the ball had concluded, he’d brooded in the drawing room with his brother over brandy, but neither of them felt much like talking. Stephen had appreciated the companionship, nonetheless. Finally, they’d gone upstairs, but sleep was elusive. He didn’t like how possessive Lady Ruddick was with Lynette, and he abhorred her trying to drive a wedge between them, for he’d wager the contents of his bank account the baroness would attempt to dissuade Lynette’s plans. But those machinations had cleared his vision: if he wanted a future with Lynette, then he needed to secure it with alacrity, opposition be damned.
Everything would find a solution, for nothing mattered except winning her heart. There was no other option, and he refused to contemplate a life without her.
And still, anxiety roved through his veins rendering relaxation impossible. Since he’d yet to undress from the ball, he listlessly made silent rounds through the corridors of Ivy Castle. It was both creepy and comforting walking the halls in the dark, and perhaps the old pile would provide the answers he sought, for generations of Ivy men had no doubt done the same at one time or another. The problems he faced weren’t unique to him.
The faint flicker of candlelight caught his attention. It came from a small, unused parlor on the second floor that overlooked the winter bare rear gardens. Back in his childhood, it had been a favorite escape of his mother’s, but since then, it remained largely forgotten. Curious, he deviated from his course and entered the room, only to come to an abrupt halt at the sight of Lynette, lying on one of the sofas of ivory and gold brocade, her face buried in a throw pillow and soft sobs issuing from her.
“Lynette?” Anemic light from an oil lamp resting upon the top of a pianoforte cast a faint yellow pool whose edges barely reached her sofa. Immediately, concern tugged at his chest. “Are you well?” She hadn’t changed from her ballgown, but nearby lay her silk stockings as well as her slippers.
“That’s a difficult question to answer,” she responded as she raised her head and looked at him. The silvery tracks of her tears were evident in the dim light.
“What are you doing here?”
“Thinking.” She pushed herself into a sitting position, apparently without a care to how her twisted skirts would put hopeless wrinkles and creases in the fabric.
Stephen frowned as unease careened down his spine. Obviously, whatever had occurred between with her mother earlier had upset her. “About?”
“You and I.” A delicate shrug lifted her shoulders. She found his gaze, held it. “About whether I should let you slip through my fingers for my mother’s sake.”
“Ah.” His chest tightened with need for her as well as the want to protect her. She’d already suffered so much ill-fortune in life that she didn’t deserve more. “I assume your mother doesn’t care for me any better now than she did years ago.” It wasn’t a question, but the longer he looked at her, the more his immediate future was decided. He would offer for her though he hadn’t meant to do so this soon, but she was skittish and at sixes and sevens following her mother’s false collapse.
“She’s bitter about her own problems.” Nothing in her eyes revealed her state of mind. “The taxes are due once again on Birch House, and since they haven’t been paid for the last handful of years, she’s in danger of losing it, thanks to my father’s negligent cousin.” Bitterness wove through her voice, a true testament to her mindset, for as long as he’d known her, she never let circumstances affect her outlook. “I suppose I understand that.”
For long moments he stared, couldn’t bear to spend one more second away from her, and he wanted to solve the problems that threatened to tear them apart. After swallowing down the ball of emotions lodged in his throat, he came forward a few steps. “Then marry me.” It was perhaps a tad abrupt and highly unromantic, but he didn’t want to waste any more time.
Her eyes went wide, and confusion clouded them in the dim light. The shadows of the room nearly swallowed her. “I beg your pardon?”
Yes, this was what he wanted, what he needed. “Marry me.” Stephen said it again with more conviction. He closed the distance between them, took her hands, and swiftly tugged her into a standing position. “You and I have gotten on well together during the house party. And there’s certainly an attraction between us. I don’t see why a union between us won’t work this time around.”
“Are you mad?” She yanked her hands from his with enough force that he frowned. “That was hardly romantic, and it certainly won’t solve any of my problems.”
“I can think of three that it will off the top of my head.” When she remained silent, he gaped at her. Had he read her wrong? Then reality intruded and left him cold. “You’d choose your mother over me?”
“I don’t know. It seems either choice I make will hurt one of you.” Confusion filled her eyes. She twisted her hands together. “I don’t want to see her tossed out, but—”
“You deserve happiness, Lynette,” he cut in, unwilling to lose this chance. “It’s not your responsibility to make your mother find the same.”
“I’m all she has left, me and John.”
“Then you’ll forfeit your life to live beneath her thumb?” This is outrageous! He couldn’t lose her again, not to the selfish plans of an acrimonious widow. “How is that a woman’s love for a daughter?”
The delicate tendons of her throat worked with a hard swallow. “I’m so torn. And you haven’t told me how you feel about me, regardless.” A bit of her natural spirit rallied in her tones.
“I thought it was implied.” Hadn’t he shown her how during those kisses?
She snorted. “I’m not a mind reader, Stephen, and perhaps I’m vain, but I want to hear it, I want you to talk to me.” Desperation and longing fought for dominance in her dark eyes. “It’s the height of folly to marry a man who doesn’t love me or one to whom I don’t share the same.”
His chest tightened. Would this be how their life together went, constantly bickering over small things? After everything, had he misjudged her reaction? “I...” Why the devil were the words so difficult to say?
Because I can’t bear to have her reject me again.
The only times she’d been comfortable and honest with herself and him had been during their kisses beneath the mistletoe. Casting a frantic glance about, he frowned, for there wasn’t a ball of the stuff in the room. And why should there be? It hadn’t been used for guests in some time. “Allow me one moment and then I’ll answer you.”
“But I—”
Without giving her a chance to answer, Stephen dashed from the room, his heart in his throat. If Griffin could manage to declare himself to Nora and win her heart, then he could set aside his pride and his fear of making himself vulnerable to do the same with Lynette. Once in the dark drawing room, he pulled over a chair, climbed upon it, and snatched down the ball of mistletoe. Hoping not to crush the creation in his fingers, he hopped from the chair and ran back into the parlor.
She stood were he’d left her, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, for the room had a chill. The hearth hadn’t been used in ages. “What are you about?” She eyed him with suspicion and sadness as he worked to catch his breath.
This romance business was deuced hard work. “Just this.” More composed, he closed the distance, tightly holding the mistletoe ball in his hand. “Earlier this week I vowed to myself I would win you back in three mistletoe kisses.”
“Truly, Stephen?” Lynette scoffed. She crossed her arms at her chest. “I thought you were more mature than that.”
“Hear me out.” He held up a finger. “I’ve never stopped loving you.” How to say this next bit without making a huge cake of himself? Then he remembered his sister’s words. If there was ever a time for honesty, it was now. “You were the first woman to have my heart, and you’re the only woman who I wish to keep it.”
“But—”
Obviously, she needed more. He nodded. Nothing should be held back. “Over the course of this week, after spending time with you and John, I know more than ever I want to have you by my side for the rest of my life.” He glanced at the mistletoe in his hand, the symbol of love and romance at Christmastide. “I was a fool all those years ago and should have fought for you instead of with you. I should have put aside my pride, hurt ego, and let you know what I’d meant when I told you of my plans.” He blew out a breath, fearing he was mucking it up beyond repair. “What I’m trying to say is that I love you; I’ve never stopped. I want to marry you, if you’ll have me.”
“Oh, Stephen.” A shuddering sigh escaped her. The tears welling in her eyes fell to her cheeks. “You live in London.”
“Yes, what of it?”
“That’s far away from Bedford and my mother. She’s already said she won’t leave Birch House.”
Then she can go hang for all I care. His jaw clenched but he forced himself to relax. “Her ill will aside, I will personally pay the taxes on Birch House and set aside an allowance for her monthly. Then she’ll have no more reason to worry,” he said from around the annoyance bubbling up due to Lady Ruddick’s selfishness. “I suspect she won’t care where you choose to reside once coin is back in her coffers.”
That was the sad fact of the matter, and one Lynette would need to learn sooner or later.
“Oh.” Though her eyes had widened, she offered no other words.
“Doesn’t that change your mind?” he asked in a soft but strangled voice. Every impediment had been removed, so why wasn’t she ecstatic?
“I... I don’t know... It’s quite a shock, and a sacrifice on your part. I couldn’t possibly accept.”
“My dear girl.” Stephen sighed. She’d be stubborn to the end. “I don’t mind doing it for you—for us. Search your heart. How do you feel about me without the cloud of your mother putting shade on that decision?”
For long moments, she held his gaze. Then she burst into tears, which pulled a frown from him as he handed her his handkerchief. Why did women cry over everything? “It’s true. I love you. Despite my mother. I think I always have even when I broke our engagement, even through loving my husband, there was always the thought of you, that someday I might come back and that you’d welcome me with open arms and forgiveness.”
Oh, dear God! The pain that had set up residence about his heart since her mother’s faint suddenly dissipated and left him gasping. “I would—I will.” He came toward her a step. “I do.” When all she did was sniffle and press the linen square to her cheeks, he held up the ball of mistletoe. “Do you require further convincing on my part?”
“Perhaps.” Her smile was a watery affair at best. “After all, you still have that last mistletoe kiss to convince me.”
“This is so.” She looked so fetching standing there, her vulnerability on full display, calling out to his, with hope reflecting deep in the depths of her eyes that he couldn’t bear to remain parted from her. With a groan mixed with a growl, Stephen caught her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. This wasn’t the tender kiss of a man who wished to court a woman. No, this was the last attempt of a desperate man who hoped to show the woman he loved the depth of his regard, to fully show tell that he was in earnest.
He moved over her mouth with conviction and pleading, memorizing the delicate contours of her lips, teasing with tiny licks at the corners, pleading against their seam with nibbles until she opened to him with a sigh and invited him to claim her. Their tongues touched; the taste of mint lingered as if she’d brushed her teeth earlier that night before wandering the castle. She felt all too right in his embrace and the warmth of her, the floral scent of her was intoxicating. Finally, he wrenched away, slightly breathless, and he was glad to see she was as affected as well.
“Does that help speed a decision?” He could hardly shove the whispered inquiry from his tight throat. Please say you’ll have me.
“Yes, though I’d already made up my mind before that spectacular kiss.” She held onto his lapels, keeping him close or helping her to stand upright, he couldn’t say. “Ask me again, now that I have no doubts.” The love in her eyes said everything she didn’t.
Oh, she’d lead him a merry chase, and he couldn’t wait to follow. “Lynette Hodgins, will you marry me and make me the happiest of men?” The hand holding the mistletoe ball shook with nerves. “Will you let me be a surrogate father to John, teach him all he’ll need to know in order to be an upstanding young man in society and out?”
“Yes.” She threw herself into his arms and he gladly held her to his heart. Finally, after ten years, she was his. “Yes, on both counts.” When she raised her chin and met his gaze, he fell into those dark pools. “Please, this time let us not indulge in a long engagement with the banns read. I’d rather marry you quickly and quietly, for I don’t want the pageantry this time; I only want you.”
Those words washed away any lingering doubt or annoyance he had. Love and gladness replaced them. “Whatever you wish is what we’ll do.” Stephen kissed her again because he could as his heart swelled and sang with victory. Then he rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve waited long for this day.”
“As have I.” She snaked her arms around his middle and rested her head on his chest.
“I’ll talk with my father tomorrow about sorting your mother’s finances. I’ll also formally ask John for your hand. I want him to feel a part of this.”
“You’re a good man, Stephen.”
“I am learning to be such and will keep growing toward that for you—for us.” He smiled down into her face. “I do have a ring for you, but I didn’t bring it down with me tonight, for I hadn’t planned to declare myself until later in the house party.”
“That matters not. Tomorrow will be good enough, and you can show it to John. No doubt he’ll adore the inspection.”
“He will indeed.” Stephen kissed her again, teasing her with slow, gentle strokes until she planted a palm on his chest and halted his advances before they could grow more heated. “Whatever you want from this point forward, I’ll endeavor to bring to you.”
The smile she bestowed upon him started tiny fires in his blood. In the dim light, wicked promise gleamed in her eyes. “Give me a daughter.”
Heat went through Stephen’s body. “I look forward to trying.”
“As do I.” She again rested her cheek on his chest. “I’m so glad fate put us together. Christmastide is so much better when one is hopelessly and helplessly in love.”
Stephen didn’t answer. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and held her close, dropping the ball of mistletoe in the process. For the first time since he’d lost her ten years ago, he was content with his lot. And Griffin was right, damn his eyes. There was no place for bitterness or regret in a life that was so fleeting and precious. Now that love had returned to him, there was no room in his heart for those things either.
Three mistletoe kisses had won him back his love. I can’t wait to see what happens next.