A Match Made in Mistletoe: A Regency Novella Read online

  “I have a feeling you’re going to prove an excellent student.”

  “I wish I did,” she admitted.

  His laugh was soft. “Don’t worry. You’re in safe hands.”

  And the lunatic truth was she absolutely believed that.

  Giles leaned in slowly, she suspected to give her time to back out of their arrangement. But curiosity remained her most powerful reaction. She was desperate to discover what a kiss was like.

  No, it was worse than that. She was desperate for Giles Farraday to kiss her.

  His breath brushed across her lips, awakening tingling sensations all over her body.

  When still she didn’t shift away, his lips skimmed hers with an inquiry that shuddered through her like cannon fire. She closed her eyes, and a hum of welcome escaped her.

  Giles’s lips settled and moved on hers. Gradually the shock faded, and Serena became aware of details beyond his overwhelming nearness.

  His scent. Fresh as snow, although no snow had yet fallen. The touch of his hands on her head. The strength he held in check. His beckoning warmth.

  That intimate, unforgettable contact of mouth on mouth.

  She started to sway, and the world turned red at the edges. But when Giles withdrew at last, she ached to call him back. Her hands fisted in her skirts as she fought the urge to grab him and haul him close. She prayed that her rubbery legs would hold her up.

  “Breathe, Serena,” he murmured. “For God’s sake, breathe.”

  She opened dazed eyes to find him regarding her with a quizzical expression. Through her giddiness, she realized she hadn’t drawn a breath since the kiss began. When she inhaled, the pain in her lungs and the thickness in her head eased.

  “That was…interesting,” she stammered.

  “Only interesting?” He released her and stepped back. “I must be losing my touch.”

  “Nice,” she said quickly, although that was an inadequate description of those turbulent seconds when his lips met hers.

  He burst out laughing. “Is that the best you can do?”

  She’d imagined thunder and lightning, something to change her life forever. Kissing Giles had made her blood swirl with muddled longing, but it hadn’t set her world alight. “Enlightening?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Inoffensive.”

  He groaned theatrically. “My vanity will never recover.”

  “Look, I know you’re doing me a favor.” Serena glared at him and remembered why she’d spent much of her girlhood wanting to shove Giles Farraday into the nearest puddle. “I’m grateful. Of course I am. But I expected…more.”

  Her fumbling explanation didn’t meet with his approval, she could see. He returned to studying her as if she belonged to some unidentified species. “What kind of more?”

  She hissed with frustration. Frustration with him, and with the dissatisfaction curdling her stomach. “I don’t know. You’re the blasted libertine. You tell me.”

  “Perhaps the fault lies with you—I’m unaccustomed to kissing ladies who do their best to imitate a block of wood,” he said lightly.

  Stabbing hurt prompted an incoherent protest. “That’s not fair. I told you I’d never done this before.”

  With unconcealed displeasure, he folded his arms and surveyed her down that long, crooked nose. “I hoped some natural instincts might kick in.”

  “Perhaps my natural instincts only work when my affections are engaged,” she retorted.

  Those fearsome brows lowered over glittering dark eyes. If she hadn’t been so het up, she might have been afraid. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  She put her hands on her hips and drew herself up to her full height, frantic to claim every inch she could against him. “If Paul kissed me, I’m sure I’d get into the spirit of things.”

  Chagrin flashed in his face, and if he’d been a different, less self-sufficient man, she might wonder if she’d hurt his feelings as he’d hurt hers. “If that’s so, by all means go and kiss Paul. But remind him to bring a muffler and some thick socks so he doesn’t get frostbite.”

  She faltered back with a cry. “That’s cruel.”

  He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “It was. I’m behaving like a brute.” The anger drained from his face. “I’m sorry, Serena. For your first kiss, that was a creditable effort.”

  She frowned, her own anger receding. Grudgingly she admitted that she’d been ungracious first. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Still, I had no right to be unkind.”

  Her arms flopped down by her sides in a gesture of defeat. “Perhaps I’m just no good at kissing.” She started to turn away, misery tugging at her. “I’m sorry for bothering you—and for being so rude. I’m sure with a more promising candidate, your kisses are perfectly lovely.”

  “Hold on.” He caught her arm and despite everything, heat zapped along every nerve. “Don’t give up so fast.”

  Puzzled, she faced him. “Why on earth would you want to try again?”

  “I hate to leave a job half-finished.”

  His earnestness summoned a bleak laugh. “Very commendable.”

  “I’m game if you are.”

  She straightened and narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m always game.”

  Serena waited for him to deride her bravado, but he gave her another of those uncommonly sweet smiles. “I know you are. I’ve always admired your courage.”

  In all their years of acquaintance, he’d never given her a compliment. Before she could muster a response to that astonishing statement, he set her back beneath the kissing bough.

  She twined her hands at her waist and stared at him, troubled. “Perhaps it would help if you don’t rely on my instincts, and you tell me what to do.”

  “You hate people telling you what to do.”

  That was, unfortunately, true, although she’d never imagined Giles had paid her enough attention to notice. What a day of surprises this was. “Today I bow to your prowess.”

  “Thank you,” he said with a hint of familiar irony. He caught her restless hands. “First, let’s put these somewhere useful.”

  When he placed one hand on his shoulder, she started to draw away. After the kiss, touching his shoulder shouldn’t matter, but there was something fiercely unsettling about having her hands on him. “Is it necessary to touch you?”

  “Definitely.” He replaced her hand where he’d set it. Then he caught the other. “Now where to put this one?”

  “Giles…” she said in warning.

  He ignored her repressive tone and curved her arm around his back, forcing her closer. “Here, I think, for the moment at least.”

  She was painfully conscious of the powerful male form mere inches away. The rest of the church might be bitterly cold, but under the kissing bough, sultry summer ruled. “What do I do now?”

  “Stare into my eyes as if it would kill you to look away.”

  “I only want to learn how to kiss,” she muttered, directing her gaze everywhere but at him. If she obeyed, he’d guess that her heart raced with forbidden excitement.

  “No, you want to learn how to capture a man’s attention and keep it. Kissing’s just part of the game.”

  She wanted to argue, but he was right. Blast him. The most terrifying part of this terrifying encounter was that just now, the man she wanted to attract was standing in front of her. And that was completely insupportable.

  “Look at me, Serena,” he said in a deep voice she’d never heard before.

  This time, she couldn’t deny him. She raised her chin and stared into those dark eyes. Who knew a man’s eyes could be so fascinating? As the silence extended, her head started to swim. After last time, she knew enough to snatch a breath before she lost her balance.

  It didn’t help.

  For the first time, she saw Giles Farraday in full. And heaven help her, the view was magnificent. Without prompting, her hand slid up his shoulder and around his neck, until his black curls brushed her fingers.

  “Very good,” he whispered. “Now move closer.”

  He didn’t need to tell her. Already she swayed forward as if he was the moon and she was the tide. When those thin, elegant hands closed around her waist, heat sizzled through her.

  “Don’t jump, girl,” he murmured. “None of this should come as a surprise. You know he wants to touch you. He can’t do anything else.”

  She barely heard as she tilted her face up. “Giles…”

  “Yes, like that.” Impossibly his dark gaze turned darker. “As if you can’t endure waiting one more second for him to kiss you.”

  Rising on her toes, she stretched toward those beguiling male lips. “You’re talking too much.”

  Still he held apart. Curse him. Did he mean to drive her mad? “Now you’re getting the idea.”

  “Kiss me,” she whispered.

  “Excellent.” Except he no longer looked in charge. Instead he looked as dazed as she felt.

  “Kiss me, Giles.”

  One more excruciating second of delay, before his grip on her waist tightened with unmistakable purpose. “Damn it, Serena,” he groaned as his mouth crashed down on hers.

  Chapter Four

  * * *

  Through the rush of blood to his head, Giles heard Serena’s shocked gasp. Before he could tell himself to move away, to treat her with the respect she deserved, she curved so close that he felt every inch of her warm, lovely body.

  Ridiculous that in all his years of fantasizing about kissing Serena Talbot, Giles had never imagined that he’d ever have the real woman trembling in his arms. Yet as she pressed against him with such eagerness, waves of shivering combed through her.

  It was poignantly moving to know that he was the first man to taste those luscious pink lips
. He took his time, letting her grow accustomed to the kiss. Yet still the doors of heaven remained closed against him. Although at least now, she made some attempt to join in. Greedy hands closed around his arms, and her lips moved with subtle interest against his.

  Too subtle.

  He trailed his lips along her cheek, and his hold on her waist firmed. Essence of Serena filled the air. Flowers. Lemon soap. A tinge of feminine warmth that was new. “Open your mouth, Serena,” he murmured.

  She started with surprise. “Open? That seems…odd.”

  He smiled and nuzzled her silky hair, tied up in its usual loose knot. If fate ever granted him a moment’s true privacy, he’d tug every pin free, until that golden mass cascaded over his hands.

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “I don’t,” she said shakily. Despite her fears, she turned to glance her mouth across his with a beguiling mixture of hesitation and boldness. His heart crashed against his ribs. Heat seared away all thought of where he was, including the knowledge that the village church wasn’t the most discreet site for a tryst.

  Their lips, barely parted, clung, and he tasted her sweet, humid breath. He slipped his tongue into the honey interior, letting her rich flavor flood his senses. She made a soft sound—protest or acceptance, he couldn’t say. Then with beguiling enthusiasm, she angled up, and her mouth flowered under his. He tasted her deeply, as darkness invaded his head and desire gushed through his veins.

  She was delicious, glorious, marvelous. Better than his dreams.

  Her tongue fluttered against his, and it was his turn to groan in wordless encouragement. The kiss took fire, and he caught her up against him, lashing his arms around her, wishing to hell that he never had to let her go. A tiny glimmer of reason warned him that he went too far, too fast.

  The angels who watch over foolish girls too trusting for their own good must have been listening. He became aware of a sound that didn’t belong in this paradise.

  Serena must have heard it, too, because she stiffened without, he was pleased to note, moving away. “Someone’s trying to get in,” she said on a mere breath of sound.

  “I locked it. I told you,” he said into her ear and couldn’t resist biting her earlobe.

  “Giles…” she protested on a sensual shiver. “People will talk.”

  “Let them. Nobody knows who’s in here.”

  The heavy iron handle rattled again, then fell silent. Serena stared up at Giles with an expression he couldn’t read.

  “See?” he murmured. “I said they’d go away. Shall I kiss you again?”

  A pretty blush, visible through the gloom, colored her cheeks. “You know, I’ve never really…seen you before.”

  Satisfaction flooded him. What a long way they’d come in an afternoon. For once, she wasn’t thinking about Paul. She was thinking about Giles Farraday.

  How could he bear to send her away? He might go back to being invisible.

  But they’d dared enough, even if his needy soul wanted to seize her and keep her forever. He was reluctantly loosening his grip, just as the unthinkable happened.

  “Serena?”

  Hell’s bells. Paul’s voice emerged from behind the wall separating the vestibule from the body of the church. When he couldn’t open the main door, he must have come in through the vestry at the back.

  “Oh, Hades in a cookpot,” Serena whispered, her horrified gaze clinging to Giles.

  “Serena, are you in here?”

  “I should have locked the other door, too, damn it,” Giles muttered.

  In the bristling silence, he heard the click of Paul’s heels down the aisle toward them. Serena grabbed Giles’s hand and hauled him toward a large oak settle with high sides. A place for pallbearers to catch their breath. Or a guilty lover to hide.

  Taking Giles with her, she squeezed into the narrow gap between the side of the seat and the wall. The space was restricted. Delightfully so. Although with discovery so close, he was a cad to notice. Her bosom pressed into his waistcoat, and he had to lean away to conceal his sexual excitement.

  “Serena?” Paul’s voice grew louder as he approached.

  “Dear heaven.” She hid her face in Giles’s neck. His hold tightened, and he kissed the top of her head in reassurance.

  “Stay here,” he whispered.

  “No…”

  “Trust me,” he mouthed, untangling her frantic fingers from his shirt.

  When she nodded, he brushed a final kiss across her lips. If Paul saw Serena’s pink cheeks and swollen lips, he’d know exactly what she’d been up to. Even without Giles’s incriminating presence.

  He paused long enough to straighten his clothes and check all his buttons were done up. Nothing was out of place. Things were starting to get interesting when Paul turned up. Curse him.

  Giles slipped across to the door and released the latch, making no attempt to muffle the noise the heavy iron fittings made.

  “Serena?” Paul appeared on the worn stone step leading from the church down to the vestibule. “Oh, it’s you, Giles. How did you get in? The door was locked when I tried it.”

  “Dashed odd. I had no trouble with it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Serena shrink into the shadows beside the settle.

  “Have you seen Serena?” At least Paul didn’t sound suspicious. Yet. “Frederick said he saw her heading this way.”

  “I ran into her in the garden, and she said something about checking on her horse.” Struggling for a relaxed manner, Giles moved past his friend into the church. He wanted to get as far as he could from that blasted kissing bough.

  Instead of following, Paul planted his feet on the step and frowned into the vestibule. “I tried there.”

  If the blockhead veered one inch to the left, the game was up. Giles’s gut tightened in dread. He’d never meant to risk Serena’s reputation.

  “It’s a cold day.” Giles crossed into the side aisle, hoping Paul would follow. “She might be in the library. A parcel of books arrived from Hatchards yesterday, and I know she’s keen to read the latest Walter Scott.”

  “I tried there, too.”

  “Well, devil if I know where the chit is. She’s obviously not here. Let’s go back to the house and ask.”

  “So you haven’t seen her?”

  “If I had I’d tell you.” Liar. Liar. Liar.

  The beginnings of doubt entered Paul’s eyes. “It seems odd to find you in a church, when you don’t have to be.”

  True. Which said a little too much about the state of his soul. “Thought I’d take a look at the family memorials.”

  Paul’s puzzled frown deepened. “You’ve never been interested in ancient monuments.”

  Paul was no fool, although right now Giles dearly wished he was. He mustered a nonchalant shrug. “I wanted a walk, and I wandered in here to satisfy idle curiosity. It’s not worth fighting about.”

  Paul settled a narrow-eyed gaze on him, and briefly Giles wondered if his interest in Serena was quite as secret as he imagined. “So you’re perusing Latin inscriptions?”

  “Well, I meant to, until you ruined my contemplative mood. Come on, old man. It’s perishing in here.”

  He prayed his humorous impatience would stop Paul staring into the vestibule, as though Serena was about to jump out of the woodwork. The damnable fact was that she just might.

  Instead of cooperating, Paul’s gaze swept the shadowy space, and for a horrible moment, his attention settled on the heavy oak settle.

  Giles’s heart surged into his throat. Good God, he’d marry Serena tomorrow. Today, if he could. But he didn’t want her hurt or shamed—and undoubtedly if Paul discovered her in this compromising situation, she’d be both shamed and hurt.

  Not sure whether he was a hero or a numskull, Giles headed toward the back of the church, hoping Paul would follow.

  He didn’t. “Why not the front door?”

  Damn, why not the front door? Giles slammed to a halt before a memorial under a stained glass window depicting the Prodigal Son. Given the loss of his parents—they’d died in an epidemic in India the year he started at Eton—that particular parable had always touched him. Since his parents’ death, unconditional love had been absent from his life. “This very fine example caught my eye.”

  To his relief, Paul at last wandered over to stand beside him. His friend leveled a long look at the memorial to Obadiah Talbot, who gave his life for king and country at the Battle of Malplaquet a hundred years ago. “I had no idea you’d become a blasted antiquarian.”