by Cheryl Bolen
“Thank you,” she whispered, fighting back tears. She still missed her mother desperately, but having the countess standing in for her made the pain of loss lessen. She impulsively kissed her cheek. “Thank you for all you have done to make today so special.”
“You’ve done more for me than you’ll ever know, too.”
Lady Vyne was coming with them to Dorset and taking her children with her for a long holiday. After a brief argument between the couple, and a few threats of locked doors and cold dinners, the earl had relented to uphold his end of the wager as long as she promised to return. Lady Vyne had agreed but not stated when that day might be. She had learned a little something from her son’s example.
“You’ll have a wonderful holiday with us,” Meg promised. “Are you packed and ready to go?”
The countess nodded quickly. “And very keen to see a new horizon and a new home.”
Lady Vyne hurried into the drawing room with a little wave. Left just with Hector now, Meg smiled brightly. After today, she did not know when she would see her brother again. He was headed to London to enjoy life as a bachelor with no responsibilities whatsoever. She tugged on his sleeve. “You were right all along. I never knew what good would come of taking this holiday. I should have thanked you before now, but I am grateful that you brought me here. I’ve had a wonderful Christmas.”
“I didn’t expect you to marry him when I wrote to the countess.” Hector nodded. “But now that you are about to marry, I can say I am glad to be spared the expense of a London season.”
Meg punched his shoulder. “Miser.”
“I’ll have you know I intended to spoil you terribly,” he admitted. “To make up for Mother and Father not being with us anymore, I was prepared to spend a fortune on clothes and carriages so you would feel you belonged. The best shops to patronize are in London, my dear.”
“I don’t need to be spoiled to feel loved. I don’t think you know how happy Otis makes me.” A shadow passed over Meg, and she shivered. “Oh, the drafts in this place.”
She was quite done with the cold and snow that forever shrouded this valley in mist, at least for this year. She might have to live here when Otis inherited this estate upon his father’s death, but she hoped that was a long way off.
He pressed a kiss to her brow suddenly, and then held out his arm. “Come along, sister dear, your betrothed awaits his beautiful bride. Probably most impatiently, too.”
Pleased by Hector’s behavior, Meg slipped her arm through her brother’s.
Hector walked her steadily toward Otis but all she wanted to do was run into his arms. As she took her place beside her betrothed, a shiver raced over her skin again. She stumbled through her vows in a state of acute excitement. When the ceremony was over, and she had taken her husband’s name, Hector approached her again, but Meg’s eyes were drawn to a shimmer of light beside him.
For a moment, she could swear her parents were staring back at her…and then the shimmer was gone.
Meg shivered.
Otis wrapped his arms about her. “Have you become cold again, my love?”
She turned to look up at her husband’s grinning face and realized he’d not seen anything amiss. “A little, but I was just thinking of my parents and wishing they could have been with us.”
“Who says they were not?” He kissed her cheek and then her lips. “Spirits have been known to haunt The Vynes. There have actually been several sightings in the library. Maybe your parents took their own holiday here to keep an eye on you.”
Meg laughed at the idea but hoped that if it were possible, they had. If so, then her father would know how the book ended, and that Meg and Otis’ story was just beginning. She couldn’t wait for what happened next.
About Heather Boyd
Determined to escape the Aussie sun on a scorching camping holiday, Heather picked up a pen and notebook from a corner store and started writing her very first novel—Chills. Years later, she is the author of over thirty sexy regency historical romances. Addicted to all things tech (never again will Heather write a novel longhand) and fascinated by English society of the early 1800’s, Heather spends her days getting her characters in and out of trouble and into bed together (if they make it that far). She lives on the edge of beautiful Lake Macquarie, Australia with her trio of mischievous rogues (husband and two sons) along with one rescued cat whose only interest in her career is that it provides him with food on demand and a new puppy that is proving a big distraction.
* * *
You can find details of her work at
www.Heather-Boyd.com
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MISTLETOE AND KISSES
~ A Duke of Strathmore Novella ~
* * *
by
* * *
SASHA COTTMAN
When love is staring you straight in the face…
* * *
Lord Hugh Radley is handsome, clever, and not short of a penny. He is also at times more than a little vague, often lost in his own world.
* * *
For the past two years professor’s daughter Mary Gray has worked alongside him while he completed his studies at Cambridge University. She has brought him coffee and toast for supper most nights.
* * *
Somewhere along the way, she also secretly gave him her heart.
* * *
Christmas 1790 looms large with life changes for both of them. Hugh has completed his degree and has a bright future ahead of him.
* * *
For Mary, she faces a bleaker Christmas. It will be her first without her beloved father, and she will be alone.
* * *
A mislaid book sees Hugh returning to the university in time to discover the secret that Mary has been keeping from him. She has been evicted from her long-time home.
* * *
Hugh is outraged at the treatment Mary has received, but while he is busy being angry, his sister Adelaide steps in and invites Mary to spend Christmas with the Radley family at Strathmore Castle in Scotland.
* * *
In the wilds of chilly Scotland, Hugh finally faces up to the truth that he has long given over his heart to Mary. He makes the fateful decision to ask Mary for her hand in marriage.
* * *
Being Hugh however he is clueless about the minds of women and he makes a mess of things. With the clock ticking down to New Year’s Eve, he knows that if he doesn’t secure Mary’s love by then, he will lose her forever.
* * *
Cupid’s little helpers are meanwhile busy at work.
* * *
With the aid of the time old tradition of kissing under the mistletoe, Hugh and Mary make tentative steps toward finding their happily ever after.
* * *
One kiss at a time.
* * *
Copyright © 2019 by Sasha Cottman
Chapter 1
Cambridge,
December 1790
* * *
Lord Hugh Radley closed his travel trunk one last time, silently reassuring himself that he had indeed got everything he would need for the trip to Scotland. He turned and groaned. There, sitting on the end of his bed, was the pair of boots he was certain he had already packed.
“You would forget your head if it wasn’t attached,” he muttered.
He would be needing the boots for the ice-covered roads around his family home in Scotland. After adding the boots and closing the lid of the travel trunk once more, he stepped back and allowed the porters to take his luggage.
He had been looking forward to this day for months. Christmas at the Radley clan’s ancestral home, Strathmore Castle, was always a special time. Hugh was champing at the bit to see his family.
He would be making the trip north this year, along with two of his sisters and their respective spouses. With all of them in the one coach, it was going to be a cramped four-day journey. He had packed several books in his travel bag, intending to bury his nose in them rath
er than attempt hours of small talk. As much as he loved his family, he had important documents he needed to study and commit to memory before he returned to England in the new year.
“When the coach arrives, could you make sure my luggage is safely loaded onto it? If my family asks, please tell them I have to see a friend before I leave, but I won’t be long.” He followed the porters out of his private rooms and locked the door behind him.
For a moment, he stood with the palm of his hand laid against the solid oak door. It would be the last time he touched it. He was no longer a student at St John’s College, Cambridge University. His days of living on the campus of the hallowed halls of learning were now at an end.
“Lord Hugh Radley, BA Theology. Fancy that,” he said.
He crossed the college courtyard then strolled along a walkway with edges bordered by tall white rose bushes before finally arriving at a black door with a brass nameplate.
Professor J. L. Gray.
He knocked on the door and opened it. Professor Gray’s rooms were never locked.
“Mary, it’s Hugh. I’ve come to say farewell,” he cheerfully called out.
A hand rose from behind a pile of old exam papers and waved. “Down here.”
Stepping around a neat stack of books, he found her. Mary Gray was kneeling on the floor, dust pan and brush in hand.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“A spot of cleaning. I moved a few more of Papa’s piles of papers this morning and actually found the floor. I dread to think the last time the stone flagging saw daylight,” she replied.
He held a hand out to her and helped Mary to her feet. Her gaze took in his coat and scarf, and she smiled.
“So, you are off to Scotland for Christmas?
“Yes, the travel coach will be here shortly. I have sent the porters and my luggage out to the main courtyard to await its arrival,” he replied.
She looked around the room, then back to him. “It must feel a little odd to be leaving here for the last time.”
He had thought it would be his last time, but earlier in the week he had been given the news that he still had some minor studies to complete before he could take up his post as curate at St Martins-in-the-Fields in central London.
“Actually, it’s not the very last time I shall be on campus. I have to come back after Christmas for a week. I will stay at one of the inns in town, but I shall drop by and say hello,” he replied.
Mary nodded, a tight smile sat briefly on her lips. She picked up another pile of papers and straightened them. He sensed she was nervous.
“Is your sister Adelaide making the trip with her newborn? I remember when she visited at half term and she was complaining about how swollen her ankles were,” said Mary. She put the papers down again and stood, tapping her fingers on the top of the pile.
Mary always fidgeted when she was uncomfortable about something.
Adelaide and Charles Alexandre had been blessed with the birth of a son, William, in early October. Hugh was dreading the prospect of sharing a cramped travel coach with a wailing infant but needs must.
“Yes, she is. My brother, Ewan, has commanded that as many members of the family as possible should make the trip this year. My sister Anne and her new husband, the Duke of Mowbray, are also going to be travelling with us,” he said. His other sister Davina, the Countess of Shale, was with child and unable to travel.
Mary wiped her hands on her apron. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee before you go?”
Hugh shook his head. “No. The coach will be here soon, and I shouldn’t keep them waiting. I just wanted to come by and wish you a merry Christmas.”
At his words, her face lit up. She quickly scuttled from the room, then returned with a small parcel in her hands. She offered it to Hugh. He set down his travel bag, along with the book he was carrying, and took it.
“Merry Christmas, Hugh. It’s not much; just a little gift,” she said.
He accepted the present with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had been so disorganized and muddleheaded when it came to making ready for the journey to Scotland that he had completely forgotten to buy her a Christmas present.
Poor form, Radley. Too busy thinking about yourself, and not enough about her.
With the death of her father earlier in the year, Mary would be spending her first Christmas without her beloved papa. Hugh felt the heat of embarrassment burning on his cheeks. “Oh, I am so sorry. I completely forgot to get you a gift. I am the very worst of friends,” he said.
She nodded at the parcel in his hands. “That’s perfectly alright. You have been busy studying. Christmas no doubt crept up on you,” she replied.
Hugh opened the present and his discomfort deepened. Inside was a bar of beautifully wrapped French soap, and a small bottle of gentleman’s cologne. It must have cost Mary a good deal of money. Money, he suspected she did not have in abundance.
“You shouldn’t have,” he said.
She smiled. “Nonsense. As soon as I saw them in the shop, I thought of you. I hope you like them.”
“I do, and I promise I shall bring you back a special gift from Scotland when I return after Christmas. I cannot believe that I could be so absentminded to forget about getting you something. I am mortified,” he replied.
Mary reached out and placed a hand on Hugh’s cheek. “It’s fine. The fact that you like my present is reward enough.”
The warmth of her hand on his face stirred once more to life the longing he had held for her these past two years. Somewhere in the endless nights of her bringing him toast and coffee for supper while he studied alongside her father, his thoughts of Mary had changed from those of friendship to those of love.
But with her father being the head of theology and divinity, and the man directly responsible for the conferring of Hugh’s degree, he had not dared to move on those feelings.
Now, the temptation to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless was almost too strong to resist. The heavenly scent of her perfume filled his senses. His fingers twitched with anticipation.
When she withdrew her hand and turned away, Hugh was left to battle emotions of regret and relief. She had never shown any sign of being interested in him in a romantic way, so it was best that he not act on those impulses. With her father now gone, only a cad of the lowest kind would press his attentions on a vulnerable young woman.
“So, when are you leaving to visit with your mother’s family?” he asked. He prayed she did not hear the shake in his voice as he spoke.
“Oh, sometime later in the week. I am yet to make final arrangements,” she replied.
“And you will be back after the new year? I only ask because when I return, I would like for us to have a conversation.”
A conversation that he hoped would involve him declaring his love for her, and Mary, in turn, considering that a future shared with him might not be the worst thing she could imagine doing with her life.
A knock at the door interrupted them, but as he turned away, Hugh caught a glimpse of Mary. She was biting down on her bottom lip.
It stopped him in his tracks.
Chapter 2
“We thought we might find you here. Hello Mary.”
Hugh’s sister Adelaide and her husband, Charles, stepped through the doorway. Charles’s held a small bundle in his arms—a bundle which was making gurgling and snuffling sounds.
“Did the porter manage to get my luggage to the coach?” asked Hugh, stirring from his thoughts of Mary.
Adelaide snorted. “And hello to you too, dearest brother.”
Mary stifled a grin. For all his intelligence, Hugh Radley was at times a tad clueless when it came to social situations. His oversight in having not gotten her a Christmas present was so very typical of Hugh.
She understood it, and was sure to forgive him, but it still hurt. The private moment they had shared when she’d touched his face meant more to her than any shop-bought gift could. He had leaned in t
oward her, and for the briefest of moments she’d imagined he was about to kiss her.
Yet again, her hopes for Hugh to see her as more than just a friend had vanished like the morning mist.
He is the son of a duke, and you are merely the daughter of a deceased university professor. Hugh Radley would never think to love someone like you, let alone marry her.
“Hello Adelaide. How was the trip up from London?” said Mary.
Adelaide stepped past her brother, giving him a small disapproving shake of the head. She greeted Mary with a hug. “Good. William slept most of the way. We also got a good night’s sleep at the inn where we stopped in Sandy last night. We should all pray that he keeps this up for the rest of the journey north,” she replied.
Hugh turned to Charles. “Where are Anne and Mowbray?”
Charles and Adelaide exchanged a look. Baby Will stirred in his father’s arms, and Adelaide hurried over to him.
“I think it is time for your morning feed. Mary, do you have a chair or somewhere that I can nurse Will?” she asked.
Mary pointed to the doorway of her father’s old study. “There is a comfortable rocking chair in the corner if you wish.”
Adelaide took Will from his father, and Mary ushered them into the room. In between scattered piles of books and papers, the room also somehow managed to hold the chair and a large desk. Until recent days, the desk had been buried under a pile of midterm papers her father had succeeded in marking before his sudden passing. Mary had managed to clear the papers away earlier in the week, and like the floor in the front room, the top of the desk now saw the light of day.