Mischief and Mistletoe: Forever Yours Series

by Reid, Stacy

  Her stomach fluttered as if it entrapped birds which were desperate to escape. There was something sinful in the gaze that stared at her lips as if he imagined her doing something terribly improper with her mouth.

  A sweet ache trembled low in her belly.

  Oh…oh…oh!

  Chapter 5

  Graham dipped his head lower and claimed Callisto’s lips before he could tell himself to fight the temptation. Her gasp of alarm allowed him entry, and he swept his tongue inside her mouth. She stiffened against him, and he gentled his kiss to soft, soothing nips, mindful of her delicate sensibilities. He pressed a series of light, teasing brushes of his mouth against hers. She opened herself to his persuasion, and with a sigh, she responded; he felt the inexperience, and inexplicably, it made him want her more.

  She wilted against him, and ran her hands over his shoulders in a caress that felt as gentle as the brush of a butterfly’s wing, to slip them around his neck. Then her response flamed with more hunger and the vivacity she had displayed earlier in their sparring.

  Graham groaned and slanted her head, deepening an already far too intimate kiss. Her innocent yet greedy response coaxing him to want more.

  “You taste like heaven,” he murmured.

  She tipped on her toes and leaned into him even more. A soft moan echoed from her and vibrated through him. Desire erupted inside of him, and he wrapped her in an even closer embrace where the evidence of his desire would be unmissable.

  She wrenched her lips from his, pressing trembling fingers to her mouth. “I did not expect that,” she breathed. “Good heavens!”

  “Neither did I.”

  She sent him a look of cool caution. “With a man of your varied experience, I doubt that mightily, my lord.”

  “It is because of my experience I can affirm I have never been lightheaded from a kiss before.” Or so enthralled.

  She gasped softly and her eyes widened.

  How prettily she blushed. How furiously his heart pounded. From a mere kiss. He suspected it had everything to do with the lady before him. Her passionate defense of her mother and her unmistakable caring nature had filled him with surprised admiration.

  Their gaze lowered to the mistletoe on the ground between them, before staring back at each other. A question lingered in her eyes, one that asked why he kissed her and what he meant by the intimate embrace. Graham could not answer, only knowing he wanted her in his arms again and her delightful mouth pressed against his. He reached for her and with another gasp she leaned back into the fountain.

  Bloody hell. He was letting desire cloud his good judgement.

  “Forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you. It will not happen again.”

  She dipped into a quick and graceless curtsy and then hurried away before he could gather his wits. He watched her retreating figure, wondering what the hell had just happened. While he’d had a few lovers over the years, he had never taken an innocent to his bed. He wasn’t a rake or a man without honor or conscience. Lately, he had been thinking of setting himself up with a mistress, thinking it would be more convenient to have a woman ready whenever the urge rose to have some fun between the sheets. Graham had been moving slowly in procuring a chère amie because the idea of such an arrangement dissatisfied him.

  There were days he hungered for someone to sit and talk with, for hours, perhaps about the work he was doing with his father or even find out about a woman’s days and what her interests were. Then he imagined he could take that elusive someone to balls and carriage rides. In all honesty he had not thought a mistress would fill that role. And staring through the glass of the conservatory at Miss Middleton as she ran along the lantern-lit path to the main house, the awareness that the someone he’d been imagining felt remarkably similar to the lively and charming young woman who had just left his arms.

  In that moment, the vague, shadowy figure who had been created in his most secret thoughts transformed into something tangible…and enchanting. Bloody hell! His knees wobbled, and he leaned against the statue. What was he saying? She was a lady, one with a respectable reputation. He could not dishonor or ruin her by asking her to be his mistress. She was fit for more than a quick romp beneath the sheets.

  Simply put, Miss Middleton was a lady of quality and could only be taken as a wife.

  Sweet Christ. Somehow, with the desire for more, which had been growing inside of him, he had never thought of settling down with a wife so soon. It was inevitable, but just not now! Perhaps after a few more years of enjoying his bachelorhood.

  An intense awareness flowed through him. That said bachelorhood had bored him to hell, the clubs, and the fleeting lovers that only sated his lust but offered little else.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, and with a scowl, he made his way from the conservatory, determined to ignore his errant and unusual thoughts. It must be all the mistletoe sprigs around the manor and the jolly and hopeful atmosphere turning him to such sentimentality.

  What else could it be?

  The following morning, Graham rode his horse, a massive black stallion, along the muddied lanes of the estate for an extended time, wanting to exhaust both himself and his horse. Outside, the day was bitter and gray, frosty morning mist crept over the land, and he inhaled the brisk, clean air into his lungs. He had dreamed of Callisto—of kissing her, of making love to her! He had jerked awake with his heart pounding to see the ash-gray rising dawn outside his windows and could not return to sleep. This was profoundly irritating. He’d not had a thought of her, even though he had known her to be his father’s neighbor for over two years, but now she was a permanent fixture in his thoughts.

  Slowing his horse, he guided the animal into a trot toward a small brook at the eastern section of the estate. There was not much snow on the ground, and so the brook should not be iced over. His horse could indulge in a drink and a rest before he took him back to the stables.

  It didn’t take long to reach, and once there, he dismounted and led Nightshine over to the bank where the horse drank from the icy stream. A rustle nearby had Graham shifting around where he spied his exquisite tormentor. She held something to her eyes and pointed in the distance toward the former groundskeeper’s cottage. Then she pointed toward the lake and the sky, gesturing with animation to the lady beside her. Her sister, Miss Letitia, if he was not mistaken, vigorously shook her head, clearly objecting to whatever scheme Callisto plotted.

  The pair of sisters could have come from some delightful illustration. Callisto fair in scarlet, and her sister’s dark locks peeking from a fetching celestial blue bonnet that matched her bright blue pelisse. Against the backdrop of the snow-edged lake, the trees naked from their summer glory silhouetted in the dove-gray sky. Any artist would be enraptured and need to record the scene. Graham’s heart leaped at the exquisite sight before him. Then he stomped on those thoughts, refusing to allow his creative inclination to deter him.

  He walked toward them, ensuring his boots echoed upon the soggy ground. They whirled around, and Callisto’s eyes widened when she saw him.

  She averted her gaze before facing him with a militant glint in her compelling autumn eyes. Yes, she was indeed planning some misdeed.

  “Up to more mischief, I see,” he chided, staring at the spyglass in her hands.

  She scowled in evident consternation, before dipping into a quick curtsey. “Lord Sherbrooke, how pleasant to see you up and about so early.”

  Her tone suggested she was everything but pleased.

  The memory of their kiss lingered in her thoughts, and a delightful blush reddened her cheeks. The answering jolt in his body was savage, and arousal curled through him. Her sister glanced between them, speculation heavy in golden-brown eyes much like Callisto’s own.

  “We were just admiring the sky,” Miss Middleton murmured.

  “And the cottage and the lake and our parents who are taking a morning stroll. I wonder what you could possibly be thinking,” he said in a warning tone.

&nbs
p; He would not let her off if she were plotting to use tricks to push his father toward her mother after their conversation last night.

  She disarmed him with a grinned, surprising Graham. He had expected evasive stammers or something of the sort. Instead, she tossed her head and dared to wink.

  “How wonderful you are not privy to my thoughts, my lord. If you will excuse us, Letty and I promised to join Lord Bybrook, Lord Duncan, and Miss Mary Peckham and Lady Shelby for a morning stroll.”

  Then she gripped her sister’s hand and all but ran away. He stared bemused as she slipped in the mud, and her laughter floated on the air as she caught herself. Graham narrowed his eyes. He would need to observe Miss Callisto Middleton.

  A fierce rush of pleasure filled him at the notion. He feasted his eyes on the delightful picture of her rear, despite the warm crimson pelisse that wrapped her slender form. His blood pumping fast as he remembered every single sensation of desire from squeezing that nubile body into his while he had ravished her with his kisses. Oh yes, he would enjoy keeping a close eye on that mischievous minx for the duration of the house party.

  Chapter 6

  His father’s guests were having the time of their lives. The drawing room doors which led to the ballroom were opened and an orchestra set had been hired for tonight. Gentlemen and ladies dressed in their finery twirled about the ballroom with their dance partners, wide smiles on faces, facile chatter and laughter lingering on the air. It was not only the houseguest who were present at tonight’s ball, but several neighbors with their daughters and sons had made the trek through the snow.

  Graham had just finished partnering Lady Lizzie Morton with a waltz, and that young lady had batted her lashes and told him in no uncertain terms she would be married by next season. Not even in Town at the heights of the Season had he been on the receiving end of such unbridled flirtations. He blamed it on the mistletoe decorating the manor. It had encouraged normally sensible ladies and gentlemen to take leave of their senses.

  His good friend Thomas Brampton currently danced the galop with Miss Middleton who was sheathed in a voluminous yellow satin gown which enhanced her frame exquisitely. Her loveliness as she smiled upon Thomas set Graham’s heart to pounding and he glanced away feeling discomfited. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from Miss Callie Middleton. He did not trust her intentions in regard to his father and believed her wholly capable of acting deceptively to trap his father. Yet he was attracted to her. Terribly so. His reaction unnerved him, simply for the fact he had never felt such a keen awareness before for a lady.

  Wresting his attention from her, he made his way over to his father who lingered near the closed terrace windows, appearing miserable. Emma’s hand rested his on his arm and she spoke to their father earnestly. She seemed to be offering him some encouragement. A quick scan of the room revealed the cause for that countenance. Lady Danby danced with Squire Brampton, and if Graham recalled correctly this was the second time she danced with the man since evening.

  His father did not like that. To Graham’s mind, the viscountess was keeping her options open. So much for Miss Middleton’s assertions that her mother was falling in love.

  “Who or what has put that scowl on your face?” Thomas asked, coming over to Graham.

  He smoothed his expression into what he hoped was a serene countenance. “I thought you were occupied paying court to Miss Middleton.”

  Thomas smiled broadly. “She is a lovely creature to be sure, but it was only a dance. Alas she is not for me.”

  Graham arched a brow. “Too witty?”

  Thomas scoffed. “That is not even the half of it, I fear she is even better read than I am and that my friend will not do. My wife will hang onto my sleeves, enraptured by my words. I fear Miss Middleton was hardly entranced with my retelling of the story of Hades and Persephone. The damn chit even corrected me at a few points.”

  Graham smiled, absurdly pleased, a state he was not willing to closely examine.

  Thomas leaned in closer. “And the word about is that her family is broke.”

  Graham’s gaze cut toward where she stood by the refreshment table with her sister. They were both glaring at their mother who now sat with a couple other ladies on chaise longue watching the dancers. His father had taken a young lady to the dance floor, but the viscountess did not look miserable. In truth she looked positively bored. Graham gritted his teeth. His father wore his heart on his sleeve for her while she appeared at best indifferent to his presence.

  “Is that Viscount Worsley?” Thomas asked. “I am astonished he could be parted from his gambling hell.”

  “He is recently married.”

  Thomas’s jaw slackened. “Viscount Worsley married? I would more believe you saw a flying pig.”

  He chuckled understanding his friend’s astonishment. The Viscount was known for his profligacy and wildness. The man owned one of the most notorious gambling and fighting club. “You should believe it. The news was all about Town only a few weeks ago.”

  “What is he doing here? I still owe his club several hundred pounds,” Thomas muttered, tugging at his cravat, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

  “They were visiting his wife’s relatives in the area when their carriage damaged a wheel. They’ve put up here for the night while repairs are done.”

  Graham had been pleased to invite Worsley and his lovely wife, who had been thrilled to know of the soiree, to stay. “Lord Worsley said they will be moving on tomorrow. If you want to fall at his feet and beg for debt forgiveness, tomorrow morning would be the time.”

  A glance at Thomas revealed one of his hands pressed to his chest and his mouth parted in amazement. “Is that rather pretty creature his wife?”

  Graham smiled. “That is his viscountess, yes.”

  A ravishing lady indeed with her midnight black hair piled high in a riot of curls atop her head, and her voluptuous figure draped in a silken dark green gown. Worsley led his wife to the dancefloor, and the way they peered at each other was almost embarrassing to observe. The man had a reputation of being wild and rakish where the ton had given him the moniker ‘the wicked Viscount’. Even when the newssheet had broken the news of his marriage, the headline had screamed: The Sins of Viscount Worsley, for it had astonished them a man of such profligacy had married a vicar’s daughter. To see him now staring at his wife with such lascivious adoration filled Graham with a sense of longing. What would it be like to invest such feelings and attention into one person?

  He allowed his gaze to stray to Miss Middleton. Graham stiffened. She was scampering out of the ballroom, casting determined glances at her mother and his father. The minx!

  “Excuse me,” he muttered to Thomas, and hurried after her without being too obvious. The last thing he wanted was for the guests to speculate on their joint disappearances.

  He caught up to her just as she entered the library and shut the door behind her. Opening it silently, he closed it with a snick and leaned against the door. She sat in his father’s chair and opened the top drawer, rifling the content.

  “Up to more mischief I see,” he murmured. “This I believe calls for some sort of punishment.”

  Graham admired her composure. She did not scream even though her alarm was evident.

  Lowering the hand pressed over her chest, she said, “You!”

  “Yes, me. Must we always meet like this, hmm?”

  She closed the drawer and narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you follow me?”

  “Of course.”

  “And whatever did you mean by ‘this calls for punishment’. Surely you jest.”

  Abandoning her scheme, Miss Middleton stood and sauntered toward him. Her scent of lavender and something mouthwatering and elusive assailed his senses. Sweet Mercy. “Were you not reneging on our agreement?”

  Delicate brows arched. “I was about to pen a note and you interrupted.”

  “A note to our parents.”

  A heavy fringe of sooty lashes framed her golden
-brown eyes enchantingly. Those lashes now fluttered innocently at him. “Of course not.”

  “Liar,” he said with some amusement, irritated with himself to find anything humorous in her reactions. “You were going to send some message that would have them scrambling like puppets to meet each other in some secret place.”

  Her face flushed so becomingly. “I’ll never own that was my intention.”

  Something suspiciously like amusement colored her tone.

  Graham scoffed. “Of course not.” Would she ever stop her meddling ways?

  “Your mother remains indifferent to my father, why do you persist in playing the matchmaker?”

  “You do not know her like I do. She…mama is not indifferent, I assure you. She has guarded her heart very well after papa’s death, but it comes alive for Lord Deerwood.”

  His heart jolted. “You are a romantic.”

  “Unapologetically,” she said with a sweet smile.

  “Would you honor me with a dance, Miss Middleton?”

  The request startled them both.

  One hand pressed against her chest, and the more she stared at him the wider her lovely eyes got. “Here?”

  “No.”

  Amusement softened her lips. “Then where?” she asked softly, looking at him as if she were trying to decipher a puzzle.

  “In the ballroom.”

  She gave him an assessing glance, then lifted her chin a notch. “There will be much speculation should we return together.”

  Suddenly hating the distance between them, he pushed from the door and in three strides he was right there. Close enough where he could touch her.

  Her lips parted as she stared up at him, her breath hitching with a noisy inhale.

  “Perhaps at the next soiree then.”

  “Yes,” she said on a swallow. “At the next one.”

  “Callie?”

  She blushed at the intimate use of her name.

  “Yes?”