Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I have no doubt you’ll be a quick learner.” He retrieved a small saw from under the seat and gestured toward the trees. “Shall we?”

  “Did you know the tradition of decorating with holly and other greens dates back to Roman times?”

  “And here you said you wouldn’t be of any help.”

  The teasing light in his sparkling eyes made her catch her breath. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her thusly.

  “Yes, well, since I don’t know where to find it, nor can I promise to recognize it if I see it, I must argue.”

  He stopped to face her. “You don’t decorate your home with greenery during the holidays?”

  Before she could think of a lie, she shook her head. “Not since I was a young girl.” Her husband hadn’t cared for the holidays, insisting it was a waste of time, and money was better spent on investments than trivial decorations or gifts.

  A small pucker briefly appeared between his brows, but much to her relief, he didn’t comment. “Look for red berries. That will lead us to where we need to go. My mother loved holly.”

  She would’ve missed the shadow of pain if she hadn’t been watching him so closely. The question on the tip of her tongue died a quick death. She had no desire to bring that shadow back by asking a question better left alone.

  DANCING UNDER THE MISTLETOE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cole felt Miss Flitchard’s presence with every bone in his body as he led the way down a narrow path into a copse of bare-branched oaks and holly bushes.

  Too late, he realized he should’ve brought a servant with them. Or Matthew. He’d forgotten how intimate this part of the woods was, hidden from sight. No matter. They’d cut the holly, load the brake, and return to Crawford House in short order.

  He stopped to look up, searching for the best limbs. “You have gloves?”

  “Yes.” She turned around in a slow circle, her excited gaze sweeping the area in awe. “This is amazing. But why are the ones with the most berries so high?”

  Cole couldn’t help but smile, for he’d been thinking the same thing.

  “How do you propose we gather it?” Her expression held as much doubt as her tone.

  It had been years since Cole had performed this task. He studied the options as memories of doing this with his sister came to mind. A deep ache filled him. He missed her so much. It was still inconceivable that he would never see her or his mother and father again.

  Over the past two years, since their unexpected deaths from influenza, he’d brutally shoved aside any memories that came to mind. The pain was too overwhelming.

  But somehow today was different. Whether it was Miss Flitchard’s presence, her smile, or obvious delight at the task before them, he couldn’t say.

  “My sister, Megan, and I used to come to this spot every year to gather holly.” He closed his eyes for a moment as a familiar wave of loss slid through him. But for once, it left behind the warmth of a memory.

  When he opened his eyes, he was careful to keep his gaze well away from Miss Flitchard. He didn’t want to answer any questions. He knew she had them, for he felt the weight of her stare.

  Those who knew him had learned that speaking of his past was not permitted. Allowing a memory to sneak past his defenses didn’t change that.

  “I’m going to climb this oak.” Appreciating her silence, he pointed to the one that looked like it would both support him and provide the necessary reach. “I should be able to cut the holly and hand it down to you. Then I’ll move over to another and repeat the process.”

  “Excellent.” She gave that single nod again. Damn if it didn’t stir something deep within him.

  With determination, he shoved aside his interest and climbed the tree. “Will you hand me the saw?”

  Miss Flitchard did as he requested then waited with arms ready to catch the holly.

  Hearing his mother’s whispers in his mind, he was careful not to cut too much from any one place. She’d always insisted they take care not to damage the holly tree so it would grow again the next year. The bright, glossy bunches of deep green with their cheerful red berries were festive, though the difficulty in collecting them made the job a chore.

  “Shall I take these to the brake and return for more?” Miss Flitchard called up to him.

  He glanced down to see the top of her head barely visible above the pile in her arms. Perhaps he’d overdone it. He should’ve sent her to the brake several branches ago. “Only if you feel able.”

  She gave a muffled reply and tottered away with her load.

  He continued cutting and moving, watching for his assistant’s return. When at last she did, he didn’t question the relief that filled him.

  “My, you’ve been busy.” She started gathering the bunches. “Ouch!”

  “Take care,” he called down. “It helps if you don’t clutch them too tightly.”

  “Funny how something so beautiful can be so prickly. It reminds me of many of the ladies in London.”

  He chuckled at her remark, wondering if her experience as a seamstress made her say such a thing. When silence was the only thing that greeted his ears, he glanced down to see the clearing empty once again. She must’ve taken another load to the brake.

  As he climbed down the oak to find another place to cut holly, Miss Flitchard returned.

  “I know this is holly, but what does mistletoe look like?” she asked, those lovely brown eyes looking at him from behind her lenses. The scent of lilacs drifted toward him, a heady fragrance when mixed with the greenery and fresh, clean air.

  His gaze held hers, his mind blank. It had been a long time since he’d stood this close to an attractive woman. The curve of her rosy cheeks, the strong line of her jaw, the pink tip of her nose--all drew his notice. The tight bun of her hair had loosened, softening the lines of her face.

  She’d unfastened the top of her cloak after her trips to the brake. Once again, she wore a brown dress, but what should’ve been unremarkable pulled his attention to the smoothness of her skin. Her dark brows arched over those fascinating eyes.

  Which blinked up at him as the silence drew long.

  At last his mind caught up with the conversation. “Mistletoe?” Since words seemed beyond him, he searched for it to show her. “There. Up high. Do you see it?”

  Her gaze followed his finger, but she shook her head. “I’m not certain what I’m looking for.”

  Her upturned face revealed the graceful line of her neck. The opening of her cloak exposed the slight dip where her collarbones met, which pulsed slightly. The idea of pressing his lips to that spot prevented any other thoughts from forming.

  But when her gaze swung to him again, he drew a quick breath to free his senses from her spell.

  He positioned himself behind her, one hand on her shoulder as he moved her forward, pointing to the mistletoe above them. “The one with the white berries.”

  She shifted closer to align her sight with his finger. “I see it.”

  “It’s parasitic, so it grows on other plants rather than on its own.”

  She turned her head to look at him, her eyes seeing deep inside him, her lips curving into a smile. The small scar at the corner of her eye made his stomach flip. “It doesn’t want to be lonely either.”

  Either? Did that mean she was lonely? The emptiness deep inside him shifted, coming to life as though to remind him that he was too, no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

  Mouth suddenly dry, he could only stare at her, his body aching.

  ~*~

  Katherine’s breath caught. What had possessed her to say such a thing? Besides, she wasn’t lonely. She was surrounded by people every day, helping customers at the modiste’s. Granted, none of them were her friends, or acknowledged her existence most of the time.

  Except Grace. She’d seen past her quiet demeanor and effort to blend in, right to her heart.

  The look in Cole’s eyes made her wonder if he did the same. She told hersel
f to step away and gain some distance from his intoxicating presence. She couldn’t think of the last time she’d stood so close to a handsome man, let alone spoken with one.

  Her wayward body ignored her and turned to face him fully, close enough to see the green and gold flecks in the depths of his hazel eyes. Long lashes guarded those eyes, often sweeping down to hide his thoughts. But not now.

  In this moment, he looked at her without the shutters. Shadows still lurked in their depths, but perhaps not as dark as before.

  A shaving from a branch he’d cut rested on his cheek. With slow, stilted movements, she reached up to wipe it away. His gaze fell to her lips, hiding his thoughts once again. But the idea of him staring at her mouth had her drawing a quick breath.

  Yes.

  Kiss me.

  The thought surprised her. This man was a stranger, albeit a handsome one. Yet she couldn’t get the idea out of her mind.

  It had been a long time since anyone had touched her, let alone with desire. Was it so wrong to want to be desired?

  “Miss Flitchard.” His whispered words made her close her eyes with regret.

  She couldn’t bear for him to use her false name. In this moment, she didn’t want lies to stand between them.

  “Katherine,” he amended, his voice hoarse. Her given name in his deep tone sent shivers of longing coursing through her.

  “Yes.” She hoped he understood her meaning, that she was giving him permission.

  He eased even closer, until the steam of their breath in the cool air mingled. Then he pressed his mouth to hers. His lips were surprisingly warm. Firm. Heavenly.

  He lingered there a moment, nibbling slightly as though to better taste her. Then his tongue swept inside, making her legs weak. The heady feelings flooding her body were marvelous. She’d forgotten what desire could feel like. While her husband had been older than her, her affection for him had made their marriage bed pleasurable.

  But this was something different. Something...more. So much more.

  She jerked back at that realization. She was not looking for more. Nor could she.

  “My first kiss beneath mistletoe,” she said. “Thank you.” She quickly bent to pick up the holly before the magic of the mistletoe combined with Cole caused more problems.

  DANCING UNDER THE MISTLETOE

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “To the left.” Grace’s eyes narrowed as she studied the garland Katherine held above the fireplace mantel. “A bit higher. Perfect.”

  Katherine sighed with relief. Her arms ached from repeating this same routine in every room of the house. The immense pile of greenery she and Cole had brought back yesterday was nearly gone.

  Grace seemed determined to make this Christmas perfect. That meant completing the decorating, as the other guests were to arrive tomorrow.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Grace squeezed Katherine’s arm. “Thank you so much for all your help.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” Katherine smiled. “I haven’t done anything like this before. It’s a lot of work, but great fun.”

  After returning to the house after that heated kiss with Cole, Katherine had spent a restless night trying to determine if she should leave. The fairytale feeling created by the amazing estate with a countess and an earl, far from the city, topped off by kissing a handsome baron, was dangerous, luring her into wishing for things that couldn’t be. Since her arrival, her world had been askew. Nothing was as she’d expected.

  But in the early morning hours, she’d decided to embrace it. Why not enjoy this one magical holiday? It would be a memory to tuck away and cherish in the years to come. For once, she was surrounded by people she truly liked. Instead of waiting on customers and stitching late into the night, she was decorating this beautiful home with a dear friend.

  And she loved it.

  Reality had suspended. Instead of worrying about what the next day would bring, she was going to spread cheer as best she could, right alongside Grace.

  She’d decided to make Cole her primary objective. He’d been so uncomfortable after their kiss, as though he feared she’d demand marriage or request that Adair confront him. Silly man. It was only a kiss.

  But, oh, what a kiss.

  Her stomach filled with butterflies at the memory.

  Not that she intended to repeat it. The idea held far too much risk.

  That didn’t mean she wouldn’t do all she could to push away those shadows in his eyes, even temporarily.

  “Now for this kissing bough.” Grace slowly walked around the drawing room. “Where would be the best place for it?”

  Katherine considered the options. “Do you want it in a place that will likely cause trouble, or tucked away for more intimate use?”

  “Trouble?” Grace laughed. “That’s one way to think of it. Just be sure you don’t refuse a kiss if you find yourself underneath it.”

  Katherine smiled as she trailed a finger along the holly and ivy wound with mistletoe that rested on the table. “Cole said mistletoe is a parasite.”

  “That’s a terribly unromantic thing to say.”

  “I don’t know. I think it rather sweet that the plant prefers not to grow alone. It seeks companionship.”

  Grace caught her breath. “That is one of the many reasons I adore you. You look at things differently than anyone else.”

  Katherine waved a hand. “Please. I’m the most ordinary person you’ll ever meet.” She swallowed hard, all too aware the Katherine that Grace knew was made of lies. She dearly wanted to tell her the truth about everything.

  The days she spent here had only deepened her affection for Grace. She would miss her when she left, for she doubted she’d have the chance to see her again. Miss Flitchard would disappear. Katherine would invent a new identity, learn a new occupation, and Grace wouldn’t see her again.

  “I’ll bet Cole didn’t mention that fact to be romantic.”

  “No.” In fact, he’d gone out of his way to avoid her, making her goal of spreading Christmas cheer difficult. Romance was the last thing on that man’s mind.

  “If you do share a kiss, you must remove a berry,” Grace warned. “Once all the berries are gone, no more kisses can be taken, so don’t wait too long to enjoy yours.”

  Unthinking, Katherine reached out to pluck a white berry from the bough. While she wouldn’t call herself superstitious, she’d already shared a kiss under the mistletoe in the woods.

  Grace’s gasp made Katherine realize what she’d revealed.

  “I knew it.” Grace touched Katherine’s shoulder, eyes wide. “I thought I sensed something upon your return after gathering greenery with Cole.”

  Katherine’s cheeks heated at the accusation, but she said nothing. How she hated the lies she had to tell each and every day. She couldn’t bring herself to deny the kiss and tell another. Not to Grace.

  “He acted uncomfortable upon your return.” Grace clapped her hands. “That is delightful. I can’t think of two people more deserving of a little light in their lives than both of you.”

  Katherine had no doubt Cole deserved happiness, but she wasn’t so certain about herself. She didn’t think she could forgive herself for her past mistakes. Guilt and regret were her companions, and she had no idea how to shed them. Perhaps she wasn’t meant to. Perhaps those two emotions were her punishment.

  “Please don’t push us together.” Katherine couldn’t help but caution her friend, wanting to plead with her. But wouldn’t that make the kiss seem more important than it had been? “It was just one kiss.”

  She rolled the berry between her fingers, trying to push aside the longing that washed through her.

  And that was all it would be.

  The regret that knowledge brought squeezed her heart.

  ~*~

  Cole retrieved another box of decorations from the attic, glancing about to make sure it was the last one. The house had more decorations than any he’d ever seen. Boxes and boxes had been hauled downstai
rs and emptied under Grace’s direction, with Katherine right behind her.

  “Is that the last of it?” Adair asked as he appeared in the doorway.

  “I believe so.”

  “I have no idea where the ladies are putting all these.”

  “It’s a large house, and your bride seems determined to decorate each and every room.”

  Adair laughed. “She’s quite excited.”

  “You’re a lucky man.” Adair and Grace together were delightful. Their joy in each other, their appreciation for what they had, was wonderful.

  “I am so lucky.” Adair stared across the attic, obviously seeing something Cole couldn’t. “I never thought a life like this was possible.”

  Cole wondered what he meant by that, but hesitated to ask. It was none of his business. He liked Adair well enough, but he wasn’t here to bond with the man. Only to escape his demons and perhaps buy a mare.

  Adair looked back at him. “I hope all these preparations aren’t making you feel worse. I haven’t told Grace of your loss, but perhaps I should so she doesn’t drag you into every possible holiday activity.”

  Cole wasn’t certain which was worse.

  Each Christmas tradition Grace seemed intent on arranging brought memories of doing so with his family. The heavy weight of pain in his chest made it difficult to move. To breathe. To think. To live.

  What was that terrible saying? Time heals all wounds? It was rubbish, as far as Cole was concerned.

  The choice Adair offered was none at all.

  One thing he knew for certain was that he didn’t want Katherine to know. He didn’t want the look in those melted chocolate eyes to change to pity. He much preferred the interest that warred with caution reflected in their depths.

  Thank heaven for the caution. Katherine had a reserve about her that suggested she had a few secrets of her own. Maybe his interest in her was more about curiosity.