by Carla Kelly
‘You never did answer me,’ she said, trailing after him as he strode down the drive towards the side of the house. ‘Why the sudden need for mistletoe?’
He looked at her with both brows raised. ‘Because it’s Christmas Eve.’
That told her nothing and she almost felt foolish asking again. ‘What does Christmas Eve have to do with mistletoe?’
The ground was hard beneath her boots, making it easy to keep up with his long strides as they walked across the snow-covered lawn towards a thick cluster of trees, waving their bare branches in the wind.
‘Haven’t you ever hung mistletoe in your house on Christmas Eve?’ he asked.
When she shook her head, he made a tsking sound. ‘We’ve always spent Christmas Eve gathering the necessary bits of nature to decorate the house. It’s been done here for centuries. Everyone in my family has a specific task. Gabriel goes out with his steward and supervises the hauling in of the Yule log. Andrew cuts the greens that decorate the frames and fireplace mantels, and I am responsible for gathering mistletoe to hang in the house. For years after my father died, I believe the only ones who enjoyed having mistletoe in the house were the servants, but that never deterred us from hanging it. Now, this year, I’m certain Gabriel and Andrew will take full advantage of it.’ He looked at her with an arched brow. ‘You do know what happens if you stand under a sprig of mistletoe, don’t you?’
‘Of course I know about kissing under the mistletoe. Simply because it never hung in my house, doesn’t mean I haven’t been to house parties or visited friends around Christmas.’ The fact that Monty hadn’t included them in the short list of people who would be enjoying the mistletoe this year stung, even though his statement was true. He wasn’t interested in kissing her. Or doing anything else with her for that matter.
‘You’ve kissed other gentlemen?’ he asked in a casual tone, keeping his attention on the path in front of them.
The last thing she wanted to talk to Monty about was the two kisses she’d had that didn’t come close to stirring the feelings inside her that Monty’s had. His kiss had made the earth drop away and time stand still. ‘I don’t see why I should tell you if I’ve kissed other men.’
‘I’m your husband.’
‘Not by choice.’
‘But I still am.’ He gave her a satisfied smile.
‘I don’t believe it is wise for us to discuss kissing other people.’
For Juliet, no other kiss would compare to his. Obviously with the tryst he had planned to have with Miss Fellsworth and with the other women he had been mentioned with over the years, he did not feel the same. How could he stir such longing in her, when he didn’t feel the same?
He stopped suddenly, but she decided to keep moving without him. ‘How many men have you kissed, Juliet?’
‘Not nearly as many as the number of women you have,’ she said over her shoulder.
‘How do you know how many women I’ve kissed?’
‘I’m speculating.’
Within minutes he was by her side, with his hand shoved into his pocket. The wind howled through the trees, making the branches sway above them. It was not an ideal day to be out in the park. She was just grateful she had dressed as warmly as she had.
‘How much further do we have to go until you find the mistletoe?’ she asked.
‘Another half-mile or so.’
‘Half a mile? Can’t you simply cut some closer to the house?’
‘No, it only grows in one place in the park.’
Some adventure this was becoming.
It was cold. The grey clouds were thick and the scent of an impending snowstorm was in the air. And they were just in search of some greenery to decorate the house. Why did she ever agree to accompany him? She could be back at the house right now, drinking warm tea and visiting with Charlotte, or taking a nap in his very cosy bed. Instead she was traipsing through the woods with a man who had made a polite excuse not to bed her on their wedding night.
They walked in silence side by side for quite a long time, as the path curved a number of times, before stopping at a lake with patches of ice close to the shoreline. It was large enough to contain an island in the centre, which appeared dense with trees and shrubs.
When Monty walked off towards a weeping willow tree that stood close to the water, Juliet assumed it was to gather mistletoe. Instead, he dragged a rowboat out from under the thick curtain of branches covered in snow to the water’s edge.
‘What are you doing?’ She knew he could hear the excitement in her voice that was stirred by the prospect of taking a boat out in the winter.
His infectious grin still had the power to make her heart stop.
‘I did tell you we were going on an adventure, did I not?’
‘Yes, but you didn’t tell me that adventure would be out at sea.’
‘Would you prefer not to travel to distant shores with me? I do see some ice on the lake. Perhaps it is too treacherous a journey for a delicate flower such as yourself.’ His left eyebrow lifted a fraction.
‘Roses have thorns, Monty. It’s best to remember that.’
He let out a full masculine laugh as he gestured to the boat with his gloved hand. ‘Will you join me on this adventure?’
She had always imagined being married to him would not be dull. ‘Did you bring me along so I could row for you?’ she asked, approaching his side.
‘You don’t know where we are going. I do. Therefore, it’s probably best if I am the one to row.’ He gave a gentle flick to her nose with his finger. It was a gesture he used to do with her when he was in a particularly playful mood and it made her heart jump.
He helped her into the boat and when his gloved hand held hers, a tingling heat ran from the palm of his hand, up her arm and across her breasts. She could see her breath and yet that small touch brought such heat. To her disappointment, he dropped her hand quickly and looked completely unaffected by it.
The boat rocked as she shifted into a comfortable position on the bench. ‘It doesn’t seem very stable.’
‘It is. I assure you, we’re safe.’ He pushed the boat into the water and climbed in.
‘Why don’t you have a servant get the mistletoe?’ she asked, as snowflakes began to drift down from the thick grey clouds.
He looked appalled at her suggestion. ‘I could never do that. The location is a secret. I am the only one who knows where it grows.’
‘Surely you jest.’
‘It’s true. The location has been kept a secret for generations in the Pearce family and is passed down from youngest son to youngest son.’
The rhythmic movements of his strong arms as he rowed them through the lake, and the lapping of the water against the boat, was relaxing and Juliet felt her muscles soften. ‘If it’s such a secret, why bring me along?’
‘Because last night I decided that if we don’t begin to share things with each other and try to create new and better memories, we will never be able to put the past behind us.’
Juliet didn’t know if she was capable of forgetting the heartache she had experienced when he told her he realised he wasn’t really in love with her. She had believed his feelings were just as strong and genuine as hers. To find out he didn’t care about her with the same depth of emotion had been devastating. She understood what he was trying to do. She just didn’t know if it was possible.
It began to snow harder and large flakes were settling inside the boat. As they approached the island, Monty seemed to know instinctively when to turn the boat around and where there was a break in the shrubs and trees. The boat glided to a stop in what appeared to be an inch of water covered with a layer of ice.
‘I’ll help you out,’ he said, while using the oars to adjust the boat so it was floating sideways to the shoreline.
‘That’s not necessary. I can climb out on my own.’
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Before he had a chance to respond, she moved her right leg over the side of the boat. It sank into the muddy bottom of the shoreline lower than she expected, tilting her off balance. He moved quickly to stop her from falling, but the boat tipped and they staggered together in four inches of frozen water.
‘This is not the adventure I wanted,’ she mumbled, trying to move her once-beautiful boots through the silt of the lake without getting them stuck.
Monty was wearing a pair of Hessians, making it easier for him to navigate through the mud since his boots were up to his knees and water wasn’t getting inside them, creating a kind of suction with the mud. Holding her hand, he helped pull her out of the water while the snow started to fall much faster now, creating a fine curtain of white.
The cold air was hurting her wet legs and her feet were freezing in her boots. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body in an attempt to stop herself from shivering. ‘The water didn’t appear that deep from inside the boat.’ If she weren’t so cold, Juliet was certain her cheeks would be flushed with embarrassment.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle comforting squeeze. ‘It’s too cold and now you’re too wet. I can return for the mistletoe later. I need to get you home so you can warm up.’
‘I’ll be fine. Just gather the mistletoe quickly,’ she replied, rubbing her arms. She didn’t like to complain and had no desire to appear weak in front of him.
‘Nonsense. You are beginning to shiver. We will go back to the house.’
They turned in unison for the boat—and noticed it had drifted over twenty feet away from them. It now was floating towards the other shoreline, too far for Monty to wade out to.
‘You cannot swim to it. Your muscles will surely lock up if that much of you gets submerged in the icy water,’ she stated while bouncing slightly on her feet, trying to keep her body moving in the frigid cold.
Even though they were out of the lake, her boots were soaked through with the icy cold water. Instead of keeping her feet warm, the fur inside her boots acted as a sponge and it felt as if they were hardening with ice.
Their only way off the island and back to Gabriel and Olivia’s warm home was that boat. No one knew where they were and, even if they did, by the time they realised they were stranded, she would be frozen to death. It was taking considerable effort not to panic.
‘What do we do now?’ she asked, trying her best not to sound as if she was about to cry as snowflakes clung to her eyelashes.
Monty looked around and then his body went still, as if he were considering some thought that had suddenly popped into his head. ‘Come on. I know where we can go.’
Chapter Six
Monty pulled his freezing wife on to the well-worn path that, thankfully, had not become overgrown. The buckskin of his breeches had kept his legs dry and the way he landed, no water had got into his boots. His wife, on the other hand, had boots that were so wet he could hear them squishing when they began walking. The bottom of her pelisse and, he assumed, the gown underneath were drenched and hardening with clumps of snowy ice the further they walked. He needed to get her warm—and fast. He just prayed Laurel Cottage was still standing.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, skidding on an ice patch in the path.
The small thatched cottage with large trees arching their bare branches over it came into view. Monty had never been happier to see the small cottage he had played in as a boy.
‘You’ll be able to warm up inside.’
‘Now this is a cottage,’ she exclaimed. ‘Not that behemoth house your family refers to as such. I just want to take off these boots. I think they’re turning to ice around my feet.’
Monty said a silent prayer of thanks that it wasn’t locked as he let her inside. The cottage had changed very little from what he remembered. It had one central room with an inglenook on one wall with a wingback chair, a bed was tucked into the corner, and a small square table with four Windsor chairs completed the furnishings. Green curtains now hung on the three small mullioned windows and a new rug was on the floor in front of the empty hearth. It appeared Gabriel must now be taking Monty’s nephew Nicholas here in the summer to fish, just like their father had done with his sons.
Juliet sat in the wingback chair, took off her gloves and struggled with untying the lacing of her boots. ‘These ribbons have turned to ice.’
There was a large stack of dry logs in the alcove of the inglenook and Monty threw his hat down and immediately went to work arranging them in the hearth. ‘I should have a fire going shortly. It will help melt the ice.’
‘I don’t know if I can wait that long.’
She continued to work on the ribbons while he stuffed some kindling under the logs and reached for the tinderbox. Once the fire was blazing he turned to Juliet, who had just finished removing her boots. He opened them up and placed them by the fire to dry. Snowy chunks of ice had formed along the bottom of her pelisse and Juliet stood to unbutton it. Monty got one of the Windsor chairs and put it by the fire so Juliet could drape the scarlet garment over it.
‘This fire feels heavenly,’ she said, standing in front of it.
Nothing, absolutely nothing prepared Monty for the sight of Juliet bending over, raising the bottom of her dress and sliding her wet stockings off. He stood there, less than ten feet away, transfixed at the sensual sight of her slowly revealing her shapely bare legs. The poor woman was freezing. Her delicate feet were bright red from her cold boots—and yet he couldn’t stop imagining her legs wrapped around him. Monty scrubbed his hand over his eyes. He was an ass.
Turning away from the tempting sight of his wife, he shrugged out of his Garrick coat and tossed it on the floor. ‘Are your feet warming up?’
‘Not yet, but standing on this dry rug feels much better than being in those boots.’
‘Here, allow me.’ He knelt in front of her and placed his right foot on the floor. Looking up at her, he motioned for one of her feet.
Juliet raised her skirt and placed her right foot softly on his knee. The experience was made even more intimate when she held on to his shoulders to keep from falling. To first warm his hands, Monty briskly rubbed them together before running them over her foot to warm it up. Her foot was just as cold as the snow outside. It was a good thing this cottage was close to where he had tried to land the boat. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if she was forced to wear those wet boots outside in the cold for very much longer.
Once her foot was room temperature, he motioned for her other one. Her skin was so soft and the arch to her foot was high and graceful. Soon rubbing her foot turned to caressing and their eyes met. The grip on her skirt slipped and the cold wet hem hit his wrist.
‘You should take off that dress. Your legs will never warm up with that cold wet fabric lying against them.’
She chewed her bottom lip before she replied to his suggestion. ‘I will need you to unbutton my dress. I cannot reach the buttons.’
This. Would. Be. Torture.
He nodded and she put her foot down on the rug and gave him her back. The prolonged anticipation of revealing what was underneath her gown was almost unbearable. His breath was stirring some of the strands of her hair and she smelled like lavender mixed with snowy air. Slowly, he undid the buttons. His mouth went dry and he was forced to swallow hard as he pushed the white cambric gown slowly over the curves of her shoulders, grazing his knuckles gently over her smooth skin. She let the dress slide to the floor and stepped out of it, leaving her in a white knee-length chemise and her stays.
How he wished she would turn around.
Even though the fire was still blazing, the room hadn’t warmed up enough yet for her to be comfortable in just some thin cotton. He grabbed his Garrick coat and draped it over her shoulders. She looked back at him with a warm gratified smile. How he wanted to wrap her in his arms
...
‘I’m going to go out and get the mistletoe while you continue to warm yourself by the fire.’
‘Mistletoe? We have no way off this island. I think gathering mistletoe should be the least of our concerns.’
‘I won’t be long and I’ll think of a way off.’
‘But you’ll need your coat.’
She looked as if she was about to take it off, until he shook his head.
‘You need it more than I do and I have my tailcoat and hat. They will offer some protection from the elements.’
The cold outside air and snow were just what he needed to cool the desire that was inflaming his body at the sight and feel of Juliet. When she had leaned forward to step out of her dress, her bottom came very close to brushing up against his growing erection. How he had wanted to put his arms on her waist, press his body against hers and let her feel how much he wanted her.
Andrew was right. They needed time away from the house to make peace with each other and find a way to have a real marriage. And the sooner they did that, the better.
Now that they had shelter from the weather, Monty wasn’t overly concerned about getting off the island. When they didn’t return to the house, Gabriel would eventually send some of the servants out to find them. The smoke from the chimney would lead them here. He just had to make sure there was enough wood to keep the fire going. In the meantime, he would spend some time away from his wife and out in the cold to calm his body down.
Mistletoe grew all over the small island. There had to be some growing near the cottage. Without his coat, he didn’t want to venture too far away. It was still bitterly cold and the snow hadn’t stopped coming down. He walked around the stone structure and spied some mistletoe growing on the oak trees that arched over the cottage. Taking his knife out of his boot, he sliced away at the vine, taking enough to hang in a number of the rooms in Gabriel’s house.
As he was making his way around the cottage, he noticed movement to his left and spied a rabbit dart out of some bushes and run down a path that led to the other end of the small island. It made him pause as he recalled what had been down that path when he was a boy, something he had forgotten all about, until now.