at a kissing bough that looked as though several forests’ worth of oak trees must have been stripped to furnish it with mistletoe.
His breath caught.
Slowly, deliberately, he set Maddy on her feet, keeping one arm around her. His blood hammered in his veins as he reached up with his free hand and plucked a berry. He hoped to God that this time he could make sure a simple kiss remained just that—a kiss.
‘I think, madam wife,’ he said in a voice that reached only her, ‘that you are under a misconception about my reasons for marriage.’
‘Am I?’ she whispered.
‘Yes. Perhaps this will help you understand.’
He drew her closer and time slowed as her slender curves fitted to his as if she were made for him. Gently, he traced the delicate line of her throat, felt a tremor rack her as with a soft sigh she slipped her arms about him and yielded her mouth to his.
Ash’s head spun at the sweetness of the kiss. Caring nothing for their audience, he kissed her deeply, possessively, moulding her body to his, one hand buried in the coiling silk of her hair. Time slowed, stretched into a glowing infinity of promise and delight.
* * *
‘D’ye reckon it’s the mistletoe?’ whispered an awed voice.
Maddy’s mind spun as Ash eased back from the kiss and smiled down at her. Her breath hitched at the tenderness in those grey eyes.
‘There was something I wanted more than Haydon,’ he murmured.
He had wanted her? Desire, yes. But had he actually wanted her? Maddy? Enough to marry her despite Edward’s lies?
‘Wassail!’ roared someone from the back of the hall, and the crowd took up the chant.
From somewhere an indecently large cup was produced, filled with hot spiced ale and passed to Maddy. She took the first sip and spluttered. Ash took it from her and deliberately set his lips where hers had rested. Their eyes met. Burned. He drank. His fingers tightened on the cup and, his eyes never leaving hers, he passed it on.
The cup was passed around until everyone had tasted it.
Ash’s plans had included meeting Maddy’s household as her husband and then dinner. Not an extended dinner.
He had reckoned without her household. He’d never realised that here in this isolated spot they adhered to the old tradition of the entire household eating in the hall. And, since it was Christmas Eve, after they’d hauled in the Yule log there was dancing to the lilt of Brady’s old fiddle and his daughter’s flute.
It was nearly ten o’clock before the hall was clear of revellers and Maddy’s housekeeper bustled her off to the bedchamber.
Ash reined in his impatience as he sat down at the table. He’d blundered in every way possible in the carriage. He was damned if he’d repeat the mistake.
Maddy had never realised that Bets had a romantic streak at all, let alone one a mile wide. She was tenderly arraying Maddy in her very prettiest lace-edged nightgown, despite her protests that it was nowhere near warm enough for a winter’s night.
Bets smirked as she twitched the linen sleeve of the nightgown just so. ‘Never you mind that, Miss Maddy—m’lady, I should say, I reckon his lordship’ll keep you warm enough and to spare.’
She twisted her hands together in her lap while Bets brushed out her hair, long sweeps of the brush. It wasn’t like that at all. Was it?
He had believed Edward!
As if Bets had read her mind, she said, ‘Not many men who’d have married you after what Lord Montfort said. Not without they waited to see if you was breeding.’
Maddy’s hands stilled. If he’d thought Edward had... Her stomach churned. If Ash had thought that, then he must have considered the possibility that she was carrying a child. Edward’s child. She’d been too hurt by his apparent mistrust to think that through clearly.
And he still married you...why?
Shame flooded her. He’d answered that in the carriage—to protect you, of course!
Straight after she’d accused him of marrying her because he’d wanted Haydon.
He did trust you, you ninnyhammer! Trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t have gone to Edward willingly. And he cared enough to marry you despite the possibility you might be pregnant. To protect you.
The little bronze horse caught her gaze in the mirror. She’d set it on the shelf over the fireplace. He cared enough to give you that.
Bets was still speaking. ‘Someone ought to warn you.’
Warn her?
She looked at Bets in the mirror. The old woman had her mouth primmed. ‘Been a long time, it has. I’ve been a widow longer than I was married. But you don’t forget, and seeing as how your own mam, God bless her, ain’t here to tell you what’s what—’
Maddy’s cheeks scorched. ‘Um, I do know what happens, Bets,’ she got out. Far better than she was going to confess.
Bets snorted. ‘That’s as may be, Miss Maddy. I know you’d know what goes where. Thing is, it might hurt a bit at first.’
‘Oh.’ Her cheeks were probably going to ignite. ‘I see.’
Bets brushed harder. ‘Yes. But only the first time, usually.’ A very womanly smile softened the old lips. ‘And ’specially with a man like his lordship. You can see he’s the gentle sort, for all his strength.’
‘Only the first time?’ asked Maddy, trying to ignore the ache in her breasts at the thought of just how gentle Ash could be.
‘Aye. After that—’ Bets laid down the brush and cleared her throat. ‘Well, you’ll see soon enough, judging by the way his lordship can’t take his eyes off you.’
Maddy realised in disbelief that Bets was blushing. Their eyes met in the mirror.
‘It ain’t every man who can set a girl’s knees wobbling and toss her wits out the window with one kiss under the mistletoe!’ Bets set her hands on Maddy’s shoulders. Gave them a squeeze. ‘Well. That’s that. I’ll be off to me bed.’
Maddy blinked and flapped a hand at her hair. ‘You aren’t going to braid it?’
Bets shook her head. ‘Waste of time.’ She twitched the neckline of the nightgown just so. ‘Mind you, so’s this.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘But at least he’ll have the fun of taking it off.’
Maddy’s jaw dropped. Naked? They were going to do what they’d done in the carriage naked?
* * *
