Anticipation fluttered beneath her breastbone. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“Do I have a choice? If word spread that I ignored tradition…? Well, that would be rude.”
“Mercy,” Bess said with a hint of breathlessness. “We wouldn’t want the neighbors to think you have no manners.”
“Thank you for understanding.” Dimples winked from his cheeks; the flutters spread to her belly. “Is that a yes, my lady?”
She bit the corner of her mouth. One tiny peck in observation of tradition was harmless. Releasing her hold on the tree, she rested her fingertips on his shoulders. “Yes, you may kiss me.” She offered her cheek.
He cocked an eyebrow. “A cheek? After our night together?”
“Oh, be quiet and kiss me.” Gripping his shoulders, she tugged him against her. His lips were cool when they first touched hers, but heated quickly. His weight held her snug against the tree trunk. The bark was rough at her back and solid even as the world around them faded to nothingness. It was just Julius and her, the clean scent of soap, a cold breeze on her cheeks, and the seductive caress of his hot tongue. She parted her lips, welcoming him further across the line she’d already overstepped.
The kiss was no longer about mistletoe or quaint Christmas traditions. She was taking what she’d wanted from the moment she laid eyes on him, chiseled and glorious in the fading kitchen firelight.
Julius’s hand slid up her waist, resting high on her rib cage. He tore his mouth from hers to kiss a path along her neck. She arched her back, moaning as his thumb traced the underside of her breast. Through all her layers, the sensation was dulled, but it still set her aflame.
“Forgive me, love,” he whispered into her ear. The wisp of breath caressed her sensitive skin. A driving pulse through her veins heightened every sensation. “I promise to remember the sweetness of your lips forevermore.”
His words were like a dousing with frigid water. She stiffened. He sensed the change in her and drew back. “Did I say something wrong?”
She swallowed hard. For two days, she had been waiting for the perfect time to confess her transgression. This wasn’t it. Nevertheless, he deserved to know the truth before they travelled any further down this path. Common sense told her to wait until they were back at Davensworth Cottage where others were near in case he flew into a rage. But in her heart, she knew he was kind and gentle.
“Bess, I didn’t—” A shadow of disquiet dimmed his eyes. He cupped her cheeks with such tenderness it caused the backs of her own eyes to sting. “Was I courteous with you?”
“Oh, no-no-no! Please, strike the thought from your mind. You would never hurt a woman.” She brushed his hands from her face. She was undeserving of his tenderness. “It is I who should apologize. We aren’t… We never—”
She pushed from the tree, free of his embrace. Her feet flew out from under her, and she landed on her bum. The impact jarred her bones; her teeth to gnashed. She was too stunned to make a sound when pain exploded in her mouth and filled with a metallic taste.
“Bess!” Julius kneeled beside her. Small drops of red splatted onto her pelisse, soaking into the lavender fabric. “You are bleeding. Let me see.”
Never had a punishment come so swiftly or been more apropos. She’d bitten her own tongue for lying.
Chapter Seven
Julius grumbled under his breath when Bess, groaning and holding her back, crawled from the buckskin leather chair. “Sit down, woman. How many times must we tell you?”
“There is too much greenery on this end.” She pointed to Julius’s side of the mantle, the movement causing her to wince.
“For heaven’s sake, Bess.” Miss Price abandoned the task of dressing the mantle to scold her cousin. “You can barely move, and Lord Julius is doing a fine job. Back to your chair.”
Bess’s chin jutted in mutiny. “It hurts to sit.”
Or walk, or sleep, or move in any way. Julius had suffered enough injuries to recognize the look of misery on her face. By some miracle, she’d avoided cracking her head on the ice, but she would be sore for a few days.
He snatched a feather pillow from the settee and approached her. “Direct me from your seat.” When he extended his hand, he was prepared for more arguing, but she leaned on him and hobbled back to the chair.
“There are too many branches,” she muttered. “It’s uneven.”
“I will follow your every command.” He wedged the pillow behind her back. “How does that feel?”
“It’s too high.” Her sulky tone made him smile.
He bent over her to adjust the pillow behind her lower back and brushed a kiss to the silky crown of her head. Too late, he recalled they weren’t alone. He swung his head toward Miss Price to see if she’d noticed, but she was busy tucking sprigs of holly into the evergreen branches.
“I’m sorry you are in pain.” Julius caressed Bess’s cheek with the backs of his fingers before straightening. “How is your tongue?”
She puckered her lips as if she might stick it out at him. She was a surly invalid, but he suspected she was used to tending other’s needs rather than having her own met.
“It only hurts a little,” she finally admitted.
“Rest assured, it will be in top order soon and as sharp as ever.” He winked before sauntering to the sideboard to pour a finger of brandy into a snifter. Miss Price had brought out her father’s best bottle earlier, although Julius was loath to touch anything stronger than a cup of tea since overindulging at the Sleepy Owl. He returned to Bess’s side to hand her the glass. “A few sips should dull the pain.”
She accepted the drink, cradling the bowl of the snifter in both hands. He stood at attention while she took her first sip. Her nostrils flared and eyes misted, but she managed to swallow the fiery spirits without choking. She slanted a disgruntled look in his direction. “Do you plan to stand over me all night?”
“That depends. Are you going to listen this time?”
“She most certainly will,” her cousin lobbed over her shoulder while redoing Julius’s side of the mantle.
Bess sighed and took another sip. This one went down even easier. Her shoulders lost some of their tension, and she sank into the chair. Julius grabbed a cushioned footstool and encouraged her to elevate her feet. She didn’t argue for once.
With her settled, he returned to assisting her cousin with decorations.
It wasn’t like him to play the role of nursemaid to anyone, but he couldn’t help but have sympathy for Bess. Admitting she lied about the proposal had taken courage. The fall added another level of embarrassment and injury he wished he could’ve spared her. Therefore, he’d chosen not to dwell on the matter. She said it. He heard it. They were at peace.
If circumstances forced a union between them in a few weeks, he would adjust with little difficulty. Part of him thrilled at the prospect honestly. Bess was unlike any woman he had ever known. She was unpredictable, brazen, and passionate. That last kiss had nearly knocked him on his arse. He’d never been with a lover that initiated amorous interludes, and her boldness was a potent aphrodisiac.
Miss Price finished with the holly and was placing pinecones among the greenery. “Why not have a seat yourself, my lord?”