A man dressed in a jester’s outfit, with a mask like Mr. Punch, started to sing as he danced around the trunk of the nearest tree, emptying the contents of a stone flagon around the base.
‘Apple tree, apple tree, we all come to wassail thee,
Bear this year and next year to bloom and blow,
Hat fulls, cap fulls, three-cornered sack fulls . . .’
“That’s to bless the trees and encourage them to give us a good harvest,” Dev explained. His warm breath tickled her ear and raised goose bumps on her skin.
“And what are they doing there?” Liv pointed to a row of servants holding trays, from which guests were selecting strange, white shapes.
“Those are slices of cider-soaked toast. We have to hang them in the branches.”
They made their way forward, Liv admiring the way the flickering torchlight caught the angle of Dev’s jaw, and he handed her a slice of toast suspended on a loop of twine.
They moved deeper into the orchard, selecting a gnarled tree far back in the shadows, near the wall, and he caught her waist to steady her as she reached up on tiptoe and threaded the string over a twig high above her head.
The feel of his strong body behind her made her knees weak. She turned in his arms, expecting him to step back, but instead he pressed closer, crowding her, and her heart missed a beat.
She raised her chin and pressed her hands on his lapels, barely able to make out his features with his back to the torches.
“Liv.” His voice was a tortured groan that rumbled from his chest. “Does your permission to kiss you still stand?”
She sucked in a breath, overwhelmed by the need to say yes. Not just to his kisses, but to everything.
“Not here,” she whispered. “It’s too cold. Inside.”
“This way.” He caught her hand in his and interlaced their fingers, then started toward a gate set in the wall, tugging her along in his wake.
Liv followed, almost stumbling in her haste to leave the other revelers behind, and they hurried along the dark shape of a huge yew hedge and approached the house on a different side to the one they’d exited.
Dev knew exactly where he was going. He pulled her up the steps of a terrace, around a stone urn, and slipped in through another French window.
“Your study,” Liv breathed, recognizing it despite the fact that the only illumination came from a low fire burning in the grate.
Dev released her hand, strode to the door, turned the key in the lock, and returned to her in one swift movement. The muffled sound of revelry could still be heard through the thick wood, but Livvy paid it no heed as he stopped in front of her and tugged off his gloves and hat.
He removed his mask, then did the same for her, and she blinked, suddenly disconcerted to have her face revealed, even though the shadows were almost as dark as they’d been outside.
Without breaking his gaze, she slipped her cloak from her shoulders and draped it over the back of one of the wing armchairs by the fire. Her bare skin pebbled at the sudden exposure to the cooler air, but heat swept her as Dev’s eyes roved over her nose, her lips, her chest.
Liv let the madness to seize her. “Now, I would like you to kiss me.”
He didn’t need telling twice. With an exhale that sounded almost like ‘thank God,’he caught her face in is hands and pressed his mouth to hers.
He tasted of spiced apples andhim,and her stomach somersaulted in dark delight. She wound her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through the hair at his nape as he made a deep sound of pleasure in his throat.
Time lost all meaning. The only thing she could focus on was Dev’s mouth, his tongue as he kissed her in an endless, drugging swirl. When he finally pulled back for air, she sucked in a deep breath, only for him to slide his bare hands over her shoulders, the exposed skin of her back. She shivered in delight.
“This dress,” he groaned, sounding almost rueful. “I knew it was a mistake, the moment I saw it. Knew I’d never be able to look at you in it without wanting you.”
He pressed feverish kisses to her jaw, the side of her neck, peppered a string of them along her collar bone. “God, Liv. Do you have any idea how much I want you?”
Liv bit back a shocked, delighted laugh. “I think I’m beginning to,” she panted.
Her head was spinning. He might not love her, not in the way she loved him—with her whole heart—but he clearly desired her physically, and that seemed like a perfectly good start, at least for tonight. She still didn’t know if she’d accept his offer of marriage, but she’d be a fool if she left this house without letting him show her the passion he claimed they could have together.
What was she waiting for? Her reputation was already shredded, her chances of marrying anyone else miniscule, and he was the only man she’d ever wanted.
