She should have known Brat would be an impeccable dancer—too often had she watched his grace and the way he held himself.He whirled her among the dancers, his hand on her back, burning a hole through the dark red wool, and as she twirled by she saw Annis Rohan’s face stiff with outrage.This wasn’t being immured among the dowagers, she thought, and smiled.She had no idea why Brat had sought her out, not when she had such a glorious rival, but she wasn’t going to think about it, she was going to simply let go and enjoy moving through the crowds, floating, his body so dangerously close to hers, as he steered her toward the door at the end of the room.
And the mistletoe.She’d been acutely aware of it, and had survived a number of hearty kisses on her cheek by her elderly admirers, but surely Brat wouldn’t dare.He probably wasn’t even aware of the tiny berries hanging over the entrance.
She was wrong.He danced her through the portal, so quickly and smoothly that she was scarcely aware of it, and to her shock, she felt his lips brush her forehead.“Mistletoe,” he murmured, and waltzed her into the candlelit hallway.
She couldn’t very well protest—it was over even before she realized it was happening.The music came into the hallway quite clearly, and he spun her around, shifting her a little closer to his body, as they moved to the windows overlooking the gardens.
His lips brushed her cheek.“Mistletoe,” he said, and kept on dancing.
Miranda had filled the place with mistletoe—she’d been lucky she’d avoided it so far.Her luck had run out.Or maybe the very opposite.He kissed her eyelids as they fluttered closed.“Mistletoe,” he whispered, and moved on.
She should protest, pull herself out of his arms, but she was entranced, breathless, unable to do more than move to the music guided by the gentle touch of his hand as he led her through the steps.
They danced through the hallway, the music a little farther away, and his mouth brushed hers, a touch so light it was like a bird’s wing, but her heart leapt inside her.“Mistletoe,” he whispered, and moved her onward, through the candlelit corridors as the music faded away and there was nothing but the darkness and his arms around her.
He stopped in a doorway, and put his hand under her chin.“Mistletoe,” he said, one last time, and kissed her.
His mouth was surprisingly gentle on hers, a slow exploration of her breathlessly parted lips.She was trembling in his arms, and couldn’t hide it, but she remained still for his kiss, acquiescent, and then his kiss deepened, and her strange lassitude vanished.She put her arms around his neck and moved into the shelter of his body, opening her mouth for him at his silent command.
It was a wonder.His lips were hard but his mouth was soft, and he turned her, pushing her up against the wall as he kissed her.She closed her eyes, lost in sensation, but she knew who was kissing her—the man who fascinated and infuriated her, Brat de Malheur.
“Ahem.”The strong, drawling voice broke through her haze, and she froze, pulling her arms away from Brat’s neck, but he simply grabbed them and put them back, continuing the kiss until he was ready to release her.And then he turned to face his saturnine father.
“You’re a bitde trop, father,” he said, but she noticed he was somewhat breathless.“I was showing Mrs.Lancaster the decorations.”
“I’m sure you were.Your mother went overboard with the mistletoe, but then, she was ever the romantic.May I escort you back to the ballroom, Mrs.Lancaster?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said in a strangled voice, her face flaming, moving past Brat to take his arm.
“We’re not finished,” Brat called after them, and to her surprise, he didn’t sound angry or frustrated.Simply determined.
He could hardly compromise her in the weapon-strewn halls of his father’s house.Well, he had compromised her, but only slightly, and she suspected his awe-inspiring father wouldn’t mention her indiscretion to anyone.But it had only been a kiss, a long, soul-satisfying kiss and she wanted more, she wanted to cry, she wanted…
“I suppose I should warn you about my son,” the earl said casually as they moved back through the hallways, the music growing louder once more.“He is not what he seems.”
“I’m perfectly aware of his reputation,” Jenny said stiffly.“I do beg pardon for my momentary?—”
“Nonsense,” he interrupted her.“Any lapse was on Brat’s part.I must say I’m quite encouraged.”
She halted, staring at him in shock.“Encouraged?”
“Brat does not waste his time with proper young ladies,” he said.
“I’m not a proper young lady, I’m a governess.”
“I see my brother and his wife have been working on your confidence.You most certainly are a proper young lady, and the absolutely last person my son would normally favor with his attentions.He doesn’t seem to be able to help himself when it comes to you.His mother will be pleased.”
“You’re not going to tell her!”she said, scandalized.
“My dear, I tell my wife everything.I’ll offer that as a bit of advice—always be honest with your husband.Things work out better that way.”
“I no longer have a husband,” she said stiffly, the first moment she’d thought of Josiah in the last half hour.
“You will again,” he said with misplaced amusement.“Just don’t believe everything you hear about Brat.He likes to play the bad boy; he takes after me, unfortunately.A good woman will be the making of him.”
The entire family was mad, it was that simple.She was caught kissing the scion of the house and his cynical father was practically welcoming her into the family.“I think you quite misunderstand the situation,” she said.
He smiled at her.“Slowness of wit is not one of my many failings.Raising wild children is.”He moved onward, shepherding her through the armament-laden hallways, and not another word was spoken.
