PROLOGUE
Clara giggled, her face heating as Lord Rutland brushed a stray curl away from her temple, tucking it lightly behind her ear. "You must be careful, Rutland! Someone will see!"
"And what should that matter?" he asked, a slow smile spreading across his face as the ball continued on around them. "You and I are now connected to each other. That much is quite obvious to all." He shrugged. "Besides which, is it Christmas time and I have every intention of dancing with you near to that mistletoe bough." His eyes danced and Clara's stomach curled, heat swirling through her frame. The mistletoe bough meant a kiss shared between them --- something she had been longing for now for some days.
"Then might I suggest we dance, Lord Rutland?" she asked, as he smiled at her. "The waltz is soon to begin."
"And is this now a young lady asking to dance with a gentleman?" Lord Rutland's eyebrows lifted as he grinned. "How improper!"
Clara cocked her head and put one hand to her hip. "Well, if you would prefer we did not dance for the sake of yourreputation given that I am now so very improper, then I can easily find another fellow to stand up with."
"Oh, no." Lord Rutland moved closer, one hand going around her waist as if they were already in the waltz position. "I shall have none but myself dancing the waltz with you tonight, Clara."
The way he spoke, the fierceness of his devotion sent a shiver of pleasure right through Clara's frame. She smiled up at him, looking into his dark brown eyes and wishing that she might throw her arms about his neck so he could hold her close. They had met only a few months ago --- his aunt and cousins had come to stay at the neighbouring estate after the loss of the Earl of Prentis, and the families had been introduced. A few months. It felt both impossibly brief and entirely inevitable, as though every day before their meeting had simply been waiting for this one to arrive. Lord Rutland was everything a gentleman ought to be and she was quite certain that her heart, which had been very willing to fall in love, had done precisely that.
"I think I will have to speak to your brother soon," Lord Rutland murmured, his hand falling from her waist as he took a step back. "Your elder brother, I mean." A slight frown tugged at his forehead. "I received a note from your younger brother earlier today which I have not yet responded to."
"From Thomas?" Clara frowned. "What did he ask you?"
"Only for us to meet so he might discuss something with me." Lord Rutland tilted his head. "No doubt he is aware of our connection and is doing all that a brother ought to do when it comes to his sister's reputation."
This made Clara smile, thinking well of Thomas. "I suppose that he is."
"But it is to your elder brother I should speak. We must court, must we not?"
Clara's smile grew, her cheeks warming. Her father had passed away a few years ago, leaving her under the care of her brother, the Marquess of Tyrone. "Yes, I suppose we must."
"If we are to become engaged, then courtship comes first," he said, his voice very quiet but his eyes holding fast to hers. "You do know that I feel very strongly in all of this, Clara. My intentions are true."
Her heart catapulted itself towards him and she snatched in a breath, her eyes rounding as he looked back at her, waiting for her response. He was not asking her to marry him as yet, Clara knew, but there was the hope of that. In speaking so, he was assuring her that his thoughts were turning towards engagement and then, to matrimony. He was not going to cast her aside. "I am very glad indeed to hear you speak so," she replied, the whole room seeming to glow with the renewed happiness settling in her heart. "I want nothing more than to be with you. There is no-one else in my thoughts nor in my heart."
The slow, warm smile that spread across his face made Clara's body heat from the very tips of her toes to the top of her head. She took a step closer, moving towards him, wanting his arms about her, only for him to sigh and shake his head.
"We must dance," he gritted out, as if something in what had been said was irritating to him although Clara presumed it was nothing more than the frustration of being unable to kiss her right there and then, given that she felt the same way. "And I shall make certain to pluck a mistletoe berry from the bough --- or steal one from a gentleman if there are none left."
Clara laughed in delight, reaching out one hand to take his. "The waltz is about to begin, Rutland," she murmured, her own hope abounding. "And let us pray there is at least one mistletoe berry remaining!"
"And here is it."
Clara breathed out slowly as Lord Rutland held up a single mistletoe berry. Her heart began to quicken and she looked down, only glancing up at him from beneath her lashes. He was standing tall, his dark eyes locked with hers and the faintest smile played at the corners of his lips. Her pulse raced. She wanted this --- had wanted it for days --- and yet her breath came short and her fingers trembled against his. Lord Rutland's intense gaze made her pulse race and, as he held out one hand to her, she took it.
The room was still filled with guests, the scent of mulled wine and spices filling the air. He had taken her to a quiet corner, hidden in the shadows and away from the many guests and she had gone willingly, eager for this moment. Now it was upon them, however, she felt her heart flutter, her body growing warmer with every passing second. "Lord Rutland, I ---" she began, her voice softer than she intended. She trailed off, having been trying to tell him of her nervousness but struggling to find the words.
He smiled. "Clara, you need not be nervous."
The understanding between them was sweetness to her lips. He already knew everything she had been trying to convey, already understood how she felt.
"This does not need to happen, should you not desire it," he said, pressing her hand gently. "I can cast this mistletoe berry away and nothing more need be said of it. I will not take it as a rejection."
She bit her lip, sensing the sweet, aching longing deep within her. "I would not step back from you, Rutland."
The softness of his gaze sent warmth pooling in her stomach. He reached out to her then with the other hand, settling on her waist but pausing for a few moments, as if to give her another opportunity to step back from him.
Clara smiled.
With a quiet exhale, Lord Rutland leaned towards her, his breath brushing across her cheek and sending a tremor through her. The moment felt like it were to stretch into eternity, this one moment where there was such a small distance between them and yet still such a yawning gulf.
With her heart beating furiously, Clara closed her eyes and waited. She could feel the nearness of him, the heat building between them as the music and the laughter of the crowd faded away. Then, finally, his lips brushed against hers.
