Everything within her exploded with the sensation of his kiss. It was soft and gentle, speaking of tenderness and understanding and Clara felt herself leaning into him. Instinctively, her hands went to his broad frame, one hand settling just above his heart, the other going to his shoulder. Lord Rutland drew her ever closer, his arms about her waist and, with a tilt of his head, he kissed her with a little more depth and urgency.
Then, he pulled back.
Clara kept her eyes closed, her breathing coming in shallow gasps as she felt his heartbeat against her fingers, steady and sure. Her whole body was alive in a way she had never experienced before and, as she opened her eyes to look up into his, her heart was beating with such a furious rhythm, she wondered if it would ever slow back to normal again.
"I hope I did not overwhelm you."
A shy smile brushed at her lips. "You most certainly did," she said, her voice barely audible. "But that is just as I wanted it, Rutland. I have wanted this for some time but I have never found the strength to say it aloud to you!"
Lord Rutland smiled, the look in his eyes both tender and filled with a promise that more was to come. "So have I, Clara. If it had not been the mistletoe, then I would have found anotherway to share this moment with you. I care for you deeply, my darling. I hope you know that."
The solemness of his gaze made her heart sing. Boldly, she reached up and let her hand settle against his cheek, still savoring the wonderful moments that their kiss had brought. "I am quite in love with you, Rutland. It may only have been a month since we were first introduced but I am convinced that, within the day of our meeting, my heart was already yours."
Relief settled into his expression as Clara smiled up at him, a little surprised to see that he had not expected her to say such a thing.
"You cannot know how much joy it brings me to hear you speak so," he told her, as she dropped her hand for fear that someone would see them, clad in the shadows. "I thought it was only my own heart that felt such an intensity."
"It is not." Clara pressed his hand, wishing that she might be able to step into his embrace once more --- but she could not. Not now and certainly not here. One kiss might be accepted given that there was mistletoe but a second would not be considered appropriate. She did not want to ruin her reputation even if her heart already belonged to him.
"Then I am overwhelmed," he murmured, squeezing her fingers before lifting her hand and pressing it to his mouth, his eyes glowing gently. "The time that I must wait will frustrate me a good deal, I confess, but you must enjoy Christmas Day with your family and I must endure my aunt and cousins for a sennight longer --- although Miss Jennings has taken her leave, so that is one less person." He tilted his head. "Then I will speak to your brother... if you would wish it, that is."
Clara's eyes flooded with joyous tears. "I cannot think of anything I want more," she answered, as he smiled at her. "To be yours and yours alone is everything my heart desires."
The memory fadedas Clara set her quill down, though the warmth of it lingered like the last embers of a fire she could not bear to let go out. She had been writing to cousin Beatrice --- or trying to --- but the words on the page had blurred before her eyes as the memory of last evening's ball had overtaken her. Lord Rutland's kiss. His whispered promises. The steady certainty in his dark eyes.
She pressed her fingers to her lips, and smiled to herself.
"Clara?"
The half-finished letter slid beneath a clean sheet of paper as Clara straightened, composing her expression as though her mother might somehow read the happiness radiating from her very person. "Good afternoon, Mama."
"You are writing, I see."
Clara glanced at Lady Tyrone and then set the quill down properly. "Yes, I am. I thought to write to cousin Beatrice. I do not think that my letter will arrive until after Christmas Day given the weather, however!" She smiled at her mother. "Did you enjoy the ball last evening? It seems to me such a great shame that Thomas must miss it all. Do you know when he will return?"
Her mother shook her head. "Your younger brother has some matters of business to attend to," she said, seating herself in a chair but perching on the edge of it, her hands clasped in her lap. "I have asked David about it but he states that Thomas will not return until after Twelfth Night. It seems we will be forced to endure his absence over this festive period."
Sadness crept over Clara's heart. "I am sorry for that. I will miss him. Whatever affairs it is that he must attend to, they must be very urgent indeed." She paused, frowning. "It is not likeDavid to send Thomas away at Christmas. Did he say nothing of the reason?"
Her mother's expression tightened, just for a moment. "He did not. You know how your brother can be. Since he inherited the title, he does not always see fit to explain himself."
Clara sighed. It was true enough. David --- her eldest brother, David Frankton, Marquess of Tyrone --- had changed a good deal since their father's death. The weight of the title had sharpened him, made him harder, more certain of his own authority and less inclined to hear counsel from anyone, least of all his mother and sister. Thomas, who had always been the gentler of her two brothers, seemed to bear the brunt of David's new imperiousness. And now to be sent away at Christmas, with no explanation given...
Her mother nodded, sighed and then cleared her throat. "Clara, you must write another letter."
A trifle confused, Clara looked from her letter to her mother and back again. "To Thomas? How can I do so when I do not know where he is at present?"
"I do not mean for you to write to Thomas, no," her mother replied, rising to her feet and coming to stand over Clara, her hand on her shoulder. "You are to write to Lord Rutland."
Her heart leapt up as she flushed, her head twisting around as she held her mother's gaze. "To Lord Rutland?" she asked, wondering if her mother had seen their connection during the previous evening's ball. "Mama, why would I do such a thing? What would I say?"
Lady Tyrone did not smile. Instead, a paleness washed the color out of her cheeks as she closed her eyes and pressed her hand lightly on Clara's shoulder. "You will write to him and inform him that you cannot continue on with your connection."
Clara pushed herself up out of her chair, her eyes going wide. Sorrow clutched at her heart, her whole being burning with asudden, desperate fear. "End our connection? Why ever would I do such a thing?"
"It is your brother's requirement." Lady Tyrone shook her head. "I have tried to convince David to let you be, to continue on with what I hoped would be a happy marriage but he has insisted."
David.Clara's hands curled into fists at her sides. "I will not," she replied, stoutly, lifting her chin as she held her mother's gaze, seeing the sadness there. "Lord Rutland and I --- we... we care for each other. Why would I end such a happiness?"
