Page 42 of Yule Be Mine

Chapter Sixteen

Striding as fast as he could, occasionally slipping in the snow, Yule headed around the side of the manor house to a section of vine-covered bricks he remembered well from his boyhood. He wrapped his hand around one of the ropes of thick creeper and gave a preparatory pull. He’d not done this for over a decade and he wanted to make certain the plant wasn’t going to come away from the wall and land him on his back on the hard snow-covered ground.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tom had finally caught up to him, glaring at him as though he were mad.

“I’m going to climb up there and talk with Penelope.” He was certain if he could only talk to her, he could straighten this whole mess out.

“You’re going to kill yourself. You realize that, don’t you?” Tom tried to pull him away from the wall, but Yule shrugged him off.

“I’ll do no such thing. I used to climb this wall almost every week when I was a boy.” It had been one of the great joys and excitements of his childhood.

“You were a boy then, Yule. You must weigh at least three stone more now than then. That vine—which looks quite dead if you ask me—is going to drop you on your arse.” Tom looked ready to fight him to keep him from climbing up to the window on the second floor.

“I’ll be fine.” He grasped the vine, stuck the toe of his shoe into a crevice in the brick and pulled himself up. “Some things you don’t forget how to do, no matter how long it’s been.”

“Is that Penelope’s room?” Tom held his arms out to each side, as though he’d try to catch Yule should he slip or the vine give way.

Yule shook his head. “Victor’s. We used to sneak out at night and go for long rambles. Or I’d come over and climb up so we could play late into the night.” He grasped another vine directly above him, found another toehold, and raised himself another half foot. “Penelope’s room is down at the end of the house. Her room faces north and no ivy would ever grow on it.”

“What if the window’s locked?”

Hanging ten feet off the ground, Yule stopped. “You would think of that, wouldn’t you?” He sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to break a pane. So you be ready with a diversion in case they hear me.”

“A diversion?” Tom looked up at him, incredulous. “What kind of diversion?”

“For God’s sake, Tom. I don’t know. Go back inside and demand they give you breakfast or something.” Yule pulled himself up another half-foot, so his head was now even with the bottom of Victor’s window. His arms were beginning to tire. This had been much easier at the age of fifteen. “Tell them I went off in the carriage and abandoned you. I don’t know. Use your imagination.”

“You’re not making this very easy for me, are you?”

Yule glanced down at his cousin’s sullen face. “Please remember this was all your doing. Had you kept your mouth shut…” Yule managed to hoist himself up and perch on a clump of the vine branches. He reached for the window sash, said a prayer, and pushed up. The wood gave some resistance, but finally slid upward. “Thank God!”

“Hooray!” Tom shouted from below.

“Be quiet for the love of God.” Yule sent a vehement whisper to his cousin. He slid one long leg over the sill, pulled himself in and turned to Tom once more. “Go move the carriage down to the end of the driveway. I’ll join you when I’m through.”

“And how long with that be?” Tom’s raised eyebrow said he didn’t think all Yule had in mind was talking to Penelope.

“As long as it takes.” The thought of speaking to Penelope in her bedroom, after several days of enforced celibacy, had Yule hoping their reconciliation would include more than a simple kiss to make up the quarrel.

First things first, however. He waved to Tom, shut the window, and crept to the door. Victor’s room was directly across from the main staircase, so he had to be very quiet once he opened the door. Any untoward sound might bring someone to investigate. Slowly, he cracked the door open, praying it wouldn’t squeak. The previous tenants must have used the room often, for the door opened easily, as though it had just been oiled. With a sigh of relief that one hurtle was past, Yule listened for a moment, then stuck his head out into the corridor.

Nothing stirred. He eased himself out of the room, taking the time to carefully close the door behind him. Then step by step, he slipped down the hallway, staying on the thick carpet in the center of the corridor. Only a few more steps until he reached the door to Penelope’s room.

A burst of chatter from downstairs stopped him cold, sweat popping out on his forehead as he waited to see if anyone was coming up the stairs. Long moments later, when no one appeared, Yule released the breath he’d been holding and took the final step to stand before Penelope’s bedroom door. He raised his hand to knock, then stopped. Even the noise of a quiet knock might carry down the stairs. Better be bold at this point. Yule grasped the handle and pushed down and inward.

The feminine room, all pale pink and white, was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire. Quiet and empty. Yule peered around, at the bed, at the dressing table, but Penelope was nowhere to be seen. After all his trouble, she wasn’t even here. “Well, damn.”

At his words, a very feminine shriek erupted from a spot on the other side of the bed in front of the fire. Then Penelope’s head emerged over top of the mattress, eyes wide with shock. “Yule!”

His whole body relaxed at the sight of her, although one part of him began to tense again.

“What are you doing here?” She rose behind the bed, a delectable sight in an enticing white nightgown that hinted at the delights it hid. “How did you get in here?”

“I climbed up the ivy and came in through Victor’s old room.”

“You did what?” The incredulity on her face made him want to laugh, but he doubted that would endear him to her very much.

“I needed to talk to you, my love, and you wouldn’t see me.” He shrugged. “So I took matters into my own hands. Penelope, there are things you don’t understand.”