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A lady who kissed far better than the maid who cleaned. She was confident, yet reserved. Gentle, yet intent. And what made their affection even better was because for the first time in his life, he knew this to be mutual.

Still, he kept his desire and affection tapped. She may be allowing this, and he may be fully ready to give in, but he would not lose his determination to follow through with his decision before. He was ready to give up his past life living for kisses.

But was he ready to accept this new life with kissing Clara—and only Clara—as his heart yearned to do?

Her soft form against his body, her tall figure making it clear he was kissing a woman, and her soft lips moving in unison with his were more than he could bear.

And as she pulled herself closer to him, and he couldn’t drink in enough of her. He wanted to know everything about this woman. About her past. Why she was a lady acting as a maid. Where her mother was, and why she’d left her. If the man who’d set himself upon her was the reason she was hiding now.

But all of those could wait until he was finished holding her securely, pressing his hands against her back, and reveling in the kiss he never believed would occur.

After a moment, in the back recesses of his mind, a clicking began to sound. It grew louder and louder, pulling him from the delirium kissing Clara had occurred, and he paused.

She must have heard it, as well, for they both parted, peered down the steps, then realized in the same moment that they weren’t alone.

Alarm shone in Clara’s features. “I cannot be caught,” she mouthed out.

He moved into action at once. “I shall leave you,” he whispered. “But this is not the last time we shall meet, Clara.”

Her eyes widened, the footsteps moving up the stairs, then Oliver silently left her in the stairwell.

Every inch of him wished to return to her, to hold her securely in his arms and defend her actions to whomever had nearly caught them, but he knew he would only make matters worse.

Instead, he remained in the shadows, listening in the door to ensure Clara was safe before hearing the housekeeper’s tone.

Only then did Oliver depart.

He had no notion that such a thing would have occurred this evening. But one thing he did know...he’d found whom he wanted to pursue at the house party. And it was truly the last person he’d ever expected.

“What are you doing here?” Mrs. Wintle asked condemningly.

Clara, who’d taken a few steps down the stairs with measured breathing to appear as if she was the one who’d closed the top door of the stairs, had come upon the housekeeper and attempted to appear surprised.

“Mrs. Wintle,” she said, bowing her head. “My apologies. I was simply finishing up my duties.”

“Still? The rooms should’ve been finished hours ago.”

Hours? How long had Clara been speaking with Mr. Cole?

Speaking...and kissing...

“I...I found a mess left from the Yule Log and picked up what I could in the dark.” She reached for the twigs and pine needles left behind in her side apron pockets, grateful she hadn’t disposed of them.

Mrs. Wintle examined them, then gave a brief nod. “It is highly improper for you to be wandering the corridors at night. See it does not happen again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman glanced behind Clara’s shoulder. “You have only just come down the stairs?”

Heaven forgive her for lying. “Yes, ma’am,” she repeated.

“I thought I heard...noises.”

Clara’s cheeks burned. “I was singing to myself.”

Mrs. Wintle hardly looked impressed. “Get to bed. If I catch you out after hours again, you shall be dismissed without warning.”

“Yes, ma’am.”