“Ah ha! You did not fall in love with me in this wood. It happened sooner than that.”
“Just so. But it’s a metaphor.”
She bounced up on tiptoe. “Metaphors are boring, dear George.”
He laughed. “Now who is not philosophical?”
She pulled at his coat, bringing him closer. “Let’s go where it’s warm so we can do something much more interesting.”
“Not yet. You promised Neville mistletoe, and you must make good on your promise.”
She groaned. “That’s why we’re here? He was asleep when I spoke of that.” Neville slept much these days, but it was a natural sleep, unimpacted by opium. He’d not touched the stuff since Wix’s death a year ago.
“Not at all. The man is deuced good at pretending. And he wants a kiss from your step-mother, so you’d better help him.”
Jane grinned. “She’s much more devoted to Papa these days, but Neville doesn’t need mistletoe if he wishes one of her kisses. She’ll gladly comply.”
“Tsk tsk. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”
“I’m not being unkind. Have you not noticed they enjoy one another? I think she sees him as a father or grandfather. She’d kiss him with affection right on his cheek.”
“And it would make his heart stutter, I’m positive.” George stopped and looked up. “Ah. Here we are. Up you go.”
“Pardon?!”
“You must get the mistletoe yourself, Jane.”
She swept her wide-eyed gaze from George and up a very wide, sturdy tree to the first very low branch where a tangle of mistletoe perched.
She lowered her gaze back to George. “That is not where it grows.”
“No. A groom gathered it yesterday and placed it here so you could retrieve it.”
She swatted his arm. “George! How insulting. Icouldhave gotten it myself you know.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to keep me safe.”
“I know.”
She took his grinning face between her hands and kissed him on the lips. “You wait here.” She hitched her skirts up and grabbed the low branch. Swinging, she hooked a leg over the branch.
“You’re wearing trousers.” George sounded surprised. She could not see him, but she knew every intonation of his voice after five years of marriage.
“Why you’re surprised, I do not know.”
He chuckled. “I’m not. I was hoping for a more interesting view, not that this one is terrible.” His hands cupped her bum.
“Ah!” She almost fell from the branch but clung tight.
“Don’t fall, Lady Jane.” He gave her a boost, and she found herself easily straddling the top of the branch, the mistletoe in reach.
She tossed it down to him, and he caught it easily. She swung herself down to the ground with a solid thud and straightened. She wrapped her arms around her husband. “I’m not afraid of falling anymore.”
He held the mistletoe high and arched a brow, quirked the corner of his lips.
She eyed the greenery high above. “That’s an awful lot of berries.”
“Each one a kiss and each kiss mine.”
“You’d better start now.”
She melted into him, and it was a miracle the snow around them did not melt.
THE END
