His Mistletoe Wager

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‘My father has increased my dowry to make me more attractive.’ Pride and duty would hardly stop the greedy from coveting the money she came with.

‘Even more reason why you must encourage my amorous advances in front of them. I am disgustingly rich and, as I obviously do not need your money, they will assume we are in love.’ She stiffened then and her outraged reaction clearly amused him. ‘I understand your reluctance. Really, I do. You are frightened you might forget our arrangement is all a sham and genuinely fall in love with me. A perfectly understandable fear. I am irresistible, after all, and you are bound to develop romantic feelings.’

The snort of laughter escaped before she could stop it, because he was amusing if nothing else and that knowing, rakish grin he perpetually sported did suit him. ‘There is no danger of that, my lord!’

‘Then tonight we shall begin our ruse and by the end of the evening we will be the source of much-fevered speculation.’

Lizzie huffed as reality dawned. ‘Thanks to my over-zealous father, I am doomed to dance with a card full of dullards, unless I conveniently freeze to death first.’

‘Fear not, fair maiden, once we go back inside I will shamelessly monopolise you. You’ll be spared dancing with another dullard this evening and every evening henceforth. From this point on, the only man you will dance with is me.’

‘I thought I was to be spared another dullard.’ She frowned belligerently and he met it with another roguish smile. It tempted her to smile back. Almost.

‘Careful, Lizzie. If you are going to be mean to me I shall have my coat back.’

Automatically, her frozen fingers clutched at the garment possessively. Even for December, it was particularly cold. The statue next to them positively glittered with frost. ‘I did not give you leave to call me Lizzie.’

‘Yet I have called you it anyway. As a special treat, you can call me Hal. Henry is far too formal, especially when a couple is as besotted as us.’

‘We are not besotted.’ The set-down had less impact with her teeth chattering together. Both his hands came up and began to briskly rub the warmth back into her arms through the fabric of his coat. She wanted to chastise him for his impertinence, but it did feel marvellous. Escaping into the icy night air had been foolhardy in sleeveless silk.

‘Heaven forbid! However, we must give off enough of the appearance of it if we are to be left alone. The ton loves to watch a blossoming love affair from afar. It makes it easier for them to gossip about it. If we orchestrate this charade correctly, we are guaranteed at least three yards of space at every function from now until Twelfth Night.’

Something which sounded very tempting.

‘Where did you find roses in December.’

‘I know a fellow in Covent Garden who can get any bloom for a price. Roses, freesias, tulips, lilacs...’

‘I loathe lilacs. Be sure to never buy me those when you are pretending to court me.’

‘Understood. No lilacs. Not that I would have bought you lilacs, of course, they don’t suit you at all. The flowers in your bouquet were chosen specifically because they reminded me of you.’

Lizzie pulled a face. ‘Don’t tell me—the cream roses symbolise my alabaster skin?’

He grinned back, unoffended. ‘Indeed they did, while the tiny pink rosebuds echoed the beautiful sweetness of those luscious lips I ache to kiss.’

‘How clichéd. And the holly? Your joy at falling hopelessly in love with me at Christmas?’

‘Not at all. They are reminiscent of your charming personality. Sharp and prickly.’

She liked the fact he was not trying to flatter her. Since Rainham, she had greatly distrusted it and found herself grinning at his cheek. ‘Lady Elizabeth?’ A voice called from the French doors. Her persistent dance partner had clearly tracked her down. The unladylike groan she gave made Hal laugh. Lizzie felt the intimate timbre all the way to her frozen toes.

‘Dear me...if my ears do not deceive me, I do believe the Earl of Ockendon is ready for his dance. Tell me, is his breath still rancid? Last time I got too close to him, I swear it singed my eyebrows.’

‘My father believes I need a safe, sensible man. Upright and above reproach.’

‘And to be that he needs to be hurtling towards seventy?’

‘I believe the Earl is fifty-something.’

‘Good gracious! The man must have had a very hard life.’

‘Lady Elizabeth? Are you out here?’ The voice was getting closer and instinctively Lizzie went to dart behind her statue again, only to find herself rooted to the spot by her companion’s surprisingly strong arms.

‘Hiding is not the answer. He will merely bide his time and hunt you down later. Everyone knows Ockendon is desperate for an heir. Lucky you, by the way. To be favoured with his attentions must be the pinnacle of every young lady’s romantic ambitions. You need to brazen it out.’

‘Surely you are not suggesting I grin and bear it!’ The thought of a few minutes twirling in the pungent wake of the man’s breath was already turning her stomach.

‘Of course not. Remember what I told you. We need to let him see dancing with you is futile...seeing as your heart is already engaged elsewhere. I do believe this is one of those occasions which warrants my amorous attentions.’

Lizzie was nowhere near ready for that. There had been no time to prepare. Instinctively, she took a step back. ‘I don’t think so.’

He quickly closed the distance and whispered again, far too close to her ear. Goose bumps covered her arms. ‘Think, Lizzie. Here we are. The stars are twinkling up above. You are wearing my coat...’ Those strong arms slowly snaked around her waist and pulled her closer. ‘If you gaze up at me with convincing longing, the old fool will assume we are having a tryst.’

Arguing against his logic was prevented by the ominously close sound of another call from her unwelcome beau. ‘Lady Elizabeth! Is that you?’

With the most limpid expression she could manage in a blind panic, Lizzie stared longingly up at Hal. He winked encouragingly, then, to her complete shock, dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.

The sky tilted. Or perhaps it was the floor. Either way, the experience knocked her off kilter. His arms tightened around her and his mouth moved slowly over hers. It might well have been a pretend kiss, done to give credence to the idea they were engaged in a tryst, but it felt dangerously real to Lizzie. She did not attempt to try and push him away, justifying her actions as a way of discouraging the persistent old Earl rather than enjoying the heady taste of the younger one who held her so possessively. Unconsciously, her own lips began to respond, her eyelids fluttered closed and she found herself rising on tiptoes to press her body against his. More worryingly, she was reluctant to prise herself away. Later, she knew, she would claim this was all part of her act, but for now she was prepared to acknowledge it for what it was.

A revelation.

Because kissing Hal was really, quite something. Not at all how she remembered it with her traitorous fiancé and dangerously addictive.

* * *

He was a scoundrel. A rogue. An opportunity had presented itself and, despite the nagging guilt he could not explain, he had seized it. Regardless of the circumstances, Hal’s reaction to the kiss was completely unexpected. Every kiss before this had always been merely a prelude. Pleasant, but not earth-shattering. A means to a more passionate and satisfying end. Lizzie’s lips were different. Almost as if they had been infused with something addictive, like opium or absinthe, because the moment they had touched his he had quite lost all sense of everything except her. It had nothing to do with passion or attraction, although undoubtedly he was overwhelmed by both of those emotions, and everything to do with a sense of rightness. They melted together, melded and, for once, a kiss was not merely a prelude but a significant event in its own right. Hal had no idea if Ockendon had seen them, if the man still stood there or if he was loudly expounding his outrage. Everything had disappeared except the woman in his arms. It was all strangely overwhelming.

She broke the contact by taking one step smartly back and to his chagrin appeared decidedly underwhelmed by the whole episode. ‘I did not give you leave to kiss me.’

‘Yet I did it anyway.’ Feeling peculiarly shaky, Hal scanned the vicinity. ‘I thought it would convince the amorous Ockendon you were unavailable.’ Not strictly true. Yes, they had a bargain, but he had been thinking of his wager with Aaron—then had forgotten it instantly the second their mouths had touched.

‘The Earl has gone.’ Obviously, it had not had the same impact on Sullen Lizzie, because not only was she heartily unimpressed, she was also briskly removing his coat as if she found it as offensive as his kiss. She thrust it at him unceremoniously. ‘Never do that again!’

‘Perhaps I was a tad over-zealous.’ He forced a rakish grin to cover his disappointment at her reaction.

‘I am certain there are other ways to bestow your amorous attentions on me without having to resort to that. We should go back inside. The very last thing I want, aside from dancing with foul-smelling old men, is to be ruined by you.’ She shuddered and then marched back towards the French doors, before stopping briefly to rally him. ‘Come along, Hal, let’s go put on a show.’

Hal tried not to feel offended. He had only sought her out because of the wager, sort of. There had been an odd part of him which had been desperate to seek her out the moment he had arrived at the Benfleet soirée, however he had put that down to his excitement at winning the bet and besting Aaron. Although Hal was trying not to think about the bet because every time he did he experienced something akin to indigestion, churning up his gut and making him feel uncomfortable about the way he was deliberately deceiving her. Then again, his conscience did feel lighter knowing she was also benefiting from the situation, albeit in a roundabout way. He was doing her a favour and favours were noble. Yet despite all that, he had been unexpectedly moved by the kiss. It hadn’t been particularly long and by his standards it had been remarkably chaste, yet it had affected him.

Affected him? Now there was something to ponder, he thought miserably as he trailed behind her back into the crowded ballroom. Something was undoubtedly wrong with him. First a lack of vigour, the bizarre allure of controlling his father’s estate, the gnawing constant niggle which hinted dangerously at a lack of real fulfilment in his life and now he was going all pie-eyed and wobbly over one silly kiss with a woman who was, at best, ambivalent to him. Or perhaps that was exactly what was wrong. Her unenthusiastic reaction had dented his male pride, ergo he was feeling unsteady.

Hal took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was overthinking things and that was also very unlike him. Hal preferred to think on his feet. On a positive note, he was one kiss down and she hadn’t slapped his face or severed their fledgling alliance upon receiving it. Which in turn meant there would be another opportunity to steal a kiss from her over Christmas. Poor Aaron would be spitting teeth later.

That thought buoyed him and, by the time he got to the refreshment table, Hal was feeling normal. Thankfully, Lizzie spotted an ambitious-looking matron and her daughter a few seconds before he did and slipped her hand possessively through his arm. It had the most staggering effect. One minute they had been prowling towards him with definite intent, the next they suddenly veered off to the right, pretending they were looking for someone else.

‘Well saved, my lady. That was close. An eligible man must keep his wits about him at all times. I knew you would be a sterling deterrent.’

‘I am glad I could be of service.’ She smiled tightly, her eyes locked on something in the distance and gripping his arm with far more force than was necessary. ‘I would greatly appreciate it if the favour was immediately reciprocated.’ The smile was now so false it might have been painted on to a mask. Hal followed her eyes and spotted a determined gentleman scurrying in her direction and tried not to smile when the first bars of the waltz began. More by luck than judgement, fate was working in his favour.

‘I believe this waltz is mine.’ The interloper shot daggers at Hal when he saw her arm still looped through his. There was far too much pomade in the fellow’s thin hair, either that or it had not been washed in the last week. Patches of his bald pate shone through the greasy strands and the poor chap was at least two inches shorter than Lizzie, a feat in itself when she was barely a few inches above five feet.

‘I’m afraid there has been a mistake, old chap. The lady has already promised this dance to me.’

The bald man was outraged. ‘It was arranged with the Earl of Upminster himself. I watched him write my name down on her card.’ He puffed out his pigeon chest in indignation. ‘We are colleagues at the Foreign Office!’ One effeminate hand, more suited to clerical work than seduction, shot out and lunged for the card hanging from Lizzie’s wrist, but Hal was closer and grabbed it before the upstart did.

For the most part, being blessed with height was something he was always mindful of. Those less fortunate tended to become a little intimidated if one loomed and he was too good natured to want to make others uneasy. However, occasionally a situation called for it. This one did. Pulling himself up to his full six feet and three impressive inches, Hal glowered down at the irritating fellow before him, forcing him to crane his neck up to look directly into his steely glare. ‘This dance is mine.’

‘No, it isn’t. I specifically asked for the waltz. Upminster pencilled me in for it. I demand to see that card!’ The pigeon’s chest was now so puffed the buttons on his coat were straining around the heavy padding. ‘Hand it over immediately!’

There was no need for any words. They were causing enough of a scene without further unseemly conversation. Rather splendidly, Aaron was paying them particular attention behind a potted palm. Hal tried not to look at his brother-in-law. Already, in less than a day since they’d struck the wager, he had stolen one kiss and secured the possibility of many different locations to kiss his lady again. Now all he had to do was choose the right opportunities to do so. That would take finesse. Clumsy, eager overtures would not be welcomed, of that Hal was quite certain. This fair, prickly ice maiden was too guarded. Wary and suspicious of everything, including him. However, she had just insisted he return the favour and save her from another man and that had nothing whatsoever to do with his bet and everything to do with his fortuitous alliance with Lizzie.

With deliberate slowness, Hal lifted it with a smile and slowly tore the offensive dance card into tiny pieces, then sprinkled them like confetti into Mr Pigeon’s outstretched hand. He turned towards his fairly startled-looking new ally and made a great show of kissing her hand.

‘You promised me this dance, Lady Elizabeth.’

Chapter Five (#ud75cd284-43ad-58f8-bfbe-2be6b387b94b)

There was challenge and amusement in his eyes. Half of the ballroom were watching them, whilst pretending not to. The fevered whispering behind so many hands and raised fans nearly drowned out the orchestra, yet she quite admired the bare-faced audacity of the man. Even though he had already left her completely unsettled after the kiss, and knowing the very last place she would ever find her missing equilibrium was in his arms again, dancing with him was infinitely preferable to the sorry specimen her father had sent. And this was all a charade after all. To her ultimate benefit. The perfect decoy for a month of blissful peace. Her last month of pretence.

‘Yes, Hal, I did.’

His warm palm came to rest affectionately on her hand. The possessive all-male gesture sending a clear message to everyone in the room.

She’s mine.

Lizzie’s corset suddenly felt tight at the tingle of excitement it gave her and nerves began to jump in her tummy. Hal took his time leading her to the middle of the floor, obviously used to being the centre of attention and enjoying the spectacle they presented. A tiny part of her did, too—the rest of her was frankly terrified by it all. This was all so bizarre and out of character. She never danced, nor did she ever show any interest in any men, yet here she was, being escorted into the parting sea of obviously shocked couples by possibly the most eligible bachelor in the room. Amongst the openly curious onlookers, she felt the weight of several pairs of female eyes as they glared at her with outright hostility. His hordes. Judging by the amount of dismayed expressions, there were quite a number of them.

‘You’re supposed to look besotted, not like you are being led to your execution.’ The subtle hint from her smiling partner reminded Lizzie theirs was a mutually beneficial arrangement. They were supposed to be protecting each other. She could do this. For peace from her father for their one, final society Christmas. Lizzie forced herself to relax and beamed at him as he took her in his arms.