Mistletoe and Kisses Read online

  Mary had a whole new winter wardrobe thanks to his need to assuage his guilt, but it was not enough. She should be wearing the Strathmore family tartan.

  “I’ll be damned if you are not wearing the plaid come Hogmanay night.”

  Now he just had to figure out a way to get Mary to understand that she held his heart, and that from now on, she would always come first.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mary wondered if she could ever be comfortable in the freezing Scottish winter.

  As soon as she and Hugh left the protection of the high castle walls the following morning and headed onto the lower slopes of Strathmore Mountain, the wind attacked them. Its cruel fingers pinched her face and bit through to her bones.

  The chilly weather, however, was only one of her problems. The other was the odd mood which she discovered Hugh was in the moment she met him downstairs at breakfast that morning. His greeting for her was a terse “Good morning, Mary.”

  He’d barely acknowledged the rest of the family seated around the breakfast table, reserving his responses to their questions of him to one or two words at best.

  Something was seriously amiss. She knew enough of him to know that he usually only became this taciturn during exams, and that was due to lack of sleep. But he was here, at home with his family, and he should be happy, not lost in a dark mood. She had only accepted his offer to take a stroll on the side of Strathmore Mountain so she could be alone with him and try to get to the bottom of what troubled him. She hoped he would confide in her.

  “It’s a brisk morning,” she said, trying to lighten the mood but failing.

  He nodded and gave her a curt, “Yes.”

  She followed him as he walked the narrow track which meandered along the side of the mountain. At one point, it broke into two sections. One track looked like it eventually became a bigger road which continued on and then disappeared to one side of the mountain. The other led up onto Strathmore Mountain.

  When Hugh made to continue along the path which crossed the mountain, Mary stopped. If he wanted to share his foul mood with her, then she would rather it be somewhere warm.

  He took a few more steps before he turned and look back at her. “Are you coming?”

  “No. Not if you are going to be a misery guts for the duration of our walk. If I am going to freeze to death, I would prefer it was with a smile on my face. I don’t know what is bothering you this morning, Hugh. If you don’t tell me what is wrong, then I shall return to the castle, and you can keep your own company.” Mary stood her ground. She knew her words were harsh, but her experience of Hugh was that sometimes he only responded to a gruff approach.

  She nodded with some relief when his stiff shoulders slouched. Her words had reached him.

  He walked back to her. “I’m sorry. I lay awake all night trying to resolve a problem. I’m still not sure if I have found the right solution.”

  “Try me. You know I am always someone you can turn to for advice,” she replied.

  A brittle hint of his usual self appeared on his face. “Yes, you are. That is another of your many wonderful traits, Mary. Though I am not so certain that you are the right person in whom I should confide, seeing as the problem concerns you.”

  She should have seen it coming. Hugh had held off on doing anything about the issue of the university and her living arrangements. But now, it appeared after speaking with his brother, he had come to the conclusion that there was little, if anything, he could do about it.

  “You don’t need to go into battle for me with the head of St John’s College. You have your new appointment at St Martin-in-the-Fields to worry about. Just let things stay as they are,” she replied.

  He huffed in clear annoyance at her reply. “That matter is not yet settled, but it is not what vexes me this morning.”

  She waited. If there was one thing, she had in abundance from dealing with students all her life, it was patience. Bitterly cold, evil wind and all, she could stand on the side of a mountain and wait him out.

  His gaze drifted from her to a nearby barn. He pointed toward it. “Let’s at least get out of the wind so we can talk.”

  When the barn door closed behind them, Mary put a hand to her ears. Her winter bonnet had kept most of her head warm, but her poor ears were stinging. “Remind me to never complain about an English winter ever again. How do you people survive?”

  “Actually, it is barely winter yet. Come January, the mountain will be lost under a thick layer of snow, and even the road into the village will become impassable at times,” Hugh replied.

  Mary found herself a nice pile of warm, dry straw on which to sit and plopped down on it. Hugh remained standing. After pulling off one of his gloves, he rubbed it over his face.

  A chill of worry settled in her stomach. It was unusual to see Hugh in such a troubled state.

  She patted the straw next to her. “Come and sit down. Tell me your troubles.”

  With an uncertain huff, he wandered over and dropped down beside her. “Alright. Here goes nothing.”

  He fell silent for a time. As the seconds stretched into minutes, Mary began to wonder if he had changed his mind about confiding in her. He startled her when he finally spoke again.

  “You and I are friends, are we not?” he ventured.

  “Yes. I hope so,” she replied.

  He was laying the ground for whatever difficult conversation lay ahead. Mary picked up a piece of straw and began to nervously wrap it around her finger.

  “Well, I don’t want us to be friends. I mean, not just friends.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He moved to face her, taking her hand in his. “I want you to consider becoming my wife.”

  Under most any other circumstance she would have rejoiced at his words, but only disappointment stirred within. Hugh had obviously thought long and hard about her perilous situation and decided that the obvious solution was to offer her marriage.

  In his world, it no doubt made perfect sense. They were already friends, and with his family’s wealth at his disposal, he could offer her a life of security and comfort. Problem solved.

  She would be mad not to seriously consider the offer, yet her heart demanded more.

  “I see,” she replied.

  If she married Hugh, she would have a home, and likely a family in the years to come. She would no longer be alone in the world.

  But she would be alone in her love for him.

  “Will you at least consider it?” he said.

  She shivered, the barn no longer holding the warmth it once had. Hugh’s marriage proposal, if it could be considered as one, was as cold as the chill winds on the mountain.

  She tried to console herself with the knowledge that many other people had practical marriages based purely on friendship. Many of those unions seemed to work.

  The challenge she now faced would be deciding if she could spend the rest of her life with him knowing he would never feel anything more than a warm regard for her. Her love for him would remain unrequited.

  “I may need some time,” she replied. Mary got to her feet. A dull ache of sadness sat heavy in her heart. “You have never once shown me any indication of affection, so I am going to have to assume that your reasons for offering me marriage are purely practical ones. If so then mores the pity, because my father always said that a marriage created without any heat or passion to sustain it, would eventually falter when faced with the madness that life throws at us all,” she said.

  She headed for the door, leaving Hugh to sit on the straw and ponder her words. She could only pray that he had it in his heart to offer her more.

  “I shall see you at supper,” she said.

  She slipped through the barn door and headed back to the castle.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As Mary disappeared, Hugh uttered a number of words that would get him thrown out of Sunday mass if anyone was to overhear them.

  Mary, of course, was right. He had put as much emotio
n into his marriage proposal as he did when asking her for a cup of coffee. He should be counting his blessings that she had not given him a straight out no to his pathetic offer.

  If his feeble attempt had been a university paper, he knew he would be pulling an all-night study session and resubmitting it in the morning. He could just imagine what the professor would have written on the front page in large black ink.

  “D minus, lacking in effort. See me after class,” he muttered.

  His brother’s words now came back to haunt him.

  He should have been honest with her and confessed his love. If she didn’t feel the same for him, then he would at least finally know the truth of where their relationship stood. But what if she did care for him? By not being brave and offering his heart, he risked never getting the chance to hear her tell him she loved him.

  She couldn’t be held to blame for choosing to protect her heart if she decided Hugh did not hold it in high enough regard. Love was precious.

  He got to his feet. Mary hadn’t said no, which was at least some small comfort. She had, however, made it clear that if he thought to marry her for the sake of convenience, he may not like her answer.

  Opening the barn door, he stepped out into the fierce wind. He looked at the path which led up onto the mountain and nodded. If there was one thing the wild Scottish winter was good for, it was blowing some sense into a clouded mind. He pulled up the collar of his coat and headed up the track.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hugh felt like he was treading on eggshells. Mary was polite, but cool whenever he tried to talk to her. It was a side of her he had not seen before, and if he was honest, it scared him just a little, yet it was also oddly encouraging.

  If the rest of the family had noticed any difficulty between him and Mary, they were keeping it to themselves.

  Toasting forks sat around the fireplace, along with a huge pot of tea. These were the nights Hugh treasured the most. Hogmanay, with its huge bonfires, whisky, and roasted wild boar was a wonderful experience, but nothing compared to the quiet evenings spent with his family in the lead up to the end-of-year celebrations.

  I should have made the effort to come home last Christmas. I won’t make that mistake again. And next year, I shall bring my wife with me.

  Mary sat close by, nursing David on her lap. He was a bubbly little boy, full of life. He had a vocabulary of a good dozen words now, and each day he added new ones. Every time he looked at Caroline, he would point to her stomach and say “baby.”

  Hugh finished his first cup of tea, then stood and went to get another.

  Ewan met him by the fireside. “So, can I take it from the frosty relations between the two of you that things are not going well on the wooing front?”

  Hugh looked down at his empty cup. “I think I made a bit of a hash of things today, so yes things are not how I would like. I mentioned marriage and she said she would think about it.”

  Ewan winced. “Give yourself credit, dear brother. From the daggers that Mary is staring at you, I would suggest you have made a complete mess of things. But at least she didn’t refuse you outright.”

  The mirth that he saw threatening on his brother’s face did not help with Hugh’s mood. “I am glad you find it amusing.”

  Ewan glanced over at Mary, then looked back. “I would hazard a guess that she is angry with you because you haven’t gone about courting her in the right way, not because you asked her to marry you. You might want to question how you intend to woo her.”

  Standing on the side of Strathmore Mountain earlier that morning, Hugh had been blessed with the epiphany he so badly needed. If she was angry over the lack of romance he had shown during their encounter in the barn, it must have been because she expected him to woo her. And by wanting him to woo her, that meant she must feel something for him. He took that piece of insightful logic a step further—Mary being angry was actually a good thing.

  Ewan gave him a brotherly pat on the shoulder and smiled. “Take heart from the knowledge that you are not the first of the Radley lads to have made a mess of their attempt to secure a wife. Now you just have to find a way to show her a different side of your relationship. One that takes things further than simply being friends, if you get my meaning?”

  David’s nursemaid came and took him from Mary. Ewan nodded as Caroline waved him over. “I shall see you in the morning.”

  Ewan escorted his wife from the room. Charles picked up a sleeping Will and led Adelaide and Lady Alison toward the stone steps, bidding everyone a good night as they departed.

  Eventually only Hugh, Mary, and Aunt Maude were left. Aunt Maude was fast asleep in a high-backed chair in front of the fire, her hands resting gently in her lap.

  Hugh decided it was time to make another attempt to speak to Mary. He rose from his seat and came to stand in front of her. “May I join you?”

  Mary looked up, then across to Aunt Maude.

  Hugh followed her gaze. “Don’t worry about Maude; she always falls asleep in front of the fire. She sleeps the sleep of the dead. Her maid and a footman will eventually come to escort her upstairs.”

  He needed time to talk to Mary, so he was happy to let sleeping aunts lie.

  He took a seat on the sofa next to Mary. “I must apologize for this morning. It was thoughtless of me.”

  “Yes, it was. Perhaps we might be better off if we forget about it completely,” she replied.

  “No. I don’t want us to forget about it. I want another chance. Give me the days until Hogmanay to show you what really does lie between us. If your answer after that is no then I will accept it,” he said.

  She looked at him, and he was dismayed to see sadness in her eyes. She wasn’t angry with him; she was hurt.

  He took hold of her hand, relieved when she did not pull away. “Please.”

  “Yes, Hugh. You have until New Year’s Eve, but I am not sure if that will make any difference.” Mary rose from the sofa. “I need to go to bed now. It’s been a long day.”

  He followed her as she headed toward the steps which led up to the private family apartments. “Mary, wait,” he said.

  She stopped and turned. Hugh pointed to the mistletoe hanging overhead.

  She shook her head. “I think we will need more than a little old-fashioned Christmas magic.”

  Hugh came to her side and leaned in to place a brief kiss on her cheek. “I am going to use all means at my disposal. If a little magic helps with my quest, then so be it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mary leaned back against the door of her bedroom and closed her eyes. She had taken a risk with Hugh and so far, it had worked. But to claim his heart, she knew she would have to hold her nerve steady.

  Her fingertips touched the place on her cheek where he had kissed her. Two years and an unknown number of months she had waited for a kiss.

  “It was a peck, but it’s a start.”

  She had slyly watched him all evening, taking heart from his obvious discomfort at her holding him at arm’s-length. While playing with David, she had seen Hugh speak to his brother. When Ewan ventured a look in her direction, their gazes met, and he had offered up the hint of a smile before turning back to Hugh. The Duke of Strathmore’s silent approval gave her the encouragement she needed in order to stand her ground.

  Hugh had asked for a few days to show her how well they would suit before expecting her answer to his proposal. She could only hope that he felt enough for her to be able to manage more than a small kiss on the cheek.

  “Come on, Hugh, don’t fail me. Don’t fail us.”

  The following day had an unexpected start for Mary. No one had mentioned that most of the menfolk would be out on the mountain hunting wild boar for the better part of the day. Hugh had gone with the hunting party when it set out at first light and not returned until supper.

  Mary had spent the day with the Radley women, making more juniper bundles. By the time supper came around, her aching fingers had her wishing never
to see another bundle of juniper in her life.

  It was late when Mary and Hugh finally got a moment alone. Everyone else, except Aunt Maude, had retired to bed. Maude was in her usual spot in front of the fire, fast asleep.

  Hugh, seated in the chair opposite to Mary, was nursing a badly bruised leg from the hunt.

  “What did you do exactly?” she asked, pointing at his leg.

  He huffed. “Nothing heroic unfortunately. I tripped over a branch on the mountain and landed heavily. I don’t know which is more bruised: my leg or my pride. The rest of the hunting party had a grand laugh when they saw me go head over heels into the heather.”

  “I could rub some comfrey cream into it if you like,” she offered, trying not to laugh.

  Hugh smiled warmly, reflecting the amusement she knew was on her own face. He rose from the chair and came to sit beside her.

  An awkward silence settled between them for a moment before he finally spoke. “I know why I fell over this morning; I was busy thinking about you and not looking where I was going. To be honest, I have been thinking a lot about you since we left England.”

  He reached out and took hold of her hand. She shuddered as he raised it to his lips and kissed her palm. Their gazes met.

  “My brother thinks you are in love with me. He says he has watched you and your eyes rarely leave me when we are in the same room. I thought he was mistaken, but I watched you tonight, and I think he might be right,” he said.

  “And?” Mary prayed his answer would be a swift one—if she held her breath for any longer, she may faint.

  “And I need to know if you do feel something for me, because I have to tell you, my affections toward you are not those merely of a friend. They haven’t been for some time,” he said.

  It was a good thing that they were seated away from the fireplace, as the whoosh of air which left her lungs would surely have threatened to put out the flames.