Mistletoe and Kisses Read online

  “You . . . you love me?” A trickle of a tear rolled down her cheek. The love she saw shining in his eyes threatened to bring on more tears.

  “Yes, Mary, I do love you,” he whispered. He speared his fingers into her hair and drew her to him, placing a searing kiss on her lips. The heady scent of his cologne, the same one she had gifted him, filled her senses.

  Their tongues met in a soft dance. Every kiss he offered invited her to respond—to show her love for him. Mary was determined to hold nothing back.

  Aunt Maude stirred in her chair.

  They released one another from the kiss and sat with their foreheads touching while they both regained their breath.

  A shy smile sat on Mary’s face. “I love you, Hugh. I always have.”

  He took hold of her hands. “I was a fool not to have spoken my heart to you a long time ago. I promise I won’t ever hold my love from you again.”

  Aunt Maude grumbled in her sleep and yawned.

  Hugh cast his eye in her direction, then looked back at Mary.

  “Come with me.” He took her by the hand and led her toward the steps. When they arrived under the mistletoe, he stopped.

  Mary waited, expecting another soft, chaste kiss on the cheek.

  “We don’t need magic, but I think we should still avail ourselves of it just to be sure.” He let out a growl before pulling her to him, swiftly taking her lips in another kiss which was anything but chaste. She clung to him as he plundered her mouth, meeting his hungry need with her own.

  When he finally released her from the kiss, he held her close. His eyes burned bright with desire—desire she knew was for her.

  “I can walk you to your room and we can say good night, or you can come with me and we can greet the dawn together. Either way, we will be making an announcement tomorrow morning,” he said, his voice gruff with barely restrained passion.

  Mary nodded. “The dawn sounds perfect.” She placed her hand in his and they walked from the great hall.

  As they disappeared up the steps, Lady Maude Radley rose from her chair. She crossed to the sofa where Hugh and Mary had been sitting. From behind one of the cushions, she retrieved a sprig of mistletoe. She held it up and softly chuckled.

  “Old-fashioned Christmas magic always goes a long way.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hugh and Mary stole into his private apartment, and Hugh locked the door behind them. He pulled her into his embrace again and kissed her with the urgency and passion she sensed he had barely held in check back in the great hall.

  “Are you sure you want to be here with me tonight? I will understand if you wish to wait,” he said.

  Matters between them were moving fast but Mary had lain awake too many nights, imaging what she would do if she was ever given the chance to lie with Hugh, to even consider holding back at this pivotal moment.

  Laying her hands on his stubbled cheeks, she drew him to her, and placed tender, inviting kisses on his lips. “I have waited long enough for you, Lord Hugh Radley. Tonight, you become mine.”

  “And you mine. But first thing’s first,” he said, releasing her hands.

  Hugh crossed to the tallboy which sat in the corner of his room and opened the top drawer. Mary took a deep breath and prayed that if this was indeed a dream, she would never wake from it.

  He returned, stealing a warm kiss from her.

  “We have to do this properly,” he said. With her hand held in his, he went down on bended knee. “I can be blind to some things at times; it is a fault in my nature. But my love for you has always been there, and always will be. You know my shortcomings better than anyone. And as my partner in this life, I empower you to take me to task if you ever feel that I am being anything less than fully supportive of you,” he said.

  With a wry grin, Mary nodded. “I shall hold you to that, Hugh Radley.”

  “Good. Mary Margaret Gray, I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the greatest honor possible and become my wife?”

  There were a dozen other words she could have used at that moment, including finally and about time, but her heart was so full of love for the man who knelt before her that Mary could only think of one. “Yes.”

  He got to his feet and slipped a diamond ring on her finger. The oval-shaped stone was set in gold with a delicate filigree pattern etched into it. It was perfect in its elegance and simplicity. Hugh knew her better than she realized.

  “Edinburgh has some fine jewelers as well as clothing stores,” he whispered.

  “Oh, Hugh.”

  And she had thought he’d only been worried about keeping her warm. The wicked man had been planning to ask her to marry him all along.

  She looked down at the ring and sighed. “This is the most beautiful Christmas gift anyone could ever receive. Thank you.”

  Hugh slipped his hand around her waist. “The ring is a betrothal gift, my love. I have something else planned for my fiancée for Christmas Day, but you will have to wait.”

  He was the most handsome, wonderful, and at times infuriating man she had ever met, but she would not have exchanged him for anyone else. Hugh Radley was exactly the man for her.

  She wiped away a tear, then, emboldened by his declaration of love, she stole one kiss. Then another. By the time she was ready for a third touch of his lips, Hugh had tightened his grip about her waist and pulled her hard against him. His low growl of need set her heart racing.

  Until now, her private fantasies of this moment had been enough to keep her satisfied. With his heated touch, her desire raced to a dangerous level.

  He stepped back from her, and with what she imagined was an unintended overly dramatic flourish, tore his scarf from his neck. With the mixture of nerves and the humor of his look, she snorted a laugh. He raised an eyebrow in her direction as he tossed the scarf on a nearby sofa. His jacket quickly followed.

  “Your turn,” he murmured.

  Mary looked at Hugh’s clothes laying in a pile. Seeing them now brought home the reality of the situation. She was tempted to pinch herself; this was really happening. Never had she dared to imagine that her secret dreams of being with him would come to fruition. Now they were.

  A worried look appeared on his face when she didn’t move. For her, this moment was more than a simple physical encounter. Her love for him ran to her very soul.

  She held out a hand and was reassured when he took it and drew himself closer once more. “Hugh,” she murmured, offering up her mouth to his. He nipped at her bottom lip, teasing. She nipped him back, her breath shuddering.

  No longer needing any invitation, she placed her hands on his face, drawing him down to her. Their mouths locked in a fiery embrace, tongues tangled. It was a wicked dance.

  When she finally released him from the kiss, Mary knew the time had come. Time for her to follow his lead.

  With a deft shrug, she let her wool shawl fall to the floor. She resisted the temptation to follow Hugh’s example and toss it away. She had a terrible throwing arm and the shawl was more likely to end up in the fireplace than on the sofa. She kicked it safely aside.

  After sliding a finger under the top of her gown sleeve, she pulled it down. Her intention of revealing a hint of shoulder failed miserably in the attempt. The sleeve wouldn’t budge. She silently rued the sensible nature of Scottish clothing. They both chuck

  “You may have to help me with the fastenings,” she said.

  He turned her to face away from him, then began to undo the ties on the back of her gown. For every knot he untied, he placed a kiss on the nape of her neck. Mary shivered with anticipation.

  “For my sake, you might want to have a word with your maid about how tight she ties these laces. This could take a while.”

  When she was finally free of her binds, Mary stepped out of her gown. Hugh rewarded her with yet another kiss.

  His shirt was next to go. Mary made quick work of the button at the top and watched with bated breath as she got he
r first glimpse of his hair-dusted chest.

  She lay a hand over his heart, feeling its steady beat. A heart she knew beat for her. “You are the most . . .”

  He brushed a hand on her cheek as she stood, lost for words. Hugh lifted his shirt free from the top of his kilt and pulled it over his head.

  With his bare torso and striking blue and gray kilt, he looked for all the world like a rugged Scottish highlander—one she was hoping would soon ravish her. He took hold of the buckle of his belt and gave her another saucy grin.

  He took his hand away and she mewed with disappointment. Her elusive prize remained hidden under layers of heavy wool. When he met her eyes, she saw all humor had disappeared from his face.

  “I want you to do this; that way, you are in control. Nothing happens from this moment on without your express permission,” he said.

  She lay her trembling fingers on the buckle of his belt. His words were perfect in their reverence. They would have a lifetime of knowing each another, but there would only ever be one first time. A moment to treasure always.

  She looked deep into his piercing blue eyes as she separated the leather belt from the buckle and dropped it to the floor. His kilt quickly followed.

  Her gaze drifted lower, taking in the sight of Hugh in all his splendor. She sucked in a hesitant breath. She knew enough from overhearing the not-so-scholarly discussions in the meals hall at college to understand the state of his manhood and what it meant.

  He wanted her.

  “May I?” he asked, taking hold of the sides of her shift.

  “Please.”

  As her shift joined the rest of the scattered garments on the floor, Mary resisted the instinctive reaction to cover herself. She was about to become his woman; this moment demanded full honesty between them. She let her hands fall to her sides.

  “Come,” he said, offering her his hand.

  Hugh drew her to the bed and pulled back the covers before laying her down on the soft linen sheets. He soon joined her, rolling over so that they faced one another. She shivered as he reached out and cupped one of her breasts. Her whole world tilted as Hugh bent his head and, drawing a nipple into his mouth, gently nipped at it with his teeth.

  “Oh, my sweet . . .” she murmured.

  She clutched at the bedclothes as he slipped a finger into her heat and began to stroke. He sucked hard on her nipple, and Mary whimpered. The torture was exquisite.

  When he finally released her nipple from his masterful attention, he rose over her, and gave her a kiss that made her toes curl.

  She groaned as he slipped a second finger into her, and when his thumb began to rub against her sensitive bud, she sobbed. Her need for release built with every stroke.

  “Is that good? Tell me if you want me to change anything. I can go harder or deeper; I am at your command,” he said.

  “Don’t stop,” Mary pleaded.

  “I love you,” he said.

  She was beyond words at this moment, unable to reciprocate his declaration, consumed by the driving need to find her sexual release.

  He slowed his strokes and murmured in her ear. “I want you come, but I need to be inside you when you do.”

  She opened her eyes as he released her from his touch. He moved between her legs, his hard erection brushing the side of her inner thigh.

  “This may sting for a second, but I need you to stay with me. As soon as your body accepts me, I will make it enjoyable again,” he said.

  Placing the bulk of his weight on one arm, he lowered himself over her before slowly parting her slick folds with his cock. Mary winced at the sensation of Hugh stretching her and held her breath.

  He stilled, patiently waiting for her body to adjust. The discomfort eased and she slowly breathed out.

  “Does it still hurt?”

  “No,” she replied.

  He began to move within her, slowly at first then quickening as his strokes deepened. With her hands gripping either side of his hips, she urged him on. The tension began to build within her once more. Her need to reach the peak came with every one of his thrusts. His groans of pleasure added to her own.

  She crashed through on the end of one of his deep and powerful thrusts, sobbing his name as she came. Hugh buried his face into the base of her neck. She felt the nip of his teeth on her skin before he let out a shout. He shuddered, then collapsed on top of her, pressing her into the mattress.

  Mary wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him to her, promising to herself that she would never let this man go.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Is that everything?”

  Hugh looked inside the basket Mary held in her hands, pointing at each of the items. “Bread, blackbun, and salt for food. A bottle of whisky for your host’s good health... Oh, I forgot the coin.” He opened his sporran and pulled out a gold coin. “This is for wealth. This is a pistole; the last of the coins minted for Scotland.”

  He dropped it into the basket, stealing a kiss from his wife in the process. “Now you are ready.”

  The love she saw shining in his eyes was the same she had beheld on Christmas Eve as she and Hugh had stood facing one another to speak their marriage vows in the castle chapel. Ewan had escorted her down the aisle to the tune of a single bagpipe, beaming as he placed her hand in Hugh’s.

  The Radley family had, of course, been delighted when a sheepish Hugh and Mary appeared at breakfast the morning after spending their first night together and announced their betrothal. Master Crowdie had overseen a flurry of activity in the castle and village, which saw Hugh and Mary married that same day.

  Aunt Maude gave the bride a family heirloom wedding band, which matched Mary’s engagement ring to perfection. The Duchess and Dowager Duchess of Strathmore presented Mary with a blue woolen gown and a matching Strathmore tartan sash and shawl. Mary Radley was now one of the family.

  It was New Year’s Eve, Hogmanay in Scotland, and in a break with tradition, Mary had been chosen to conduct the ancient First Foot ceremony.

  Earlier in the evening, she and Hugh had led the castle staff down to the village and shared a hot supper with them. Her welcome into the Strathmore Castle and village family had been so heartfelt that she’d felt close to tears at many moments during the day. Only Hugh’s constant presence—he was never far from her—kept her from dissolving into a weeping mess.

  Master Crowdie strode into the village tavern with a large brass bell in his hand. A hush fell over the gathering before he swung the bell high and rang it loudly. He then turned and marched out the door.

  Hugh offered Mary his arm and they followed. A happy, chatting group of villagers took up the rear. Flaming torches held on spikes were dotted along the road to light the way back to the castle.

  Walking arm in arm with her husband, Mary felt sure of her future, and thanks to her trusty tackety boots, also of her footing. Her Strathmore tartan shawl kept the bitter night wind at bay.

  As they crossed over the drawbridge and into the castle bailey, a loud cheer rose from the assembly. Hugh smiled at her. “The cheers are for you, my love.”

  They waited until everyone from the village had arrived and gathered around them in the courtyard. Master Crowdie pulled out his pocket watch and checked it. He nodded toward Mary. Hugh let go of her arm and stood back, a huge smile of pride on his face.

  She gave him one last nervous look, then climbed the steps of the keep. A hush descended on the crowd. All eyes were fixed on Master Crowdie.

  He held his hand up and then dropped it to his side. The bells in the village church began to peal. The castle chapel bell rang in time. The crowd looked to where Mary stood on the steps of the castle keep.

  She took hold of the door knocker and raised it before hitting it hard on the wood. The knock echoed in the still night air.

  She did it a second time, and then a third.

  After the third knock, the door of the keep slowly opened. Ewan Radley stood in the doorway, a glass of whisky in his hand
.

  Mary cleared her throat. “A happy new year and good tidings to you and yours,” she said.

  She handed him the basket, and Ewan gave her the glass of whisky in exchange. He stepped back and she crossed the threshold. Inside the great hall, all the Radley family, her family, were gathered. The heady scent of burnt juniper filled her nostrils.

  Ewan shrugged. “Evil spirits only leave if you burn enough juniper to have everyone’s eyes watering.”

  At the sound of steps on the stone flagging behind her, she turned and saw Hugh race in the door, just ahead of the rest of the castle staff and villagers. He grabbed hold of the door and after swinging it fully open, stood and held it for the crowd which quickly filed through.

  The great hall was filled with lit torches, and on the first table was a mass of cups—all full of whisky from the look of it. One by one, the villagers took up a cup. Then, with their whisky untouched, they stood back and waited.

  When every last cup of whisky had been taken, Ewan Radley climbed up on one of the roughly hewn wooden tables. Master Crowdie held up his hand once more. Silence descended on the great hall.

  The Duke of Strathmore was about to speak.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Wylcome to you all, this most special of days. May the new year find you blessed by good fortune and good health,” he said.

  Some of the younger members of the gathering went to raise their cups to drink, but a growl from Master Crowdie had those same cups quickly lowered.

  Ewan shook his head, a smile still on his lips. “Now some of you may have noticed that our First Foot tonight was indeed a woman. But she is of dark hair and also a member of the Radley family, so I think the sprits of Hogmanay will forgive my trespass,” he said.

  Hugh caught a sideways glance at his new bride. Mary’s eyes shone bright with happiness. The touch of her fingers met his, and he leaned in and brushed a soft kiss on her cheek. A soft “ah” rippled through the gathering.