‘It’s a Christmas carol,’ Lucy announced and promptly broke into song. ‘“The holly and the ivy…”’
To Cassie’s surprise, Mr Royston joined in with a beautiful baritone and the woods echoed with the first verse followed by the chorus.
‘I suppose that is a hint for me to cut down the ivy next,’ he said, pretending to grumble.
‘This way,’ Lucy said, dashing off.
Mr Royston winked. ‘Her enthusiasm is catching.’ He put his hands on his hips and looked down at the branches. ‘Is this enough for your purpose?’
‘For mine and half the village, too,’ she said, then winced at how ungracious she sounded. ‘Thank you. Our decorations will be the finest they have ever been.’
Diana reached for a twig. Mr Royston caught her hand. ‘Careful, I have never seen so many prickles as there are on this tree. Or so many berries.’
‘I think the two go hand in hand,’ Cassie said.
He crouched down, cut off a small twig, denuded it of the prickly leaves at one end and handed it to Diana with a flourish. ‘My lady’s bouquet,’ he said. ‘Mind it does not bite you.’
She giggled and held it clear of her body.
‘Say thank you,’ Cassie said.
Diana grinned at him. ‘Thank you, Mr Royston.’ She lunged at him, gave him a hug and ran off in her sister’s wake. ‘Lucy, look what I have,’ she called.
‘You had better make another,’ Cassie said, blinking back the stupidest tears at his kindness. ‘For Lucy. If you don’t mind, that is?’
It had been awfully sad when their older brother had competed with the girls for their papa’s attention. Herbert had been a beastly tease, jealous of the daughters of his father’s second marriage, though he had always managed to hide his nastiness beneath an innocent smile when his father was around. Herbert had hated that his father had married his housemaid. He thought it undignified.
Cassie guessed that Herbert was the reason his father had looked far higher for his third wife. The daughter of an earl no doubt seemed like a pretty good catch. Unfortunately, no matter what her brother had promised in regards to introducing Herbert to the ton, he had been unable to overcome the beau monde’s distaste for the vulgarity of the heir to Clifford Norton’s fortune. None of the top-drawer gentlemen’s clubs had accepted Herbert’s nomination and he’d had to settle for third-best. Something that had left father and son less than pleased. They’d got their own back by finding a legal way out of providing the settlement arranged upon her marriage, because her family had failed to live up to their half of the bargain, leaving her penniless except for her jewellery.
‘I don’t mind in the least,’ Mr Royston said, smiling, his gaze following the little girl with true warmth. ‘You are doing a fine job with your daughters, Mrs Melford.’
Heat rushed all the way to her hairline. When was the last time anyone had offered her a compliment? Her husband had deemed her a disappointment when her family had not come through with their promises of advancement, and even more so when she had not produced the second son he wanted so badly, while Herbert had ridiculed her at every opportunity until Clifford was sure he had made a very bad bargain indeed. ‘They are my stepdaughters. They missed their mama dreadfully when she died, but when I married their papa, we liked each other on sight.’
He held out an arm and she took it. They walked in the same direction the girls had gone. Cassie could hear their voices not too far ahead.
When she glanced up at Mr Royston, she saw curiosity on his face and discovered she welcomed his interest. During the past hour or so in his company, she had forgotten her worries about money and was actually enjoying herself. ‘What did you want to ask?’
He looked surprised and then pleased. ‘You are very young to be a widow and already responsible for two half-grown daughters.’
A polite enquiry as well as an observation. ‘I was young when I married, barely eighteen. I was my husband’s third wife.’
His expression became grim.
She turned her face away, not wishing to see either sympathy or disgust. She had made her choice knowingly. It was either that or reconcile herself to being a spinster aunt to her brother’s children for the rest of her life, consigned to serving as a drudge for her family as needed. By marrying Clifford she’d had her own home to manage and her girls to love. After Clifford died, she’d been almost glad she had no children of her own to fall under Herbert’s repressive thumb. Except she wasn’t glad. Not one bit. Children would have been the only good thing to have come out of her marriage.
‘My husband needed a female influence for the girls. He also hoped—’ To say more about his other ambitions might not be wise. ‘And I was in need of a husband. The girls mean a great deal to me.’ The thought of losing them… The lump in her throat made speaking impossible.
He put a hand over hers. Warmth permeated her glove. Surely not possible, not through two thicknesses of leather. They walked into a clearing where the girls were tugging at vines wrapped tightly round a tree. She let go of his arm, ostensibly to help, but also for distance. The man made her heart race too fast. Made her want things she’d given up on long ago.
The fault lay with her. She liked his gentle gruffness with the girls. And she liked the rare smile that showed another softer side of his nature. And, truth be told, no man had ever given her such undivided attention before. Her knees weakened every time he offered her one of his little courtesies. And despite his wicked kiss, his manners were those of a gentleman. Perhaps he was some distant cousin to the noble Portmaine family for whom he worked.
‘Come help me, Mama,’ Diana asked from amidst a tangle of ivy. She tugged on a trailing vine. As Cassie lifted her gaze to follow the vine’s length up the tree trunk, she noticed it wasn’t the only plant life in residence.
Naughty excitement rippled through her.
To redirect her thoughts, she wound one end of Diana’s vines over her elbow like a skein of wool. Mr Royston helped Lucy do the same with her untidy bundle until they had two nice neat rings that each girl could carry over one arm.
‘Why don’t you girls take these back to the cart?’ Cassie said, repressing the shocking urge to giggle. Women built on her proportions never giggled. ‘Mr Royston and I will bring the holly. Lucy, please make sure your sister doesn’t trip along the way.’
‘Yes, Mama.’ Clearly proud of her responsibility, Lucy put her bundle of ivy over one arm and took her sister’s hand. Cassie watched them walk along the winding path until they were out of sight. She smiled up at Mr Royston, feeling surprisingly feminine and small compared to his bulk. ‘Thank you. The girls haven’t had an outing like this in a very long time.’
‘It is I who should thank you for your invitation.’ He bowed slightly. When she didn’t move he walked towards her, a puzzled look on his face. ‘Is everything all right?’
She held out a hand as if waiting for him to offer his arm in support. When he came close enough, she put a hand on his shoulder and went up on her toes and kissed him on the mouth, not a simple brush of lips, but the soft pressure of mouths melding. Sandalwood, earthy forest and warm man filled her nostrils. She touched her tongue to the seam of his lips and he parted them on a small sound deep in his throat. His strong arms enfolded her, drew her close and he deepened the kiss. His tongue tangling with hers in a lovely silky slide of tenderness.
She leaned into him, curling her fingers into the silky soft hair at his nape. Her body hummed with pleasure and desire. Her limbs softened. She arched against his body, felt the press of his wide chest against her tingling breasts and sighed her contentment.
He broke their kiss,