LITMIR.BIZ

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held hope for more of the same.

      She leaned back a little and with a smile directed her gaze upwards, some twenty feet or so above their heads. ‘Tit for tat, Mr Royston.’ She held her breath. A bolt of nerves held her in thrall. Had she gone too far?

      Glancing up at the mistletoe ball high in the branches, a boyish grin lit up his face. ‘Tit for tat, then, Mrs Melford.’

      Gruff, yes, but that smile warmed her through and through. The dawning sensual expression on his face, as if he found her attractive, made her heart stumble. ‘Please feel free to call me Cassie, when we are private.’

      His eyes widened. No doubt he wondered just how private she was planning they would be. ‘Agreed, if you will call me Adam.’

      A wicked shiver fluttered low in her belly. A breath caught in her throat. Too far. Far too far. Clearly, she was getting out of her depth. She stepped away. ‘We should go, or the children will come looking for us.’

      By offering her name, this deliciously lush but prim and proper woman hinted at wanting him for more than friendship or aid. There was no other explanation possible.

      She wanted him. Adam. Not heir to an earldom Adam, but lowly steward Adam. The man who sang Christmas carols with unfettered abandon. For once, the offer did not come with strings attached, financial or marital, though of necessity it could be nothing more than a very short dalliance should he let it go even that far.

      He tossed the last of the holly cuttings into the wagon bed. ‘Stay well clear of those,’ he warned the two little girls.

      ‘We will,’ they chorused.

      If there was to be dallying, how was it to be accomplished? He certainly did not intend an indiscretion to ruin her reputation with her neighbours, since once she left Ivy Cottage, she would likely rent something nearby.

      Unless this was her way of seeking his aid to convince her landlord to let her stay. A cold hand fisted in his chest. She would have to know before they proceeded that it was not possible for him to grant such a favour. A sane man did not let every pretty female that crossed his path influence good financial decisions, no matter his lustful inclinations to the contrary.

      The elation he’d felt, the anticipation, seeped away. He climbed aboard the wagon and set Soldier in motion.

      Mrs Melford gave him a shy smile. She glanced at the sky. ‘I think there is more snow on the way.’

      The clouds were darker than they had been before. Glowering. And the wind had picked up. It was as raw a December day as he could recall.

      ‘Snow for Christmas?’ Lucy said, looking between their shoulders.

      ‘Possibly,’ her mother answered.

      The girl turned to her sister. ‘Snow for Christmas, Diana.’

      The little girl squealed her excitement.

      Charmed by their youthful enthusiasm, Adam grinned over his shoulder. ‘Then we must soon find this Yule log of yours, so you will be all toasty and warm at Ivy Cottage over the holiday.’

      ‘It is at the edge of the wood, that way,’ Lucy said, pointing towards Thornton House.

      Soldier plodded patiently on.

      ‘There,’ Lucy directed.

      ‘Oh,’ Mrs Melford said, looking at a tree trunk which had been carefully sawn into large logs ready for transport. ‘I think Sir Josiah must have intended them to be taken to the manor house, Lucy. That is not the old fallen log you described.’

      ‘It is fallen.’

      ‘It was cut deliberately.’

      ‘Ladies,’ Adam interrupted, partly amused by the sort of argument his sisters had so often engaged in when he had lived at home and partly worried about proposing a solution. ‘I am sure Lord Graystone will not object to his tenant having a bit of Christmas cheer.’

      ‘He should be asked first,’ Cassie said firmly.

      He had been. But she wasn’t to know that. How the devil to get around the conundrum of this woman’s pride without looking like a fool? ‘When I mentioned we were to gather a Yule log before he left this morning, he had no objection.’

      She looked doubtful. ‘It was to be a windfall, Mr Royston. I would not like to take such a liberty.’

      ‘Then I will take it on your behalf,’ he said, jumping down. ‘If his lordship proves not amenable to your foraging one of these logs, I will buy it as a gift.’

      ‘I couldn’t possibly accept.’

      ‘A gift for Miss Lucy,’ he said.

      ‘Mama?’ the little girl said, her eyes large and appealing. The child had clearly perfected the art of wheedling.

      Her mama took a deep breath. ‘Mr Royston, should his lordship require payment, then you will tell me and I will pay for it as we pay for our firewood. This is no different. You will let me know his lordship’s answer, if you please.’

      And so her pride was satisfied while he was left uncomfortable in his wallow of lies. He must end this now and not see her again once he left her at her front door. Dallying with a respectable woman was not an option for a man who considered himself a gentleman.

      He wrestled the log onto the cart and glared at it, hands on hips. It was decided. He’d deliver them, their log and bits of foolish greenery back to Ivy Cottage and that would be it. Lord Graystone would write to them from wherever he arrived next and inform them they had six months to vacate his property. A stay of execution was the best he could do and only because she was a woman alone.

      Much as he tried on the way back to the cottage, he could not keep his distance from this happy little family. They simply did not allow it. When Lucy sang ‘Here We Come A-Wais-sailing’ and Cassie and Diana joined in, silence wasn’t an option. When they moved on to ‘I Saw Three Ships’ and ended with a spirited chorus of ‘Deck the Halls’, the recollection of St Vire Christmases, his wife singing those same songs, threatened his composure. He both regretted and was glad when he drew Soldier to a halt in front of the cottage as they sang the last rousing fa-la-la.

      He carried the log into the house and placed it by the hearth in the parlour ready for lighting on Christmas morning and then helped the girls with their hoard of evergreens. Once the children had their coats off, Cassie set them to work at the kitchen table cutting the ivy into manageable lengths.

      ‘May I offer you a cup of tea?’ she said to Adam.

      ‘We have shortbread,’ Diana announced.

      ‘Thank you, but, no,’ he forced himself to say. ‘I have work waiting at Thornton.’ He was surprised at how hard it was to refuse in the face of her obvious disappointment and that of the girls, but he managed a smile. ‘Soldier needs his stable and his oats after his sterling efforts, too.’ A plausible excuse that seemed to lighten the mood as she walked him to the front door.

      She handed him the hat he had removed on entry. Her smile was shy, and hellishly tempting, and her gaze flickered upwards, above his head. ‘Thank you for your escort this afternoon.’

      Mistletoe made a fool of a man bent on doing the right thing. She placed her hands upon his shoulders lightly, rose up on her toes.

      A kiss. A friendly kiss was surely all she intended.

      He took her mouth with his, felt warmth and softness and pliancy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, to steady her, to bring her close. She melted against him with a soft sigh as their lips fit together perfectly. Common sense flew away.

      A giggle came from the kitchen and she broke away, smiling regretfully. ‘Will you come for dinner tomorrow evening, if you are still here?’

      ‘I will.’ Blast, he should have said no. He stepped back, clutching his hat before him like a shield. ‘If it should so happen that I am.’ He would

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