“Y-you would?” she squeaked, hardly daring to believe it.
“I would,” he confirmed with a self-deprecating smile that she found more endearing than any of the charm he’d bestowed on her previously.
“I love you, Louisa. I think I loved you from that first kiss, three years ago. Back then, I allowed my pride to rule my heart. But pride is a poor substitute for the woman I love, and I won’t make the same mistake again.”
Louisa’s heart soared at his words.
Dear lord, could he really mean it? Could she really be this lucky?
“Are you serious?” she whispered.
He laughed softly.
“Of course I’m serious. I love you. I adore you! I never thought it possible to feel as much as I do for you.”
“Oh, Hugh,” she managed as the tears she’d been holding back flooded her eyes and rolled unchecked down her cheeks, freezing in the frosty air. ”I love you too. So much.”
His eyes lit in triumph before he pulled her face to his for a heart-stopping kiss.
She could definitely get used to having this every day.
“Marry me,” he finally whispered, his forehead pressed against her own. ”I know how much you like to fight me but if you will concede on this, I promise to let you win every fight from now until we die.”
Louisa laughed through her tears.
She thought her heart would burst from sheer happiness.
“Let me win, indeed,” she scoffed but couldn’t keep the smile from her face. ”I will win whether you allow it or not, Hugh Mayford.”
“Is that a yes?” he demanded, his hands moving ever so slowly to the strings of her cloak.
“That is a most definite yes,” she gasped as he removed the garment and began to nibble wickedly on her neck.
“Finally,” he growled as his mouth moved lower still. ”We agree on something.”
IT TOOK ALL OF Louisa’s apologies and all of Hugh’s charm to finally get their mothers to forgive them for missing the majority of the Frost Ball which had doubled as a wedding reception for Lucas and Meredith.
The bride and groom couldn’t care less. They had put in just a brief appearance at the ball and nobody had seen them for some hours.
The matriarchs’ anger was short lived however, when they learned that there was to be yet another wedding between the families, and even though the hour was late and everyone was exhausted from the celebrations, they immediately set about making plans for the New Year.
Hugh, however, put his foot down almost as soon as their twittering started.
“Enough,” he bellowed earning him a cacophony of protests and an abundance of glares.
“The hour is late and my betrothed is cold and tired.” He turned to smile tenderly at her as he spoke, and Louisa couldn’t stifle her dreamy sigh.
“I suggest that all talk of preparations wait until tomorrow.”
The mamas grudgingly agreed and made their way upstairs.
When Louisa made to follow, however, Hugh reached out and snagged her about the waist, pulling her back against his chest.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he whispered in her ear, causing her to shiver.
“Didn’t you order everyone above stairs?” she asked breathlessly.
“Of course I did. How else would I get you alone?”
She turned in his embrace and wound her arms about his neck.
“And why would you want to do that?” she whispered wickedly.
His grin was heated enough to melt every bit of snow surrounding the house.
“Why, to have our very own celebration of course,” he answered before claiming her mouth once again.
And they set about celebrating for a very long time.
MISTLETOE FOR SARA
By Rachel Van Dyken
CHAPTER ONE
JACKSON MAYFORD HAD NEVER met a woman he would not tup.
Nor was he ever lacking for any sort of female attention.
As a general rule, Jackson, or Jack as he was so often called, was quite often the apple of every female’s eye.
Save one.
And she was shooting daggers at him across the ballroom. He lifted his glass of mulled wine in good cheer while she scowled coldly in his direction then looked away.
They were the remaining two.
The final soldiers at war, unwilling to put down their pistols.
And he’d be damned if he was going to let a mere slip of a chit — one who’d set him on fire twice now! — escape without punishment.
He completely ignored the fact that swatting her bottom sent waves of heat to all the wrong parts of his anatomy — just like the ignored the fact that it was a definite tie between wanting to strangle her and kiss her senseless, though the first kiss they shared ended up with a singed cravat — not his fault, at least not entirely.
Lady Meredith danced merrily with his brother The Earl of Ashbury while his brother Hugh stole a kiss from Louisa.
Gagging, he stared down into his cup and stewed.
Because really, there wasn’t another word for the lonely, irritating little feeling that seemed to be his constant companion since news of both of his brothers falling in love had been announced.
First Lucas.