“She does not wish to spare you.” He looked at Carstine and cringed. “She wishes to match you.”

  “With ye? Absurd!” Carstine’s eyes rounded. “Ye canna be series.”

  “Oh, but I am.”

  “Then we shall stop this farce at once,” Carstine made to release his arm, but he placed his hand over hers, holding it in place.

  “As neither you nor I wish to marry—certainly not to each other—what is the harm?”

  Carstine considered his words. What was the harm indeed?

  She slanted her gaze to him. He was handsome, and for the most part, charming, but he was also right, she did not have any desire to wed him.

  But then, desires often changed. “I canna argue yer point. But do ye think it wise to hold our feet to the fire? We may find them missing before we ken what happened.”

  Lord Edgemore chuckled. “You say the oddest things.”

  Carstine peered at him, but she could not deny the humor bubbling up in her as well. “Be that as it may.” She waved her hand in dismissal.

  “And now you sound like a proper English lady,” he said, amusement laced through his voice.

  “Aye. It is a gift that comes with having an English mother and a Scottish father. Like a Pomeranian and a bloodhound’s offspring, I reap the benefits of both parents. Prim and proper one moment, and savage the next.” Carstine laughed.

  Lord Edgemore chuckled as well before saying, “I’ll not argue with that.” He met her gaze, then said, “Back to the topic at hand. Will you go along with the scheme in order to save us both?”

  “Aye.” She exhaled, her gaze moving to Minerva before returning it to him. “So long as we agree that it is only a farce.”

  Lord Edgemore gave a satisfied if not amused grin. “You needn’t fear me, lass. Marriage is the last thing on my mind.”

  Carstine swallowed back any further objections. Indeed, what harm could ensue when they both understood the game they played?

  All the same, an uneasy feeling crept through her, and she prayed she’d not come to regret her actions.

  It did not take Carstine long to see the glaring error in their plan for the following day guests once again joined them.

  It seemed the countess had planned to surround her—all of them—with marriage-minded merchants, peers, and local gentry for the duration. The woman was undoubtedly determined.

  The evening had begun in the receiving room, where guests and family alike gossiped and chatted as they awaited dinner.

  When she entered the dining room, Carstine breathed a sigh of relief to find herself seated beside Lord Edgemore and across from Minerva. And as luck would have it, the countess had placed a handsome and successful merchant, Mr. Kingston, to her left.

  Unfortunately for Carstine, Mr. Kingston seemed to take a shine to her.

  “Your eyes are like glittering emeralds,” Mr. Kingston said.

  Carstine forced an amicable grin. “Thank you, Mr. Kingston.”

  Lord Edgemore leaned forward, looking past her to Mr. Kingston. “Rubbish, they are like lush green grass on a sunny spring day.”

  Carstine’s cheeks warmed as the gentleman debated the color of her eyes. An argument that lasted until after the final course was served when the gentleman left the ladies to go indulge in brandy and cigars.

  The worst part of all was how much Lord Edgemore seemed to enjoy the exchange. Carstine determined to make him pay for that at a later time.

  For now, she was content to retire to the parlor, and in doing so, escape the gentleman. Leastwise, for a little while.

  As it turned out, her reprieve lasted but three-quarters of an hour. She gave Lord Edgemore a practiced smile as he entered the room then strolled directly to her side.

  He gave her an amused look and said, “Dinner was surprisingly entertaining.”

  “The devil it was,” she admonished. “How could ye encourage Mr. Kingsley to continue that ridiculous argument?”

  “Eyes so captivating a man could drown in them,” Lord Edgemore emulated Mr. Kingsley’s earlier statement.

  “Stop it.” Carstine elbowed him hard enough to make him gasp. “Yer not the least bit funny.”

  “I beg to differ, my dear.” He nodded to the far edge of the room. “Brace yourself, it seems your Mr. Kingsley is headed this way.”

  “He is most defiantly not my anything,” she seethed as she wrapped her hand around Lord Edgemore’s elbow. “Assume your role.”

  Just then, Minerva hoisted herself onto a chair. She stood tall and smiled at the gathering. “I would like to invite anyone who wishes to join myself, Lord Edgemore, and Miss Carstine for parlor games to adjourn to the blue parlor at once.”

  Carstine looked to Lord Edgemore. “Were ye aware of this?”

  “No, but it seems we have no choice.” He patted her hand then led her out of the room and down the hall to the blue parlor.

  It was there that Minerva pulled a deck of cards from a nearby table and announced, “I have the inclination to play The Chance Kiss.”

  “I dinna like the sound of that,” Carstine said, her worried gaze on Lord Edgemore.

  “As well, you shouldn’t. That is unless you have to kiss me.” He winked.

  “Hurry,” Carstine’s cheeks burned as she swatted his arm, “suggest another game. One that does not involve kisses.”

  Lord Edgemore glanced across the room. “It’s too late. She’s already passing the cards out.”

  Carstine considered fleeing the parlor, but she had no wish to make a spectacle of herself. Instead, she asked, “How does the game work?”

  Lord Edgemore answered, “You will kiss the gentleman whose card matches yours. The king of hearts will kiss the queen of hearts, and so on. But fear not, there are only eight cards involved. You may not receive one.”

  Minerva handed a card to a dark-haired gentleman, then turned toward them, mischief in her blue eyes.

  “Forget what I said. You are most certainly about to receive a card.” Lord Edgemore gave an apologetic grin.

  “I’d expect nothing less,” Carstine said in a quiet voice. “And I’d wager it matches yours.”

  “Knowing Minerva, we can count on it.”

  Carstine narrowed her eyes. “I always ken there was a reason the Scots fought the English, though I must confess that I am only now starting tae understand said reason.”

  Lord Edgemore chuckled. “Do not forget who won.”

  “Aye,” Carstine said a moment before Minerva reached them.

  After handing them both a card, Minerva returned to the hearth and faced the room at large. “Reveal your cards,” she announced.

  Lord Edgemore turned his card around for all to see. “King of spades,” he announced in a dry tone.

  “Who holds the queen of spades?” Minerva asked, though her gaze did not stray from Carstine.

  Carstine bit her lip as she turned her card around.

  Minerva clasped her hands excitedly. “Then the two of you must exchange a kiss.”

  Carstine had known what was coming. What she hadn’t bargained on was the jolt of pure desire that shot through her when Lord Edgemore pressed his lips to hers.

  It was not a romantic kiss by anyone’s standards, but it nearly swept her off her feet all the same.

  A soft brush of his lips to hers that lasted nary a heartbeat, but would be imprinted on her soul for eternity.

  She averted her gaze as she wondered if he had felt it too.

  Nothing to fear, her arse!

  Chapter 5

  Blake watched Carstine as she strolled beside Minerva and another young lady, the three of them chatting like magpies without a care for the weather.

  Despite the continuous snowfall and brisk winter wind, Minerva had insisted they go out to collect decorations. He could hardly argue with her considering that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Therefore, he’d pulled on his greatcoat, hat, and gloves then followed the group out of the house.

  Strangely enough, the sight of Carstine sent warmth through him, keeping the chill at bay.

  The kiss they had shared affected him more than he cared to admit and left him wanting more. He’d had a devil of a time sleeping last night because of it. He wondered what it might feel like to hold her in his arms—to caress her and explore her body. Would her hair be silken as he twined his fingers through it? What would she taste like? Honey and sweetness, or would she be pleasingly tart?

  He’d wager no matter her taste, it would be intoxicating.

  “Rather blustery, is it not?” Mr. Kingston said as he came up beside Blake.

  “Indeed,” Blake answered, his tone flat. He’d never had an ill opinion about the man in the past. In fact, he’d rather enjoyed his company, but Kingston suddenly set Blake’s nerves on end.

  “Though it does put a rather becoming blush on our dear Miss Carstine’s fair cheeks.” Kingston winked.

  And that was the very reason Blake had come to dislike, Kingston. Blake ground his teeth, both irritated with the man’s observation and himself. He had no business raising his hackles over a woman he did not intend to wed, regardless of how captivating she was. In fact, if he were a true gentleman, he’d encourage Carstine to let Kingston woo her.

  But then, he’d never claimed to be a true gentleman and saw no reason to start now. He slanted his gaze at Kingston, his ire increasing when he noted that the man was staring at Carstine. “I do not believe her cheeks are your concern.”

  “Come now, Edgemore. I’ve never known you to be territorial.” Kingston said, pulling his greatcoat tight around his neck. “Do you intend to ask for her hand?”

  “Gads no!”

  “Then perhaps I will.” Kingston returned his gaze to Carstine’s backside.

  “She is a beguiling creature.”

  Blake elbowed him. “Like hell, you will.”

  Kingston turned his head, his eyes narrow. “Are you quite alright, Edgemore?”

  “Yes,” Blake sliced the air with his hand, “We have a misunderstanding is all.”

  Kingston’s eyes narrowed further as he stared at Blake in speculation. “It would seem so.”

  “What I should have said was that I am not ready to ask for her yet, but I may well in the future.” Blake increased his stride, very much in want of ending this ridiculous conversation.

  “Then I would suggest you not wait overlong,” Kingston called out as Blake strode ahead.

  Blake ignored the man, his sights set on Carstine.

  “There.” Minerva pointed, excitement ringing in her voice. “I see holly.” She turned toward a cluster of bushes and trees.

  Blake hurried to Carstine’s side and reached for her elbow as the rest of the group followed Minerva.

  She turned her startling green eyes on him. “What is it?”

  Blake smiled as he released his hold on her. “I thought we might go in search of ivy and mistletoe. I happen to know that it grows over there.” He nodded his head in the opposite direction of that which the others had gone.

  Carstine nodded, a slight grin playing at her lips, then followed him for a few silent minutes as he led her into a thicket of evergreens.

  “Wait.” She stopped and turned around. “Shouldn’t we call for a footman tae carry what we gather?”

  Blake shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.” He started walking again but stopped when he noticed she wasn’t moving. He turned back to her and said, “Are you coming?”

  She slanted her head, studying him. “I suspect there isna any mistletoe, nor ivy tae be had.”

  He tried not to look chagrin as he answered, “You would be correct in your suspicion.”

  She strolled closer, a mischievous grin pulling at her mouth. “Why did ye say there was?”

  “I wanted to spend a moment alone with you.” He inwardly cringed at his confession. He should have told her something else—anything else.

  Her smile widened, amusement lighting her eyes. “We’ll start a scandal.”

  “If anyone notices, we’ll say you took ill.”

  “Then I would miss the evenings’ activities.” She stooped down and gathered a handful of snow. “I have no wish tae spend the evening alone.”

  She stood as she packed the snow she’d gathered into a ball, then launched it at him.

  Blake dodged the projectile, but before he could do much else, she flung another. The ball collided with his shoulder.

  Carstine laughed, her green eyes full of merriment as she reached for more snow. “Perhaps we shall say that ye became ill after having an unfortunate accident in the snow.” She pulled back her arm, then launched the snowball.

  Blake ducked his head as it flew past. “Is that so?” He asked as he took long strides in her direction.

  “’Tis a perfect plan,” Carstine said as she let another snowball fly from her hand. She laughed uproariously as it hit his chest and burst into a small storm of white powder.

  Blake charged at her, wrapping his arms around her. Her laughter infected him, and he chuckled as he swung her in a circle. “I’ve captured you, minx.”

  She tossed her head back, her loose red curls fanning out as he spun her.

  Blake brought her close against him and stared into her eyes. The urge to kiss her overwhelming.

  Carstine smiled up at him, her cheeks rosy and lips slightly parted. “And now that you have, what do you intend to do with me?” She asked, a playful lilt in her voice.

  All thought fled his mind. He brought his mouth down on hers, pressing his lips to hers, demanding more.

  Need and anticipation tangled within him as he deepened the kiss, desperate to taste her.

  He pulled her closer, one hand at the small of her back while his other cupped her neck as he slid his tongue along the crease of her lips.

  She parted them for him, her tongue darting out to slide and twirl against his as she wound her arms around his shoulders.

  She was intoxicating. Better than the finest brandy. Sweeter than the most decadent treat, and more alluring than any woman he’d ever kissed before.

  And he was lost.

  Chapter 6

  Carstine sighed as she leaned against the stable wall. She could not say why, but for some reason, she found herself homesick. Thoughts of Mother, Father, and Scotland had run through her mind all day and into the evening. Perhaps it was merely because today was Christmas Eve. That and the merriment of those around her left her feeling—alone.

  Ridiculous when she was surrounded by people, but true all the same. She inhaled a slow breath and let her head fall back against the wall. What were Mother and Father doing right now?

  Likely sitting before the fire and enjoying a glass of fine Scottish whisky.

  A hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped, her eyes flying open to find Blake gazing at her. “Ye startled me! What are ye doin out here?”

  “I came to ask you that very thing.” He let his hand drop from her shoulder. “I saw you slip away and followed. You’ve not been yourself today.”

  She should be angry that he’d intruded on her, but her heart warmed at the concern reflected in his blue eyes. “I’m fine.”

  “You do not look fine.” He stroked the back of one long finger over her cheek.

  Carstine closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

  “Tell me what’s been bothering you,” Blake said in a soothing voice.

  Carstine opened her eyes and met his. “It’s silly. Ye shouldna concern yerself with me.” No sooner did the words leave her mouth than she wished to take them back.

  Her heart hitched, because at that moment she realized that she’d fallen in love with him. Completely and irrevocably in love with a man who only pretended to court her.

  “Nonsense.” He stared into her eyes, tenderness in his gaze. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

  The way he looked at her melted her insides. Such tenderness and something else too… perhaps longing? Or was she merely seeing what she wished to see?

  “Carstine, you can confide in me. I promise not to laugh at you,” Blake continued.

  She forced a smile, then said, “It’s nothin dire. I’ve just been missin my family.” She nibbled her lip.

  Blake took her by the hand and led her to a pile of fresh hay. He drew her down to sit beside him. “Tell me about them?”

  “My family?”

  He nodded.

  Carstine folded her hands in her lap and stared across the stable to where a sliver of the night sky revealed itself.

  For the first time in nearly a sennight, no snow fell, and stars could be seen sparkling against the inky sky. “I don’t ken where tae start,” she said, without looking at him.

  “Do you have siblings?” Blake asked.

  Carstine shook her head. “I had a brother, but he died from an illness when he was just a wee bairn.”

  “I’m sorry.” Blake reached out and started rubbing her back.

  Carstine sighed. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I was but a lass of six myself. I barely remember it other than how sad Mother was afterward. But that too has long passed.”

  She turned to Blake. “We don’t celebrate Christmas like yer family does.”

  “Right. Not since Scotland banned it nearly two hundred years ago.” His gaze turned thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “But your mother is English.”

  “Aye, and she does have fond memories of the holiday as a lass, but she adopted the Scottish ways when she married Father.” Carstine grinned. “All but one.” She paused, her gaze turning wistful. “Mother always insists on a fine Christmas dinner with plum pudding, syllabub, and roasted goose as well as other English dishes.”

  “Which is your favorite?” Blake asked.

  “Yorkshire pudding.” She wet her lips at the thought.

  “I did notice you take a second helping tonight.” Blake teased.

  Carstine smiled, laughter bubbling up in her.

  “I’ve always been partial to sweets as well.” Blake returned her smile.

  She slid closer, her gaze on his—searching. “And what is yer favorite?”

  “Kisses. But only those that come from a red-haired, green-eyed lass.” He winked roguishly.

 

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