A Lady's Lesson in Seduction Read Online Free PDF Page A

kissed her, she wouldn’t be able to hide her revulsion, and he would thrust her away in disgust.
    ‘Now’s our chance. Lumpkin and my cousin are nowhere near.’ He came around the tree again, a sprig of mistletoe in his hand.
    What a fool she was; in spite of bitter experience, she wanted to kiss him, wanted kissing to be wonderful. How stupid! She was much better off—much safer—as she was.
    He kissed the fingertips of his gloves and blew. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’
    She huffed.
    He picked a berry from the mistletoe and dropped it. ‘We’ll make it a very light kiss,’ he said, coming closer. ‘Short and sweet.’
    She didn’t trust him; she wanted yet didn’t want—
    A flurry of snow tumbled from the branches above, distracting her. He swooped in, dropped a swift, cold kiss on her lips, and drew away—but not far. ‘Was that too unbearable?’ Another mistletoe berry fell to the snow.
    ‘No, of course not,’ she said, ‘but—’
    ‘Well, then.’ He took her hand and pulled her around the tree. ‘If you don’t want me to invade you—accidentally, needless to say—you’ll have to keep your mouth shut.’
    ‘You mustn’t do this—’
    ‘Of course I must. No talking.’
    She gave up, shutting both her mouth and her eyes. It was her own fault for coming to the orchard this morning, but she’d enjoyed their time together in the middle of the night so very much. It was only a kiss.
    Nothing happened. She opened her eyes again. He was contemplating her mouth from under his lashes. ‘You have lovely lips.’
    Through her teeth, she said, ‘Get it over with.’
    ‘I’ve never kissed a martyr before.’ His lips curled in a lazy smile, and then he pressed his mouth coolly to hers and withdrew again. ‘It requires a more careful approach than we disgustingly hasty men are used to.’ He flicked another berry off the sprig.
    She couldn’t help but watch his mouth. What was he going to do, and when?
    ‘Close your eyes, and whatever happens, keep your lips together.’
    This time his mouth lingered on hers a few seconds, then pressed light kisses from one corner of her lips to the other. Kiss. ‘One.’ Kiss. ‘Two.’ Kiss. ‘Three.’
    Bite.
    She gasped, and desire shimmered like golden light down her spine. He chuckled and gave his branch of mistletoe a rueful look. ‘Can’t bring this one in the basket, or they’ll know what we’ve been doing. On the other hand, it would be a pity to waste the one remaining berry.’
    She licked her lip where he’d bitten her.
    ‘Such a tempting tongue,’ he said.
    Anxiety washed over her. All right, it had been pleasant so far—unexpectedly so—but enough was enough. She didn’t want anything more, and judging by the darkening of his eyes, he did.
    Another shower of snow landed on them both, followed by the sound of approaching voices. From the corner of her eye, Frances caught a hint of movement above. Had a squirrel knocked the snow off a branch? Shouldn’t it be hibernating in this weather?
    Lord Warbury plucked the solitary berry, stowed it in his pocket, and dropped the sprig to the ground. He retrieved the basket and handed it to Frances.
    ‘More kisses later,’ he said.
    * * *
    Christmas Eve passed in a flurry of activity. The ladies made garlands and kissing rings, the men hung them, the servants cooked and baked, and Lord Warbury prepared the apples and syrup for lamb’s wool with everyone’s participation. Frances couldn’t help a tiny thrill of delight when he offered her—and only her—a second turn at mashing the apples.
    She also couldn’t help wondering when he would kiss her again.
    They feasted in the dining room and then descended to the kitchen, where the marquis crowned his head groom King of the Revels, bent the knee to him, and served him lamb’s wool and fruitcake with his own hands. There were games and dancing, a pantomime performed by the three younger men, and roasted chestnuts and apples. She steeled