The cynic in her mind chimed in.What did you expect after three failed seasons? Were you hoping for a love match?
Were you waiting for Henry?
As though summoned by her thoughts, she heard footsteps behind her. “Ellie?”
Ellie swallowed hard and touched her fingers to her cheeks to dry the tears. “Henry, how are you?” she managed.
His brows furrowed with concern. “What’s happened?” His gaze darkened. “Was it Woodstock? Did he—”
“Why did you think he would be a match for me?” She hated the wobble in her voice, the insecurity she guarded so closely emerging like a soft underbelly.
He looked towards the ceiling as though searching for words for a moment before speaking. “He is—well, I thought he was—a decent man. Makes a good living.” He sighed. “I hoped he might make you happy.”
You would make me happier.
Ellie yanked her lower lip between her teeth and bit down before fixing Henry with a glare. “He was an arse.”
Henry opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. Instead, he pulled Ellie into a tight hug and laughed. “I’m so sorry, El. He is an arse. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Please don’t think it again,” she said against his waistcoat, breathing in his scent on a shuddering breath. “I’m worth more than that.”
He ran his knuckles down the length of her neck, sending shimmers of sensation down her spine. “You are, Ellie. Far more.”
Ask him, her heart screamed. If any chance existed where he could want a future with her, this was the time to discover it. She had never in her life been bold or reckless except when Henry was by her side.
As she opened her mouth to speak, Henry pulled back and gave her a half-smile. “I believe we’re standing under the mistletoe.”
Ellie retrieved her spectacles from her pocket and placed them on her nose, blinking to clear her vision before squinting at the garland draped over the entryway to the hall. “I’m nearly certain those are holly berries.”
Henry shook his head, taking her glasses and buffing them on the lapel of his jacket before placing them back on the bridge of her nose. “You can’t see them clearly. I studied botany my second year, and that is mistletoe.”
Ellie barked a laugh, her palms settling on his forearms while his hands still held her waist. His touch was so solid, grounding, like he could protect her from anything. “Just because you studied it doesn’t mean you mastered it.”
“That is true,” Henry said. “But ust to be safe, I should kiss you.”
Her eyes widened. “Safe? Is there some sort of curse if we don’t kiss?”
“There is.” He nodded with great certainty. “Remember, I’m practically an expert on plants and… berries.”
A giggle escaped her throat, and she couldn’t be sure it was because of his joke, a sudden onset of nerves, or her complete emotional dissolution. “I’ll have to trust your expertise, then.”
“Wise decision,” he said, his voice dropping as he leaned closer.
Ellie pulled back with a start, her tongue moving of its own volition. “I have to know, Henry… What is this between us? After all these years, do you—”
He pushed a stray curl behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheekbone. The slight contact made her knees tremble. “It’s a kiss, Ellie. A kiss means nothing.”
This may be the only kiss I ever have that means anything.
“One kiss then,” she said, praying she didn’t crumble in his arms.
The words had barely left her lips when Henry brushed against them. The touch was soft and tender, warm and gentle.
It lit her on fire.
And all too quickly, the kiss was over, and he retreated slowly, as though the spark of pleasure had shocked him as well. Henry bit his lower lip and looked at her, lookedat her, as if he was noticing her for the first time. “Ellie, I—”
“I haven’t seen her, and Ashby is asking for a dance.” Her father’s voice in the darkened hall slithered under her skin like a venomous snake, poisoning all the affection and warmth swimming in her veins.
