Ephraim cleared his throat. “Yes—well—servants often indulge in such superstitions for their own merriment.”
“Only servants?” enquired Mr Hull. His dark gaze never broke from Ephraim’s own.
“And young persons,” Ephraim conceded.
“Might gentlemen take part in the tradition, as well?” asked Mr Hull.
Ephraim hesitated. Thoughts he didn’t wish to entertain clouded his mind. Impossible notions. Dangerous ideas. Mr Hulldidn’t mean to imply anything of the sort. He merely meant to ascertain, as one newly arrived to English shores and unfamiliar with their custom, whether or not he might, as a gentleman, kiss a lady beneath the mistletoe. Ephraim told himself this even as Mr Hull’s gaze flitted to his lips again.
“They might,” Ephraim conceded. After all, Mr Hull was a handsome young gentleman, and young ladies liked to be kissed by handsome young gentlemen. Or so Ephraim had been told all his life.
Mr Hull bit his lip.
Before Ephraim could remind himself not to take any notice of it—before he could do anything more than gawk at the expression which threatened to knock his legs out from under him and send his pulse into palpitations—Mr Hull shut his eyes and leaned down.
And those perfect lips met Ephraim’s own in a kiss.
They were as soft as they appeared. And warm, as well. Astonishment opened Ephraim’s own lips in a gasp, and Mr Hull took them between his own. His tongue slipped into Ephraim’s mouth. The beard scraped against Ephraim’s chin and sent a thrill down to parts which hadn’t stirred in longer than he cared to remember. The scent of elderberries and honey filled his lungs. Strong arms encircled him in a warm and gentle embrace. Ephraim melted into it.
For an instant.
Then Ephraim summoned all his strength—more strength than he’d ever dared hope to possess—and shoved Mr Hull off of him.
Mr Hull struck the door-frame with a thud that shook the wall. He staggered, caught himself against it, and stood staring at Ephraim.
Ephraim’s breath came ragged. His arms trembled at his sides. He told himself it was his anger.
“Sir?” said Mr Hull.
As if he hadn’t just taken unspeakable liberties. As if he hadn’t just committed an outrageous obscenity. As if he hadn’t just awoken and broken Ephraim’s heart in the same instant.
Ephraim forced his fists to unclench and his speech to steady. “Sir.”
Mr Hull appeared, if anything, confused. “If I’ve offended you, sir, then I—”
“If!?”
Mr Hull’s eyes flew wide.
Ephraim felt rather startled himself at the height and ferocity of his own voice. He tried again. “What the deuce do you think you’re doing? What did you mean by all—” He waved desperately at the damned garlands. “All this?”
Mr Hull did not appear any less confused. “I wished to celebrate the season by acting on my feelings. I had thought them reciprocated.”
“Reciprocated?” Ephraim echoed with a hollow laugh.
“Are they not?” Mr Hull asked.
Ephraim chose not to answer that particular enquiry. “I may be an old fool, but I am not so foolish as to believe myself an irresistible object of attraction to—well, to anyone, really, but particularly not to a young gentleman of good countenance and sound mind.”
Despite all, Mr Hull smiled. “A good countenance, you say?”
Ephraim wished he could find the strength of will to hate that smile. “I know you are not sincere, sir. Therefore I must ask myself what you hope to gain from this. Advancement in the field, one may suppose, though you might have that at a far cheaper price merely by going on as you’ve already begun. You’ve proved yourself a fine clerk with the makings of something still better; you might secure an articleship within the year. You needn’t take such measures as these to gain myapproval or my assistance in such matters—you might have both simply by asking—so I must assume your motives lie elsewhere. And, though it pains me to think on it, I fear the simplest solution may prove true. You desire money.”
Mr Hull’s smile had vanished. Bewilderment reigned in its wake. “Sir?”
“You are an intelligent young man, as I’ve already said.” Ephraim checked his tone, which had grown a touch too sharp for his liking; his wounded pride stretched his patience to its breaking point. “Do not pretend you cannot understand me. It insults us both.”
Still, Mr Hull appeared bewildered. “You pay me handsomely, sir.”
