Page 4 of Christmas Wore Plaid

“You’ll get me into loads of trouble,” she hissed.

When again, her aunt remained abed, she turned back to him. He was still grinning. And still cupping the back of her head.

“Ah, trouble. Someday, I’ll be on the stages of London and will have dragged you into trouble with me.”

She grinned. “What, you have no wish to take over Aberfeldy Manor, sip brandy by the hearth, and pet the hunting hound at your feet whilst you review your ledgers?”

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned. “Decidedly a less interesting prospect to be entrapped by. I should like to take flight and see the world.”

Trepidation leaked into her happiness at his surprise visit, though she pasted on a false smile. “And meet other, more exotic, lasses than me to drag into trouble with you, no doubt.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Emerson,” he said, his eyes still twinkling, as if he knew she fished for a declaration.

She giggled. “In truth, why are you here?”

“I never claimed a boon from capturing you,” he replied.

She pursed her lips primly, trying unsuccessfully to suppress her anticipation. As if such pursing could offset the nerves flooding her veins at his continued touch, for he was still cupping her head.

“And what sort of boon did you desire?” she asked.

She watched his eyes in the dark dart down to her lips while his touch upon her head made her tremble. She clasped her shaking fingers together at her waist.

“This.”

He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her mouth so quickly, she had no time to react. Heat ravaged her face. Tingling ravaged her lips. Her fingers, still trembling, whipped up to cover her mouth. He relinquished his touch, and braced his hand upon the window sash above her. And yet, in spite of the boldness of his kiss, his smile wasn’t cocky, as if he’d stolen a prize and gotten away with it. It was sweet. Nervous, even. And she noticed that he was trembling, too.

He is nervous! Was this his first kiss, like it was hers? Her heart melted to know that they shared something so special. She reached up to take his fingers from the window and he gripped her offered touch.

“Emerson,” he whispered, forcing out her name as his smile fell. Sakes, even his voice was shaking. “When we’re older, I know I must take over Aberfeldy Manor. I hope to travel, and to act, but I’m my father’s only heir and eventually I’ll have to make my home here. I’d like it if we could…what I mean to say is”—He cleared his throat. “Well, clearly we’re still too young, and I know I’ll have competition for your interest and affection…”

Was he suggesting what she thought he was? Blush burned her cheeks so heavily, she was grateful for the darkness shrouding them. But to know how deep his interest in her lay made her heart soar.

“I must wait at least two more years,” she said, taking pity on his nervousness.

Legally, she could be betrothed now if her aunt, and her aunt’s brother, her Uncle Frederick in Oxford, gave her their blessings. But she knew they wouldn’t agree to a courtship until she was at least sixteen.

He exhaled with relief and smiled. “But I must wait three. My parents have already given me their blessing to ask you when I turn eighteen.”

“You’ve already talked to them about me?” When he hadn’t ever indicated such a deep desire?

Of course he has. He smiles at me constantly, is always finding excuses to seek my company whenever he can.

“Would you wait one more year for me? Even if other men begin to inquire?” he asked.

A grin of happiness spread her lips wide. She nodded. “Yes. Of course, yes. Three years of yeses whilst I wait.”

The tension between them blessedly dissipated and she threw her arms around his neck. Tentatively, he returned the embrace. His fingers clenched her gown and tresses as if growing accustomed to the newness of touching her so and for a moment, neither of them let go.

“Then goodnight, Emmy,” he whispered beside her ear as they pulled apart.

She loved the pet name.

“G—goodnight, Brady,” she stammered, when she heard creaking on the floor planks again. Was her aunt up again? She pushed him back. “She’s coming. You must leave! Goodnight! Goodnight!” She tried to drag the panes down, though the window was newly-fitted and stiff.

His face split into a grin again, this time, cocky as can be, and like an actor on a royal stage, he gestured with his palm on his chest and the other out wide. “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

The creaking on the flooring continued.