Page 8 of Yule Be Mine

Yule tugged at his collar. If he continued to feel this heated, he might not need his overcoat at all.

*

True to hisword, Yule told Penelope all about the boxing match between his cousin Alexander and Alex’s uncle that had occurred on December first and how it, and all the other wagers riding on the outcome, had turned out well for some of his cousins, although not for him. By the time he’d finished that tale, they had arrived at their destination deep in the Kasters’s woods. Therefore, he refrained from informing her of the nasty turn of events that had transpired on the following day, involving his cousin Sandy and his new wife Isabelle. Just as well keep that story for another day.

“My father always said the Quatermains would take any wager, no matter how trivial or strange,” Penelope laughed as Yule helped her down from the waggonette.

“He was certainly correct in that. It seems to be a trait handed down through the years, for my father has made his share of wagers, and Grandfather is possibly the worst of all.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her about the marriage wager, but Fritz was calling them all to gather at a part of the clearing, so Yule again offered his arm and they joined the rest of the guests, their breaths visible in the frosty air.

“My family’s gratitude to everyone for helping us celebrate the holiday this year,” Fritz announced to the crowd and a good-natured murmur sprang up all over the clearing. “If everyone would go into the woods and gather as much greenery as you possibly can—this includes holly, ivy, bayberry, rosemary, and of course, mistletoe—we would be very appreciative. We have brought baskets just for this purpose. The footmen are distributing them to everyone. The best way to get as much greenery as possible we have found, is for everyone to break into teams of two or three and head into the woods in all different directions. We will meet back here in approximately one hour, at which time we will serve wassail and have a game of Mistletoe Run. My father and I will locate a suitable mistletoe ball, clear the space beneath it, and let the game begin. Good luck to you all.”

“Which way should we go, Yule?” Penelope snagged a long-handled basket from a passing footman and turned to him, her face bright and eager.

“Let’s head out this way.” Yule pointed toward a stand of oak trees to the west of the clearing. “That way the sun will be at our backs, not in our faces.”

“That suits me.” Before he could offer his arm, Penelope headed into the woods in the direction he’d pointed.

Yule followed after her, intrigued by the change in her from last night. She’d gone from calling him Sissy and not knowing what to say to being a calm, thoughtful young woman who’d used his proper name for possibly the first time in her life. What had come over her? Had her mother noticed their interaction last night and talked some sense into her? He wasn’t sure, but he was definitely grateful for the alteration. He hurried his pace until he overtook her and offered his arm. The day had shifted from being a burden he’d prefer to avoid, to a fun outing with an interesting companion. “So you are enjoying the new Dickens novel? Tell me about it so you can catch me up. The next installment becomes available today, you said?”

Smiling broadly up into his face, Penelope launched into the saga of Pip Pirrip and his unfortunate Christmas. The snow crunched companionably under their boots as Penelope talked and they began to find the proper sprigs of greenery.

They came upon a patch of holly bushes and Yule took out a pocketknife and began to cut large branches from the prickly shrubs. The cuttings were dropped carefully into the large basket, then they moved on toward a rosemary bush. In a remarkably short amount of time, the basket was brimming full of fragrant holly, rosemary, and bayberry branches.

“The scents are heavenly.” Penelope stuck her nose close to the heap of cuttings. “Nothing makes me think of Christmas more than the smell of bayberry.”

“For me, it’s the smell of baking coming from the kitchen. The cinnamon and cloves and the vanilla that makes me always think of Mrs. Harmon’s Christmas cookies.” Yule breathed deeply, imagining he smelled the delicious aromas of the kitchen at Grandfather’s estate in Hertfordshire. “So your family will be in London for Christmas?”

“Yes, through the New Year. Then we will move back home until spring when we will return for my and Charlotte’s Season.” Penelope tried to heft the heavy basket but had to settle for dragging it on the ground.

“Let me have that.” Yule grabbed the handle and lifted it easily. “We don’t want to dump it out on the way back.”

Penelope stood with her hands on her hips, arms akimbo, giving him a perturbed look. “I could have managed, you know.”

Yule grinned at her. “I know. But that’s what you have me along for.”

She uttered a disparaging sound that was totally charming, then joined him on the trudge back to the clearing. “Boys always think they know best, but so seldom do.”

Chuckling, Yule glanced down at her. “And where in all your years did you acquire that piece of wisdom?”

“From observing the boys I knew in Ireland growing up. None of them gave me credit for having any sense either.” She wrinkled her nose. “I had hoped things would be different now.”

“Oh, I think you have sense, Penelope, just not the brawn it takes to carry this heavy load.”

“I could have figured out how to do it, Yule.”

“But you needn’t bother when I had the solution right here.” He raised the arm carrying the basket. “You could spend your time better occupied.”

“Doing what?” She looked up at him, puzzled.

“Figuring out how to avoid getting kissed under the mistletoe during the game.” He laughed. It ought to be fun watching her dodge and weave to avoid capture.

“Who said I wanted to avoid it?”

Yule halted dead in the snow. Penelope continued several steps ahead before she noticed he had stopped. What the devil did she mean by that? “But that’s the object of the game.”

She glanced back over her shoulder, a smile spreading over her face. “Are you sure about that, Yule?”

Unable to move, Yule stood still watching as Penelope continued picking her way through the snow toward the clearing, his mind devoid of thought other than the crystal clear idea that he was in more trouble than he had ever bargained for.