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“Come away, so they can play another round and you can compose yourself,” Stephen said in a low voice as he drew her from the area and to the other side of the room. “There’s a mirror on the wall there if you need visual assistance.”
“Thank you.” One last look at the table showed the butler remaking a flour pile, that John and Lucy promptly destroyed with the pie wedge. Flour went everywhere, and no one nearby came away unscathed, but laughter abounded, and they didn’t seem annoyed.
“Your family is lovely, and quite intense when it comes to games.” She accepted a handkerchief from Stephen and then scrubbed at her face.
“Yes, they do rather enjoy a good laugh.” When he grinned, she couldn’t help but do the same.
“Did I get it all?” Flour was a messy endeavor on any day, let alone putting one’s face into it.
“Not quite.” Stephen took the handkerchief from her fingers, and as he glided the cloth lightly over her cheeks and chin, she trembled from his touch.
Oh, he smells so good! Lynette forced moisture into her suddenly dry throat. He was so close that the heat of him seeped into her body.
“There, that should do it,” he whispered, his face but a hair’s breadth from hers. “I got most of it.”
“Thank you.” A glance around showed that everyone else was busy either trying to clean up flour or engaging in a flour fight or trying to get through another round of Bullet Pudding. She looked at Stephen. “What’s the forfeit? That was never decided.” When she brushed at the front of her gown, flour showered to the floor.
Mischief danced in his eyes. “How about a kiss under the mistletoe?” He pointed upward.
Anticipation battled with annoyance as she glanced up. A ball of mistletoe hung from a bow directly above her and the mirror. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“I didn’t.” His shrug was a thing of elegance. “It’s pure coincidence.” There was no hint of scheming in his chocolate-hued eyes. “Do you agree?”
Once more Lynette darted a glance to the rest of the occupants in the room. No one paid them the slightest mind. “All right.” Another sweep of her hand wouldn’t dislodge the flour still clinging to her clothes.
“We’re starting to make a habit of meeting under the mistletoe,” he said in a barely audible whisper. Then he put a hand to her waist and reeled her close. “It really was in good fun, that game.”
“Oh, I know.” She could hardly think with him so close. When he fit his lips to hers, her eyes fluttered closed. Never did she think she’d ever enjoy a kiss from him again after breaking their engagement years ago. He moved lightly over her lips seeking permission, asking for her attention, reminding her of what they once shared. It was so exquisitely sweet that she trembled from it and laid a palm against his chest.
Stephen apparently took that as permission, for he settled her more comfortably in his embrace and treated her to tender but long, drugging kisses that made her forget her own name let alone where they were. It was as if the intervening years and words said between them had vanished, and once more she belonged to this man.
Awareness came sailing back and she pushed at his chest, breaking the connection. He released her, and she snickered, for he had flour on his coat and waistcoat, damning evidence they’d been close and pressed together. “You’ve been branded as guilty.”
His rich laughter washed over her and left stronger anticipation behind. Need darkened his eyes—the same feelings coursing through her veins. “Of kissing you? I won’t even try to deny it.” He brushed at the flour. Temporarily, he glanced at his family, but they were still involved in antics and games. When he gave her his attention once more, he lowered his voice. “Or of wanting you back in my life? I’m coming to think that I do.”
“Oh.” Lynette sobered. Confusion worked to shove everything else from her person. She put more distance between them and when the backs of her knees hit a chair, she flopped onto it. “I hadn’t expected that.” Now she didn’t know what to do. Her pulse raced wildly as she stared at him. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” Being with him again would tempt her, and she might lose herself like last time, but now she had a child to think of, and John came first.
Disappointment clouded his eyes, dimming their light. “I’m not asking for a commitment, Lynette, merely an opportunity to have you reflect upon a new match between us.”
“All right.” That was simple and safe enough, so she nodded. “I promise to think about it.”
“And if we should—”
The moment, and whatever he would have said, was broken by the arrival of her son. “Mama, Mr. Alberts told me I might keep this marble.” He held out a flour-caked hand to show an equally flour-covered marble.
“You may. It’ll be a wonderful remembrance of the night.”
“Thank you!” Despite the boy being more or less covered with flour, he bounded over to Stephen’s position where he stood near the mirror. “Lord Tilbury, Lady Whittington said you have a bang-up collection of marbles, and that you and Lord Hollingsworth used to play as children. Will you show me?”
Slowly, Stephen nodded. He gave the boy a smile, but the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. “I will if I can locate the toys. It’s been an age since I’ve seen them.”
The butler cleared his throat. “I believe they’re in a trunk the attics, my lord. I can retrieve them if you’d like.”
“Yes, yes please! Might we, Lord Tilbury?” John jumped up and down, and flour fell to the floor like snow.
With a speculative glance at her, Stephen said, “That would be lovely, Mr. Alberts. Thank you.”
Noise in the room dimmed while everyone attempted to rid themselves of the clinging flour.
