Page 27 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“As you see, just a bit of fun, my lord. No archaic, druidic rituals.”

“I find myself disappointed. I think you’d make a fine druidic priestess.”

She arched a brow at him. “Ah, but then I might find myself tempted to cast a spell over you, sir.”

His expression grew even more serious. Still, he stood unmoving. Suddenly, he looked up at the bunch. “Here’s one of those differences for you, Lady Gwyn. In Staffordshire we have kissing boughs similar to your bunch, but when someone kisses beneath it, he must take a berry from the mistletoe. When the berries are gone, so are the kisses.”

“How sad!” she exclaimed. “I much prefer the Cornish custom.” Her mouth quirked. “Unlimited kisses throughout the season.”

Potent silence stretched between them while her heart beat too rapidly.

“Ready, Locryn?”

They both started as Gryff dropped a hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

“Nearly.” He bowed. “Thank you for a lively evening, my lady.” He glanced at his cousin. “I was wondering . . .”

“Yes?” She had to fight not to glance toward the ceiling. Did they stand close enough to the bunch in order to use it as an excuse?

“Gryff says they are lighting the Yule log tomorrow at Lancarrow. They follow the old tradition of ‘mocking the chalk,’ as well. Since you are interested in that sort of thing, I’d love to have you there.” He colored slightly. “As a guest of the family, of course.”

“Splendid idea,” Gryff broke in. “Bring my bride along too, would you, Gwyn? Drag her away from the wedding preparations, if you must.”

“Of course.” Locryn wished to see her again. It was something. “I should love to attend. Thank you.”

His gaze slid away at last and there was a general leave taking as the two gentlemen bid all of the sisters good night.

Shivering, Rose left in their wake. Marjorie and Morgan commented on the successful evening and then wandered after her. Finally, only Tamsyn and Gwyn were left.

“It was Locryn you were thinking of earlier, when we spoke of finding you and Rose husbands?”

Gwyn did not pretend to misunderstand. “He’s always been there, in the back of my mind,” she said with a shrug.

“For eight long years.” Tamsyn said it with perfect understanding.

“I didn’t know if I would still feel the same,” Gwyn sighed.

“And now that you know that you do?”

“How do I convince him?” She reached for her sister’s hand. “How did you cement Gryff’s interest in you?”

“I didn’t have to. And neither do you. Locryn is interested.” Her sister sounded certain. “He’s just . . .serious. We have to break him out of his shell, that’s all.”

“How do I do that?”

She was going to do it. She felt certain, too.

“It won’t take much,” Tamsyn predicted. She glanced up at the bunch. “Perhaps nothing more than a kiss.”

* * *

Outside in the stable yard, Locryn sat astride his horse, staring up at the castle.

Gryff clattered up beside him. “Quiet is one thing, cousin, but slow is another.” He shook his head. “Why did you not take the chance to kiss Gwyn? I could tell you wished to—weallcould tell you wished to.”

“I had to be sure.” He couldn’t look away from the lighted windows above them. He’d wanted to see her again, away from the site that haunted his dreams, away from the pixie wood. And he’d been right—because now he was sure.

He’d lived with a shell of distance and isolation for so long, he wasn’t sure he could do without it. But she’d shattered it with her lively smile and filled the void with her confiding manner and the unmistakable interest in her eyes.

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