Page 57 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
“Can you please be reasonable?” They were getting nowhere with this line of conversation. The only obvious fact was that they both felt they were in the right and refused to be swayed.
“Fine. Let’s be reasonable.” Bryony stopped at a carriage he presumed to be hers. “I’m going home. Alone, like a good Christian widow. You can find Carter, since he seems to be your only concern. Good night, Captain Davies.”
And with that, she hopped into the carriage and called for the driver to take her home.
“Bryony! Lady Chapman!” Like a fool, he shouted after her to no avail.
How did everything go so wrong so quickly?
CHAPTER 7
DECEMBER 25, 1820, LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND
Snow splattered across Bryony’s chest—a direct hit. Preparing for retaliation, her mittened hands shaped another mound of snow into a firm ball.
“Who threw that?” she shouted into the laughter of her brother and cousins, everyone running merrily about, lost in their own icy battles.
Her broad-shouldered attacker emerged from a copse of trees at the edge of the snow-covered lawn, and Bryony scoffed at the audacity Nathaniel possessed to come here on Christmas morn as if their evening together after the Grand Mistletoe Assembly had never happened.
It had been weeks. Perhaps he’d forgotten.
Unlike her.
Rather than nightmares every night, Bryony dealt with explicit dreams of pleasure, featuring the current bane of her existence—Captain Nathaniel Davies.
“Are you mad?” She launched her snowball at his entirely too handsome face. A volley he easily ducked, to her dismay.
“Your brother invited me, as did your mother. Am I forbidden from celebrating the holiday with a family I’ve known for years?”
“You are now. A gentleman should know better than to traipse into my family’s Christmas festivities after … Well, you know why you shouldn’t be here.” Tingling awareness chased the chill from her cheeks as Nathaniel neared. No one else seemed to notice or care about his arrival—too focused on triumphing over their chosen opponents in the snowball fight.
Chaos swirled around them. Snowflakes fell overhead like the softest of kisses while heftier snowballs arced across the sky.
Yet their attention remained on each other.
Crouching to gather more ammunition, Bryony warned, “Leave now or else.”
“Or else you’ll pelt me to death with snow? I’ll take my chances.” Nathaniel continued to pace forward, so she tossed the ball in her hand at full force. This time he allowed himself to be hit, though it hardly slowed his footsteps. “I suppose I deserved that … I’ve come to apologize. To beg your forgiveness.”
“For what, exactly? Because I don’t regret what we did. And I swear if you spout more nonsense about Carter and the imaginary barriers between us, I’ll pummel you with snowballs until frostbite threatens your extremities.” She’d never have described herself as particularly bloodthirsty, but he brought about the fiery side of her—the passionate desire and frustrated rage.
“I don’t regret anything except for my behavior after … our kiss.” The polite way of referring to the cataclysmic delight she’d experienced under his hand—or, rather,mouth. “Doubt invaded my mind. Fear over losing Matthews as a friend, and more importantly, you losing a brother if he decided to exact his displeasure with our relationship on you, too. There’s no logical explanation for my worries. Your brother’s always been a good and understanding friend, yet the mind has a way of twisting reality to confirm one’s worst fears.”
Bryony understood this to be true. Her own thoughts often spiraled into a quagmire of concerns that never came to fruition.
But she wasn’t quite ready to forgive him yet. “So you’re sorry for how the night ended, but what happens now? Shall we go on our jolly way, pretending platonic friendship as we did before?”
She urged him to say no. Couldn’t bear moving backward, retreating behind polite facades.
“Never.” He clasped her hands in his, holding them aloft. “I spoke to Matthews this morning, and he agreed to my suit. Bryony, I want you as my wife. Of course, considering your past with matrimony, I understand if you don’t wish to marry again. You’ve been betrayed, and I don’t wish to force anything on you that you don’t want. However, if you find it within yourself to try again—to trust me with your person—I guarantee you won’t regret it. After all, I love you. Have loved you from the moment I rescued you from the lake all those years ago.”
It was the declaration she’d dreamed of hearing since childhood.
Nathaniel loved her.
Her.Not particularly special, overly plump Bryony Chapman.
“So, because you love me, I’m expected to just forgive your actions that night?” She stepped backward without a glance—a step he followed to close the space between them. The sounds around them faded to a dull roar as she held Nathaniel’s determined gaze.
